Wednesday, April 23, 2008

depressed artist art as used furniture

It's easy to get depressed if you are an artist of any kind.

The point is, you dredge sludge up from your very soul, do your best to make "it", the art, beautiful or controversial or inspiring or motivating or comforting, and then you put it out there after hours and hours working and birthing "it".

And then "it" is disregarded, or denigrated, or glanced at momentarily, or asked what's next or forgotten. Ouch. It's just that it can't help but be personal. Even when "it" is celebrated, it becomes old news pretty fast.

The best thing for "it" is if it can go live with someone. And be appreciated for a while, and we hope "it" doesn't show up in a used furniture shop looking orphaned.

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swamp, 55" x 29"

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flying fish, 55" x 29"

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I am living and painting in the little town of Houston. A far way from my San Francisco beginnings. I paint what I see of the human condition, be it human, animal or object. The glimmer of humor, pathos, and spirit in so much of what I see is the basis of what I paint.

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