Impolite Art - August 23, 2013
Every time (not often) I enter a painting in a juried show I have a sinking feeling that the not so fine work I've created will misbehave on the walls next to its superior associates. As if these naughty charges will grow fangs and drool paint tracks down the wall, slumping into a tacky puddle.
This was especially true last weekend when I dropped off a piece literally finished that morning and still smelling of orange solvent mixed with bees wax (I have no idea what happens to that under glass).
So I was shocked to learn that it was accepted and received an honorable mention - my first (maybe it was the lovely scent). Now I will spend a month imagining the impropriety of this unruly work (It's the one on the Aug. 11 post below), housed, no doubt, with noble portraits and subtle landscape neighbors, and will approach it sheepishly, fearful of what I will find.
Back in the chaotic studio, I press on with more fun today. There, I am at home, not so in the art marketplace.
This was especially true last weekend when I dropped off a piece literally finished that morning and still smelling of orange solvent mixed with bees wax (I have no idea what happens to that under glass).
So I was shocked to learn that it was accepted and received an honorable mention - my first (maybe it was the lovely scent). Now I will spend a month imagining the impropriety of this unruly work (It's the one on the Aug. 11 post below), housed, no doubt, with noble portraits and subtle landscape neighbors, and will approach it sheepishly, fearful of what I will find.
Back in the chaotic studio, I press on with more fun today. There, I am at home, not so in the art marketplace.
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