The Revolution Will Not Be Televised. Not Really.

Another milestone filled with quotidian details.

Confession.

Confession: My studio has not smelled like oil paint since September 2014.


A few things are still taboo to discuss in the artworld, so I tried to cover this up gracefully with a story to divert the attention. At the time there was such a buzzkill about some things relating to the artwork that I needed a diversion. I unexpectedly had to buy a new camera to document an entire body of work and the thought occurred to me that photography could be a transitional out. Some people aren’t into photography. It was an easy starting point: do something people won’t like. They’ll ignore you and you can move along. I did't intend to stop painting, but then I became wary of the whole thing. Things that have nothing to do with making art and it takes a bit of stamina to plow through those illusions. Everyone has a different set of rules to live by and they won’t always match up with your idea of the truth. The bigger issue for me was that I acted as though I was tired of the baggage of painting, but in truth it was because I was tired of buying into some illusions that had nothing to do with art. And eventually the studio just stopped smelling like oil paint. And when the studio stopped smelling like oil paint, I noticed I was neglecting the blog. There was nothing appropriate to report. Everything was mired in this little half-truth of deception and after a few sentences I would just stop writing. This time last year I was knee-deep in the middle of painting. As a quick review of 2014 attests, I wasn't full of pollyanna optimism but I was committed to myself and the process. It's Spring again. Time to circle the wagons.