Wayfinder . 18x24 . 2010

1. natural lighting (near a sunny window)
2. artificial lighting (regular interior lighting)
3. combined uv and artificial lighting
4. uv lighting only (with a black light)
5. no light (glow in the dark for hours!)

Made with: acrylic, sand, glass, phosphorescent pigments

This is the last new painting to introduce to you before my show tomorrow night at The Happening Gallery.

I dig this one. ;o)

It went through a few revisions as I fine-tuned it. Originally I'd wanted the piece to "show my work" somehow, to have visible sketch lines and pencil marks, but I couldn't make it work with all the texture. Well, actually, I think it works as I intended, it just looks different than I'd originally imagined. That's common for my art. It's an exciting, unpredictable process for me.

In person this piece is really something - the glass makes it sparkle and you can see all the interesting cracks and crevices of texture. Yet, somehow, it still seems shiny and new.

In certain lighting conditions it looks ancient. I love the dichotomy of old and new. I'm fascinated with ancient artifacts. At one point, they were new to whomever held them in their hands or gazed upon them from a distance. I imagine some of these paintings to come from the ancient times of future civilizations.

One thing I find sad in our current culture is how removed we are from the skies. Ancient people knew where all the stars were each night, and where they would move throughout the year. They navigated by the Heavens, confidently. We can't even seem to look up from our computer screens. If we did, the glaring lights of modern civilization blur out the stars anyway.

Who's really in the dark?

Lately, in the constant exploration to find myself, I've been acknowledging my desire to travel. It's always on my mind, I become obsessed with scheming up ways to make it happen. When presented with the personal, self-reflective question of "what would you most like to be doing right now?" -- my answer always involves travel. I think, eventually, I want to be part me, part Anthony Bourdain. An artsy Anthony Bourdain. I'm not quite sure what that means for my future, specifically, but I'm factoring the clear inclination into my life goals.

At the very least, it's teaching me something about myself.