This morning I decided to squeeze in another day of gleaning… This is what I found… The universe has a way of telling us… “You’re Done!”
So, here we are on the final stretch before the big show. And I’m at the intersection of “damn I love this” and “what the hell am I doing”. I’ve been working in my studio in a frantic yet focused state of a madman. There have been so many great ideas and concepts that have come out of my experience gleaning the castoffs of others. I’ve found endless possibilities, which sometimes makes it hard to focus. At this point it about which pieces can I finish in the shortened time I have left. Losing a month of production time has altered my world.
One thing that stands out for me is how we (collectively) are blind to the waste we produce. I also know that a big part of my creative process is that my art needs to have a message. And before I can make it need to know what I’m trying to say and how I want to say it. So through associative processing I’ve created a few Braille pieces.
Ok, that’s enough, time to get back to the studio. I have three more pieces to complete and I have six in process.
This has been quite a journey. I’m often amazed at what catches my eye and how any given object speaks to me. After weeks of filling my car with treasures gleaned from other’s discards I now have a nice stash of “raw material”. The challenge is how do I combine all this “junk” into something cohesive?
For the past couple decades I have been telling stories through art… more specifically I’ve been telling my story. As I’ve said before, I’m fascinated with how an “artifact” can be translated into “art of fact”.
When I found these “two left feet” they spoke of the akwardness I often feel as I maneuver through this thing called life. I’ve never been very good at “line dancing” or “waltzing”. It seems I’m never quite sure if I should lead or follow. When I’m on the dance floor I’m more of a free spirit… I do my own thing and I allow the music to move me in a random fashion… one that sometimes only makes sense to me.
But in life, like on the dance floor, there are others moving to their own beat some are boot scooting and other’s are more interpretive. Some are drawn to the center of the mosh pit, others dance the perimeter, and there are those who are content to being on the sidelines and watch the maddness unfold. The challenge is to move in such a way that allows others to move as freely without colliding into one another. It takes an intuitive awareness of the things around you.
When I’m creating art I often have something to say. My hope is that its part of a dialog rather than a lecture.
Shall we dance?
As I mentioned in my artist’s statement; I’ve been fascinated with blending “artifacts” with “art of fact”. A civilizations dumping ground can reveal amazing details about the culture from which it came. To an archeologist, our “garbage” tells a story of how we lived.
After talking with a friend, about the objects I’ve found while gleaning, he shared this article about discoveries in a Victorian trash heap… Digging Through Victorian Trash for Bone Toothbrushes and Broken Dolls . I found it fascinating.
For me creating art is a form of telling stories. I draw inspiration from my personal life experiences. Those experiences can range from something as simple as a memory of a childhood rhyme to something as dramatic as a life changing event. The materials I choose are “cast offs”… remnants of things gone by. They add a sense of familiarity and history. By doing so, in the same way our collective rubbish can tell a story about our culture, it taps into our collective conscience and allows the viewer to see and/or feel their own experience in the objects I place together.
My journeys to the “dump” have uncovered some surprising discoveries. Each new discovery has prompted me to reevaluate my expectations and adds an interesting twist to my ongoing narrative.
First there was the “taxidermied pig” which summons an old children’s rhyme of “Tom, Tom the piper’s son…” and provides me with an avenue to address the innocence of childhood.
A discarded pipe organ with tall obelisk type spires conjured images of ancient monoliths and mystical happenings.
The panels from an old beehive sparked a play on words… “BEHAVE”.
And the pile of chairs brought my back memories of summers spent as an artist residence in central France.
I’m not sure how each of these will eventually play out in my art making process… I’ll leave that to my dreams.
I often dream my about work before any construction begins. In the morning when I wake I draw a rudimentary sketch and make notes of possible materials to use. This helps to galvanize my thoughts. As the creative process evolves my dreams become more detailed.
I’m excited to see where this continuing journey will lead…