i woke at midday, feeling ‘liek a bags of hell’.. so, what’s the first thing i decided to do? yes! that’s right! go play with paint! after i finished the black surface the other day, they need a few coats of gloss.. i’m still deciding if i will etch into the final coat, like i was going to.. decisions, decisions…
i talked to wp about it all a lil while ago.. just.. the pressure of making for an exhibition, when i feel like i’ve been pigeon-holed as a painter.. not just a painter, mind you, but one of Brzbn’s premier female painters. ugh. ‘female painter’. the images conjured by that terminology. i shudder at the thought. i think of post-modern, post-post-feminist figurative paintings on canvas, glorifying objectification of the female form, in some ironic restatement of pseudo-porn. (ironically, that pretty much describes one of the other artists in the show .. fear)
HELL NO CORNBALL.
i barely call myself a ‘painter’ let alone….. ugh.
so..there’s my conundrum.. i have to find a way to present these works, so that they are somehow still paintings, or, reference painting, while avoiding any ‘feminine’, and, more importantly, ‘feminist’ readings. while i have opinions on feminist issues (hell, of course i do, i’m a woman), i have no desire to be labeled a ‘feminist artist’.
so, talking to wp about all this, i realised, that i have to re-claim my work.. this may seem like an odd concept from the outside, but i’m so focused on the word ‘painter’ that i’ve forgotten where my work originates. and it originates here, in words. my incessant ramblings, my lyrical musings, my blithely scrawled notes. language. my original plan for this show excluded language, and i’ve gotten so lost with these works. the other origin for my work, is the ‘object’.. ‘s why i don’t see myself as a painter, i don’t think in images, i think in words, and in installations, or scenes.. i’m an odd mix of a writer, and a film maker, and somehow, it comes out as ‘art’.. but anywho i need to take these black glossy boxes, and objectify them. and i have to engulf them in language. i have a plan for this. providing i can get hold of someone’s sofa (borrow it for a month….), about 5 meters of clear plastic, and some more white vinyl-cut-lettering, i should be fine… and i’m ditching the other two paintings i was going to put in there.. if i can get the sofa, i won’t need them…
i have the urge to re-design this site.. i don’t know why.. i know i don’t need another thing to do, and i haven’t had any complaints or anything.. (if anything, i’m picking up readers). i just want to.. i’ll see how i go.. i might have a fiddle later in dreamweaver or something.. i’m just edgy, restless.. that’s it.. restless.. but at midnight, there’s not a lot that i can do… i guess i could go paint .. but.. i feel like my judgement is off at the moment.. so i’m probably better off playing with something that i can change back later.. and black enamel just doesn’t have an ‘undo’ button, and this does. it’s a likely target for the release of my pent up creative energy (woo, Freud would love me)..
speaking of ‘pent up energy’.. i haven’t talked about Rebecca’s party the other night.. she’s moving to Melbourne, so it was her going away party… she had already moved all her furniture into storage, so her apartment was completely empty, except for a few chairs, and a table, with 2 turntables, and a mixer thingamijig and some other snazzy piece of equipment…. and a lot of speakers. DAMN good party. three DJ’s, and about 50 people.. in a small 2 bedroom apartment.. Bec didn’t care how loud the music got (what are they going to do, evict her? she’s leaving on friday.. bwahahaa) anywho, it was a lot of fun..
i’m still feeling restless.. so i might go play in photoshop, or dreamweaver or something…
latAr kiddies, play nice..