Identifying Themes
This is what I need to do.
“Categorize, define common threads in your work?”
Sounds wrong already doesn’t it? Sounds like a death knoll. Makes me think of music being defined as rock n’ roll when it is anything but sitting lost in the remainders section of a dusty old vinyl store. That should not be the saddest of pictures though. That is a reminder not to believe in categories or reviews, or critics, and an invitation to search through the orphaned creations out there. Think Strand Book Store, sunny day, rolling bookshelves loaded with books for a quarter, old, new, beaten up and battered, ready to fry.
(PAUSE)
Don’t look at me like that. Tangents make sense. You can I trust handle lateral thinking?
That look again.
“My role is to gather you in so you can figure you out enough to function.”
No. You are my sounding board. I don’t mean to offend and please keep me on my toes.
So. My themes...(PAUSE)
“May I?”
Break a leg.
“Image making.”
Stop there. So broad as to be pointless.
“You defy categorization.”
I want reining in but let go of the reins. I want the impossible. I’m asking you to listen to all my contradictions. All of them for every hour, every minute we meet. And what’s up with that? The session ends crap. Your detailed notes. Your remove and objectivity. My problem is yours as well. You know that right?
“I’m right in there. I’m my own school. Now can we get on?”
We could talk about materials, gouache, pencils, conté.... I’m not sure that helps. Sort of got a so what stance when it comes to the stuff of what I do—the paper, materials, words or pictures, photos. I do emphatically love to draw...and laziness is a crucial part of my process.
“Hmmm. Sorry. Involuntary. Abstract? Figurative? Journalistic? Fantastical?”
Any and all the above and it doesn’t really help. The artistic stalemate, autistic statement. Traps. The artist is building his own cage.
“Terry.”
What?
“Terry. You’ve mentioned him before. He turned his back on art and toward religion, specifically a religion very alien to you and not one you had any familiarity with. He was a friend.”
I remember him fondly.
“You’re still arguing with him 30 years later. Friends who took different paths and left you alone on yours. We all have them. Therapists are like sheepdogs trying to bring family together.”
Enough of this. I’m deeply uncomfortable. There is pain. Not just mine. I’ve done the same to so many others. What we perpetrate on others. We encourage each other to do our dirty work. You go explore that. I’ll explore this if you think I should? So forth. Can we stop now? Write down the exact time.
Session ends 3:08PM, 8.28.11
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