its like an online art journal with lots of pictures
- as often happens - come the end of the month, at monthly progress posting time, I think oh no I've done NOTHING this month when in fact, I really have. Monthly studio progress posts are a good idea but tracking the progress of individual pieces over many months gets lost in the crowd a bit, so its been good to collate some progress pics on these two over a few months, all together in a gallery style image block. Not for the first time I'm really glad I started this whole website in the first place.
I'm currently engaged in commissioned work for a luxury hotel - at 28 pieces its the biggest commission I've ever know - and I'm not at liberty to share any images of it. However, as you may surmise, there is a lull in artwork proceedings at the moment, hence photoshop bonanza of step by steps pics following the making of Puppy's new couch step! Time wasting!
But really, this has needed making for ages, she's finding the couch a leap too far sometimes now so this is a boon...in a household where 'no pets on the furniture' was a no exceptions rule...until we got a pet...
The following is slides from a booklet I put together to accompany my exhibition "Inscapes", which contains both works on canvas and small sculptures. This booklet refers to the sculptures, although they're not otherwise distinct from the works on canvas, in my opinion, as all the works are 'objects' rather than picture planes. I find out a lot about the works as I make them, as if all is going well, they are making themselves. The making process is an equal (if not greater) part to the finished object. Or at least that's how it feels to me. Maybe the following will explain that more clearly than my clumpy words.
I've never been entirely comfortable describing myself as an artist, such a subjective, arbitrary term.
I work, and this is my profession; I make artwork, I'm an artworker.
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I made this piece for my friend Susan, who is currently undergoing a second round of chemotherapy, following surgery for breast cancer. I'd say there wouldn't be a woman alive who didn't feel a quick, sharp hurt to the heart on reading that last sentence. I know I do. Take what you want, but leave my boobs.