these are the many faces of sherry

About a month ago I arrived at sculpture studio to find our new model, Sherry.  I began forming my armature to her pose but during that process one of the legs fell off.  Of the armature, not Sherry.  I couldn't fix it, and since I like the idea of using the same armature in all the sculptures of my current process, I balled the metal figure up and began forming Sherry's portrait around it

Now, Sherry's story.

When I first began I thought she was angry at me for looking at her, or she didn't want me there, or hated men . . . something like that.  I became extremely self-conscious and anxious.  But when she came out of her pose, she was polite and cheerful.  A sign of a good model!  She captured a state of mind as she went into the pose, becoming a new person experiencing something profound.  Capturing this emotional side was quite intriguing.  One minute she was angry, the next sad, regretful, then consumed, resigned, peaceful.  Repeat.  This slippery slope of change found its way into the sculpture without me realizing it. You can imagine that I look forward to creating the painting from one of these images, all offering a different level of emotion really.

Thank you Sherry for an amazing energy.  My creation is for you.

this is another view of fire island

            

I've never been great at socializing.  My parents didn't really do much of it, so perhaps it's something innate, my introversion.  Large groups intimidate me, and one of my best friends, who hosted me this weekend at his house on Fire Island, is just the opposite.  He loves having parties and going to parties and meeting tons of new people.  I've actually stayed at his house before and left the party because I just couldn't do it--social anxiety at its best--and walked around the island until it was over.

This weekend though, I brought an accessory.  I don't think that suffices in describing him.  Perhaps life line might be better.  When he was around, I did the larger parties and spoke more easily to new people and it felt good to socialize.  I could be myself because he likes me for myself.  Myself being a extremely weirder character than my appearance might suggest.  That's me.  Nerdy, strange, shy, but when you get to know me, kind and loyal. 

And it was nice to be able to stay at my best friend's party and share it with not only him but also my new favorite person.  We sat in the sun one afternoon and I made a fast pastel.  I also drew him while he napped.  We were both sunburned later that day.

this is giving horror head

When I was a little boy and my parents watched the movie Halloween and disallowed me to watch it but kept the sound up high so that the disturbing music and screams haunted me in my room, I began a fascination with horror movies that lasted through high school.  I still like a good scare every now and then, and love dark movies and noir cinematography (off the top of my head movies from last year I'm thinking of Martha Marcy May Marlene and Drive).  But when I had to dismantle my current sculpture, a portrait of a lovely model named Sherry, I had no intention of creating this odd story.  But I stumbled on some creepy lighting, and the rest, as they say is herstory.  I will tell Sherry's story in my next posting, but for now, in honor of Sharon Needles, and Halloween junkies everywhere, I present this story of the macabre.  Goodbye, Mr. Hitchcock, where ever you are.  If you can guess that reference without Google, I'll buy you dinner.

this is the new painting

She just needs to be shown in better light.  Edit May 23: I've actually decided that this painting is not quite finished.  I think she needs a bit more structure to her face in relation to the bottom portion of the painting, which I find ethereal and harmonious.  Until she's finished, I will leave you with her name: Our Lady of Navigators (Pigeon).  Most people think this image is decapitated, limbless, gruesome, and while this may be true from some perspectives, I believe she's being put back together again through cleansing.  I think the title might help with this idea.  And, as a digression, I believe that these paintings are a series of self-portraits.  Perhaps the last one will be an image inspired by my own person, as opposed to my spirit, which is reflected in all the models that I sculpt and then mold into a new shape and finally formed into a new role on canvas.  I keep harping on my process because I believe it to be a good one, a brave one, a patient one.  This process to me is art itself.  The paintings are just the residue.

these are steps of my painting process (part one)

I've been using these phases as I complete these paintings.  Who knows how long I'll be working on these images, but I think it might help to explain the process and then map it out.  Maybe I'll make a collage one day.  For now I'll add the first two categories to my eventual flowchart glossary.

Phase Q: when you look at a painting in a different way, and it proceeds in a new direction.

Phase A: when you buy a new canvas.

de Kooning's stopping by later

I had to shout my love to the world:

And from the ashes,
I'll attempt to rise again.
I die for my new painting.

It's done.  I even signed it, but you can't see it really in the photo...it's in black...and smudged.  I hope one day you'll see it in person.

This one...I'm calling him The Rise of Lazarus (Gustavo de Kooning) is really my first true painting.  I think my "first painting" was really a study.  This one was a journey.  And I remember almost every step.  To have it complete makes me see the true intention of art, which is ineffable.  If words had to be put into its mouth, it's like your insides being readjusted while your brain and heart hum together and attempt to recreate the dial tone chord.

this is Phase J

Changing two little things have made a big difference to me, and brought me to phase J.  Of course I have no true idea what these letters represent . . . solely a feeling . . . but perhaps one day I'll be able to effectively communicate them to you. 

For now I'm excited to proceed with Pigeon 2.  One of my favorite people said to me last night, "Pigeon is becoming Swan."  After my mini-makeover (had her hair did), today I'll give her facial reconstruction and work on her body.  And soon the outside world will want to peek in.  I'm so excited I could just spit.

phase H

I'm returning to a familiar figure.  Pigeon was used for my first painting and I'm using her again for a new one.  I started this painting a while back but as the one previously in Phase Q (now he's in Phase U) is almost done, I've been spending more time with her.  In the beginning copying the first one on a bigger canvas was important to me, but now I'm exploring and letting things happen more.

Phase H is when you have almost all of the elements up, but something is missing, or something is too much, or the elements need some connection, or, or, or . . . and that problem needs to be solved before moving on.  It's unsettling but exciting, like exploring a new territory.

Until the answer arrives, I'll share my beautiful predicament with you.

giving head

Today is my Mom's birthday.  In honor of her birthday, I'm presenting Sherry (not to be confused with Cherry).  This is day four of working on her portrait.  My armature broke so I decided to try something new.  I decided to fold it up and build the head around it.  So it's still a part of the journey.  My sculpture mentor Barney applauded the effort and says I'm almost finished.  He looked quite surprised.  Sherry didn't.  Happy Birthday, Mama!  Thanks for having me!

    



this is phase Q

Numbers are tedious to me right now, so I've changed up my naming system.  This is the start of the next phase of one of my new paintings...this is the biggest.  The details feel tough on this one, so I've put him on his feet.

Let's see where he leads me.

cherry's last dance

This one was a hard one to deconstruct . . . I was very sad.  I really enjoyed my connection with Cherry.  I just saw her in the hall the other day, and after I said hello she covered her mouth and giggled.  She gets an extra large layout.  Great working with you, Cherry.

this is cherry

Meet Cherry: she's the young adult version of a living baby doll, a cross between a Cabbage Patch Kid and Daria.  She's adorable, but you know she has some dark secrets.  We have two more days together, Cherry and I, and then she'll be deconstructed into something different, a reflection of myself.  That's what goes down between the models and me.  They offer me a piece of myself that I have either forgotten about, neglected, or never fully realized.  While she's nude, I too am exposed, as I create a version of herself in front of her.  When I take the sculptures apart, and then put them back together again in my paintings, I'm exploring that minute relationship that existed over 30 days: a connection that evenutally breaks down but never completely.  Our correlation carries on in the art, which, while not permanent, does its best to capture that moment.  This is my process for now.

this is a candle

Today is my birthday.  Instead of wishing for something frivolous for myself, I'm putting up this image so that you can make a wish.  Of course you'll just have to pretend that the fire goes out.  It actually did go out.  And the proof is my Barbie mascot, as you can see above.  She's still happy.  Like me.  And tonight, when I blow out my candle, I'll wish for all your wishes to come true.  And by the way, it DOES count if I tell you my wish before my actual candle is even lit.  So wish well.

this is my hero

No, it's not Saddam Hussein. It's my dad.

And while my cigarette toting, beer guzzling, fishing father was my hero as a small child, it changed when the world's superficial context consumed me as a pre-teen. He was a blue collar worker, and I suppose the polo images frolicking on classmates' shirts made me wonder why my father didn't make enough to afford me that small luxury. 

My bitterness towards Dad stuck through the years, until just recently when I took up art school and understood that my talent came from him.

You see my father was a painter, but he didn't pursue it. And perhaps my bitterness was just my unconscious lashing out at my father because he didn't put a brush or pencil in my hand to encourage me to make art.

So, be kinder to your parents. Teenagers are assholes, so this isn't really meant for them. But, when you come of age, perhaps it's time to let go of those small (quite possibly bad) choices made by your parents. And own it. It's your life really. Not theirs.

I have this painting hanging in my studio to remind me of where I came from: Joseph Hubert (sounds like a great artist's name, right?). It's curious that his painting has very similar unintentional coloring to one of my collages that features a photograph of my father. It's also quite a coincidence that I'm a bull. My birthday is on Wednesday.  Thanks Dad.

pauses of perusal: woman asleep at a table (this is reassurance)

I've been thinking that the dark area in my new painting might be a problem. I want to paint a sort of matrix over it in another color. My mentor told me that would be a problem. He said I could use white, and then paint on top of that with the new color (red). He also said the red would turn brown in 50 years, and then proceeded to tell me I'd probably be dead by then anyway so who cares.

Today I went to the Met, which I've grown to love simply because of its amazing modern art collection in juxtaposition to a wonderful array of world art history, and landed upon Picasso's Woman Asleep at a Table. The only thing that struck me was the use of white over black and vice versa. Who cares if you can see it. It's wonderful actually, to see the artist's plight and his use of layers. While I'm not a huge Pablo fan, he just received a couple of points from me today.