Since finishing the paintings for the show at Mason Murer I've been playing a lot more with small works on paper (mostly just doodles). It's refreshing to step away from large, representational pieces and work with something (literally) more fluid and unpredictable.
These were both done by laying down the watercolor somewhat haphazardly and drawing in the lines after the big watercolor blobs dried.
I suck at blog updating (obviously). I'm getting ready for a show in May at Mason Murer with a couple of other recent grads from KSU, J. Morgan Booker and Rachel Wade. I can't believe March is almost over... It's crunch time.
Baby steps. I'll post at least once a month and work up to higher frequencies of blogging.
On Tuesday my boyfriend and I returned from a trip to New York City to visit some friends and see Beth Cavener Stichter's opening at Claire Oliver Gallery. Chasen (the boyfriend) had just gotten back from a two-month long internship with her a few weeks ago and since we have friends in the city we decided we would make it a trip. I had to take advantage of the opportunity to see her work in person, internet photos just don't do three-dimensional art justice-- or any art, for that matter. I have nothing intelligent to say about her work other than the fact that it's absolutely gorgeous.
And unsettling. I don't normally take photos at gallery openings so I felt a little uncomfortable taking pictures there. I'm so glad I did, though. Have a look-see:
More (higher quality) images of her work can be viewed on her website. Downstairs in the gallery were more visual goodies. The pieces that caught my attention in particular were those by Kate Clark and Bernardi Roig.
Such unnerving work. I love it. We also visited the Met-- sadly, where I did not bring my camera-- and Neue Galerie where, unfortunately, I did bring my camera and was not allowed to take pictures. I highly recommend anyone with the slightest interest in German and Austrian Secessionist Art visit Neue Galerie if you have the opportunity. The museum is a beautiful mansion that houses works by Otto Dix, Oskar Kokoschka, Egon Sheile and Gustav Klimt-- just to name a few. Not only did I get to see work by artists that I greatly admire but also be exposed to ones I hadn't heard of (or at least thought about since some of my art history courses. Man, do I need to brush up on that stuff) like Emil Nolde, Lyonel Feninger and Alfred Kubin. The place also made me want to get back into the printmaking studio more than ever...
I'm doing not-so-good on keeping this blog updated-- sorry. I fail.
One of the reasons I haven't been updating is that I haven't been able to properly document my work, and an art blog with no pictures is kind of boring. My little Cybershot seems to be on it's last legs so I've been keeping an eye out for an affordable DSLR. I'm pretty limited to just scanning in drawings and small pieces at the moment, and I don't usually work within the size limitations of a scanner bed. I've got a couple of models in mind for my next paintings, too, so the sooner I can find a new camera the better (financial aid going through would also be a big help...).
My very last semester of college has begun, and it's off to a slow start. I'm having mixed feelings about it-- sad because I'll miss the place, excitement because I'm ready to get away from it, and of course, fear of the "real world"... I'm only taking two classes which should allow me to focus on my body of work. So far I haven't started any of my big pieces, but I've done a few studies and tons of sketching. I've got five more of the animal-headed women planned and I also intend on doing a short series of etchings following a similar concept. I desperately need to get back into the printmaking studio.
Why does getting started have to be so damned hard? Do you guys have that problem?
The Bounty, 12"x16", oil and acrylic on bedsheet, 2009
This piece was in that show I mentioned last entry at WonderRoot. A lot of the pieces I worked on this summer explored the unfortunate dilemma of mortality. That's another thing I've got to work on-- an artist statement. Mine are always awful.
After class last Friday we sat outside drinking coffee for at least three hours. Annie was my unknowing victim.
Now if only I could work on something more substantial than sketches and studies.