Monday, January 03, 2005
Er, not the vernacular "ho", the old Gunsmoke "ho".
Since I spent hundreds of dollars heating the studio overnight, I better get at it. I lied when I said yesterday was the definition of dreary. Today is, and so is my soul. But you don't paint just when you feel like it, my friends. You paint, and then suddenly you feel like it.
Discussions have erupted here and there about whither painting and whither representation and painting that is skillful (vs. not), etc. This comes painfully close to discussing "what is art," and I wish I knew. I've often thought that what I've been doing all these years is not art, not even close, more like documenting an obsession, especially since I've started blogging about it. I see images others have done, or installations, or stuff involving carpentry skills and neon tubing, and feel stabs of jealousy, and so see the need to make snarky remarks.
So that said, off to paint the 10 millionth (at least) still life the world has seen.
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