They say that writing about art is like dancing about architecture.
Just kidding, I’ve never heard anyone say that. But I wanted to record a little formal history of how I started making artwork, explain some of the different kinds of pieces I make, talk a bit about process and such. There will be a smattering of personal details and hopefully very little philosophy about the meaning of art or its practice. There are few questions less interesting than “what is art?” and I do not intend to indulge the inquiry here.
Without further ado, a brief history of my journey with art.
Continue reading art_work
Here we are, once more. Familiar ground. Another long period of neglect and zero writing. Another blog redesign complete. Another chance to reflect on this thing which is now legitimately one of the oldest active (ish) blogs on the internet. I thought it might be fun to do a quick little jaunt across time to see how the design has evolved.
Continue reading chronistic
There’s a lot of work yet left to do, but so far I’m pleased with how things are coming along. From the design side of things, I want to convert the background to SVG so that I can take it to the next step, that being a dynamic and potentially interactive scene. I’ve had musings of changing it based on the tags within a given post, or perhaps animating the birds, waves, the sun, and so on. It’ll be a while before I get around to that, but I’m already getting a bit tired of the existing scene, so the clock is ticking. Moving on: thoughts after reading my entire blog from start to finish – the first time I’ve ever done so.
Memories are recorded very differently in words than in photos. I go through all of my pictures on facebook once a year or so – not as a ritual, but at some point I just find myself scanning through them, revisiting the progress of my life, trying to see what the pictures say about the names and faces contained therein. Photos capture moments, but they don’t immerse you into the time and place. They make that moment easier to access, but the only story they tell is the one you already know. Writing, on the other hand, is quite like a short film of thoughts and feelings, available to be re-experienced an infinite number of times. In this sense, I relived the last nine years of my life through the lens of my writing. It was more intense than I had expected it to be.
Continue reading identiclasm