You'd think the biggest challenge of artists is deciding what to make. But every artist I know is challenged by deciding what not to make. There are so many competing pursuits that tend to be part of the lives of creative types: gardening, music, cooking, hanging with kids and animals, communing with nature, going to art shows and performance events. So many things we'd like to dig into, so little time.
Deciding what not to make is sort of essential if you want to get any one thing actually made. There's a big, delectable smorgasbord of potential projects and processes out there and as much as I'd like to throw a clay bowl/solder silver jewelry/silk-screen/arc-weld/blow glass/wood-turn (etc.) I need to stick to a diet of work that moves my major focus forward. So I resist the temptations of reconnecting with my old Pentax ME SLR camera or singing in a group, but I do allow myself to collaborate with other artists on smaller, ongoing exercises that push my fibre/pattern-based abstraction obsession.
Which is how my friend Val and I got the idea of starting Co-Lab a couple of years ago. This involves us each doing something to a 12-inch-square wood panel, then swapping panels so the other person can add (or take away) an element or layer, then swapping again. And sometimes again. Sometimes we go too far, and there's no going back. They are un-pre-mediated and rarely pretty, but who said pushing one's comfort zone is pretty? The results are often quite monstrous, as illustrated here with a panel we called "Monster":
Deciding what not to make is sort of essential if you want to get any one thing actually made. There's a big, delectable smorgasbord of potential projects and processes out there and as much as I'd like to throw a clay bowl/solder silver jewelry/silk-screen/arc-weld/blow glass/wood-turn (etc.) I need to stick to a diet of work that moves my major focus forward. So I resist the temptations of reconnecting with my old Pentax ME SLR camera or singing in a group, but I do allow myself to collaborate with other artists on smaller, ongoing exercises that push my fibre/pattern-based abstraction obsession.
Which is how my friend Val and I got the idea of starting Co-Lab a couple of years ago. This involves us each doing something to a 12-inch-square wood panel, then swapping panels so the other person can add (or take away) an element or layer, then swapping again. And sometimes again. Sometimes we go too far, and there's no going back. They are un-pre-mediated and rarely pretty, but who said pushing one's comfort zone is pretty? The results are often quite monstrous, as illustrated here with a panel we called "Monster":
 WIth only 'blue' as our over-riding theme this year I covered a panel with painted relief-work, as I was exploring casting possibilities of acrylic paint and different distressing methods. |  Val immediately thought 'reptilian skin' so added a cycloptic eye and feet evoking Eastern spiritual traditions, a theme that connects much of her assemblage work. |
We've completed several panels but whether they'll ever see the light of day is beside the point. We post them on a private blog simply as a way to record the processes - the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Currently I'm collaborating with two other groups of artist friends. Mixing sculpture, painting, drawing and assemblage are not always easy, but there's something to learn in each of those mash-ups.
Currently I'm collaborating with two other groups of artist friends. Mixing sculpture, painting, drawing and assemblage are not always easy, but there's something to learn in each of those mash-ups.
