end of semester....
I spent the weekend digging out my studio, recovering the space that had been devastated by mildew, water damage, raccoons, mice.. I had a sort of epiphany regarding my age and the time I have left to do my work.
Hoping to form a supportive art community, I have diluted my energy in projects to support a larger community agenda... discovering that in the end, community is not a bank where I can make deposits and withdrawals.
Most art students and professionals I encounter in academia have never had flourishing art careers, support from National and Private Galleries, great press from national newspapers, grant funding from state and local agencies... and they simply can not know how transient these things are or easy it is for them to fall into memory... What I know is of no real use to to any one but me.
I am not sure if it will be possible to find my way back. I feel old, tired. up and down the stairs carrying bags of damp and moldy plaster, finding a stack of wood block prints soaked with piss... drawings eaten by mice.. my knees swollen.
the confines of the dust mask, the cut and scratches that instantly swell up from the allergens. Oops. I pull my hand out of a box of collage materials and there is a needle stuck in my arm. I use these sometimes to inject glue and stabilizing materials into the layers of collage materials and for restoring chine colle. For a moment, I stop and think, great... how are you going to explain this! I remember that I have had recent tetanus shot and continue to carry the heavy bags to the curb.
This is the fifth great flood/wet garbage event in my studio life. Broken pipes in Boston, flood in PA, and three separate events in Maryland.
By the time I had the last flood, (the sump pump had shorted out) I dragged what could be salvaged up into the main part of the house, shut the door and gave up. So, now going back in and going through all that was damaged, I realized that I would have to handle this if I wanted to keep making art.
I have to do what is important to me. Whatever time is left to me, I will make art.
Hoping to form a supportive art community, I have diluted my energy in projects to support a larger community agenda... discovering that in the end, community is not a bank where I can make deposits and withdrawals.
Most art students and professionals I encounter in academia have never had flourishing art careers, support from National and Private Galleries, great press from national newspapers, grant funding from state and local agencies... and they simply can not know how transient these things are or easy it is for them to fall into memory... What I know is of no real use to to any one but me.
I am not sure if it will be possible to find my way back. I feel old, tired. up and down the stairs carrying bags of damp and moldy plaster, finding a stack of wood block prints soaked with piss... drawings eaten by mice.. my knees swollen.
the confines of the dust mask, the cut and scratches that instantly swell up from the allergens. Oops. I pull my hand out of a box of collage materials and there is a needle stuck in my arm. I use these sometimes to inject glue and stabilizing materials into the layers of collage materials and for restoring chine colle. For a moment, I stop and think, great... how are you going to explain this! I remember that I have had recent tetanus shot and continue to carry the heavy bags to the curb.
This is the fifth great flood/wet garbage event in my studio life. Broken pipes in Boston, flood in PA, and three separate events in Maryland.
By the time I had the last flood, (the sump pump had shorted out) I dragged what could be salvaged up into the main part of the house, shut the door and gave up. So, now going back in and going through all that was damaged, I realized that I would have to handle this if I wanted to keep making art.
I have to do what is important to me. Whatever time is left to me, I will make art.
posted by wipper at 5:13 AM
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