The art market is here, there are no worries my friend! I carry my bazaar on my back, now; I no longer have to walk to it each time. I don’t know quite how to say it, but I hide behind the facade anyway, ha! A good artist has a good facade. I’m not trying to tell you anything real, I am only painting a picture in all its fantasy, for that is what art is, and we can only hope that it leads us to truth. The post-writer cannot speak for the future, and does not have to plan any destination. No, the journey is taken one step at a time, and is best taken while following the heart in the moment. “But what about your goals, man”?!! ..They are so inconsequential to the beauty that comes from following the journey; the post-writer could have written anything, ahhh, yes, could have written anything, yet only what he could reach from each preceding word, from each preceding moment.
It starts out as curiosity. Then you share it, and it turns you to a more goal or destination based direction, questioning value and purpose, taking away an amount of freedom from your perspective. When this leads you to uncertainty and stagnation, let curiosity take over once again, so that you may move.
The art of the journey, and not the art of reaching a destination. To want the specific is grounds for questing a destination. To want the unspecific is to be open, and is grounds for creating your self-guided path, questing for the sake of the journey, and it’s unrestricted and limitless possibilities.
My latest geometric abstract composition, depicting a great wave in the front, with a house, sea, mountains, and sunrise beyond. Acrylic paint on 18″by 24″ watercolor paper, September-October 2016.
Pursue, pursue… pursuit. Strive, run – no – no rush, no destination. Climbing a mountain today, last night, watching the moon, but not, because all I had was my light bulb on my desk. Slumber. As I shake loose the bonds on my soul, my freedom exasperatingly bursts out in an expanding swirl. One more piece finished, one more piece of art. The finishing touches! Hahaha… I started this piece a month ago, and had all but a few blank spaces left… though my energy dissipated, my motivation squandered, inspiration dejected.
Two times now, bursting with declaration to overhaul my perception and resolve.
Just another journal entry, that may fade, may disappear. Why my desire to preserve my thoughts and ramblings? What good are they to me, or to anybody? Well, perhaps worth something, perhaps not, but in the moment, the worth is clear. Creation, cycling, moving… moving with the world, churning naturally in the ocean of waves. I grow, I grow. What is saved, what is not, who knows. I suppose it’s all very complicated, collectively appearing to us as ‘chance’, and well, why not, since we are not yet masters of the waves. We only swim as we can; but oh, how adventurous a swim it is!
The ship creaks on the waves, as the captain situates himself from one side to the other. The artist in the corner tells him a story, which helps him pass the time and keeps him from going insane on the endless ocean. The artist talks about how he didn’t bring his paintings with him on the journey; “Not building my life on what I have done, but building it on what I can do”, as he rolls up his small graphite drawing; a small wrinkled piece of paper, a small little roll.
Hello! Hello… I like Stasia Burrington’s art. I am an artist. I am seeking connections. I’m not sure how to proceed, yet here I am, proceeding anyway, the best way I know how.
What image will I have.. What image do I want to have of myself.
To justify my quality to match with others? To show my art which I know others will respect me for? What do I want… Do I want to share in the moment, as I want, in the moment, fearing not judgement, but rather flourishing in exploration? Yes, oh god, yes, that one, at the last.
This piece lay unclaimed, and unseen for most of the time since it was created, years ago. It was one of my earlier paintings, I can even say nostalgically that it was one of my first such paintings; on canvas, using acrylics, at my first apartment after moving out on my own…
Year after year I become more of an artist – art becoming more natural to me. And yet, I will always struggle with understanding the next aspect, the next dynamic, etc.
The artist doesn’t know what good art is, the artist feels what good art is. I don’t know if this piece of art is good – I can break it apart and tell you about all the qualities and traits that make it up, but I won’t know if they have any value unless I equate you, your life, your feelings and your history into the formula. For the artist himself it is different, because the artist’s life is always changing around the art being created. There is nothing stagnant or still, nothing tangible. The value of the art he creates moves subordinately to his feelings and progression in art. On the other hand, the context of the art is a knowledge that the artist holds closely in memory, and in turn reflects value onto the articles of art it is tied to. Therefore there is value that can be seen and value that is unseen. Communicating the physical, seeable value in a piece of art is a disheartening task if you don’t know how to communicate the unseeable context behind the art.
Explaining the context of a piece of art is an aside, it is a separate piece of art in its own right.
At extremes, I can clearly realize that the context behind the art would be lost on others, and therefore intentions to sell are not on my mind, since the value is only known by me I feel it’s only place is in my care. Basically, I couldn’t imagine to give up such pieces. Looking at my art years later I can see it has little value without considering the context in which it was created and brought up.