Luckily, in one of those art miracles that you read about, I’ve had a total breakthrough and my art is on a new track that pleases and surprises me. Ha. Not.
My art is still a struggle every day. And I work on it every day. I go to the studio with my bagel and my iPad and look around to see what fires my imagination. Is it time to draw the polka-dotted mug (again)? Should I use the rubber rat? Is it a charcoal day, or a pastel day, or a Sharpie day?
I look at the enormous roll of paper that winds around my studio (and miraculously hasn’t fallen down) and I am at least satisfied that I have filled it up to the first corner. It is harder to put 27 drawings on one piece of paper than to do 27 different drawings. They have to look right together. Sometimes I want them to complement each other, and sometimes I want them to fight. Sometimes I want to make it pretty, but lots of times I’m aiming for “eeew, gross!”.
I realize that I am drawing several narratives, starting at the far left and moving to the right. Besides the polka-dot mug and its various adventures, there are the small blue people who seem to be reacting in horror. What is their story? There are the self-portraits with snakes and rats. Why do I have snakes and rats coming out of my mouth? If I knew, I wouldn’t have to draw it. I draw to find out.
There is a fairy tale starting, and I’m not sure where it’s going, but I like fairy tales (old, original fairy tales) because they so often combine the charming with the shocking.
I got the very good news on Halloween that my first choice thesis advisor, Stephen Maine, selected me back in the double-blind, three and a half twist process that the office uses to match us up. It was while talking to him that I had the idea about the big paper to begin with, although clearly some subconscious giant origami still lingered.
Maybe when I’ve drawn all 30 feet of my paper I should fold it into a graceful paper swan. Now THAT would be a thesis project!