Epiphany

It's really quite amazing, the things that find their way into your train of thought when you're up late in the studio. Tonight, I had a sort of epiphany about not only my work, but myself as well. It all goes back to my artist statement issues that I wrote about previously- what is it that I'm trying to say, here?

I know now.

Yes, my work is about absence and presence- it's absolutely about the impermanence of life, and the dichotomy of alienation vs. community. But you know what the root of all of this really is?

Loss.

My inability to cope with loss, and the attempt to work through it in paint. I have to say, now that I really know what I'm getting at here, the statement I've written about my work makes sense- it hits close to home, and it's (finally) deeply personal. During a great conversation with a fellow painter in the studio tonight (who, much like the other painting grads at Edinboro, has quickly become one of my brothers in the last year), I discovered that I've never really understood or accepted the losses that have occurred in my life- that though I've moved past them and grown from their lessons, I've never fully allowed myself to accept them. Call it letting go, even- I'm simply horrible at it, and my work is helping me to finally gain the strength to combat these issues head on.

It's nice, really.

The conversation I was having tonight dealt with losses within our families- I lost my maternal grandfather my senior year of high school, and although I felt for the longest time that I had finally moved on, I hadn't accepted his passing... This made me think quite a bit.

I paint things that we commonly throw away, because I don't want to throw away their memory. I paint these things because I can't throw away my emotions, or my losses- and I shouldn't have to, but it's this inability to accept these losses that drives me to paint teabags, portraits, and really, everything. 

Painting is hard- so is coping with loss, whether it be of a pet, a loved on, a relationship... Hell, even a tube of paint or your keys. Losing things, although it certainly makes us human, it also makes us fucking crazy. Painting these forgotten objects (well, trash really) allows me to let go of and accept other things I've lost, while still maintaining the love and appreciation I had for them when they were a more current fixture in my life.

I think I'll be okay, now. I'm glad I was able to share this with the individuals that read my blog- I got issues and opinions, mang. I got 'em. It's 4:00 in the damn morning, and I should be sleeping, but this epiphany (and a really great feeling about the piece I'm working on, due to said epiphany) has me wired- I won't finish this new piece tonight, but I'll be damned if I leave this studio before it comes to some kind of resolve. 

I'm damn happy that I chose this path in life. I think I'm on the right one. Thanks for reading my word vomit, it was wonderful to get it out of my system.