Time for the Art World to Catch Up.

Piece for today; this is how I feel about the relationship I have with my youngest son. It is not an easy one. I love him very much.

If there is one thing that irritates the Hell out of me, it is stereotypes.

Not just stereotypes for race, religion or social group, but for any stereotype. What set off today's rant?

Well, that is the constant assumption, the stereotype, that the definition of emerging artist is age based. That one can only be an emerging artist if one is under 30. Bull puckey and horse feathers! In this era, Baby Boomers have redefined many things, and the art world is not immune, just stubbornly clinging to outmoded ways of thinking.

The true definition of an "emerging artist" is just that; an artist emerging into the art world, into their own style and mode of creation. This is not age dependent.

To view emerging as solely a product of youth, is snobbery based on centuries of ignorance regarding the human brain.The human brain, as cutting edge research shows, is at it's peak in the middle aged years, particularly the ages of 40-60.

We no longer live hard scrabble lives that kill us before we are 60. Now, with medical advances and with new understanding of exercise and nutrition, people live longer and more productive lives, with it not being uncommon to live to 90+, now.

This means that we, as a species, have the time to explore, to create, to express our feelings about our experiences and how these have impacted us. It means that we have the time and the ability to experiment with mediums, and with modes of expression.

It's not like it was even 30 years ago. Now it is time for a tradition bound, dogma bound, art world to break loose of these notions that are holding back many a deserving artist.

A person is not required by any written rule to be a certain age, for the most part, but those people and organizations that continue to follow this outmoded path are doing no one any good, and they are definitely not doing the art world any good.

It is never good to limit what one sees based on criteria such as age. There are a lot of fine and Picture of the day, a little graphite piece that I think may end up on a panel. This piece is about the relationship I have with my youngest son. talented artists out there, from the very young to the very old. I believe that all should be honored for "emerging"; not just the ones between the ages of 20-30. To limit "emerging" to only those artists between the ages of 20 and 30 does a disservice to all artists.It also defies reality.

There used to be the notion of an ideal age, when we, as humans, used to believe that there is a window for creativity that closes after 30. There most certainly is not.

The only limits there are are the ones that we set for ourselves. Thanks to the internet, the art world has lost quite a bit of it's elitist attitude.

About time. Now, if the art world could just loosen up a little and get with the times....

Sometimes, tradition ain't a good thing.

Anxious

Tomorrow is a pretty big day. I had MRI's a week ago. I'm amazed, fascinated and horrified. The images are so clear, one can almost read the writing on the titanium plate.
Part of me is fascinated, and thinking on how I can incorporate this into art. There is a large part of me that is trying to run from this. That MRI showed that the bone spur is actually starting to penetrate the spinal cord. Losing my ability to walk is not the thing that reverberates in my mind. Nope. That would be the loss of my hands. That part makes me quiver in fear.
Tomorrow, I get to hear the doctor's opinion.
Too much knowledge can be a curse; I know how to read those MRI images. I asked for copies and got them. Wow.
Be careful what you wish for, right?
Still, I needed to see them. I really did. I had to know what the enemy looked like, what that bone spur is mindlessly trying to take away from me. I know it's not personal, but there is no escaping what is happening, and that is very personal.
I look at my torches, and I worry. I look at my waxes and my oils, my powders and trinkets; I am scared of losing the ability to draw the people who live in my mind and on the public transit.
No one really has any idea exactly how I feel about this. I don't tend to share that, cause I am supposed to be the rock the family relies on. I could use a rock, myself, right about now.
What there is, for me, is my work. My art, to see me through, to express, to emote about this with paint, pigments, beeswax and/ or mixed medias.
Well, the palette is hot, the wax has melted, and I have a piece that is crying to be done. Off to paint, to create, to spend one more day on that wonderful cruise ship, the SS Denial.

Helluva Thing

So Friday I had MRI's to see what is going on in my neck since September 2009. I'm seriously feeling the effects in my biceps, my triceps and in my hands. I'm dropping things like a fiend. What used to be an abstract concept, losing my ability to make art, is fast becoming concrete. No more abstraction when one can only partially feel one's hands.
Not that I, or anyone else for that matter, cut me any slack. In fact, there are those who hold me up to impossible standards, that no one could realistically live up to.
These same people are very negative stakeholders in my life; they have gleefully caused me and the husband some serious trouble. I'm hoping that whatever the doc has to say on the 22nd, that it does not leave my husband vulnerable to these negative stakeholders.
These people wish me some serious harm; I'm an artist. They do not like that.
I am a Liberal Realist; they are Rush Limbaugh Conservatives. I've already had to deal with manipulation of a mind that was not stable.
Add to this, the fact that art is part of me. I love to sell, no doubt, but it is NOT why I create. I create because I have to; it's like breathing, for me. I create because that creation is necessary to me. It keeps me grounded, it allows me to deal with things I can't talk about out loud.
I'm very worried about it.

Glass, goddesses and blood

All of these goddesses are bloodthirsty, but this one is the most by far! I've started on Pele; she looks just wonderful so far. Pele and Inanna are off to a gallery in Astoria next weekend. They are looking forward to having her, and I'm looking forward to my girls being seen.
Art, for me, is not dependent upon sales, for my self definition of an artist, but they do help to create new art.
Art, for me, is that drive, that need, that compelling drive to create that drives all real artists. That is the real artist, the one that creates regardless, no matter what.
I know that art, for me, means pain. Not just the pain of the glass, but the pain of the cuts, and the pain of the hands as they slowly work the glass nippers. I like shattering the glass; it not only looks nicer but it gives the piece a more artistic look, in my view. I like the randomness of the pieces, I like the way that they become a puzzle. It's the process of moving the puzzle from my head, to the piece that is the challenge. Another reason that art is wonderful. That pushing of envelopes, crossing boundaries and stepping over lines, with materials, concepts and ourselves, that is the largest part of art, I think.
So, now I get to back away from the computer, and go work on a very demanding goddess before I sleep! WIP pics will be posted ASAP.

Introspection

It's cold, out here in Portland, OR. This kind of weather really does a number on my hands. I should clarify; it does a number on the arthritis in my neck and THAT does a number on my hands.

It's funny, but our hands are something we take for granted. We look at them when we do our nails, or attend to cutting a broken nail, but we really don't pay attention to them.
We don't look at the way the skin moves over the fingers, the way the thumb and the fingers manipulate objects. The tendons that move my fingers as I type, and correct the many errors from fingers that have become clumsy, they move these fingers with ease, and the muscles give precision. The hand occupies a very large area in the motor cortex of the brain. The hand is a piece of magic, and one I'm happy to possess.

When we look at our hands we see faithful friends, for the most part. Friends who brush our hair, and our teeth. They zip zippers, button buttons, and snap snaps. They stir coffee and pick up things to examine.

It is a hard thing to deal with, the things that are happening to my hands, but the headaches make it a reality that I have to deal with, increasingly. There is no ignoring them. It has gotten bad enough that I now take amatriptylene at night for the pain, and Vicodin for when the pain flares are really bad. I used to be able to go for days without pain flares, but no longer.

These hands are used to paint, to create. To cut an onion, to deftly blanch peaches. To touch my face, my loved ones, my brush. They are marvels of design and efficiency, human hands. They are capable of bringing so much pleasure, and so much pain.

I hope to keep my hands; to still be able to peel an apple, to write down a name, to touch my husband's hair.

I never realized, until they started to not work, how wonderful these hands really are. I've really resisted training my computer for voice commands. As long as these work, I will work them.

I will paint with them, I will make love with them, I will do all of the things that I have always done, with one exception. I will no longer take them for granted. I will cherish what they do for me, I will cherish them. I will examine the fingers, and appreciate them for the wonderous things that they really are.

Art is part of who we are

As human beings, we are in possession of one of the greatest natural wonders there is, the human brain.
This magnificent piece of organic machinery, it has taken us from the African savannah to the skyscrapers of today.
It has also taken us from our earthbound existence to the moon, and we hope to go beyond.
All of this progress, the accomplishments of our species, are the direct result of this wonderful brain!
This brain allows us to see the creatures in the clouds, and to see the horse in the marble, the image in the canvas; to allow us to bring what we perceive in our heads from our minds to our chosen medium.
Each one of us may look at the same thing, but each one of us will see that object differently. As artists, it's part of our job description to try to express ourselves, in our chosen mediums. I believe that what makes an artist is not sales, it is not some sort of popular recognition; it is the need to create, no matter what!
It is the need to put that image down, to free the horse from the marble, to write that novel, or to compose that musical piece, all of that is part of the human condition. Part and parcel of being an artist is that overwhelming need to create.