MY BRUSH WITH FRISKET

So I bought a jar of liquid frisket last week and I've completed my first experiment with the stuff. Improvements will surely be made on future projects but, for now, you have to look at this thing.

IVAN SEAL

I first saw Ivan Seal's art on the cover of The Caretaker album An Empty Bliss Beyond This World. The cover art featured a still life of what seemed to be a larger-than-a-human-head ball of grey clay and a single match stick poked shallowly into its side. Because of this design, the form and shadow-play were simple yet highly visually intriguing. At the time, I figured the art to be a one-off made perhaps by the musician himself.
After almost a year later the same musician had released a couple more albums, each featuring artwork in the same style as the previous cover. My interest had peaked and a quick Google search revealed Ivan Seal to be the culprit behind these mysterious still life paintings.
Ivan's work is quickly becoming an inspiration to me as well as a challenge to explore color in my own art. His eye for the minimal combined with a knack for precisely executing a piece leave the viewer with a crude looking beast that draws you right into its world. I'm thinking I should never look Mr. Seal directly in the eyes if I were to meet him, or my own soul will be stolen and captured away into his next painting.

the image below is Ivan Seal artwork for the album Bleaklow by The Stranger. Incredible depiction of nearly no light source here.

 

DAILY REFLECTION

It's noon on Sunday and I'm indifferently anticipating the odd hours I'm scheduled to work tonight. From 6pm Sunday to 6am Monday I will be a part of a six person team assembled to rearrange a large portion of the art material store where I'm employed. Although the job will be tedious, we'll obviously be working  while the store is closed so we'll have some liberties on our side; i.e: Hopefully I'll be able to listen to my mp3 player, for which I'm constructing a handful of time-destroying playlists! Overall, This should be an interesting change of pace. A pathetic change of pace, perhaps, but I've been taking my spices of life in small and modest doses.
My typical week is made up of days that almost mirror each other. With the exception of working either the morning shift or the evening shift, it's often a "same sh!t different day" kind of world when I'm working 9-5. Sure, the world around me pokes back in different ways at almost every turn: I'll run into a friend at a random place and time, or a car almost runs me over at a random place and time. So really the week days are more accurately a series of funhouse mirrors; each one adding a bit more distortion to the last, or one mirror might even cancel out some distortion from the previous one. Who knows?!
So I'll take my tedious shift and be utterly exhausted and delirious by Monday morning, and try to master the whole thing with a smile on my face. After all, the funhouse mirror is the cheapest and safest thrill in the amusement park. I think I'm tall enough to ride the roller coaster though...

COLOR!

I purchased some colored ink! Here are a couple examples of my baby steps into color (granted the one image is still black and white, but white ink is color to me.
 

THE SHAPE OF THINGS

Imagine life without sight. No sight existing entirely throughout every single animal species. How differently life would reveal itself. Keep in mind you would not be losing your sight because it simply was never there.
Primal survival skills would require noting the acoustics of the landscape to avoid falling off cliffs, as would be necessary to find shelter. The presence of your enemies would be a bit enigmatic as would be your presence to them; After all, it would be difficult to judge each others size or form.
A sightless world's functional design may be more rounded to achieve an analogous touch-friendly guide through public and domestic spaces; An abrupt and acute angle here or there to represent landmarks along the way.
Most curious of all, our attention to the heavens would not stop short of building great spiraling ramps which lead us further and further and further upwards; century after century. All the while our explorers' arms would be stretched upwards with the hopes of making the headlines for being 'THE ONE WHO TOUCHED THE CEILING"
We would still perceive and even dream these perceptions, but we would unknowingly be missing a piece to the puzzle. As far as (the seeing) you and I are concerned, that's a pretty big piece to have missing. But what is to say that, with all five of our natural senses in tact, we aren't missing that sixth or seventh sense that would allow us to better avoid an accident, or look light years across the galaxy so as to realize the attic beyond the ceiling. As humans we possess basic rules of understanding which are directly connected to our senses, including sight, and to our brains interpretation of those senses. It's not only a limited means of understanding but also reasonably very abstract and misguided. Or as one might say, 'it's like the blind leading the blind.'

NEW BRUSH DRAWINGS

Finally I've produced some loose line work and, as is typical of my level of output, I haven't produced more than three so far. All three are made simply with india ink and a sumi calligraphy brush. Here they are!

HOW TO BE A JERK AND HATE ART TO THE POINT THAT YOU HATE YOURSELF FOR FEELING LIKE AN ART SNOB

I'm not sure how to approach this topic correctly, but I have to try. Walking home from work the other day I passed a storefront on South Street that has been a temporary art gallery/space-thing for the past six months. There are a few of these storefronts currently being rented out month-to-month along South Street and each one is disappointing. This particular art space, on that particular night, appeared to be hosting a gallery opening or closing or whatever, and was packed with art fans pretending to "know art" as they sipped on the fuel of "art knowing"; wine. The crowd consisted of 60-somethings with multi-colored berets, fat hippies (and skinny ones too!...?), and the young eclectic with his guitar slung on his back who at any moment could provide the venue with some tunes if he were to get enough of that free "fuel". The art was literally junk sculpture. Now, for whatever reason, the artistic community that I dislike the most is exactly that; a community. This, no doubt, was one of those venues where the same group of artists show their stuff each month, and the same neighborhood art-likers (mostly friends, and people who have a growing collection of one specific artists work because '..it really speaks to me..') come to support them. Great. Good for them, I guess. Now, I don't know what other form of art exposure I would prefer, but I know that my mind was made up for me in the 5  seconds it took for me to pass by the window of this place where art went to die. My mind immediately reverberated, "EW! NO! EWWW!" and I thought myself better than those people as I directly thought my art to be better than their art. My art that I keep locked up inside my house. My art consisting of a total of maybe 15 respectable finished pieces, created over the course of too many years. Of course I'm not better than those people, but I'm also not playing any charades. I simply do not make art to be sold or praised or even seen for that matter. This isn't a metaphor for anything, it is the truth. My output is low, my creative frustration is high, and my integrity remains strong. I make art because I am compelled to do it. There are projects that are started and completed and they exist entirely in my head. Sometimes this occurs if I don't have the time or resources to physically bring the idea into being, but mostly my brain is a more proper venue for some pieces that couldn't or shouldn't be appreciated by the public no matter how intimate my relationship might be with them.
...to be continued...