Art
It's personal
Whenever I look at art, I make it a very personal experience as I absorb it and make it a part of this person I call me. When I write about art, I'm peeling off a layer of what I've absorbed. I've never been a thick skinned person, so the layers are easy to peel. If you've ever skinned a fish, you'll know what I mean. The difference being is the fish only has one layer, then naked flesh is left bare. Contrary to that, I have several layers, each built by my experience with art, whether witnessing or making it, and as I had mentioned earlier, each one is thin, actually as thin as parchment paper, all very ethereal, of course.
Since 2019, I've been without a studio. Now I'm painting at home. I'm sitting on my living room couch and have just finished a small watercolour before picking up my tablet, tapping away. When I was working in the studio, I was working as a hermit in complete solitude, with jazz blaring and the scent of oils wafting through the air. The personal experience came from having an intimate relationship with my brush and canvas. Now I am at home in the company of family and dogs. Strange, though I don't feel distracted by human and canine activity. All of it has added to the personal facet of what I'm doing. It's as though they are all playing a part in this theatre.
In the studio my work was quite large and brash, as brash as the Coltrane and Shepp that filled the air. It was all a dance. Now my work is small, and has taken on a more subtle nature. Much of it is watercolours now, and small. How can my work not be completely personal? This is, after all home.
Golden Forest