I’ve lost count of how many journals I’ve had over the years. I’ve had a million tumblrs, a xanga, and of course a livejournal back in the day. I have boxes upon boxes of notebooks and diaries recapping every childhood crush, teenage embarrassment, and young adult decision. For some reason, every attempt that I’ve made to put my thoughts down on paper (or on-screen, however you want to look at it) has failed tragically. I get bored, get unfocused, or move onto a new, fresh, method of keeping track of my life. I’ve decided to commit, and join the serious world of wordpress.
So now that we have that covered, let’s tackle this blog name: I went with Catherine lives art.
No matter how much I try to escape it, or get around it, or think like a normal person.. it’s impossible. Especially after spending 4 years in the nation’s top public art school (shout out to VCU!) where every second of every day it’s engrained in your brain that making art, and making good art is more important than taking care of your basic necessities. You buy that $35.00 paintbrush and sacrifice a few meals, you don’t sleep for the 48 hours + prior to a critique, because that’s when your project always takes a turn for the worst. Your spare time is dedicated to eating, power naps, scrounging for materials, and making time for your non-studio classes. Personal hygiene rests on the bottom of your list of priorities, and anyone who matters will understand. You get your diploma, you move on with life, but nothing really changes.
You spend hours looking at your old work and pointing out its’ flaws. Nudity doesn’t phase you, and you don’t feel weird about staring at people while studying their bodies’ proportions. You blame figure drawing for making you a creep. You have hard time throwing away “good” cardboard and jars. Your sleep schedule is permanently screwed. In conversation, you get distracted by people’s bone structures. You subconsciously strategize how you’d mix the flesh tones and shadows on their faces if the light were to fall at a perfect 45 degrees. When you look down a hallways or a city streets, your mind draws imaginary perspective lines. You can’t eat a piece of fruit without thinking “still life”, you’ll never pay for something that you can make yourself and you still roll your eyes when someone asks “what is art?”.
Nothing really changes except that you have no specific directions towards which your artistic endeavors must be devoted. Aka… You don’t have assignments. You don’t have deadlines. You don’t have given reasons or purposes to make art. I work 40 hours a week in a museum, literally surrounded by artwork from several different artists, cultures, movements, historical periods, mediums, sizes, etc. This makes me all the more motivated to find new purposes for my inspiration and create my own reasons.
Anyway, this will be my way of and making sense of it all as I blaze new artistic trails in attempts to steer my work towards untouched artistic territory.