Kindling

So today I came across Claire Price's work.  I've always admired the patience in her work, juxtaposed by the erratic what-seems-to-be-not-planned-but-probably-meticulously-planned erratic mark's that disrupt the stillness. To me, it has the effect of Vodka and Red Bull; slows the heart rate yet races it in a pleasant way.

I remember seeing Price's work on the front cover of the free magazine you get at Saatchi, I was rude and took three.  I want one to keep the article for myself, one to dissect the article for Aspects of Contemporary Art (a module at university) and one to cut up and re-arrange her work.  For no particular reason.

When people ask you who your favourite artist is, my mind goes blank.  Walking into a music shop to buy a CD, my mind goes blank I have no idea who or what sort of music I like!  An article appeared on my news feed or her current exhibition and it was a FUCK. YES. moment.  I want to paint, she makes me want to paint.  She instills a glimer, of what I don't know.  But I love it when an artist and their work does this, it does not happen much but when it hits you, it's a major FUCK.YES!

'Piece of me' - Clare Price

Clare Price

On another note, I found my first painting.  I used acrylics and it is on MDF and just under one meter (length)

Like a fat cunt getting fucked on a low rise.

What you made of, of.

As you can see from the total lack of art work appearing on my blog, I somewhat ended my visual. documentative relationship with the world.  Not totally, but 40%.  I kinda hate(d) art at the moment and what it has become to me, the water in the glass is filling up slowly, drop by drop and I am getting back to what I once used art for; escapism.  I don't like to admit it but artists i knew or once did, art, people, media, art school, tutors (or lack of them), collectors, gallery's and the people walking around them turned me dislike it.  Completley unnessary, 'saaaaaad', pretentious or what ever you want to call it, i'll agree (to a certain point)  I made me become a person I wasn't and it did not make me happy.  I gave it up.  I gave the practice up.  I never gave up the thoughts about work, spending 4 hours on a bus looking out the window taking photos of the surrounding thinking 'what if'.

I went to Canada, I went skiing for 3 months and became a Level 2 CSIA Instructor.  What I found skiing is what I use to find within.  The ability to escape, favorite brush (favorite skies; fat, thin) favorite colour (favorite run; double blacks, greens) favorite medium (favorite snow; chest deep powder, icy groomed runs etc) and it completely filled that gap.

I've no managed to say what I completely mean, I find it difficult putting head thoughts to paper, but I hope you can catch my drift.  Art school  was a waste of time, its just a fucked u convayour belt of shite, and if anyone comes across this post who is considering it, think about it over and over and over again ... until the answer becomes; do something real and exhilarating. Dare you.