I
always thought inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us just show up and get
to work. If you wait around for the clouds to break and a bolt of lightning to
hit you in the head you're not going to make an awful lot of work. --Chuck Close
Last winter it hurt to draw with my left hand. (I am left handed.) Instead of quitting drawing I listened to interviews and audio books while working. I started cutting up pieces of paper, arranging them, and then making rubbings with my right hand. I appreciated that using the non-dominant hand created fresh, awkward lines with an amateurish quality. Limitations forced a new solution.
The current series of drawings/rubbings are one outgrowth of that period. These are rubbings from pots, the concrete studio floor, and the various boards and slabs of wood hanging around the studio. They remind me of the gritty quality of New York City that I loved as a sixteen-year old high schooler. I had dreams of capturing the patterns of fire escapes or of making rubbings of the manhole covers and the sidewalk cracks that I passed every day on my walk to school.
Last winter it hurt to draw with my left hand. (I am left handed.) Instead of quitting drawing I listened to interviews and audio books while working. I started cutting up pieces of paper, arranging them, and then making rubbings with my right hand. I appreciated that using the non-dominant hand created fresh, awkward lines with an amateurish quality. Limitations forced a new solution.
The current series of drawings/rubbings are one outgrowth of that period. These are rubbings from pots, the concrete studio floor, and the various boards and slabs of wood hanging around the studio. They remind me of the gritty quality of New York City that I loved as a sixteen-year old high schooler. I had dreams of capturing the patterns of fire escapes or of making rubbings of the manhole covers and the sidewalk cracks that I passed every day on my walk to school.
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