Cringe Rude Words
On the weekend we went to pick up things we had to leave behind, including nine big balls I made by wrapping lengths of grape vine around an inflatable exercise ball. I cable tied them in place, instead of using wire, because I wanted to avoid repetitive strain injury. For a long time now my art decisions are partly steered by a strong not want to sustain injuries.
My strong not want to sustain injuries really kicked off after I accidentally levered a large set of boltcutters out of a vise that then slammed into my face. Around the same time I had to get a sliver of metal pulled out of my eyeball. Then there were welding fumes, ear damaging grinder noise and all the other things that shorten artists’ lives. Talking with a blacksmith who had to be routinely injected with various drugs just to keep going really got me going too.
A couple of weeks ago I started “drawing” on a grape vine ball with a 3D pen. I thought it looked awesome, so I decided I’ll spend the next year or so transforming all of the vine balls with many colours of 3d filament. Even using a pen and filament is a strain on the body, probably because I am doing super repetitive moves, but what the fuck, I’ve done everything I can to make it safe outside of finding a way to make art that is just lying down reading a book.
I have become a huge fan of lying in bed reading a book though. Do you really need to be sitting in a chair if you’re reading a book? I think not. In fact it’s just science that lying down burns less calories that your brain can then use to process all the big ideas you’re having. Anyway, sometimes living life to the full means spending an acid trip amount of hours in bed reading Roberto Bolano’s 2666. The n in Bolano is supposed to have a ~ over it but sometimes living life to the full isn’t interrupting your writing flow so you can beg your keyboard to give up it’s secrets.
The sculpture I’m working on was looking awesome about two layers of colour ago, but now there are too many colours and it looks…challenging. This happens when you have no plan whatsoever. I don’t plan on having a plan either because after thirty years of making art I trust myself completely, no matter what fucked bullshit I seem to be doing. And this sculpture is looking fucked. But I will keep going, for months if necessary, because I reckon I’ve actually arrived somewhere with this sculpture shit even though it looks like shit.
One day I will look back at the rude words in these paragraphs and cringe, but future me can fuck right off as far I'm concerned. You're not here cunt, I am.
Have a nice day.
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