Monday, October 12, 2009

I got into the studio around 11 am and dicked around for a bit. Ate some pretzels, listened to a few podcasts, stared at the wall. Finally got around to working out some storyboards for a sequence of drawings. I hate . . . hate working like this; it's one of the reasons I switched from illustration to "fine" art. I feel like I'm writing a predictable rom-com when I get this specific about where a drawing is going--A leads to B, B leads to C, everything is exposed along the way. But I also feel like I should try this approach--at least once--since the setting-up-an-idea-then-replacing-it-with-random-things approach doesn't leave me all that content either. I write down pages of ideas and plots and actions for the characters and than ignore them completely when I get down to work. I always hope that the pages of writings are somehow present in the drawings even if they're not explicitly illustrated.

And I guess therein lies my problem with my own work and the work of just about everyone else. If you know that you know what you're doing--that you can claim that you know it, you can go from A to B to C, run a whole lecture about your work and its influences, break a sweat educating the viewer before they even get around to consuming the work, illuminate and provide maps for all the small crooked corridors in your work that they may (or may not) want to explore . . . well, I feel like you're doing something wrong. I know that's a blanket statement, and vague and inaccurate in many ways, and introducing some kind of diffuse moral code into the process of making work, blah blah blah. Ah, fuck it.

Here are some drawings.

No comments: