We all utilize a library of our own symbols. In the past I have relied on a myriad of archaic devices and machines, like the cassette, steam engines, and antique telephones to attempt to begin a dialogue about what it is we've discovered, used, and ultimately cast off. What is that process I've wondered. This has allowed me to create a fairly vast body of work that I've been proud of on the whole. As I've been drawing more and more in my sketchbooks over the past 9 months, I've realized that utilizing these symbols isn't really achieving what I had hoped for. I had hoped to make some pretty grand statements, to provide pause, and to ultimately affect people in some way. I am not getting through. When I created a show of extinct birds, I received comments on how pretty the birds were. When people saw the patterns that were coupled with each bird, they assumed that they were random. People did not look and try to solve my riddles. Perhaps there were too many riddles.
In studying Gauguin, I am finding a language within myself that I had given up on. The human figure is making more sense as a moving object, capable of communicating allegory and emotion. I am finding in the figures that I am studying the very slimmest inkling of an idea of how to communicate what has been swimming in the ether just beyond my mental grasp, and it excites me deeply.
"For the masses, I shall be a riddle, for a few, I shall be a poet..." I am slowly stamping out my creative fears one by one. I shall be a painter to the end. I will find my voice.