A question about meaning…
As I move back into a studio life after closing Grasslands Gallery permanently last week, I wonder – when am I an artist? Am I an artist as I unpack and re-home oil paint and brushes and all the bits fitting into an artist’s workplace? As I move from studio to office to dining room table, photographing the objects that might become new subjects, editing and printing the photographs, considering and marking and discarding the resulting images? As I fiddle with this new website and blog, struggling into knowledge I’ve never had before?
Or am I an artist only when the colour is mixed and the brush moves in my hand, making the marks that might become expression?
I tend to think it’s this last that matters. That what I am to do is make paintings. That nothing else really counts. So far in this renewed studio life, I’m shifting, sorting, thinking. Not making.
When do I become the artist I’ve chosen to be?
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