lately i've been feeling like i've got way too much time on my hands and not nearly enough time on my hands to accomplish all the things i've got planned for myself. simultaneously, yes. two total opposites (seemingly) experienced at once.
it's a very strange and limiting thing but i think most artists go through this. we sit and stare at all our goals and try to find ways to achieve these things all the while feeling like there's never enough time, that we haven't worked hard enough, OR that we've worked so hard so why are those goals still so far away. it really is enough to drive a person crazy. really. and i noticed i've somehow managed to get wrapped up in that crazy train of thought. AGAIN. geez.
no wonder i feel like there's not enough time when i've wasted hours agonizing over how little time there is instead of WORKING. today i noticed that during the course of the last year or so i've subconsciously imposed some pretty huge and stupid limits on my practice: a painter PAINTS. that one. and that's all fine and good if painting is all you want to do but painting isn't all i want to do. my practice has always been so much larger than that, so much more inclusive and welcoming and interested in different forms, different approaches, different methods. art is art. that's been my outlook and it has served me so well. i'd get some slightly stupid or childish or funny idea in my head and just run with it. i'd try it out. and more often than not, that "stupid" idea would end up being poignant, being something that i was proud of and that fulfilled me. i feel like i've somehow gotten off track with that... gotten too "serious", too limited by genre or form.
i want my practice to be wide-open. why did i start thinking that that was bad or dumb or useless or whateverthehell i thought it was that made me stop approaching my work that way? and i think it's because i put a ton of pressure on myself to reach the goals that come down from The Outside. i somehow fell in to the trap of thinking i'm a failure because i haven't accomplished X,Y, and Z, and that's just silly. that's masochistic. the more i think about these things, the more i realize that maybe i don't want "the dream"... the dream we're told to want. maybe my dream is a bit different, slides a bit to the side. i want to enjoy this life, not constantly chase some ideal that i don't even know i want for myself.
it comes down to TIME- how i use it, how i want to use it, how my use of it satisfies me or doesn't. i feel like i've been trying to cram myself inside someone else's expectations. no wonder i feel out of sorts and that there's never enough hours in the day. i want to paint and i want to write and i also want to crochet and embroider and draw. i want THAT practice. look at roni horn's practice. look at kiki smith. look at annette messager or tracey emin or gerhard richter even.
i don't want to fall in to making some type of antiquated hierarchy about the value of different art forms. painting is NOT higher or more relevant that any other form. that's an idea that needs to be completely scrapped. that's an idea that is self-sabotaging and limits an artists' exploration and investigation and ability to LEARN, to SEE. at least for me it is.
somewhere along the line i managed to cram myself back in that box where painting became king and if i didn't spend everyday painting and instead wanted to crochet or write or draw i felt like i was fucking up. but i know better that THAT! way better! and i don't know why i looked away from this knowledge... maybe i've been distracted and worried and just wrapped up in other things to notice that i stopped feeding my practice with the very things that makes it thrive: variety, curiosity, playfulness.
the gratitude fridge helped me realize this. it really did. i used to do kookie things like that left and right and had absolutely no problem calling it art. i noticed i had a problem referring to that project as art. and so i'm going to correct this. it doesn't take much. it takes reading a bit of Roland Barthes and paying attention to what the work is actually saying instead of imposing outside desires on it. looking at the work of artists who have embraced a more inclusive, wide-open practice is also a good move. basically, trusting the work again. trusting the road, the practice.
it's a life's work. when i look at that fact i realize there aren't a whole lot of rules about how to do this. there aren't any shoulds or shouldn'ts, there's just living it. time. ways to spend time that are honorable and gracious and ways that aren't. that's the better choice rather than wondering if it's "right" for me to spend some time crocheting today vs. painting. it's all art. it's all necessary.
these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.
Oct 30, 2009
big and small and all the things in between that drive a person nuts...
Labels:
angela simione,
art practice,
art problems,
expectations,
exploration,
inclusion
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2 comments:
It's all art. It's all about practice. Fuck with the pointy heads say. You're living it. You're doing it right. I applaud you!
xor
i don't know why i have such a hard time with this lately- letting the assumptions about art practice guide what i'm doing. it's silly. but maybe the struggle makes it stronger. practice, practice, practice no matter the form. it all feeds the same force. it all comes from the same heart.
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