Through a twist of fate I'll save for another post -- and I don't believe in uppercase "F" fate -- I'm now embarked on a new journey, both creative and professional. I'm going to try my hand at painting, specifically. Canvases, not houses.
I started painting in earnest in 1989, getting far enough along over the next decade or so such that I had produced several hundred pieces of work of quality from sadly laughable to decent in a wide-ranging selection of sizes and media. One of my favorite pieces still is a 4x6 feet acrylic on plywood. Thing weighs a freaking TON. I was an OK amateur. Here's one of my primitives, what I call "t-shirt" art since I was inspired by t-shirt designs on Caribbean sailing trips:
In addition to the t-shirt art, I dabbled in what, modernism? Abstract? I really need to take an art class. I saw on "Inegnious Minds," a new cable tv show about savants, this episode featurning a fellow who is a wondrous modern artist. Anyway, in overcoming the limitations of his savantism yet retaining its qualities he used a word I'd never heard. He was describing a person such as himself who never had any art classes or training and produced work solely for themselves, never intending to show or sell it. That was me early on with painting. Wish I'd heard that word better and remembered it. They say memory is the second thing to go, I can't remember what's first, but I seem to try and think about it when filling my Cialis prescription. Here's a sample of early abstract:
I showed work here and there but nothing came of it. A period of dormancy hit. After 2004 I didn't touch paint or pen until 2011.
But the muse returned to me, along with an opportunity to try and move beyond where I was. This blog is going to chart that journey.
First, the title. My thoughts are that most fine art is overpriced. Good for me. However, fine art is a mighty broad label to apply, and what some consider art some do not. However, I think there is a happy medium for the cheapskate (I jest) who thinks the painting of a sailboat on the bay is art while an out-of-focus twisting French clocktower is insanity, and the artiste who labors with his craft and obsession.
I recently visited the Cambria coast in California, reknown for its wines (featured in the film "Sideways," I'd worship Sandra Oh in a HEARTBEAT) San Luis Obispo and the university and high-tech industries such as they are, and art. Lots of art. Lots and lots of lots of art. And artists.
Looking in the more upscale and I assume successful galleries, as well as in some of the more mundane and routine locales for retail art, such as garden shops, I noticed what was "for sale" was primarily landscapes or representation of landscape items (such as ceramic cacti).
Oddly, these multi-thousand dollar works are the same things the cheapskates like -- landscapes. So, I wondered, what if...
Let's merge some of the tricks of the fine arts trade and techniques with the type of scenics and landscapes the lower-scale market expects. The thought is to go for high-quality, rewarding and personally satisfying production yet make it in sufficient quantities (uniqueness will matter) and appropriate sizes so that even modest budgets can afford "real art."
So, Picasso Lowbrow is the name I give the cheapskates to whom I will try and dedicate this new career.
Learning the completely new style of painting I'm presently attempting, a style inspired by my friend Buzz Siler, is something I will also document on this blog. I'll use the word "tech" in the post header when it's about the water diffusion process (WDP) as I call it. Think watercolors using oils. It's hard to tame, difficult to control, messy, and a whole lot of fun. As you can see in my profile photo, a sample of the new process, it's nothing like what I used to create.
Business and art, with of course my opinions and heart-on-my-sleeve approach to posting. Learning fine art and bringing it to people who will be surprised to find they appreciate it. Piscasso Lowbrow.
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