One of the most rewarding things about being a visual artist is the most obvious: it is entirely clear when you gain knowledge and skill. To see your own visual language form and change and improve is really something that artists alone can enjoy. And maybe actors. Like Bruce Willis, because he is so versatile. Like, sometimes he's a cop, and sometimes he's an off-duty cop. But I digress.
Let me take you on a journey through highschool and into the present day, through artistic pitfalls and the ever changing labyrinth of personal expression. It's like A Christmas Carol, except it isn't.
Our story begins in highschool, where a corner-cutting David works in what he believes will be his medium of choice for all time: Colored Pencils.
Ah, the memories. I remember looking at all the rest of the paper above his arms and thinking, I have to color all of this!? Why bother, when you can cut it out and poorly collage some circus elements on top of it? I should have super-glued a funnel cake to it. Now I am hungry for funnel cakes...
The next evolution of my perspectiveyness is from sophomore year of college. Roll it.
This is actually a fair representation of my dorm room. Well, not the violent paintsplosion as much as the completely barren walls. At least I didn't glue popcorn to this one.
Ah oils, I meet thee at last. What is that thing in the background though? Oh, that would be a boy made out of Playdoh!. It's a good thing I covered up his redshort nether regions tastefully with the strap of a bike helmet. Better yet, would you like to see Abraham Lincoln?
I am missing something. Can you tell what it is? No, it isn't Mercutio in drag. It is REFERENCE. You can sincerely tell the moment I start using photo reference to inform my paintings. It happens right about here:
You should see how many pictures I took. Too many. There, I answered your nonquestion. But here, finally, I am beginning to see the level of skill I need to finish out my ideas. Bring it home, Pillow King.
One of the weirdest things, for me, is to see each piece and remember what it was like to feel like it was the best piece I had ever done. And at the time, it was. Five years down the road I'll be saying the same thing for the Pillow King. But look at the similarities! You can see aspects of every painting done previously in the last piece. In fact, I've almost made a full circle back to my Trapeze work, with bold colors and flying figures. She's almost wearing the same damn shirt! I should have glued a funnel cake to it. Man, I am hungry.