Abstraction
The What of Million Dollar Garage
The Work
The first four posts of Million Dollar Garage have been about why I do what I do. Philosophy, personality and my proclivities. Heaven. Commerce. Conceptions.
That is not our topic today. Today is about the doing. The what.
The work. Abstraction in videos, pics and words.
I don't remember having art classes growing up, but I did find a hideous blue ashtray that I made for my parents in a box in the basement. They don’t smoke smoke. I'm sure there were finger turkeys made the week of Thanksgiving. Cotton-ball Santas for Christmas and finger-painted frescos of jack-o's for Halloween. I’m sure I made them, but I don’t remember…
I had no artistic skill, per se. Never even considered it. As a chef, I even took exception with the term "culinary arts". I was a blacksmith...a craftsman...with food. An expert at connecting food to patrons. No time to be artsy-fartsy or delicate. My job was more serious than all that.
Maybe, when viewing my art, all these statements are obvious to the viewer.
At forty, when I decided I wanted to change my life, I knew I wanted to make and sell something. Simple commerce. I wanted to write and I suspected I wanted to make art, too. For some reason, making art was a different brainwave than writing. Abstract paintings helped me express ideas I couldn't purposely and directly communicate.
With all this in mind, I went to Brooklyn to see my cousin and her husband. Hectah, an amazing illustrator...amongst other things, got me squared away. He taught me what intuitively already knew..."An artist craves his limitations…his limitations tell him what he CAN do.". His friend, NYC-style collage artist...total badass, AVONE, told me exactly what I needed to hear. He said: "I just work harder than other people." They both spent a ton of unearned time with me...imparted insightful knowledge, and somehow, in the company of these two special artists and people; I gained the confidence needed to pursue my crazy idea. Make art without knowing how.
My worries were eliminated when learned that my limitations would help me determine my path. Hell, I already knew how to outwork people. I set about experimenting with products, mediums and subjects. I found two choices: abstract acrylic painting or collage. I loved collage the most of all. I'm just wasn’t good at it, yet (or now). So...abstract.
Ten years into making art, I still view work the same way as I did cooking.
I loved cooking. I love painting. I love getting lost in the problem solving. I like creating the steps to the function and then breaking my own rules. I don’t acknowledge it in the moment, but I enjoy swearing and cussing at a painting that is not cooperating. Chucking a nail gun at it, maybe a frustrated muddied paintbrush; I come back a couple hours later or the next day, to see its potential.
I like the part where I lose track of time. The tunnel vision of one activity. The authenticity of not attempting to be authentic, but being so without conscious consideration.
It is here, in this state of being, that I do my best work. Happiness is a faulty measurement ...an unachievable metric...less concrete than proving the existence of God...but I think that this makes me happiest and closest to my nature...and to Him.
Here’s where I do it:
But with your help…it won’t look dumpy and alone for long!
Be not conformed…
Thanks again for reading and participating with me. Million Dollar Garage is en route, right where it sits. Reach out…give me your thoughts. I’m all ears.
Any help you give me, I appreciate. Every one of you: Sharers of Posts, Readers, Art Buyers, Grammar Police, Punctuation Nazis, Paid Subscribers, Free Subscribers and Methodists. Thanks a million.
Jason