After my recent two week interlude without a computer, of all the time sucking online activities I've decided to eliminate from my life, my blog, I'm happy to say, is not one of them.What started as a simple way to connect myself to the ever growing online community has turned out to be a very fun and useful extension of my work and life.
When I began I was just entering my second year as the owner and director of The Art House Gallery. It was a huge part of what I was wrestling with on a daily basis. Part of my intention was to expose the experience of running a gallery, and part of it was to regularly share my artwork. In fact I think my first post (which has since been deleted) said something about making new artwork and writing something once a week to start.
That of course never really happened. I didn't even post any images in the beginning. If you've been paying attention you know that I'm much more naturally inclined toward the inconsistencies of life than in rigid routines. Most of what I publish comes directly from my writing journals which I've kept for years and which are generally all over the place.
I'm a mother, an artist, a thinker, a worker, a teacher, a curator, a director. I balance food shopping each week with stretching canvas, cooking dinner with mixing paints, cleaning the house with organizing my art studio. This is what I do everyday. Occasionally I open up a shop or a gallery or start a group, but I always come back to my artwork.
The Art Wrestler is about all of this. It's about the balance between the everyday, mundane and repetitive; and the creative and sublime.I know there are others who can relate.
|Daybook by Anne Truitt is an inspiring book of this sculptor's published journals all about raising a family and being an artist|
During a studio visit I conducted back in 1999, when I owned my first art gallery, Catherine Street Gallery, I met with a wonderful artist living in Brooklyn. She had a lovely detached home at the end of the block that she shared with her husband, her kids and her dog. Her studio was in the attic at the top of the third floor, and as we climbed the three flights of stairs we passed by all the commotion and mayhem that made up her life. I remember leaving there thinking, I hope I never have to juggle that many things in life to be able to do my art and make a living.
Ahh... Ha! How naive I was to imagine I could escape the chaos of life while still being a part of it.