After the emotional dousing I took with the lackluster response to my painted chair, I decided to head back to working on my (I choke on this description) art dolls. I hate calling them art dolls. Calling them "multimedia figurative sculptures" dredges of feelings of being a pretentious phony, so I'll call the beasties art dolls. Until I come up with some happy inbetween something or other.
Anyway, a friend recently commented on my "primitive" dolls. I figured it was primarily a reference to being roughly handmade. Not that I took it as an insult, but didn't really know what to make of the use of the word as it applied to my art. To get myself in the mood to get started on this project again, I poked around Etsy today and looked at many of the art dolls in the various categories - altered, folk art, and then there was primitive. I checked it out and didn't see much continuity in style or technique. What made it primitive? As goofy an idea as it was, I Googled "definition primitive art" and up popped the following definition: a genre of art and outdoor constructions made by untrained artists who do not recognize themselves as artists.
That's me! I actually feel better. The icing on the cake is that I couldn't find anything that looked like my work. Oh, happy day. Time to go play in the studio.
June 4, 2009
June 2, 2009
Wanted: Thicker Skin
Here we go again. I was so excited to finish the chair for my friend's daughter on her 4th birthday. The seat design was inspired by a painting exercise in an instructional book by artist Cristina Acosta, and the rest of the details were just my fancy. I started the chair when Raegan was one year old, but had no place to work. Now that I have a studio, I was able to work on it every day and have it finished on time (as on time as one can be when the birthday girl is turning four). The birthday party was an intimate gathering - other than the immediate family, me and Kevin, there were three adult friends.
The response was underwhelming. I don't know what I expected. I'm not a great artist. I can't even claim ownership of the bulk of the primary design. I know my work isn't everyone's cup of tea, but still... I'm feeling like a big baby, discouraged and foolish. I want to hide my work. I'm too old to feel like this. Of course, I'll get back on the horse and get back to work (not on furniture!) in the studio, but it makes me feel like not doing this any more. Could I be more petulant?!? I'm not upset with anyone because no one did anything wrong. How do I feel? Defeated. For now. I'm not sure I can reach to kick myself in the patoot to snap out of this funk.
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