Tuesday, May 20 @ 7pm. Rouge Gallery in Saskatoon (www dot rougegallery dot ca). That is the date of my next solo show – tentatively named Erosion.Paintings Started: 14
Paintings Completed: 0 / Zero / None.
Quick Math #1: 61 days until the show opens. That's not so bad. Two months. Lots of time. Bravo Christopher. Bravo. It appears that my superb time management skills will triumph once more.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Quick Math #2: 39 days until all the work needs to be finished. The work needs to be there by Friday, May 9th. That means the work needs to be crated and picked up by my shipping company on Monday, May 5th. That means in order for all of the work to be dry in time I need them to be finished no later than Monday, April 28th.
Type faster. Must get to studio.
I get asked by many of my students to talk about what it is like to be an artist. As you can see stress seems to be an underlying factor. The question itself is somewhat loaded and the problem with answering it is that, for the most part, my students pay to learn how to paint, not to learn how to be artists (although we do touch on quite a few points around the career aspect.). In order to organize the question slightly perhaps through documenting the work that goes into a (solo) show I will be able to shed a bit of light on to the process – specifically my process.
Welcome to the beginning of my written account of how this show – God on Good Friday willing - will all come together.
Most people who come into the studio or any of the galleries that carry my work see only the finished 'product'. The challenge with this is that most people, with the exception of my 20-30 students, do not see the evolution of an image. And to me, it is the creation of ideas, development of selected ideas and then how they manifest into art forms – in most cases for me as oil on canvas or board – which is often as interesting as the finished paintings. In some cases more.
Sometimes a painting is a great painting but an uninteresting piece of art. Sometimes a profound piece of art can end up not being a visually stimulating painting. Sometimes both. Sometimes neither.
Maybe the best way to do this is just to track one image that I am creating for the show and follow it's evolution – from inception to wherever I decide is its finish. How does that sound?
Until the next time - enjoy the fish. Do not enjoy the meat.
Type faster. Must get to studio.
I get asked by many of my students to talk about what it is like to be an artist. As you can see stress seems to be an underlying factor. The question itself is somewhat loaded and the problem with answering it is that, for the most part, my students pay to learn how to paint, not to learn how to be artists (although we do touch on quite a few points around the career aspect.). In order to organize the question slightly perhaps through documenting the work that goes into a (solo) show I will be able to shed a bit of light on to the process – specifically my process.
Welcome to the beginning of my written account of how this show – God on Good Friday willing - will all come together.
Most people who come into the studio or any of the galleries that carry my work see only the finished 'product'. The challenge with this is that most people, with the exception of my 20-30 students, do not see the evolution of an image. And to me, it is the creation of ideas, development of selected ideas and then how they manifest into art forms – in most cases for me as oil on canvas or board – which is often as interesting as the finished paintings. In some cases more.
Sometimes a painting is a great painting but an uninteresting piece of art. Sometimes a profound piece of art can end up not being a visually stimulating painting. Sometimes both. Sometimes neither.
Maybe the best way to do this is just to track one image that I am creating for the show and follow it's evolution – from inception to wherever I decide is its finish. How does that sound?
Until the next time - enjoy the fish. Do not enjoy the meat.
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