1 Comment

I’ve been struggling a bit since the exhibition.

It’s right that each exhibition becomes a little pinnacle at which you can assess progress, and where you are and what’s important.

And then move on… maybe down a different alley, a tangent, a crossroads… I keep going down the alley, taking a wrong turn and end up where I started, but facing a different direction, and I dive down a new alley… but that peters out and I’m lost… but in the same place.

Lost.

The old ways seem tired.

The new ways seem contrived.

The current drawing I’ve already written off, but in view of the cost of the paper, I’m using it as an experimental ground for some different techniques… in an attempt to find something I want to pursue.

It’s got so bad this afternoon I just thought maybe the whole thing is a dead end and I should get back to stitching.

But I know in my heart that’s not the way either.

I’m not in the studio till Tuesday or Wednesday , so I’ll look with rested eyes then… or get someone else to look with me.

Stage 1
The charcoal is too crude, although the making of it is delicious, it doesn’t match up… If I stick with the charcoal I will have to ditch everything else.

 

Stage 2
With a layer of graphite… mismatched… is that a good thing or not?

Stage 3
I’ve knocked back the charcoal by scrubbing, then fixing a layer of chalk over the top. Tonally this is better but the method of getting here far too complicated and contrived and inelegant somehow, I like my method to be fairly simple. This is not simple. it feels clumsy and therefore ugly.


0 Comments

The film Sliding Doors holds significance in our family. It’s used in multiple ways, one: an affectionate teasing of grandma, long since gone, who was unable to grasp the concept of the dual storyline… two: the inability of anyone else to grasp a multi-layered concept… three: that moment when things could go either way, haircut or no haircut… often also called The Trousers of Time (after Terry Pratchett) where you can put your foot down one leg or another, the decision, seemingly small, can affect your life in irretrievable ways. Schrodinger’s cat sometimes makes an appearance too, maybe he gets trapped in the sliding doors?

anyway… 

There I am, currently loitering rather than following the unknown path. I am Gwynny before she has the useful cinematic device haircut. The cat before the box is opened. My foot has not yet committed to one leg or the other. But once it does… My path is determined for the next year, possibly two. The problem being, the decision is not mine to make. So I wait.

I’ll let you know.


0 Comments