For the first print of 2015, I decided it was time to incorporate some hand lettering into my work. I knew I wanted to create something romantic for Valentine’s Day, but I was afraid it could turn into something trite. While I’m a big fan of a bunch of stuff already out there, I just wanted to make something at least a little different. Something that would be a bit more unexpected. And then it just happened upon me one afternoon, all of a sudden.
This famous French phrase, technically a couplet, is something I recalled from my high school days. Don’t ask me where I originally saw it – I think maybe on a locket from Etsy somewhere. Anyways, it is originally written by Rosemonde Gérard, from her poem, “L’éternelle chanson” (“The Eternal Song”) or “Les Vieux” (“The Old Ones”) and translates to:
For, you see,
each day I love you more,
Today more than yesterday
and less than tomorrow.
What do you think? .. I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback. If you do love it, they’re now available for purchase in the shop here!
These past few months have really flown by, and though it may not look like it from the lack of blog posts, I’ve been quite the busy bee. The highlight of my fall season was finally getting my work printed and available for sale. The exhibition at Octane filled my heart and showed me that I could really do this if I just keep pushing, little by little. It’s still (always is) a work in progress. For the show I formed a collection of 15 floral prints which are all now viewable here.
Unfortunately, you can’t purchase them through the interwebz just yet, but it’s top priority for me moving into the holiday season! For now, there are two ways to get you some. The first is to email me at firstname.lastname@example.org (or talk to me in person if you know me IRL). The second, for all you local folk out there, is to purchase them at Crafted Westside. I still have all prints in stock, and a fair amount of the originals. I’m also happy to do any commissions if there are particular color schemes or flowers you’d like to see me do.
Though I don’t blog as frequently as I used to, I can promise you that all that time is going towards valuable projects and development. Next up is a collaboration for the holidays I’m extremely excited about… stay tuned for more progress posts. Oh, and follow along on instagram if you’d like to see more stuff from me on the regular!
One of the most agonizing parts of making art is trying to explain your work to other people. A majority of artists would probably agree with me when I say art work is supposed to speak for itself; that’s why we make art work in the first place. If we could have expressed the idea/concept/feeling in words, then we would be writers and poets. Our gesture is our word and our end product is the essay.
But of course, the world just doesn’t work that way. Audiences want to understand what they see using context and background of the creator themselves. Thus the ever-annoying request for the “artist statement” (as if the work itself didn’t state anything already). If you look closely enough, I think all art is merely a reflection or manifestation of the personality of the artist. Sometimes they can cite theories, events, and other matters that informed their original purpose – but in the end, I kind of just don’t even care. I know that sounds pretty terrible to say as a person in the art world, but regardless of how much I learn about the artist or what the work is about, all I really need to know is how the work makes me feel.
Artwork is a form of communication that relies heavily on the success of impressing internal change within a viewer. It’s a personal experience informed by subjective opinions and histories. Work that makes you gasp, work that that makes you cringe, and work that makes you love and hate – it all did something noticeable to you and perhaps even only you.
I am pretty uncomfortable and sometimes terrified when people as me what my work is “about”. I wish there were a simple elevator speech I could regurgitate on command. And I wish all my work had a single meaning or perspective, easily understood with a concise goal in mind. But here’s the thing. It just isn’t.
I do my best work when I don’t have a plan. When I am free to act on impulse without worrying about meaning or judgment, the marks flow through my hands readily and I enter a state of pseudo-meditation. I guess you could say I’m “in the zone”. Letting go of the “statement” of my work gives it the room to breathe and find its own visual voice. After a few of these sessions, I can sometimes say that the drawing is complete, but rarely am I ever proud of what I’ve made. The equal amounts of loving and loathing seem to negate each other and they just are what they are.
My work is me. It’s from me, it’s about me. Everything that I am as a person has some sort of influence on what comes out of my hands. My history, my aspirations, my self-imposed handicaps… it’s all there on the paper.