meant to make things
I haven't come to any grand or insightful conclusions. I'm not sure that I have a clear stance on the issue. Or that I've come to a meaningful decision.
But what I can say is that I'm starting to think of myself as an artist less often. I'm finding the designation less helpful. And, I'm less and less interested.
In the name.
In the title.
In all its loaded with, and the weight of carrying it.
I don't have much use for that kind of high-mindedness. It's ill-fitting. The sleeves too long. The pants too baggy.
Whenever I put it on, the work suffers. It gets in the way of what I'm doing. It doesn't work for me.
I step into my studio everyday. I stand at my workbench. A craftsperson. A line cook. I check my mise en place. This "station, and its condition, its state of readiness," Anthony Bourdain says, "is an extension of [my] nervous system". A microcosm of everything that I am, and everything I do.
When I'm satisfied I get to work. I have a job to do. I make pictures. I create images. That's it.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
When one is finished I move on to the next.
I don't know who or what I am exactly. I don't know what you call it. Or, if there's a name for the single pointed task I've committed myself to.
The one thing I do know is that I was meant to make things...
P.S. ICAD - Day 167-170
Duane, I wish I could remember where I read this:
"Try to describe your work as a series of *beautiful actions* not just as a single noun."
When I think of your work, I see you: intending, selecting, gleaning, imagining, shaping, smoothing, feeling, relaxing, pondering, sharing... I wonder what comes to mind for you?
Y ese <<simplemente hacer cosas>> me parece más que suficiente, incluso, extraordinario.