I can not justify this piece, except that I love crafting and making, direct from my hands, this includes drawing especially too. Oh and for some reason I particularly like the colour of the plastercine today. Portraits feel so ‘art self- indulgent, arrogant and over confident of thier place in art history and practice. It makes it hard for me to make - except that I get some sort of satisfaction at summoning forth the work. Finding moments of detail described in a simple gesture or mark that Describes much more.
I struggle as it doesn’t feel very ‘Fine Art’ or very ‘CSM’. But then what has value. What does it mean for me to abandon approval. What could I make?
I’m still rolling over my friends words, how there is a quality and uniqueness to the things I make. The presence of the artist in the work. Even in a photograph or ready made, when work is really successful I feel as though the presence of the artist can still be discerned, felt.
Still looking for the more in my work, something…a hand full of pigment cast like dust on the floor. A sentence that unravels the moment. An image that summons an aching. The more. Work that transcends the ordinary of everyday.
