Art is the second greatest gift Steve’s given me. His love is the first.
I used to dabble in drawing. Copied lots of cool shit. But didn’t create anything original. Felt like a wannabe.
Then I moved in with my art teacher.
Steve plays. A piece of art will hang on his wall for a decade, unfinished. He’ll whimsically take it down, look at it, and try something new with it.
He’ll put materials atop it, see if they work. He’ll try different washes. He’ll pour paint on it.
This is process – and I had no conception of it prior to Steve. I thought that art was pre-determined, a little fully-formed h0munculus in the artist’s mind.
But this way of doing art–process–is all about play, discovery.
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When we found a buyer for our condo, I stopped making art. But I started up again two weeks ago. Here’s the new shit:
