The weather's turned, here in Central California. I love this time of year, with its cold nights and deliciously warm days. The air in the studio feels frigid this morning since I left the windows open last night, and the morning sun warms me as itshines through the east window on me as I work. I feel very lucky right now.
A bit guilty, too--I feel as though I'm kidding myself by sitting out here "making stuff" every day, telling myself that 'this is what I'm supposed to be doing right now' when the truth is that this is what I want to be doing right now. Big difference! The drive to create just seems so overwhelming, I'm not sure I could stop making stuff if I wanted to! I'm trying to treat this as a job, but if I'm honest I'll admit that I'm having so much fun that it couldn't possibly be a job.
If I didn't have a family, I think I'd live in a studio like this and work just enough to allow me to do lots of art. I'd use found materials more--
I was looking at Joseph Cornell's work the other night. At some point I want to see an exhibition of his works, see them in real life. His assemblages exude what seems to me to be a strange magic, juxtaposing seemingly unrelated elements in a way that creates an intimate potent connection. I'd love to do that in my work.
I'm interested in assemblage, too, though I haven't really gone there yet. (I talked about starting to work on canvasses for two years before I actually tried it!). I've been collecting strange little pieces of daily detritus for years and someday I'll start to use it.
Paint from this morning should be dry enough to work some more...Off I go.