Before we dive head first into the weird abyss of my sorted art journals, I figured it would be best if I revealed a bit about my art background as it were....
Part 1 The Early Years.
As far back as I can recall I was always drawing something. Even in the womb I was drawing nutrients.
Sand Eaters Inc.
In kindergarten there was 3 types of people. Glue drinkers, eraser munchers, and sand eaters. If I recall correctly I was a sand eater. Probably the healthiest choice. I was also prone to eating play- doh, until my teachers starting cutting it with salt.
It is interesting to see ones drawings from early childhood. I was fortunate enough that my parents kept most of my illustrations. I reviewed them a couple months back. Curious as to what it is that makes me tick, some sort of clue in the scribblings that would show a connection to what I am now. What I discovered is that most of my work was very heavily detailed. Overtly detailed even. Verging on the point of insanity. That affliction still prevails in my work today. I have an uncontrollable need to keep adding more and more extraneous details. Some strange fear of wasting space perhaps.
As a child I drew lots of images with blood, well not my blood. What I mean to say is that I liked to draw gory things. Vampyres mostly. Fanged creatures, I was obsessed with ghosts and the macabre. After school I would spend countless hours with a friend making comic books. The comics were usually based on horror movies that we watched repetitively. I recall the sexual scenes in the films we watched being fuzzy and warbled, presumably caused by constant rewinding and pausing.
My first claim to fame happened In grade 3. I was awarded an honorable mention by Stephen King in a short story competition. My story was about an insane ice-cream truck driver who chopped up children and sold their body parts as frozen treats. It was called "Eye Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Eyescream." Perhaps that was the first time I figured I might have some sort of redeemable talent.
Art class was always my favorite subject. It was the one class that not even the school took seriously. Having good grades in art class didn't really count as anything. Art class was utterly useless in the eyes of most parents, teachers, and students. Art and music instructors were the only teachers that liked me, or moderately tolerated me. Art class in the prairies was mostly comprised of gluing Chiclets on a rabbits mouth for Easter or tracing yer hand to make a Thanks Giving turkey.
I had a strange habit of breaking all my pencil crayons in half and tossing them out the 2nd story window. To my surprise I was discovered. Perhaps it had something to do with each crayon saying "Property of Lyle" printed on them. It was a very odd thing to be caught doing. Standing there at the teachers desk, looking down at a pile of broken pencil crayons and dirt. Was it really a punishable crime? Can't a man break his pencils and throw them out a 2nd story window if he damn well pleases?!
Speaking of pencil crayons and art, I have a very vivid memory of an instance that perhaps shaped my life as a creative individualist thinker forever. One day in English class a student spilled her pencil crayons all over the floor. When this sort of thing happened, the whole class for some sick reason would stare at the person and sing Happy Birthday. I did not. My Pink little brain instructed me to look the other way. To this day I still do the same thing. I feel disgust doing anything other people are doing. I also make sure not to look down when I cross the cross walk. Almost everyone else does. Its hard not to do. Try it next time. I double dare you!
Thanks for burning the midnight lamp's oil as you write your first nocturnal journal. I think that your key problem to evolve in your work is to learn to not saturate the paper beyond the point of stopping.
My humble advice, would be that you do your 2D work with the mind of a 3D worker. For instance, an Inuit sculptor finds a piece of material and he sees that the spirit oft he seal is caught inside that block of stone. He starts chipping away, not to make a seal out of the block, but to remove the excess rock, until he will only have the seal, free of the excess material that he removed.
When I make film documentaries, I am aware that I am sculpting in Time.
That is, from the time that I work on the screenplay, to blocking actors, to shooting the film and finally to editing, I have been removing the excess pieces of my medium or material in film making: Time.
Just like the Inuit sculptor working in a 3D realm, I am working the same idea on a 4D realm, since Time is the 4th Dimension.
So, now, we get to the real point. Lyle, would you be interested in trying to approach your Painting or Drawing that you do, with the angle that the Inuit Sculptor or I approach our creations as well as the media we work on.
I care to suggest this angle, for if you try a few times it might show you a few ways and doors that perhaps you hadn't seen yet, but that ultimately will help you overcome the unnecessary need to saturate your canvases or paper.
By the way, I got expelled from Kindergarden, half-way though the school year. I thought that University would be a Mount Everest considering my initial entrance (or forced departure) into/from the Academia world.
We have problems and become aware of them, thank God, so that we solve them and we keep chipping away at all the excesses in our work, until one day, that work will be as lean and mean as we can do it.
Bonne Nuit, Lyle.
Lyle is bringing something dead (paper and colors) to life: pure and simple. Fuck advise, just go go goReplyDelete
feck anonymous, ur a feckin-retard...whodances a go-go...ReplyDelete
Ahhhhhhh sure hate it for ya anonymouse #2 and my go go boots are made for walkin all over vousDelete