Shit at drawing, shit at writing, I become cartoonist.
A visit to a Western Art Survey museum illuminates my failings: I lack the patience and talent to master chiaroscuro like the Master (Rembrandt, "Head of a Bearded Man", ~1630). I lack the inspiration to evoke the divine, such as early Medieveal paintings that dedicate their work toward an illumination of the beyond. I lack the rigor to develop and cleanly express ideas, such as the Gemotric Abstraction of the early 20th century.
I am left with panel four: My art, my mind, my life, is a sloppy collage of spur of the moment inspirations, hastily cut and pasted with little consideration for aesthetic or meaning.
In my collage here is Eno peeking out (Art overseeing), Paul Metcalf, "The Man in the Planet" from Eraserhead, a pile of eraser pencils, a cup of coffee, an earwig.
The geometric abstraction was my own design - I like it. Is it a motorcycle, a factory, or a row of tenament housing in the UK?
Shit at drawing, shit at writing, I become cartoonist.
ReplyDeleteA visit to a Western Art Survey museum illuminates my failings: I lack the patience and talent to master chiaroscuro like the Master (Rembrandt, "Head of a Bearded Man", ~1630). I lack the inspiration to evoke the divine, such as early Medieveal paintings that dedicate their work toward an illumination of the beyond. I lack the rigor to develop and cleanly express ideas, such as the Gemotric Abstraction of the early 20th century.
I am left with panel four: My art, my mind, my life, is a sloppy collage of spur of the moment inspirations, hastily cut and pasted with little consideration for aesthetic or meaning.
In my collage here is Eno peeking out (Art overseeing), Paul Metcalf, "The Man in the Planet" from Eraserhead, a pile of eraser pencils, a cup of coffee, an earwig.
The geometric abstraction was my own design - I like it. Is it a motorcycle, a factory, or a row of tenament housing in the UK?