Artist Statements Suck

Over on the SELLOUT blog (totally my new fave BTW, go and read it!) there is a post called Do Artist Statements Have To Suck ?

I replied that they do. Each and every one of 'em. I know they are necessary, and I write them. But I always come back to the point that if I wanted to write, I would have been a writer.

The older I get, the less I have to say about my work. I think I have come full circle.

I was that toddler who drew on the walls. The kid in school who sat in the back and drew on everything. The one that everybody went to when they wanted a picture of a kitty or Spiderman. I won the prizes for drawing best poster. Art was the only class I took seriously in high school, everything else was just a waste of time as far as I was concerned. I worked in a graphic designer's office for free and was thrilled to do it. I took painting classes outside of school. I drew elabrate graffitti in the storm drains.

Art was my magic trick, the thing I did that appeared effortless because people didn't understand just how hard I worked at it.

Nobody asked me why I did it. Nobody looked for inner meaning or expected anything from my work.

Then I went to college, and everything became about words. I was awed by how much everybody knew. I was impressed when people revealed these amazing things about their work. The concept behind it, the structure and the form of the idea.

But sometimes, people, a cigar is just a cigar.

I draw. Give me a pen and things will appear.

This is why I love doodles. I have said several times that I think that doodles are the drawing version of dreams. I think they are wonderful and mysterious because they are spontaneous.

I like it that science has never been able to decided why people dream. It is still a mystery. I am fine with that.

I have recently made an effort that my paintings reflect my doodles, which is why I have moved away from pure abstraction. I am not entirely thrilled with my imagery, and yet I draw it endlessly.

I paint because I like color. I stare at a canvas until I can see what I am doing. Then I do it. I am not that deep. I don't know what they mean.

They are just evidence that I exist and that I did something while I was here.