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I have a lot of pots... and kettles... and sauce pans... and pizza trays... on many burners... some on stoves that don't even seem to be mine? It's like being shivering cold, having withstood the colossal freeze of night, at twilight dawn... aching for the sun to come up over the horizon. I can see the alpenglow of all the things i've got brewing and I am running to keep up with the light on each peak of opportunity. or something like that. or maybe i just put my paint brush in my tea and the only pot i need is the one that holds coffee now.
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there's always some part of a portrait that talks back like a little shit kid in the middle of a shit-show circus. there's always some element that, if it were only on point, would read the whole face perfectly. you spend three paint sessions getting the layout, the proportion, the angles, the colors and tones and everything just right and then there's the fourth session. the make or break moment. that's when you find the argument. you spend hour on each separate element of the face. the left eye. the size. the shadows. the highlights. the crease above. arch of the brow. same with the right and their relation to each other. the nose. the bridge. the contours. the nostrils. the mouth. the bow. the shadows. the creases. all these elements should add up to a harmonized face. so rarely they do. one fucking thing.... two fucking things.... three fucking things...(ahhh ahhh ahhhh) are always off. in the case of jill, i have no idea. it's her, but it's not her. IT'S HER BUT IT'S NOT HER!! the shape of the mouth, the title of the head, the chin, the strength in the nose....all argue to me. there's also a disagreement in the tilt of her shoulder where her hand doesn't read in proportion because the crook in her elbow is hidden by the wand. i feel like i took a chance leaving the natural color tones behind and using the more veridian/green/cream tones. i took a chance making her portrait so large that it consumed most of the canvas. i've got less than three weeks to finish and frame this shit. time to stock up on coffee, cigarettes, white wine, and new music. eye twitch, engage. 
 this is how i've decided to survive 2014.
there's an art bitch inside me. imagine a tiny scantily dressed, art savvy and violently sassy 1990's rosie perez permanently perched atop my shoulder. she advises me what to tolerate and what to explode over... it's her little hands with bright, fake nails that help take my earrings off when i'm about to throw down semi-metaphorically on someone whom i believe is a) committing an art crime b) being a fucking idiot in need of real talk c) moving their mouth without intelligence d) sunday driving on a tuesday e) needs his or her ego put in check f) fucking up MY art g) wrong. my solution? very little horrible shit coming out of my mouth and a tiny puerto rican woman to blame when it does. it's been a relatively quiet year for me--art wise. i've been developing my tarot project slowly but surely and it's progress has thus far been very well received. i'm still planning on a solo show in september at singer social club--not particularly wild about the venue, but i totally committed to the place before i saw the layout, lighting, design. lesson learned. i've been in there a couple of time for the new and successful art walk reno and haven't been tickled. granted, rosie and i are really really hard to impress and quite frankly, we're sick of hanging my art in bars. been there, done that. it's dim, nobody buys shit, it influences the perceived value, and my work deserves better. i haven't had any solo shows and i've only participated in a handful of group events (eric santti's circle project most prominently). i'm working on illustrating some short story panels for my friend chris at YA'LL ARE DEAD/Sunday Snuff which is totally interesting and outside my element. as in i get to draw aids infested toilet pubes and, if it enhances the story-telling, maybe a sick anus or two that's fallen out of itself from disease. cross your fingers, everyone. i'm stoked on this. aside from a few rants about the generator's general hypocrisy and lack of follow through and leadership, that place still stands. somehow. i know that we're all supposed to help out our fellow man... and that artists should stick together and come when called upon and etc etc etc. i just have never seen anything like the ol' genny and it's animal farm-esque leadership. it feels really good in there sometimes and other times fake as fuck. again, the juice hasn't been worth the squeeze. burning man is coming and no, i won't be in attendance this year either. unless some amazing project that is perfect for me comes my way... i get a free ticket... and i can jaunt off by myself without losing my job. so basically if the accidental stars align, i might head out for the weekend. otherwise, i'll pass. i dunno what rosie and i are gonna do. pretty sure we're just gonna blow this city out of the art water in the next year and until then maybe write a few more passive aggressive blogs to myself, for myself, about myself and wait patiently for our (mine and rosie's) time to shine. |
Mallory Mishlerwhere i'll post the in's, out's, tween's, and twixt's of my world of art mixed with pictures, links, opinions, and rants. (oh, and curse words. lots of curse words) Archives
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