A piece of New York insider knowledge: Beware of empty train cars.
Thursday, September 22, 2016
If a train car approaches on a warm day, and there are many available seats, it is most likely empty because the air conditioning has failed in that car. I’ve often seen people get on a hot car and disembark immediately, because of the suffocating heat, and I’ve done it myself. The only positive aspect of riding on a hot car is that it’s empty. Sometimes I can stand for it, if I absolutely want to sit or, as is now the case, I want to write.
I’m waiting for the F train, once again. I realize that I need some tape, a measuring tape, and a few more braces, to make my stands. I’m still not exactly sure of what I’m doing, but I certainly have the vision. I also need to think about my candy project. Maybe it would be better to have three buckets of different colored candies. Maybe even wrapped, so that they are nice and separate and pourable. I’ll have to take a look at how much bulk candy I can get for how cheap.
So I went to Jack’s 99c again, this time to look for candy. I decided that due to weight concerns, I would keep things in three buckets, as opposed to one. I separated the candy by color and will feature each one in three different buckets. Fun!
I will have to get used to the idea of the critique as being helpful to my art, in some way. I suppose that the line I’ll offer is that it’s a way for me to learn how to defend my work which, of course, not a problem for me. I was born to defend my work because it’s fantastic, and I make no apologies for that.
. . .
Now, for a moment, I return to this past Monday night’s critique. It was conducted with an Internationally famous artist with great gallery representation and recognition from the most prestigious of institutions. I was putting the finishing touches on my dual screen display when he walked in. Early is great, but it caught me just a bit off guard. I was not wholly invested in the work I was showing, but am proud of it, nonetheless. In a sense, I don’t show my work to anyone until I feel that it’s done. And when I feel as if it’s done, I don’t re-think or revisit it. So even thought I will continue my work in this “take the stairs” series, I am satisfied with it as a concept and consider it a closed system.
So when someone looks at my work or talks about it, it can really only be from the standpoint of a finished work, as I don’t reveal unfinished work to people. Given that art is (supposed to be) about creative freedom, how can one person tell another how their work should or should not be, especially with few to no standards? It is good, however, to get another person’s point of view on a subject, but I’m not intent on changing the work itself.
. . .
I have to commend myself for my hard work in getting to the place that I am in life — doing exactly what I want to do in life and having a goal, however lofty.
I was pleased with how much I achieved, yesterday. Saturday, I succeeded in getting wood to the studio. Wednesday, I cut the pieces, and today, I began drilling holes to create my metaphorical stockades. As I mentioned to the wood shop monitor, I’m somewhat making things up as I go along, but I’m keeping a good pace.