I finished, well- almost finished - an art project today.
Samuel came into my studio tonight and I asked him for a comment on it. All he said was "I don't know what it means."
How does he think that art should "mean" something? Mr. Dirtywrench looked at it, cocked his head and gave me that look that I knew meant I don't know what it means...
Okay. Listen. It doesn't mean anything. I am not going to scrape together some pretensions and come up with a high-fallutin' meaning for it. It is first of all a painting exercise and secondly a project that I did just for fun. It's a project that doesn't need me to labor in a cold studio with hazardous chemicals. I don't have to submit it to flames of intense heat and lose sleep over whether the results of my hard labor will be good or terrible. I get instant gratification with this project.
There is nothing original about the idea at all. This kind of thing has been done in fabric, in tile, and other media. I simply spent some time painting 12 x 9" canvas papers, I cut them into two inch squares and spent several days arranging them. The gallery might very well tell me to get that thing outta here.