A Serious Departure

A Serious Departure
May 18, 2009

It is natural for an artist’s style to change as time goes on, but how does one back track? After graduation I had a lovely emotional roller coaster ride during which I quit my retail job and built my little slice of Sliced Bread Studios into a cozy (as in cluttered) printmakers hidey hole complete with Gustav, my tank-like press. When I started printing again my work was darker, more layered, slightly gritty looking.
Here is the first Doll Head, far left; I call her my Surma Princess Prequel. I followed that with more delicate work, most of which were destroyed in an adhesive Armageddon I don’t like to think about and a few were parceled out to friends and teachers. To the right, Watercut Joy is one of the last from my senior show.

Below are darker, layered works that I’ve made at Sliced Bread Std. in the last five months.

And now I have a bazaar departure that I am not sure what to do with. I call it ‘Abstracted Shyness’ (on the far right). All the while, I’m struggling to return to the light, simple style I used back at Purchase. How do I do that?

कामे ओं इन एंड जम विथ उस

Paper Jam at the Neu

When Greg (my SO) recommended that I donate a print to the Neuberger Museum’s spring auction, I didn’t give it a second thought. I picked out one of my favorite new prints, scoured the stores for the nicest frame and sent it in. It wasn’t till later that I realized my work would be hanging on the same wall as a Judy Chicago, April Gornick and so many other talented and big name artists. I had second guessed my price point for the piece, putting in the estimated value a full $100 dollars under what I would prefer to sell it for. I had thought it best to price it low so that it went home with someone. I instantly regretted it, feeling as if I had crippled my work with my personal insecurity.
Strangely enough, it all worked out.
My piece not only went home with someone, it was bid on by several people. When I found out it not only caught the eye of people who frequented the art scene ( I won’t name drop ever on my blog unless it has to do with a sc/fi star) but ended bidding at the price I had originally intended for it, I started jumping up and down in the lobby like a cartoon bunny. What a beautiful feeling of accomplishment! Just the shot in the arm I needed during the month of open call deadlines.
Not only did my art sell, I was actually paid to work the door (i.e., check out all the spiffy fashions the guests wore) and run bids back and forth during the live auction. Plus, can you say chocolate covered strawberries? I felt like Kaylee at the Shindig on Persephone, minus the layer cake she was wearing. Sure, I had to pilfer them from the abandoned tables post auction, but who could resist their siren call?
In summation: Wooooowhooooooo! Best Saturday yet.
But really, the most important part of the night was knowing that the person who picked up my work did it because they really wanted it. It wasn’t an investment, because I’m an unknown. The collector actually liked it, maybe loved it. And that makes me all weepy with happiness.

A statement from an artist, not an artist statement.

A statement from an artist, not an artist statement.
May 14, 2009

I just can’t seem to print ‘enough’ to make myself feel like I’ve compiled a body of work. I am surrounded by piles of prints, literally so many prints I cannot put them all up on my walls to review my progress, though I have tried. Prints crowd every available surface like so many Tribbles, minus the pleasant cooing sounds, and I can’t keep them straight even through photo documentation.
Yet, I feel I have gotten nothing done.
I find myself sifting through my plastic sheathed paper stock pile and clicking impatiently over digital thumbnails, searching for the perfect images to send out into the world. I have, perhaps, three flagship prints. These prints are the ones that I might be too in love with. The ones I send out to conquer the art world.
I always go back to them when setting up a package for postage and I always think, “God, are these the only thing I’ve printed? Back to the press!” I print ten more, I curate, I corner my beleaguered studio mates, force them to give me a critique and then I start the cycle over again.
Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
Maybe I should start painting again?