Shimsham Peanut

I had to take down my show this weekend. Michael stepped in and saved some of the pieces from destruction, which is cool. I took some pictures of the work finally. Here is a closeup of something that got saved.

It was happy news that some of these were allowed to remain intact. Never got around to writing that artist statement for you. Not sure what could be said that hasn't been alluded to either in this blog or vocalized in person. And never personally liked reading artist statements in past exhibitions: usually an 8"x 11.5" sheet of printer paper slapped on the gallery wall; blocks of text that you have to crane your neck to read, and even then there's too much going on around you to concentrate.

No, wait. I take it back. That piece of paper taped to the wall has its uses. There's some point at many openings where you dip into the awkward moment, where you've finished up one conversation and the next waits to find you. So, drink in hand, you saunter over to the wall with the artist statement. Squint your eyes to read. Ah, Times New Roman, so we meet again. Good, good. What's this, a sentence ending in a preposition? Bah.

After a moment of reading-but not really reading-I remove myself from this wall and go back and look at the artwork, as if new vistas of revelation are about to open up. "Ah, it all makes so much sense now! Of course!" Thank you, little piece of paper. Thank you for showing me the way.

Shakedown

"Now put on the blindfold and walk backwards."

"Alright. I guess I've trusted you this far. Might as well give it a try."

"Good boy."

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Looks like the exhibition at the Nonstop space is going to stay up for another couple of weeks. It's a two-week stay of execution for my work; as the discussion goes, "Where would I put it?"

No, better to let these totems and trinkets "vanish" than to rot away in a basement corner somewhere. I've learned that lesson. As much energy as it takes to wipe them off the face of the earth, it's surprisingly much more difficult to save them. Hauling them from one place to another, only to watch them gather those time-honored wreathes of cobwebs. Nah, never again.

Good. At least that's settled and out of the way. This daily expository aids me more than I previously gave it credit. Good boy, blog. Good boy. Heel. Sit.



no peeing on the rug though.

Time to Repair

This morning I woke up with superpowers. And then I subsequently lost them a half-hour later. I'll spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get them back. Then you'll see something neat. Something along the lines of jumping over buildings and throwing cars and getting cats out of trees.

I need you to come over here and repair my disposition. Fix me up enough to send me lurching out to whatever events are going on this week, set my head nodding and a smile on my face. A genuine smile, not one of those squirming fake ones that are both exquisite and painful to behold.

I worked by candlelight for about an hour last night. It was a novel idea, though I kept having visions of something catching fire. Fortunate that real life is far less dramatic than the stories. No fires. No breaking glass. No Frankenstein's Monster spasming to life and tromping through the laboratory to wreak terrible vengeance.

Implied kinetic motion. That's what I've been telling people when they suggest my sculptures should have movement. The intent is to suggest movement. Having these things hop around would cause all sorts of new problems. I've got enough worries. Although I suppose there is merit in employing some sort of self-destruct mechanism, where the work implodes after the show. After you've seen it. Anything else though, and it would be an opening of horrors: art piece that roars to life, assaults guests, scoops up the swooning maiden, crashes through the door, and trundles off into the night.

For posterity, the verbs in that last sentence were roars, assaults, scoops, crashes, and trundles. That's amazing; now I have to build it.

Build You

Words fail me.

Sorry for the lack of them today.

This opening is next weekend, and there's a lot I want to get finished between now and then. It's already a good showing, but there's so much more I want to cram into it. I want you to see it the way it was meant to be.

Hope you can make it.

http://nonstopinstitute.org/nonstop-gala-opening-fundraiser/





where did all the time go?

The Beast Returns

The temperature dropped low enough for them to anticipate snow showers today. It would seem that winter stalks me even in April. The horror...

I'm wondering if they're doing Agora this spring. Supposedly, it's next month based on their website, but we haven't been bombarded daily with reminder e-mails as was the case with the event's prior incarnations. This could either be due to lack of funding, focus, or something else.

I'm reluctant to submit artwork to this show. What if my work sells and they decide to keep the money for themselves? Yes, you know this sounds familiar. I'll more than likely submit something, though it'll be much more lowkey than the Spaghetti Western installation I built for Agora V.

The Smell of Success

Feeling good today. Someone bought my piece at the Ohio Art League's annual Thumb Box Exhibition. I've been running around all day trumpeting this minor victory.

Hopefully I can get into the gallery to snap some pictures before the buyer takes it home.