Friday, December 14, 2007
I'll finish the drawing this weekend.
I can't say what these drawings are about, really. That Ape Machine stuff I mentioned a few weeks back, yes. Certainly they're about the act of drawing. I am feeling majestically liberated simply by not editing and allowing the work to just create itself. I understand how dumb and naive and, well, totally obvious that sounds but it's something I've never allowed before. I was forever trying to shoehorn the drawings into these sad little biographical narrative I'd concoct: oh, my broken heart! My potential life unlived! Now they're starting to feel whippish and alive, vital in a way that has little to do with my intentions. And I'm finding odd little outlets for the sheafs and piles and pounds of source material I've spent my life consuming.
Oh, fuck it. Too many words, too much abstraction and vague bullshittery. I'll just quote someone deader and yet hornier (but not by much) than I am, Henry Miller:
...this is what every...artist comes to learn--the process in which he is involved has to do with another dimension of life, that by identifying himself with this process he augments life. He divines that the great secret will never be apprehended but incorporated in his very substance. Through art, then, one finally established contact with reality: that is the great discovery. The world has not to be but in order...it is for us to put ourselves in unison with this order... [emphasis Miller's]
Or something like that. It's all pretty tenuous and a lot of import lent to what are, in my case, overwrought Saturday morning cartoons. But this Miller is my default quote when I'm feeling hot about my work. Check back in six months. I'll probably be despondent again.
(And please note the gender specific tense of Miller--all of the he/his/him--because, as we ALL understand, only men can be great artists. Women can only be the wives of (and waitresses to) great artists. Right?)