It disappoints me sometimes, as I look at the beautiful photos on the blogs of people in the world of visual arts, that very little of what I create can be hung on a wall or even (in the case of a classy dinner) survive the hour. I've bought a few materials and am going to have a go at creating something that CAN be hung on a wall. My daughter needs a couple of largish pictures to replace the family photos her ex is taking and there is the fond hope she may be persuaded to cover the faded bits of paint-work with one of my masterpieces. It's much more likely that she will go to Au Natural and get a nice sea-scape, bland but restful (and cheap) but I can try.
Several boxes of the books from the garage have gone to the newly opened local Art Centre for their library. I was quite surprised at what they took, anything with pictures, understandably, but also an old set of encyclopædias that had some nice illustrations. Spurred on by this I may look in the garage for my own inspiration - but I could do a nice restful sea-scape from photos taken during one of the recent trips to Roseisle!
It looks such a doddle smearing some nice colour onto a canvas, until I try myself, and I have tried enough times to not be deceived by the apparent doddliness of the few pleasing lines and shapes in a simple-but-arresting composition. There have been enough botched attempts in the past to put me off starting. Also the mess the projects make is inhibiting. Being unable tolerate a bit of disorder is instant pre-natal death to the creative urge! I suppose not thinking too much about it but getting on and doing it would be the way to go.
After Sanders and I went to the exhibition of our felt-maker friends I discovered N&D had also seen it and a discussion on 'what is Art' followed. He (and she, sheep-like IMO) thought the felt pictures a bit OTT. Excuse me? Gradually I winkled out of them what they meant. After a lot of 'umm'ing and 'er'ming N's problem was the New Age-iness of the pics. Now I know the lady with the little pool in front of her was pure NA but I'm not sure that if the woodland scenes had been exhibited further away from this area they would have been damned with that label. They were in fact closer to the spirit of the land and its mythology than a lot of the local painters manage to get in my not-very-humble opinion.
Admitedly there's far too much twee-ness and sentimentality, and, heaven forefend, niceness, around in the local art galleries so I suppose we do get a bit fed up with it. Not much art hereabouts challenges the senses, it tends to be safe and pleasant, designed to be saleable - and who wants disturbing stuff on their walls unless they are rich beyond dreams and therefore investors.
I still like my moonhare.
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