this is my first painting

this is the other side

The painting process is unbelievable. It's like my materials and I are communing, connected, evolving. While the process is certainly fulfilling, if I want this piece to go into the class gallery show, I have to turn it in next Thursday so that it will be ready to be hung. I'm unsure if I can finish and I don't want to present something half baked, but a classmate in my drawing class pursuaded me to put it up even if it's unfinished. So that's my plan. I will finish.

The painting rested in my window sill today...the daylight showing through exposing the layers. I thought she looked ready for a brief showing, even with a lot of work ahead.

pauses of perusal: the whitney biennial part one

Since June of 2004, the Whitney Biennial has haunted me. That month and year, I was officially taken by the art world. While I had been to a handful of museums and had produced a couple dozen art books and photo shoots for a marketing and publishing company, I never experienced an art event, like Art Basel or any of the many biennials held around the world. I went with my Parisian lover, who was visiting me. We had intense intercourse, and then in the afterglow, we attended the show. Perhaps they both worked together to plant the seed, which has now broken free from the dirt.

Unfortunately, every Whitney Biennial since then has proven to be a major disappointment. I'm not sure if that is due to my tastes being refined, or if the event is just not as great as that awe inspiring 2004 show. Regardless, 2012 is much better curated than any of the past three shows. The offerings are not all great, but there is a much better focus. I especially loved two portions. The first I'm presenting in this posting. Regardless of my opinions, see the show for yourself. It runs through May 27.

Nicole Eisenman created 45 amazing mixed-media monotypes focusing on the human condition. There is solid mixture of melancholy and humor that mirrors her various techniques of portraying these figures in their isolated psychological states, whether as individuals or in pairs.

these are done now what?

I finished these two collages, and although they're good, I think they're a part of a bigger conversation. And until I know how to finish that conversation, then they'll sit in my studio and stare back at me.

this is the beginning

I couldn't sleep last night.

On Wednesday I met my painting teacher Frank O'Cain. He introduced himself by saying, "If you need my help, let me know. Otherwise, I'm going to think you know what you're doing and leave you alone."

After deliberating on what I would create, I decided to sketch my totem for March. Frank came around and said, make it bigger, fill the page. I did. Yesterday I debated on painting this sketch. I danced between the school art store and the studio. Then after finding out that our class would have a group showing at the end of the month, and that our paintings could be no larger than 24" x 36", I bought that size, the largest I could. And I began.

It's only a start, but after looking again and again at this photograph I took with my phone, my voice is emerging. This excitement is intoxicating. Who needs sleep?

this is a banana

March is all about drawing and painting (while continuing the sculpture). My drawing teacher G. L. Sussman (Gary) told me to draw everything. So I drew this banana. I will share with you some of my drawings from class in a later post.

this is phase two

February was about jumping in and getting my feet messy. Now I'm ready to get my clothes paint splattered and charcoal covered, and from this mess, to see what arises from within. This month is about trying to find my voice. I'm taking a figurative drawing class entitled "Catalytic Drawing: Finding Your Own Voice" and an abstract painting class taught by Frank O'Cain, who "gives his students a point of departure that enables them to push their work toward a personal, abstract expression." I have high expectations based on the titles and descriptions of these courses. This photograph from my sculpture deconstruction photo shoot will act as my totem.

this is the last spin (and the daughter of Michael Myers)

The next to last day, my teacher Barney Hodes told me that the last director of the program would have loved me like a son. She was a miser and knew nothing about sculpture so my modicum use of clay would have pleased her. He said that I need to work bigger and to pile more clay on so that I can actually sculpt instead of build from bare bones. He did say that I captured some nice angles and shapes, and overall, it was a good start, but next time he wants me to work bigger.

This next to last day left me almost in tears for some reason. I felt like every person, including the model, whose name I have learned is Pigeon, was against me . . . not from anything said, but from looks and body language. Was that a smirk? I felt defeated and wanted to cry. What a dark night to enter after class ended.

Then the next day, the last day, arrives, and I enter with an open heart and a fresh attitude and everything is brighter. Sure, the face looks like the mask of Michael Myers, but I was proud of the effort invested in the piece. Pigeon complimented it. Two of my classmates came up to me and told me that I had done a nice job. And then it was over.

I took some photographs. And then tore her down. The interesting photo shoot of the tearing down I'll save for later. Next week, new model. It's a man. And maybe I'll just focus on his butt.







this is my version of Pigeon looking crestfallen because she is not being cast (the casting room is in the background). The decontruction photoshoot is quite interesting and looking back on it, I should have cast one of those. Will post those photos soon.

this is a loner

Not him. Me. I was seeing this guy for three months. He was kind, sexy, and creative. Unfortunately, something was missing for me. Perhaps he was too young, too ingenuous, but I think it had something more to do with his role in my life.

Get out your throw up buckets: Everyone comes into your life for a reason.

(What about that asshole who cut you off, blocked a doorway, gave you gonorrhea, spit on you, etc?...he was present to build your humanity, your tolerance.)

So many times in my life, I've pushed relationships just because I thought they were what I needed, someone to complete me, someone to make me happy. Jasson came into my life when I needed that little extra push to start practicing my art. He was in school. I wanted to be in school. He was working toward "becoming" something creative. I wanted that. It was as if he was there so that I could show him what I could do. Jasson's role wasn't to be my boyfriend, but to remind me of that someone I could have become, someone full of youth and passion and courage.

We broke up today. It was difficult. He was so good to cuddle with. And we'd create things together. But it wasn't fair to him.

So I'm a loner. My brother in law called me that when I was a kid, and it's stuck with me. Ever since hearing it, I've wanted to fight against that label, and so I've forced myself to go out when I didn't want to. To be the nice guy and shake hands and smile and hold conversations that went nowhere. I'm not good around a bunch of strangers. While the solitude can become overwhelming, being the loner will help me practice my art more. And I have a lot of catching up to do.

But thank you Jasson...for getting me back on track.