I think I’m going to try and do a pretty long series on this theme:
I’m thinking about my favorite art quote ever, from Philip Guston writing about the experience of being an artist in America during the Vietnam war:
The war, what was happening to America, the brutality of the world. What kind of man am I, sitting at home reading magazines, going into frustrated fury about everything — and then going into my studio to adjust a red to a blue?
Yep, right there with you, Phil. What kind of (ahem) person am I, pushing paint around in the studio when so much of the world seems to be going to hell? I don’t think that making drawings about this sort of thing actually accomplishes anything practical or meaningful, do I? And if not, they why do I keep doing it? And what (exactly) happens when I keep doing it, even when I admit to myself that it accomplishes nothing?
I don’t know. I really sincerely, deeply don’t know.
I’m actually no more or less depressed by all of these thoughts than I usually am. I’m actually just more curious than anything else.
This is sense, this curiousity – is more and more what I want to zero in on with my work. Rawness and honesty, more now than ever. How can I push myself – to be more honest and more open, more vulnerable and more present in my own work than ever before? I don’t know, but I guess that’s not the sort of thing you’re supposed to know. You’re just supposed to do it.
(Update: I actually like these drawings enough that I took the extra step of adding them to my “real” website. If you want to see them bigger, you can click there and it will lead you to larger images.)