Today I am getting back to painting. Working on finishing a few wandering paintings, priming old panels to paint over, and also starting to sort ideas for my July zine.
This morning I cut the neck off an old husband shirt. It’s a bigger neck than I meant it to be, but it is cute. It is a work day so I am wearing a canvas apron.
Today I continued not wearing actual pants. I also basically gave myself a face straight outta the David Aja playbook and it doesn’t work so well here.
Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit - all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided. It’s the sound of failure: so much modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar sound is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them.
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— Brian Eno, A Year With Swollen Appendices (via volumexii)
(I intensely disliked my repeated line line drawings when they first began as a way to ritualize my practice and distill my drawings down. Now the aesthetic I despised has grown on me)