the blurb
Everyone wants a blurb. Submit any artwork to anything and you have to write a blurb. It's called an "Artist Statement". Artists hate writing statements, and I am no exception. Not because I don't want to talk about my work, mainly, I think, because it takes up so much time, and really, I'd prefer to be just making art. There just isn't enough time to get it all done.
I hope that my work speaks for itself. Having said that though, if i am given an opportunity, I will speak about my work. Speaking for me is much easier than writing. Basically I have finally figured out that my work is always about the same thing. Possession, memory and loss.
When I was about 12, I was in the backyard with my dad. He was about to mow the lawn and he bent over and picked up a small screw that was lying in the grass. He put it in his top pocket and I wondered why he would bother with retrieving something so seemingly insignificant. I don't know why I even remember this except that his predilection for hoarding is something that I have inherited and I now understand why he picked it up. Why not pick it up? It may be the exact screw that is needed for some future project. It may come in handy...one day. I guess it may also have become a deadly projectile if the mower had picked it up, but I hadn't thought of that.
We take so much for granted. Things. Ownership. Relationships. With these things comes the very real potential for loss, and the grief that is so often associated with that loss. It's a powerful conundrum.
My predicament is such, that I come from a long line of hoarders, and yet I abhor ownership and exclusivity. I think the Buddhists have got it right. Freedom from desire. I just wish I could follow that creed. Life would be so much easier, cleaner, neater.
So my artwork is a solution to a problem that I will probably always have. What to do with the stuff. I'm bordering on OCD, and have found myself retrieving things soon after I get rid of them, because, one day, I may need them.
I hope that my work speaks for itself. Having said that though, if i am given an opportunity, I will speak about my work. Speaking for me is much easier than writing. Basically I have finally figured out that my work is always about the same thing. Possession, memory and loss.
When I was about 12, I was in the backyard with my dad. He was about to mow the lawn and he bent over and picked up a small screw that was lying in the grass. He put it in his top pocket and I wondered why he would bother with retrieving something so seemingly insignificant. I don't know why I even remember this except that his predilection for hoarding is something that I have inherited and I now understand why he picked it up. Why not pick it up? It may be the exact screw that is needed for some future project. It may come in handy...one day. I guess it may also have become a deadly projectile if the mower had picked it up, but I hadn't thought of that.
We take so much for granted. Things. Ownership. Relationships. With these things comes the very real potential for loss, and the grief that is so often associated with that loss. It's a powerful conundrum.
My predicament is such, that I come from a long line of hoarders, and yet I abhor ownership and exclusivity. I think the Buddhists have got it right. Freedom from desire. I just wish I could follow that creed. Life would be so much easier, cleaner, neater.
So my artwork is a solution to a problem that I will probably always have. What to do with the stuff. I'm bordering on OCD, and have found myself retrieving things soon after I get rid of them, because, one day, I may need them.