How does one reign oneself into a pinpoint? I see pictures everywhere I look. Beauty and angst in shapes of gnarled tree branches, people's faces, the turn of a young woman's calf, flowers. And I draw and paint always on watercolour paper which I have to touch before I purchase. Now the paper resides in locked drawers. The tactile experience is out. Can only touch with permission. Perhaps too many finger prints on a once untainted surface. Love my paper. Love my friends. The close ones who have bumped and scraped over the years with me. Felt my surface and my depth
Frank did not, could not drink anymore. Sipped a coffee while we talked in his well appointed apartment. I drank of the always good wine he bought for me. He'd pay for my cab home after midnight. Wanted me safe. I wasn't. He knew more than I did about myself. Bought me lunches at a trendy restaurant where I once had my artwork displayed. I don't remember selling anything.
I was rash enough then, to peddle my art anywhere and everywhere. The galleries told me my work was too eclectic. It seems I could not maintain a theme. Pick a focus; dark landscapes, distorted faces, expressionist, abstract. Varnish is in. Just keep a mainline trajectory for at least two years. We need consistency to show and sell. I guess consistency was not my forte. Talent was not in question.
to be continued....
