magic trash

Being an artist can be a strange life at times.  I ketch myself thinking really odd thoughts at any given time about any subject.  These thought are quick and become forgotten as fast at they conspired.  I constantly wonder what to make, what to make "it" out of, and how to make it.  Some times these simple thoughts make no sense informing my brain that it is or could be close to insanity.  These thoughts are over baring, and cause a block in productivity which as a maker, becomes a dark depressing crawl through the gutters of self pity. 

Fortunately, last night charlotte and I went to an lecture given by the extremely famous, Kiki Smith.  Most of her sculptures and prints (i say most because everyone who makes art has had some real steaming piles here and there), are amazing.  For me, the most influential part of her whole talk was her insane ideas and the motives that drove the work, which reassured my crazy is okay.  As she talked in front of a full house, on a huge stage, at a podium with a mic, and her work 15 ft. tall behind her,  there was no sense of arrogance.  It was as if she cared the slightest bit about the work.  Of coarse this is not true, but she was so comfortable and confident that the occasional shit or fuck just slipped right out with no hesitation.  Not saying that cussing is wrong, but its very unexpected in a huge forum full of professional and scholars with 8 inch ear hair growing from the deep crevasses of their sound collection holes.  

Besides the cramped seating (being 6'3 can be tough at times),  I walked away inspired.  Still with the same questions in my head but more at ease about why I have them.  I used them as fuel for the first time since moving to Philly.  I collected some broken black glass today that I admired while walking to the beer store on an earlier escapade.  It sat there talking to me explaining it's beauty, so I listened and took it to its new home, my basement/studio.  

I guess what I'm getting at is my rediscovery of the mundane objects. It has always been influential in some regard.  Art for me is the observation of everyday life.  It projects observations into a medium and reintroduces it to the world.  It can be a magical thing at times and it can also be an abomination.  I'm just glad that I still have the attention to notice the small details that become art.  I was scared that I was losing my inspiration and ambition and the  fact that a pile of glass saved me is honestly a ridiculous notion but awesome.    I hope that as long as I'm living, I will remember to observe these simplistic ideas and allow them to capture a magical moment.