skip to main |
skip to sidebar
"A man's either an artist or a flat tire and what he does need not answer to anything, I'd say, except the energy of his creation"___Charles Bukowski
This piece of wood had many incarnations before it reached it's current state. Not unlike our scarred and blemished flesh after time has had it's way with us. The skin of this painting shows it's history...many layers of pastel and paint until the creative momentum has reached it's conclusion. Chord is a musical reference. Much like art, music is a wonderful distraction...
I admit, it’s been awhile since I’ve participated in our First Friday art event which takes place in the residential historic King William district . It has come under fire recently for rowdy incidents of gun play, unruly crowds that don’t want the party to end and occasional lawn watering via urination with a few beer bottles thrown in to set the tableau-so to speak. I suspect in any other major sprawling metropolis these distractions would be taken for street theater.
Blame for this perceived downfall of the event has many suspects:
Some of the vendors don’t actually sell “Art” but attract the flea market crowd selling “crafts”. Tourists that are visiting SA for conventions are only looking for bargains. Prices for art lofts in the area are beyond a struggling artist’s means. My favorite is the economic downturn has driven away the art patrons.
I can break it down thus: The art walk is a Cheap Date for mostly young folks coming out to debauch and are drawn to the flea market fare.
Those souls who are serious about art head down to the south end of the art walk to the Blue Star Art Center-a non-profit that I would not include in the art walk’s current carnival atmosphere.
I can sum this up in one antedote from a show of mine in 2000. The gallery I was showing at had many rooms and I was told a gentleman was looking for me during the event. He came out of the crowd shaking my hand and asked if I was the artist. I said, “yes how can I help you ?” Thinking he wanted to ask me about my work. He said , “yeah, where’s the beer?”
The Sixties & Dictators of Art
As a child in the 1960’s I remember the pace of daily activities was much slower than today. I had the time and luxury of observing this before grade school came along to influence my social skills. There were no distractions like computers or video games. Television only had 3 channels and comic books were my escape from the long summer days. According to art history, pop culture was in full swing, abstract expressionism was on its last legs and minimalism was on the horizon. New York was the center of Art with a capital A. New York dictated what art was or was to become having wrested the privilege from Paris-the former dictator of what Art was. . . according (again) to art history.
The media hadn’t become the monster it is today. Dictating what to buy, what to watch, and how quickly you have to do these things. The media was just stretching it’s legs in the good/bad sixties.
What I like about creating art is that I’m able to set the pace I’m comfortable with. I’m the dictator of what colors go where, what surface I paint on and whether the finished work will be featured on the website. I base my success on when a piece is finished to my satisfaction. The stories of the lengths artist’s go through to become "successful" are part legend, part cautionary tale. The ideal is to be able to live off your work and the reality is the work you live for can’t pay the bills. “Speak for yourself” says the successful Artist with a capital A.
Ahoy Artist
I sail under the flag of abstraction. Not always a popular ship to serve on. With all the “reality” we are bombarded with from the bad media, abstraction gives me breathing room. Colors and forms arranged in ways to slow the pace of a hyper-active child I call the 21st century. Long may you sail. . .
Bi-Polar Art Moments
During the creative process, when the paint is flowing nicely and the colors are complementing one another, the moment seems ripe with possibilities. The next moment with a swipe of the painting knife or the addition of a discordant color, the whole thing could turn to crap- that’s when I know I’m having a bi-polar art moment. The flow of creative juices has been interrupted. When I was younger this wasn’t a big deal. Looking back on my earlier work I can conclude that my crap-meter was not functioning properly.
Hormone Angst Youth
Youth and inexperience are expected to go steady with one another. It’s a car crash waiting to happen, a collision of rushing hormones. Witness these youth-orientated “reality” shows filled with crushing hormone angst and pseudo-dramatic moments. Youth want their 15 minutes - they want it NOW - before they develop anything worthy of filling those minutes up. I’m sure the self-help art career books/websites and art magazine articles of the latest sold-out-show artists or the vanity galleries that advertise in these magazines promising a show of your work(for a price!) fuel these kid’s dreams and fill their clueless heads with art world success or at the least- notoriety.
Sanctioned Art
Sadly, nobody takes art critics seriously anymore. Art has gone from being an academically sanctioned art to a commercially viable sanctioned art - neither of which criticism appears to have a function. Art commentators are either putting a positive spin on their subject or they’re just filling up space with art historical data to provide background. They perceive the person reading/listening to their words hasn’t a clue about art. We’re not all t.v. drones following our collective herd into an aesthetic-less abyss.
OGman’s Art Blog vol 1 april 2008
Why art? Why now?- Why not!
A little intro:
I’ve studied, created, hung, sold, and anguished over Art (more or less) since 1978- discovered during one of my reading jags as I wandered into the art section of our local library.
Sooo, the topics of this 21st Century diary/diatribe will cover the visual arts I’ve encountered and suffered through and will continue to celebrate. In answer to the question:
Why Art? :
Aside from my bladder- art gives me a reason to get out of bed.
It All Started With Vincent, maybe
The V-man- Vincent Van Gogh(1853-1890)
-that romantic, schizoid, misunderstood genius of the art myth machine was introduced to me in the guise of the dominant art-form of the 20th and current century-Cinema. Many versions on film, but the version that more closely resembles the man from his letters is Vincente Minneli’s 1956 film, Lust for Life.. Seeing his work in person, I’ve always admired his generous use of paint. His brother, Theo provided and sustained his brothers’ need for art supplies. It’s no wonder he could afford to slather the paint on...
Paul Gauguin (1848-1903) , that primitive-influenced depressive who abandoned his family for his art,spent nine weeks painting with Vincent in 1888, mooching off Vincent’s brother. It didn’t go so well...
Excerpt from letter dated Feb 1888 from Gauguin to Vincent:
“I left to work in Brittany, (still a rage to paint), and I had good hopes to have funds for that.
The little that I sold served to pay for the few pressing debts and in one month I am going to be without anything. Zero is a negative strength.
I don't want to press your brother, but a little word from you on this topic would calm me, or at least would make me be patient. My god, these questions of money are terrifying for an artist!”
When There's NO Money For Art...what else is new?Art and commerce have never been comfortable bedfellows. The many art organizations in San Antonio annually vie amongst themselves for city dollars to support there various arty (sometimes farty) endeavors. As always, there is discord and disagreement as to which arts organization gets the most milk from the collective city teat. It is what it is....
