past, present, future
As an Artist, I have frequently felt on the edge of finally knowing who I am.
The Past, beginning with a single year comprised my discovery of painting, and what became an education by experimentation. I churned out two exhibitions at INDUSTRY that were notably different and revealed my growth as a painter within that first year.
The Past, prior to painting involved the making of sculptural jewelry designs via wax carving for lost wax casting. This was something that took a back-seat to the painting. The Past, prior to making jewelry was all about writing poetry, and poetry took a back-seat when I began writing a novel which I started about 6 years ago.
The Present, I am painting at a slower pace, taking my time. I have an idea of what I want to create - a cohesive body of work, a body that expresses a sense of this Artist’s style, though as of yet I am still uncertain what that style is. The Present, I am working on a few paintings at once, and none of them can be truly be described as “Landscapes,” though I would say they are at least Scapes.
The Present, I have found my way back to my jewelry workbench in an effort to bring some semblance of that wearable art creation back into my repertoire. The Present, I have been re-organizing the outline of my novel and will also be getting back to work on the existential play I began writing last year. There is so much to do, and seemingly so little time, but I have made a schedule to push myself to factor these passions into each week.
The Future, oh what will it hold? In 16 months I will be going to France to live amongst Artists - to paint, to write, to converse. Still, 16 months is a distant…a near-distant, though still distant future. Soon it will be Spring, and that will be my Present, and the Future Summer, the Summer before the Summer of France. I will have a cohesive body of work, perhaps not complete, but growing. I will have cast my wax carvings as Samples, and available in some Limited nature. I will have my novel - that strange fantastical story ready for at least rejection, and my One-Act Play, perhaps, self-published and stuck to the bottom of one’s shoe. Lofty Goals.