September 27, 2011
I've always hated instant coffee. Turned my nose up at it. It tastes like burnt coffee. I mean, who would willingly put a cup of mud to their lips when they KNOW it's going to taste like it's been sitting in one of those bulbous, round carafes on its warmer in an old gas station for for something like 4 days so that it's been reduced to dark, brown goo? Sanka comes to mind. I think my Gramma had a jar of that in her cupboard. I'm pretty sure it sat there through my childhood and into my early adulthood - its longevity challenged only by the jar of Kosher pickles sitting lonely in its spot in the fridge door.
But I seemed to have turned a corner over the last couple of days. Dave and I were away last week at a wedding and we stayed in a beautiful cottage in the Peak District with some friends. Someone left a jar of instant coffee behind. I can’t stand the idea of waste, even if it’s something I don’t really like.
So I brought it home. And it came in quite handy because when I got back into the studio yesterday I was in manic mode – I felt like time was slipping away from me like a snake floating down an oily river. I felt far too rushed to make a proper coffee so I had the instant. And you know what? When you add enough milk it’s really not so bad. And it’s ready so quick – in an instant, really.
But I seemed to have turned a corner over the last couple of days. Dave and I were away last week at a wedding and we stayed in a beautiful cottage in the Peak District with some friends. Someone left a jar of instant coffee behind. I can’t stand the idea of waste, even if it’s something I don’t really like.
So I brought it home. And it came in quite handy because when I got back into the studio yesterday I was in manic mode – I felt like time was slipping away from me like a snake floating down an oily river. I felt far too rushed to make a proper coffee so I had the instant. And you know what? When you add enough milk it’s really not so bad. And it’s ready so quick – in an instant, really.
I think it might have helped my work process
actually, because I feel that I’ve turned a corner with my art as well. I’ve started to work in more of an assemblage style. I made a sort of hollow box, with a picture in the background of me with my mom when I was about 4. We were standing somewhere out west in America. Orange ranges of scratched dirt provide a gorgeous backdrop. The top of the box has an old map of Americaand has a
definition of the word “home.” It was a surprisingly emotional piece for me to make. It made me think of all of the many times we moved when I was a kid and
in this picture I realize that this was about the time we started moving. It was before my sisters were born, but I felt I was already starting to loose my mother – it was the summer she got married. I was devastated. I look at this picture now through my adult eyes and my heart feels as if it’s being crushed. Because nothing would ever be the same again. Life as I knew it was over. And it was probably at this time that I developed my independence. I had to in order to survive.
actually, because I feel that I’ve turned a corner with my art as well. I’ve started to work in more of an assemblage style. I made a sort of hollow box, with a picture in the background of me with my mom when I was about 4. We were standing somewhere out west in America. Orange ranges of scratched dirt provide a gorgeous backdrop. The top of the box has an old map of Americaand has a
definition of the word “home.” It was a surprisingly emotional piece for me to make. It made me think of all of the many times we moved when I was a kid and
in this picture I realize that this was about the time we started moving. It was before my sisters were born, but I felt I was already starting to loose my mother – it was the summer she got married. I was devastated. I look at this picture now through my adult eyes and my heart feels as if it’s being crushed. Because nothing would ever be the same again. Life as I knew it was over. And it was probably at this time that I developed my independence. I had to in order to survive.
But I digress. Today, I’m continuing with this assemblage style of working and am in the process of creating another hollow box with two window openings, and this time I’m using an image of my mom and uncles when they were kids. There’s also a bit of Fisher Price imagery in a suggestion of childhood. I want it to hint at a childhood lost, but I’m struggling to make it come together. So far now I’m just going to go with what I’ve got and see what happens.
I have to say, though, that this whole idea of approaching my art-making process as if I’m making it for someone wealthy has had an influence on my work. I find that I’m paying closer attention to details that I otherwise would shrug off. Not even shrug off exactly – it more like I just thought it wouldn’t matter. ‘Cuz whatever we make as an artist is to be revered, right? And this whole thing has got me wondering if what I was doing before was more like instant coffee and I’m now doing the real thing?
I have to say, though, that this whole idea of approaching my art-making process as if I’m making it for someone wealthy has had an influence on my work. I find that I’m paying closer attention to details that I otherwise would shrug off. Not even shrug off exactly – it more like I just thought it wouldn’t matter. ‘Cuz whatever we make as an artist is to be revered, right? And this whole thing has got me wondering if what I was doing before was more like instant coffee and I’m now doing the real thing?
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