For about a month I’ve been working on a new painting. I am not sure what to think of it. Perhaps it will not be new enough for me, different enough, but I need to start somewhere after a fairly long hiatus from the last show. It feels good to be down in the basement, even if it is just a basement, on my own with loud music and broad bands of color.
But does the world need them? Fuck no. Paintings are very unnecessary. In this respect I feel oh so differently to the stance I took in the 80s. I thought art was so necessary, that art was life. But now I am more inclined to agree more with Virginia, an artist I knew back then, who recently said here that she used to think that art was life but now she thought that life was life.
And what is funny about this statement is that my life is more about art than it ever was – I make it, show it, write about it, record, video and interview it. Art. I know it best. But the sun no longer rises and sets on it in that idealistic, almost spiritual way it did when I was in my late 20s.
In a way I am bothered by this. Perhaps we expect some kind of spiritual resolution as we age. You want to believe more, not less and when that turns out to not be the case, it’s disappointing. Art was your church. But then your church became a business.
However, when I look at the paintings, especially the new one, I see that the spiritualism is there. No longer words or ideals per se, the painting itself is the artifact of all I read and I thought but no longer really consider on a day to day basis. I just paint it, that’s all. You might say it’s a practice as opposed to a doctrine.