[ Thursday, December 30, 2004 ]
I'm excited.
Tonight I finished & posted a new painting. For the last few days I've just been overwhelmed by images & have had the urge to just furiously throw paint on something--wood, board, people, whatever, with whatever. I found one blank canvas, which is not the norm. Usually when the mood strikes to paint--I have nothing. I picked up an old issue of People magazine with Star Jones plastered on the front, her shit eating, look at me, i just got married grin almost blinding me as much as the 100lb. pendant she wore around her neck. ( I'm no Kojo but that was tacky. )
A vision of a painting flashed in my head. Blue mottled background. Primitive, crude bride, enormously wide smile, teeth everywhere, FU pendant? & old handwritten journal entries cut to make the bridal veil & bouquet. "Keeping up with the Joneses." This was not going to be a pretty painting. One to make me smile? Oh yes. But not something most would want to hang on the wall.
I flew into that painting.
Completed the background. Gave it a wash of dirty brown, splashed some paint & prepared to paint the bride. Drew the shape, realized I had no white paint. Ivory. But no white. With this color scheme ivory just wasn't going to work. Too yellow. I wanted to keep it simple. Childlike almost. I tried the ivory. Didn't like it. Said fuck it. About 30 minutes later I came back to the painting, propped against laundry & floor. I decided to finish it. Didn't matter what it was. Just as long as I finished it or made an attempt. I started painting crude forms. Filling them in. Black lines, ink. It's becoming something. I don't exactly know what that something is. But I'm making myself fill every inch of that canvas. I give up too easily. I put stuff away, come back to it, never finish it. This one may not be exceptional, by it's going to be done. And it's going to be mine. And that kinda makes me feel good.
Tonight, I came home & worked on that one. While searching for india ink I discovered a small little painting that I'd begun in the summer. It was really crude. But appealing. I picked up a pen & just began sketching. The pen was almost out of ink. The lines were choppy. I liked it. As I was scribbling, these lines just kept coming to me. Lines that described the painting, the scene, the places I've been in that have allowed me to create it. I scribbled them onto the canvas. They're unreadable. But I liked that immediate release. The idea of having it there & no where else. And what it adds to that piece of artwork. For me at least. I'm not claiming that I've ever produced gallery pieces. But I've always wanted to create art that means something, that expresses some emotion, some feeling, some idea, some place I've been, some girl I've been. That one act. That one touch endeared the piece to me, made it mine.
So I have that one posted on my site. A Briar Cycle. Plus an oil that I did for Christmas for Beverley. Crazy Quilt & Mason Jar.
That has excited me.
My intentions were to do laundry, clean, find a place for the lifetime supply of tampons I now have. (What do you do with all those after a hysterectomy? Send boxes & boxes to your niece.)
I haven't done a thing but create more mess. But that's okay cause I feel like this was needed. It's been a long time since I've felt like I've actually created something.
I'm looking forward to tomorrow night. Guardrail is practicing as I type. I should be over there with my cowbell, practicing for the big gig, really exploring the space & performing the hell out of it, but I'm not. Tomorrow night maybe. Good things: beer, flannel shirts, live music, Lisa, Dave, a crowd to watch or not watch. Taking it in. Living. L-I-V-I-N.
Happy New Year, Folks!
~ Rebecca 8:06 PM [+]
