And I promise, I'll post a diatribe on why I hate "feminist" art real, real soon.)
Yesterday I picked up one of my little pink blotches and asked it "Why don't you tell me what you are?" I am totally working ass-backwards here. I have always started with the concept, then made the work. Now, I'm making things that I have NO IDEA what they are. It's a little troublesome, but in a good way. I'm trying a different approach, I'm out of my comfort zone, it's a good thing...I think. I will probably not think so in four months, but that's a different blog for a different time.
Lately, I've been trying to visualize my work as though it truly was not mine, as though I had merely stumbled upon it in a gallery. How would I like to encounter it? What would the artist statement say? Would I even give a shit if this was someone else's work?
What to do with these forms? What are they? Bacteria, hosts, parasites? Berries, bruises, fruit? Wanton alien cervixes sent to destroy the world? Where do they live- in decayed, old buildings or the middle of the prairie? Damn, alien cow patties, that's all I need for comparisons! I think they will undulate in piles on the floor of the gallery, stack up in autonomous colonies and take over the space. I still don't know why they exist, though. I haven't decided if they are benevolent or malevolent, even. But I am getting somewhere- very, very, slowly. But the ideas are starting to come faster than they did just a couple of weeks ago, so I don't think it will be long before I have answered all of my questions.