Monday, September 27, 2010

5th Terrace Annual 2010


You know something worthwhile is happening when there is home sewn bunting around.








Well, the 5th Terrace Annual was on Saturday afternoon. It was the first real, crisp Autumn day in London. Saturday was sandwiched between two cold and rainy days, so we were really lucky to get such nice weather, especially for this outdoor event. The Terrace features dozens of artists who have contributed their pieces throughout the past five years. The pieces are left exposed to the elements and time. I thought it was a good opportunity to exercise a bit of unpossessiveness (if that's even a word. I can't think of an appropriate antonym for preciousness). Anyway, you get my drift.


It's hard to see in the photographs, but a large spider decided to create a little intervention by building a huge web over my painting. Amazing!!! I should collaborate with spiders more often. My messy painting with their delicate tapestries...

I hate writing about my work, because I feel like an ass telling people what an image should signify, but here's a little thing I wrote about how this piece relates to the subject of decay:

I think people are prone to hold onto objects that act as time capsules or immortality amulets. The figure in the painting wades in a pool, scavenging for a sign of life that will distract her from her own mildewy state. But as she blindly gropes around, even the flowers in her hand heave a sigh of brevity. The title references a musical genre popular in 1950s Louisiana, that faded into obscurity, while also referring to recent ecological devastation in that region.

Life springs forth from the earth and gets pulled back down by gravity, corporeality, and time. I am accepting of my mortality, but I find myself almost fearful of what outlives me. As a painter I concern myself with the materiality of my work, taking into account the archival quality of papers and gesso. But does it matter if these physical objects surpass the existence of it's maker? It would be embarrassing to find recognition (exploitation) after death. Like poor Van Gogh with his personal letters on public display and sunflowers reproduced on mugs. I'm better off if my work gets cast into the external elements. We can both decay as equals, in a sense.


It was nice to see my pals out, braving the cold.

There's me (in "Big Yellow") and my homeboy, Andrew, from Vancity.


Tash and Sadie.

Sade again with Ondra and Arnie.
Not pictured is Rosa and Tiger, who also came around, which, overall, made it an awesome day. Thanks to everyone who took the time to say hi!

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