My very first solo show 'LIT/LITE: Visual Poetry Installations' opened two Thursdays ago at the Foundry Art Centre in St. Charles (St. Louis, MO), and I am still finding it hard to believe...
I say this for two reasons: the first is that I feel like such a novice. I started with my paper cuts three years ago and it still startles me a bit to think of myself as an artist. The title 'artist' seems to imply such a lot of struggle and suffering, countered by that unmistakable streak of genius and determination. I instantly recall scenes from 'Of Human Bondage', because I had always imagined myself more like that novel's protagonist, a dilettante rather than the real thing, a lover of the bohemian life, a romantic, not meant for an actual hard life on the street in search of a dream, never really risking the gutter...I never imagined a road towards 'artist' a clean one...even as a writer, I battled demons, I lived a solitary life, at times I sacrificed...but this art, for which I am suddenly recognized and rewarded, this art had been a path of few stumbling blocks, of real joy, of (dare I admit) caprice...how have I found myself in this place, I wondered that evening in Saint Charles? Can I be deserving? What comes next?
Which I suppose is the question that brings me to my second reason: last year when I received my prize, it felt like such a beginning of something. A year later, it feels like a closing chapter...because the truth is that with all my work displayed, I must forge a new path...I have to figure out what I need to do to grow, what still needs saying, do I intend to sell these things one day? How much longer can I consider myself an artist without selling a piece? Is this a fork in the road? These are the questions I am not prepared to answer yet, and so the experience remains stubbornly in my mind an unsolidified one, a castle in the air, a whisper of memories...I am not ready to be nostalgic...
So instead I will focus on the journey of this past year, on the loneliness I felt last June, my uncertainty as I entered the Foundry, afraid of feeling inconsequential, of not being able to stand on my own...and knowing that all these months later, I could not feel more loved or consequential, at least to all who matter most to me...if I happen to elicit any such feeling from others through my work, then I can count myself truly blessed, and perhaps even an 'artist'
'LIT/LITE' runs now through November 7th...here is a bit of what you will see:
I say this for two reasons: the first is that I feel like such a novice. I started with my paper cuts three years ago and it still startles me a bit to think of myself as an artist. The title 'artist' seems to imply such a lot of struggle and suffering, countered by that unmistakable streak of genius and determination. I instantly recall scenes from 'Of Human Bondage', because I had always imagined myself more like that novel's protagonist, a dilettante rather than the real thing, a lover of the bohemian life, a romantic, not meant for an actual hard life on the street in search of a dream, never really risking the gutter...I never imagined a road towards 'artist' a clean one...even as a writer, I battled demons, I lived a solitary life, at times I sacrificed...but this art, for which I am suddenly recognized and rewarded, this art had been a path of few stumbling blocks, of real joy, of (dare I admit) caprice...how have I found myself in this place, I wondered that evening in Saint Charles? Can I be deserving? What comes next?
Which I suppose is the question that brings me to my second reason: last year when I received my prize, it felt like such a beginning of something. A year later, it feels like a closing chapter...because the truth is that with all my work displayed, I must forge a new path...I have to figure out what I need to do to grow, what still needs saying, do I intend to sell these things one day? How much longer can I consider myself an artist without selling a piece? Is this a fork in the road? These are the questions I am not prepared to answer yet, and so the experience remains stubbornly in my mind an unsolidified one, a castle in the air, a whisper of memories...I am not ready to be nostalgic...
So instead I will focus on the journey of this past year, on the loneliness I felt last June, my uncertainty as I entered the Foundry, afraid of feeling inconsequential, of not being able to stand on my own...and knowing that all these months later, I could not feel more loved or consequential, at least to all who matter most to me...if I happen to elicit any such feeling from others through my work, then I can count myself truly blessed, and perhaps even an 'artist'
'LIT/LITE' runs now through November 7th...here is a bit of what you will see:
