Monday, June 22, 2009
The journey begins...
It's funny how you arrive at art. It's a journey and not an easy one. Everyone thinks, oh, you just slap some paint down and you're done. No. It's work from beginning to end. And it starts with a blank, gessoed canvas. You sit, you look. And then you sit some more.
I went into the closet today to search for a gessoed canvas. Wow. Haven't seen this in over five years. I painted it at UCLA for an Honors Study class with Henry Hopkins back in the early 90's. Henry was a dear friend. He was the chairman of the art school at UCLA and the director of the Arm and Hammer Museum in LA as well as the former director of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. I loved that man. And I know he loved me. Why? Because I was so pissed off when I met him. I was dealing with smoking in my sculpture studio and I was livid. Absolutely f****** livid. He didn't help me. I went to the LA Times and they wrote a kick ass piece and the Regents of California got involved and banned smoking from all classrooms on UC campuses. No. I don't screw around. Ever. Henry and I became dear friends and I took numerous honors classes with him. This was one. I was concurrently taking "Great American Authors" and read about Ben Franklin. There was a woman in the book. I painted her for my honors class. The pearls are real. They're glued on. She's holding real gems in her hand. Henry said "Sue, I didn't see her like that." I didn't either initally. I got an A+. Not because Henry was my friend, because it was good. Henry knew art. He never screwed around about art. Never. He would never yank my chain. If it sucked, I'd know. He actually wanted me to become a photographer. I told him I didn't want to. He informed me I was missing my calling. Hummmmmmmmmm.
Pretty. Yes, I'm looking down into canvases I know so well.