It is cold (5°F), but clear and sunny. Today is a good day to get things done. Surprisingly, no day is remotely like another. This is a plea to myself to get on with it. Recently I have been contemplating my place in art, and life, as much as I have been acting it out. I want more action. Yesterday's drawing is an example of successful action, inspired by my needs, influenced by Jim Nutt's approach (see blog post of yesterday, 02/11/2011). Contemplation is moving me forward, but the sparsity of my work weighs upon me: I need a better measure of success than just a drawing. Why? It does not feel complete. Drawings are like making poems, while I want to make novels. Why? This I can not answer well. There is something greater in the depth of satisfaction I feel upon completion of a painting which speaks truly in a complex manner. This is akin to a novel, as a successful painting's complexity allows the viewer to endlessly revisit the work of art; each visit allowing new discovery. I know I am going to hear from poets because of this diatribe, but please take it as a pep talk to myself, and not a real attack on the limitations of poetry. I know every art form is unlimited in expression and scope, this includes the limitless range of expression available to poems and drawings.
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