Automaton: March 2011

Here on this site, I've posted all the artwork I've produced since 2002, and from now on I'll be adding to this gallery as "production" continues. It ain't a livin'--I do it all to unwind. It's utterly about my escape into freedom. Drawing casts off ephemera, so fresh so clean, like brainy push-ups. In my center, drawing feels like a sprint down a yellow-dusted meadow, away from chowderheaded hubbub. Cornpone as it sounds, it's a dash intensely beyond anything I thought possible.

Those used to more representational art may gawk at my stuff and sniff the traditional "I could do that!" Well, then, do it! Y'know, I've long been able to draw a shoe or a cat, a face or a bridge, but sketching "things" has always bored me, frankly. Making my drawings "look" like something--that's just a bunch more rules I gotta abide by. And who wants that when they're trying to escape? So, late in 2002, having long been a fan of abstracts, I started in with automatic art--work that quickly (preferably) derives from my subconscious--and I've continued with it as my creative respite.

My works start off as a line here, a line there and a dot and a curve, and then something tells me to squiggle and loop, dot here and circle a square, and then two hours or twenty minutes later, I stop. And I can't believe it, it's all over and this thing looks like something to me--like something about which I had no vague idea I was thinking! (By the way, for me, STOPPING is the art.) This wild perfection I love only happens about one out of twenty times. But, as you can imagine, the visual discoveries my art gives me those few instances are all weirdly exhilarating, like finding gold doubloons hidden in your frontal lobe!

I plan to continue drawing and, eventually, painting for a long time--until my hand falls off, really, which, when's that gonna happen? I really don't envision ever selling many works or having even the faintest whiff of a posh wine-sipping solo showcase, but who the hell cares? You know what? When I draw, no one can tell me I'm doing anything wrong. I'm positive that's the thing I like about it most. That, and that it feels good.

If you're interested in a closer view of any of my work's details, just click on the piece in question and you'll get a snoot-full.

Automaton

Friday, March 4, 2011

The Head Beagle (2010) (SOLD to Joe Hendel)

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