My dears. What Mountain Goats nonsense that is.
Hi. I’ve been away. Out of my tiny mind with stress and worry. And nobody died (which was likely for a bit there) and now I’m back to masquerade as an actual artist that tries not to be an insult to anyone who actually does art properly in a fashion that doesn’t involve a lot of flailing around. For Reasons. Ahem.
What to say… I did end up finishing the Rothko rip off bs down below. It looks like this:
Which I did in three days between seeing my clients in the clinic and now I can’t look at it without being stressed. Spent the second half of last year wondering what on earth I was going to do with the damn thing only to find that my family had been fighting over who gets it. For now it’s at my grandmother’s and is officially owned by my parents because I don’t go over often enough to have to look at it all the time.
What else…
I went and looked at a hell of a lot of art. I read a hell of a lot about art
Which kind of furthered my idea that a lot of straight white male artists that we’re taught to revere could really have done with a damn good kick in the pants. I read a lot of other drier, factual, technical things too, I promise.
I made my sister and future brother-in-law a blob for Christmas
They were understandably thrilled.
I decided to snap myself out of my artless, heartless funk by signing myself up to do exhibitions again.
So I’m participating in Arttime Ipswich’s Purple Exhibition, coming up next month. Kate gives you a canvas and a tube of purple paint and away you go. Pretty rad. I thought I’d have a go at Titian, even to go so far as to make my own paint. Because just painting when you don’t paint isn’t hard enough or something. So I made tempera out of egg yolk and used soft pastels as my pigment. Then I found out that I learnt several filthy habits as a soft pastel artist, the main one being that I mix my colours on the canvas while my palette sits pristine next to me.
She’s alright, for turning out ridiculously modernist. But hey, they had years to work on these things and I had weeks. Whatever.
I signed myself up to do the Ipswich Art Awards again too, also due within the same time frame. Mostly I’m still faffing around again. I have my ideas and my concept pieces are quite highly evolved this time. I am not feeling it today so I’ve occupied myself with busywork in the background, sloshing around liquid latex again and printing reference material. Oh, and writing here. This is totally a valuable use of my time, right?
My problem with one of them is that I thought I’d just get the sky done and then something amazing fell out and now the rest of my plans have to do a significant amount of evolving in order to keep up.
I mean.
Who does that to themselves. Anything after that is going to be a bit of a come down, isn’t it. Am working on the other thing until I get over giving myself the willies.
I’ve also signed myself up to do the Celebration of the Female Form exhibition, which is in November this year. An exhibition I adore. The reason why I’m writing this now. “Have you got a website or link?” she asked. Good gravy. Well. There’s this thing. Good luck.
Excursions and Introversions 