Monday, February 27, 2012

this is the end of the beginning

As I approach the end of my first month of art training, I decided to ditch my collage class--only because I had a four-hour window to wait for the internet nazis to come fix our lagging service. So I worked on the dining room table. How lucky that my apartment receives a ton of light and has plenty of space.

This is what I created. The details will sort themselves out eventually. Until then, I relish in its darkness. My voice arises. Is it called voice in art? Maybe it's touch.

Friday, February 24, 2012

this is the beginning of the end

I only have three more days working with the model on the figurative sculpture. A week from Monday a new model will arrive who will enchant us with another pose.

My sculpture process during this time has mostly been about shapes and balance. I've changed the legs and arms three times. They were either too big or too small. The supporting arm had to be moved around about twenty times. And I still haven't gotten around to truly working on the details, like how am I going to form her va-jay-jay?

With each turn of the model you see something that wasn't there before. The shape under the shoulder, formed by the rib cage and the arm, or the isosceles triangle that the supporting arm and back create aren't exactly right. You have to pile on clay or scrap it off, amending the figure step by step. Our teacher Barney said that once you stop finding mistakes to fix, you know you're finished.

Some mistakes will remain present. For instance, in relation to my armature, I made my scale too small, so that out of her arms and legs pop pieces of metal as if she were a cyborg or involved in a strange sacrificial accident. Forgive me, I will not be casting this sculpture. But, how about those results of me sculpting her face? Let's hope I can fix the image that comes to my mind currently: the homeless guy that pops out from behind the Winkie's dumpster in the movie Mulholland Drive.






Thursday, February 23, 2012

this is my pregnant baby

I'm quite pround of my first wax sculpture. It is not necessarily the most, but it is sincere and I feel something each time I look at it. It's special. I've even shown it to a few people I trust and have received nice feedback . . . in other words, they were almost shocked to see the result of my first sculpture. How dare they doubt me?

My housemate and I hosted a party recently and he wanted to show off the sculpture. The insecure coke head artist's lawyer turned up his nose at it. The retail queens didn't understand why it was so sticky. I bet they assumed I used it for some sexual purpose.

I start my new wax sculpture next week. This fertility princess I hope to cast in April.

Here's another view:

Sunday, February 12, 2012

this is another layer

My first collage is almost done . . . just need to finish up a few dozen details. My concern is that it needs to be elevated in a metaphorical sense. I feel like the image is strong, but how do I make it better?

My first mention of collage brought up ideas of disguise, which is quite relevant to these figures I'm painting and pasting around. The more I create the more I touch myself, I mean, the more in touch with myself I become.

Although, being an artist isn't about "becoming." It's just about being. When I stop questioning this piece, that's when it will be complete. When I stop questioning my own behavior and simply trust my intuition, and act accordingly, then completely I'll be me. I hope. Right?

Friday, February 10, 2012

this is the new model

My head has calmed down. It might have something to do with a touch of familiarity...and that there is no longer a naked penis attached to a beautiful boy close by.

Art, like life, is about unfolding. You start with something raw and frenetic and eventually you mold it into your idea of perfection. There is no answer to life. There is just an unfolding of ideas and experiences. Fuck all. Just be open to deleting and adding and getting as close to perfection as possible...whatever that means.

Here is a progression of three two-hour days of work on the new model. She is a beautiful black woman with hardly any fat on her body so we're really able to see how her bones function. You can see how the sculpture comes alive. I have three more weeks to get her the way I see her reflected. Is that how it works?









Tuesday, February 7, 2012

this is just an embryo

Inspired by a Maya fertility sculpture, I began using wax today. This sticky resin is not as sensual as clay. It doesn't feel as real but we'll see what comes from it. What I will make is a pregnant figure who has very masculine traits. The Maya made sculptures that focused more on the organic nature of form, as if man came from earth itself. While the intricate details involved in making a figurative sculpture are not as important in this type of creation, it's tricky to make it appear as if it had once been alive, or might still be.

Monday, February 6, 2012

this is a disguise

Yesterday I had my first collage studio with Mariano Del Rosario. He was super busy preparing for the yearly class exhibition, but he sat down with me for a couple of moments. First he flattered me when he said, "It looks like you've done this before." Then he walked though a couple of things with me. "More next week," he told me. I appreciated this. Baby steps.

I like working with collage but wonder if it's challenging enough for me, or how I could bring something new to the medium, much like Arturo Herrera brought up in one of the interviews I read or saw from him (he actually just recently set some of his work to a symphony). I know I'm jumping the gun a little, so I'll revert back to what I just previously said, baby steps, and calm down.

What I love about collage is the layering process. It becomes like a diguise. A rip can become a seam can become a face can become a hole. The piece I began centers around a group of Indian reservation politicians. They assume the dress of the European, the ones who ousted them from their homes. They want to assimilate and be better because they have been defeated. They want to become much like the people who defeated them, to wear the chic clothes that the women seem to swoon over. Is it a fairy tale they thought would come true, instead of the reality they would eventually face?

I too disguise myself every weekday.

I work for an investment bank, where I am not myself completely. I wonder if people notice the small imperfections or the invisible wall I've built around myself so that I don't fall prey to being stuck here for life. And once I emerge from the basement bathroom stall at my art school in my casual clothes, do the artists wonder if this too is just a disguise?

Friday, February 3, 2012

this is my first art instructor

An older man sat in a chair when I came into the studio today. When he saw my sculpture, his face seemed to say what the frack. He said something like "We're going to talk today about how the different parts work toward the whole. That way you won't end up with spaghetti arms and legs." I asked if he was Barney and he said yes, so I introduced myself. "This is my first time ever doing a sculpture."

"Well it's not mine," he laughed. His handshake was warm and firm.

He then told me that it wasn't a bad job for a first time.

I let him know that I wasn't supposed to be present, that I wasn't supposed to start until next week. "What is this "supposed to" stuff?" Then he dismissed such nonsense with a wave of his hand.

"How do I soften the clay?"

"Tear it down and start over. Sometimes it helps to do that to your art. Makes you and the work stronger. Art is about action. Just like life. Sometimes it's all about the mistakes." After a beat, "Sounds like my sex life."

So I pulled hard chunks off my armature, and then began placing fresh pieces of clay bit by bit. Every now and then Barney offered advice to someone in the class. "You might want to make that ear smaller" or "Come over here and look at this piece of muscle. See how it connects" or "The lats are the widest part of the body."

And he'd entertain us with anecdotes every once in a while.

To me: "Don't get lost back there. Get closer to the model. Don't be afraid. No one here bites." and "Don't work too long on one piece. When the model turns work on something else. You don't want one part of the body to take over. You're working from the top down, try working from the bottom up."

I felt more confident and not as much in my head as the previous class. The model still fascinated me, but his last day of the month is today. We'll have a new model starting next week who will be around until the end of the month.

I tore up my two-hour sculpture to be prepared for the new subject.

See you next week, Barney. Bottoms up!

Thursday, February 2, 2012

this is the day after

Straight-edged knife, $24; rake scraper, $18; twenty-four inch armature figure, $49.95. My first lesson in clay sculpture, clueless.
I entered the studio as the last class was wrapping up. I found the class monitor, who instructed me to buy the supplies. In the school art supply store, the first clerk, an artist bear creature with glasses, was a bit hard on me for not knowing what the hell I was doing. I almost wanted to say, nevermind, I'll go home, or cry, but my fearlessness took over, and he persuaded the other clerk to help me. He was fantastic and eased my nerves a bit.

My school is a real art school. An atelier. One might imagine a man in his mid-thirties with no artistic training to be intimidated. I was.

I entered the studio again with my huge bag of supplies. The model had already begun posing so all was quiet except for the chiseling and pounding of a sculpture next door in another studio. The hammering went on throughout the duration of the class. It was nice, like the ocean breaking on a beach.

I discovered my class doesn't officially begin until next Wednesday. So all the other students are almost finished with their sculptures. The model was in his early twenties, Euro looking male with a slender tight body and an uncut penis.

After putting my armature together, the monitor showed me where to find the clay and then I just started piling clay all over it. Then shaping it.

The model was turned on the lazy Susan every 10 minutes or so. The model received a break every half hour. My internal monologue never stopped.

Wow he's kinda hot. Nice penis. I wonder if he's a grower as well. I love this. I feel like an artist. I made the back too long. This is amazing. I'm an artist. This feels so good. My sculpture is horrible. How do I make the penis? I have no idea what I'm doing. I love this. This feels right. I should have brought a snack.

I'm looking forward to my class tonight. I hope my mind shuts up, and the instructor shows up. He only comes once or twice a week.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

this is the first day

After my first post some time ago, I am officially ready to begin.

This is not a blog about nothing, but a blog about art and literature meat.

I am a writer and artist, who has failed thus far at telling the truth. This has made me a sad person, a beautiful loser. Today it ends.

Recently an artist came into my life who showed me that I too am an artist. He prefers his anonymity, so I will call him the Protagonisto. He looks like a cross between Martha Stewart and Salvador Dali.

He has persuaded me to take some art classes. This blog is not only about my views on art and literature, but also about me becoming the writer and artist I was always intended to become.