distance

July 4th, 2011

First let me apologize for my silence. Moving across the world takes time. I know that travel inspires some and they come back with amazing ideas, but it doesn’t inspire me. My sketchbook remains half-filled with half-assed drawings. The few newer sketches I completed were on little hotel note pads.

I reupped on the blog for another year, don’t ask me why. Sometimes I feel like I’m writing to space like fucking aliens are reading my shit going, “dude, quit being a pussy. Draw or get off the crayons.” Other times I feel like I’ve reached a new level of awesome with my work and since I don’t have another artist to feed it off of I have to shove in your face. Well, and the fucking aliens.

I feel like I am missing something as an artist. I feel like I am missing the understanding and knowledge that comes with producing quickly and copying works of those before. I feel the need to copy the masters, to understand the technical breaks that I can’t begin to comprehend now.

I remember walking through the Uffizi thinking I don’t know anything about art. I spent hours and hours walking up and down the long corridor staring at the sculptures. I long to look at the pieces again. I don’t take picture in touristy spots because you can just Google it. I don’t think Google can encompass the ideas or elements I want to focus on. I will take photos from now on. I want those details to remind myself what I feel like I don’t know and don’t understand.

My continued search for inspiration has led me some new places. These little museums you might have heard of the Smithsonian? I’ve scoured through three of them so far in hopes of understanding myself and art better, but instead I end up staring and blue squares going, What The Fuck. Hirshhorn.

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