The painting has gone about as far as it (I) can go. I hope I have not bored anyone with my commentary on its progress. Anthony Boswell's comment below about the painting ‘living in two different places' was absolutely to the point. It put me in a position where I can see what is there in a different light. One of the uses of this site it seems to me is precisely that someone might point to (my) work and suggest a perspective that was not previously apparent. I have however a strong sense of insecurity and ambivalence about putting work and words on-line. I like writing the stuff, but sometimes I have to force myself to publish what I have written because it seems cowardly not to. I may be mistaken, but I feel sometimes as I read that there is an undercurrent of unease. In part it revolves around a fear of ‘intellectualising'. I think we are afraid if being accused of intellectual posturing (or perhaps it is just me). As a teacher I was aware of the damage that was done by an anti-intellectual culture amongst children. The term ‘Boffin' was one that no children wanted to be applied to them. The damage is done early and lives with us.
But words are simply another raw material. I think we should be prepared to unselfconsciously thrash around with them a bit more. Anthony in his comment noted that his intention was not ‘…to be overly clever…' He has also noted elsewhere that he might ‘worry too much' about what he writes. But if what is communicated on this site is to have value, there has to be mutual trust. Debate necessarily involves error, misunderstanding, and disagreement, and so does progress. A little bit of worry is probably a good thing in general because it focuses the mind, but if we fall on our faces occasionally so what?
Susan Francis notes that as a rural artist her biggest problem is ‘…a lack of critical input…' I don't know if she intends her blog to address this problem, but as an artist with a similar problem, I feel that there are possibilities.
It's a case of say it and see…..
Back to the roses. Sometimes it looks like progress, sometimes drifting. I wonder what I am doing. I helped my son -in-law lay a concrete foundation for a wall he is building yesterday. It felt like I was in the real world for a while. I enjoyed it. I put the stripes in my painting. I like stripes. Earlier today I posted a comment about language and art on Christina Bryant's blog. I am now wondering if I can say anything at all! I saw a mouse running across my garden the other day, with a large piece of bread in his mouth. He was just getting on with it.
I took a CD of some of my work to a gallery yesterday. Being of an age and seeing time more behind than in front of me, I am keen for my work to be shown. Later I received an email from the gallery. It thanked me for submitting the work and explained that it did not fit contextually with their gallery. Having suggested when I left the work that any advice would be welcome, I received some. The suggestion was made that I ‘look at interiors magazine such as Homes and Gardens, House and Garden, Interiors, Elle décor (and) extract info regarding what is selling in the world of interior decoration. The advice surprised me. I would hope that the briefest of glances would make it obvious that Homes and Gardens is not for me. I hope that they didn't see something in my painting that I am not aware of.
There are so many galleries purporting to be Art galleries that in fact sell upmarket pastiches – vacuous decoration.
My error was not to research the gallery sufficiently. I am not disappointed, having now avoided a fate worse than…..
On the Paul O'Grady show this evening, John Cleese spoke amusingly of his experiences of critical misunderstanding of his work. He concluded that the longer he was in the business, the more he realised that nobody really knew what they were talking about.
But the business of judging is important. There must be a difference between knowing what you enjoy and knowing whether it has any value.
There is art which is honest, and work which pretends to be art.
It is reassuring when one's own preoccupations find an echo outside. I understand that Damien Hirst has a heightened awareness now of the passing of time. He is painting pictures! On radio4's Keskidee programme today, a black playwright whose name escaped me noted that in order to have a play performed, he had to submit it to a usually white middle class person who would decide whether they liked it. One sees acres of art which is essentially a confirmation of the shallowness of a certain powerful sector of the middle classes.
But what was really annoying was that on my way back from the gallery, I strayed into the Congestion Charging zone and had to pay £8 for the privilege.
I have worked more on the roses painting. It is going the way all my work goes – towards more control and detail. It is to an extent free of the subject.( as with the drawing ) I feel a little like a tightrope walker who is unsure of the security of the end that he is travelling toward.
When I started this blog I was unsure of its direction or purpose. It seemed an opportunity not to be ignored. I feel that it has given me a medium in which to think about what I am doing. I must think in terms that I know will have to be written, and therefore have to structure my thoughts and push them further than I might otherwise have done. It remains however somewhat unnerving to add my mental droppings to the sea of virtual chatter. There is something of the message in a bottle about it all, except that I wait on the shore for the message to return.
