turqoise intestine clouds

Finished this yesterday. What the hell is it? It's not agrophobia, the horror of empty spaces. I believe I'm kind of compelled by horror vacui Horror_vacui , a theory initially proposed by Aristotle stating that nature “fears” empty space. Therefore empty space would always be trying to suck in gas or liquids to avoid being empty.

In visual art, horror vacui ( also known as cenophobia) is the filling of the entire surface of an artwork with ornamental details, figures, shapes, lines and anything else the artist might envision. I'm always coming back to my work and finding more to do.

raymond

Raymond sat down across from me at the Second Cup near Dufferin and Wilson. He had warm innocent eyes. When I saw him enter the coffee shop he was bent way over and one hand fumbled with the change in the other. It was a long process. The first thing I noticed when he sat with me was the arthritic disfigurement of his left hand. I smiled and began to chat with him as I drew another guy, in a dress shirt and yarmulke, working on a laptop.


I bought Raymond a French Vanilla latte and asked if I could draw him the next time we meet here. He was good with that. He looked excited. Raymond told me how he lost 50 pounds since coming to Toronto from Windsor and taking therapy at a new facility with great machines. Before leaving he worked on the strap of his fanny pack for about 20 minutes to tighten it one notch because of his new improved girth. He was fighting the limitations of a claw hand without ever complaining. He handles his disability amazingly, I admire his will. He is the Olympian god of cerebral palsy sufferers. I'll buy him coffee, in homage, whenever we meet. He walks a long way for his coffee, for the exercise and the treat.

little drawing journal

I have a new little sketch book made by Fabriano. It's from Italy and has textured tinted paper. The pages are divided into sections of color. 16 pages of cream yellow paper followed by 16 of grey, repeated 5 more times. I bought it in New York and I think it's grand.

etching class

I'm taking etching at the Open Studio, a printmaking studio in Toronto. My teacher is Emma Nishimura. She's an excellent instructor. There are 8 students taking the course and they are all really into it. I'm finding it tremendously exciting. I love the actual etching of course. It's just drawing with new tools. But all the many physical aspects of the process right down to the elaborate clean up rituals are very satisfying as well. It's nice to come out of my head and get down and dirty with all the mess involved!

I'm pleased with the results so far. I can't wait to get more plates to etch, and try lithography and screen printing next. I love this stuff and it's so nice to be in a room full of other artists. I like the feedback. I like watching them create. It's not so lonely. Paula's been very encouraging. She likes the textures in the prints. She said she likes them better than my abstract ink drawings on paper. I can see why. The textures are incredibly sensual and exotic in the prints, compared to the flatter high contrast black on white of the drawings.

today I have a cold

I hate being sick. I blame myself for taking such poor care of myself. I took some Sudafed, which I never do and then I got high in a wierd way and got scared I'd suffocate in my sleep because my nostrils are plugged. I took it because my Mom demanded I suck it up and come to the Sukkot dinner at Leon's. I took it and practically passed out at the table.

Paula is teaching me self-pity. How getting sick is the right time to slow down and feel sorry for your self. Not to beat yourself up some more. So, I'm buying in. Poor me! WAhhhh.

That felt good. WAaaaHhhhhhhh!

bad coffee

Yesterday Paula and I went to a coffee shop in the art district on Queen St West. T.A.N. Coffee. They sell Fair Trade organic coffee in biodegradable cups. The woman who owns it is awesome. It was great coffee and guilt free, important to us in the wake of Yom Kippur. Now we can't go to Starbucks without feeling like cowards and traitors.

Everything's political. Even the dozen bagels we bought on the way home. Twister or regular? Paula fought North American excess by chosing regular size poppy seed and sesame seed over the big fat honking Twisters.

big fat ego envy

Yom Kippur is over. I had an atonement thought, walking with Paula from the Yummy Market as the sun went down, carrying bags of breaking the fast goodies like lox and pomegranate, as the high holy day was about to end. That's all I could muster. A short swift musing. I apologized for being a jerk. I can be mean when I'm hurt and mad. And I do have some hubris. But I actually need more, so I didn't apologize for that.

art mall

Today I went to the 2008 Toronto International Art Fair at the Metro Toronto Convention Center. There was so much art it made me dizzy. I'm going to submit my new work to some of the galleries I thought were right for me. I don't really believe I'll get picked up but I have to try again. I've never had my art represented by a private gallery, or been accepted to show at a public space. I once rented a gallery. In 2003.

I often have this feeling that when anyone sees my name on a proposal that they will receive a some subliminal command to deny me any access or recognition, this on pain of a terrifying horrible death to the violator. I really believe it sometimes. I guess that's part an emotional and mental sickness that possesses part of me.

after knowing you

We watched Aftermath: Life After People, about what would happen to everything man-made if humans disappeared. In the movie, nature takes back everything. So Jacob saw me doing this drawing in my studio and said that it looked like the world in the movie after the people were gone, because he saw the column in the right corner.

I'd like to go to where it's after relationships. They're gone, and all traces of them have been taken back. If I could survive there, I'd live there.

Now I'm worried it might happen.

sparkle

Went through a month of not blogging. But I kept drawing. Lots of drawing. When I get depressed I can still draw. That's new for me. I hope it's forever, because I can handle some depression and anxiety if I can still draw.