Friday, September 24, 2010
Into the way-back machine
This week I cleaned out my art attic. I've taken a lot of art classes over the years and saved almost everything I made in those classes. Every sketch, every draft, every unframeable painting of plastic fruit. "You know, not every mark that I have made on paper or canvas is a precious treasure," I told Robb as I began. And he was all, "YESSSSS!" I was tempted to call him a jerkwad but didn't because, well, it was my idea. And it's about dang time that I sort through all this nonsense. Not everything landed in the trash but probably a good 85%-90% of the stash. As a final tribute to all those backbreaking hours hunched in front of easels and sketchbooks, I took some photos while I was sorting.
I made this drawing of a candle in fifth grade. It was the first time I really tried to draw something from observation, and I noticed that my teacher and classmates were impressed with the results. There's something to this art thing, eh? (Saved.)
Fast forward to 2001 and Saturdays at the community college with the drawing nazi. These three drawings were huge and were made in chalk on black paper. (Trashed.)
I used to spend hours creating maps of fantasy lands--most of those hours spent naming the places. This is the only one I have found. (Saved.) And here are a few things from high school.
Ah, high school. I saved the scratchboard Robin Hood dude and trashed the rest. I vividly remember that watercolor painting of a funeral. Because. Evidently if you are artist who tries to include your own name and the date of the painting in place of a death date on one of the gravestones, your parents might freak out. Correction: they will DEFINITELY freak out.
Can anyone name this former roommate of mine whose painted eyes I smudged out with my thumbs?
This last oil painting is my biggest art regret from college. This was to be a double portrait of Nate and Tiffany (who have now been married for umpteen years). But I was so intimidated by painting their faces, that what was on track to be a completely awesome painting is trapped forever in a state of incompletion. I didn't have a heart to throw it away. I love this painting. I love what it could have been. If only I had been braver.
At least I was brave enough to throw out 3 garbage bags of old dusty art junk this week. Photos of the soon-to-be organized office/studio will be posted soon. Just as soon as I get it organized. And I know several people who have been waiting for me to post a preggo picture. So here I am, 24 weeks pregnant, sorting through old art junk wearing my totally excellent Idiot's T-shirt. It says "DRAW!" with a pencil popping out of a gun barrel. Get it? :)