I feel both grateful and melancholy to think about one of my very first babies flying the coop to go back home to St. Louis and live with its very first and most devout fan, a lovely woman who has been tracking it for three years. Since the time of our first communication, I have moved to two different states, learned focus in the studio, and slugged around these huge paintings of my early career with me - changing their dressings periodically (really - the plaster "framing" around the edges) making sure they are always hung straight and look their best. An effort like this is not unlike raising heavy, bulky children with needs for maintenance as well as their creators personal growth and expansion of audience and capability, not to mention the drive to continue and finish and start over each effort without reinforcement from the world and without any good reason to keep going.
The departure of Reflections on a Gunshot is a signal that what I have believed all along about my efforts is true - while taking time and effort for my karma to catch up with me, all the while plunging thousands of dollars into the effort with little or no return creates a massive cog with inertia that takes years of constant pushing to begin to turn, and after such, thankfully, may actually turn with you requiring a nudge or a push rather than a painful struggle. The effort of the work I produce is beginning to crest into its own dawn, all the while reminding me of this new phase's necessary upkeep: keeping my work out in the public, keeping my website updated and fresh with new features, expanding the topics covered by my work and my skills used. It will soon be possible to take the attention to my work much further, and the lessons I've learned from the last several years are part in parcel. Reflections on a Gunshot was begun at the dawn of the Iraq war in 2003 and is now at the end of its journey of audience, hopefully as the war itself comes to a fair close.
Its not always enough to have confidence in your own work. The work itself, especially in art, can be made by another's vision and attachment to what they see. My time with Reflection was my first walk-through in this process, and while the empty space on the wall will be filled instantly, this is a piece of my personal history by its own departure, that I will always remember, and use as a model for other art work around me. I now feel like the first full turn of the cog is completed, and its great to see more gears down the line beginning to turn in synch. In addition, its now a process that I can enjoy knowing that its only a matter of time before the second turn is complete, and the third, and the fourth..
I feel both grateful and melancholy to think about one of my very first babies flying the coop to go back home to St. Louis and live with its very first and most devout fan, a lovely woman who has been tracking it for three years. Since the time of our first communication, I have moved to two different states, learned focus in the studio, and slugged around these huge paintings of my early career with me - changing their dressings periodically (really - the plaster "framing" around the edges) making sure they are always hung straight and look their best. An effort like this is not unlike raising heavy, bulky children with needs for maintenance as well as their creators personal growth and expansion of audience and capability, not to mention the drive to continue and finish and start over each effort without reinforcement from the world and without any good reason to keep going.
The departure of Reflections on a Gunshot is a signal that what I have believed all along about my efforts is true - while taking time and effort for my karma to catch up with me, all the while plunging thousands of dollars into the effort with little or no return creates a massive cog with inertia that takes years of constant pushing to begin to turn, and after such, thankfully, may actually turn with you requiring a nudge or a push rather than a painful struggle. The effort of the work I produce is beginning to crest into its own dawn, all the while reminding me of this new phase's necessary upkeep: keeping my work out in the public, keeping my website updated and fresh with new features, expanding the topics covered by my work and my skills used. It will soon be possible to take the attention to my work much further, and the lessons I've learned from the last several years are part in parcel. Reflections on a Gunshot was begun at the dawn of the Iraq war in 2003 and is now at the end of its journey of audience, hopefully as the war itself comes to a fair close.
Its not always enough to have confidence in your own work. The work itself, especially in art, can be made by another's vision and attachment to what they see. My time with Reflection was my first walk-through in this process, and while the empty space on the wall will be filled instantly, this is a piece of my personal history by its own departure, that I will always remember, and use as a model for other art work around me. I now feel like the first full turn of the cog is completed, and its great to see more gears down the line beginning to turn in synch. In addition, its now a process that I can enjoy knowing that its only a matter of time before the second turn is complete, and the third, and the fourth..