yes, C. was right.
Why would we force our selves to become real artists when we were given the chance to work in a large white empty space.
Suddenly we'd feel obliged to use colors (well at least black acrylic) and create paintings and drawings.
Even build things, like sculpting.
Why could we not just accept that writing, research and making story boards at a clean table was arty enough (not to forget video editing, shooting video, making photographs)?
Perhaps it was the space, the tradition of the artists studio? The bohemian...
That it had to be packed with stuff. Overloaded by things that proved work was taking place here.
All the things we saved on our hard drives were obviously not visible enough.
Quite so.
And me to, spreading papers all over. Feeling the need to stick things on to the wall so that it would at least look a bit more arty. I also bought a clue gun just in case.
Wondering now wether I will use it…
yes, fucking hell, I will glue something. I will even use a saw. Nail stuff all over. Spray paint it all and then yes, glue some more.
(coming up: some sort of piece of destruction. Promise you. And it will be video.)
Aj, äkta? Va är en äkta konstnär. Eller verklig? Kanske sann skulle vara bästa ordet.
ReplyDeleteKan man själv påverka, framkalla begåvningen.
Alla magistrar är inte framgångsinriktade. Saknar dom talang? Har dom inte konstgener?
De va en mamis funderingar....
Dom kändaste konstnärerna blir berömda först efter sin död. Va jävligt....