we were all once Holden Caulfield.

i finished reading The Catcher in the Rye last night. the last 60 or so pages is when Holden Caulfield really starts flashing crazy but, honestly, i remember feeling that way a lot when i was a teenager- that the world was phony and mean. it is an exceptional work of art that has really stood the test of time. in spite of the dated slang and euphemisms contained within the language of the book, i think the story itself is sort of timeless... effective regardless of what era it is read in. i'm so glad i decided to go back to it. and it led to a very beneficial, forgiving, necessary walk down memory lane of my own. simply reading it created a warm space where dealing with my own memories and family history led to a soft reconciliation of certain events. it helped me cast a more understanding, gentle eye on the trials we are all faced with throughout our lifetimes. what a cool blessing. and that's ART for ya! :)

my Letter of Intent has morphed in to a huge personal art manifesto. ha! and that is NOT what a Letter of Intent is supposed to be. i suppose i have a lot to say (and get out of the way) before i can get whittle my ideas down to a more manageble bite in terms of a residency. i'm moving from the general to the specific, and it is actually really wonderful to be writing all my ideas down in essay format. hopefully, i can get it all out and then go back in and find a way to condense my aims for the purpose of this letter and get it finished in time. whether or not i am able, it's still a good practice. i haven't had to write a formal essay in 2 years. i guess i'm a bit out of practice.

but today i am painting painting painting. i need a break from all the intellectualism. my mind is tired from all that particular breed of fun. ha! but while we're on the subject of intent and art and The Catcher in the Rye, take a look at page 189. Mr. Antolini makes a very good point. ;)

sunday, sunday, sunday...

intention. that word's been coming up a lot lately. i've been thinking about it for days and days and days. how to satisfy it... how to make it clear... but also, how to leave the door open to other interpretations of the image... how to be generous AND accurate at the same time. it's a back and forth, back and forth kind of thing. a buzz that lives in the line. a kind of call that slinks around in the back of a shadow. i need to go back to my art history books, i think. look and read and hunt. i need to open my theory books and underline, underline, underline... see what other people are saying, receive their insights, and disagree with them if need be...

but not today. today is sunday and the light is bright and good which means it's a day for pushing paint around. as i work, my own intentions become clearer and i feel good about what i'm doing.

last night, my sweetie and i went to the zyzzyva reception at mina dresden. so much art on the walls! and all black and white! SWOON! and an awesome turn-out too! the place was packed and everyone seemed happy and approachable (well, mostly. ha! you know how art receptions can be sometimes). it made me feel good to see that many people together in a room just to look at art and talk about art and show support for the work that artists do. heart-warming. and so today i'm back at my canvasses. i've got two side by side and i'm moving back and forth, back and forth between them- snuggling with one, bruising the other, catering to both.

the work...

i'm trying my hardest to be a freight train... the way i was in school... always with my head and hands stuck in the paint... always thinking about what painting IS, what it DOES, what it MEANS, and what it's capable of...

this work has me all twisted up- a sign i'm on fertile ground. i've got 3 more canvasses going (if you count the problem child of the bunch) and i'm anxious to start a fourth. i don't want to get away from this image any time soon. i need to follow this one. it's a good teacher. it's generous and demanding. and the 10 hour painting day has helped me relearn a great many things. there's no substitute for crawling in the dirt, getting stuck in the mud, and learning how to deal with mistakes and presumptions and falsehoods. i'm in a place where there is no excuse for laziness or complacency- everything counts. everything. and i really feel like i'm getting back to the place i was upon graduation- a place where i know how to live with the work... a place where i'm alright... a place where wrestling and yelling is expected and acceptable and prized even... a place where intention is important and necessary... a place where intention is king. it's a land whose terrain i know i'm able to climb and all the scrapes and bruises are just part of the exploration.

the maids have become as important to me as the Anonymous Girl series. they are just as beloved. they are just as eager to get out in to the world. and it's to their credit that they aren't for everyone. i know there is a sinister quality in these canvasses and that's exactly what makes them intriguing, smart, heartfelt, and important. i know they're a bit odd-ball, a bit macabre, a bit uncomfortable... i know that, in some ways, they're challenging... but that's what makes them interesting. that's what gives them a real, hard, true voice.

they stand.