My Graveyard Birthing Center
For those of you who might be under the mistaken impression that real artists know what they’re doing, and that there is a straight line from having inspirations to planning to executing, and, finally, to successfully producing ART, are you in for a surprise!
To refute the idea that real art isn’t troublesome to make, I enter four exhibits into evidence. These came directly from the work surfaces in my mosaic studio…. where they’ve been sitting long enough to necessitate my cleaning them with the better part of a pressurized can of air. Dust, cobwebs, particles. There were many more exhibits I could have chosen, but I picked up the four easiest ones to move.
You might say that they’ve gone from being WIP’s (works in progress) to RIP’s (rest in peace). But, maybe not. Although some parts of my studio look like a graveyard, they might actually be in the process of gestation, I don’t know. I will find out someday.
My friends, this is a 4″ x 4″ x 1 1/2″ cradled panel swirled with acrylic paint in hot colors. Somehow it is supposed to involve mosaic, too, eventually…. somehow. It is about heat and chill in the heart. It has looked like this for several months.
This, too, is about hot and cold. It’s not finished. I’m not sure where to go from here, and I have not decided how to treat the edges.
Exhibit C, photo 1
This was inspired by a recent article in National Geographic on Eels. Glass eels are the transparent babies. Although I had originally intended to finish the edges in a style similar to the top, now I’m not so sure. I had also intended this piece to be glued onto the top of another mosaic. I don’t know; I’m feeling ambivalent about it.
Exhibit C, photo 2
Exhibit C, photo 3
Exhibit C, photo 4
Mom’s raku pot is beautiful, isn’t it?
Exhibit D, photo 1
I‘m thinking of the shape as a throat or a sea urchin or something like that. But, predictability is not what I’m after here. I’m at a stand-still and I’m not sure where I’m going next!
Exhibit D, photo 2
So, maybe some or all of these will rise from the dead one day, and present themselves as art. In the meantime, they stare up from their open graves and accuse me of murder by slow, lingering, death!
There is no one stereotype which fits all art connoisseurs.