Good morning (I resent)…
So, I have finally succumbed to this world of blogging in a vain hope to document my life from this point on, so that I might look back in years to come and laugh at how pretentious my words read.
So… a little about me… I am one who expresses myself primarily through images, art, drawing, painting etc. I hope one day to enter the world of illustration, or animation. Who knows where I’ll be led? I resent a lot of things in this world, a lot of people, and a lot of occurences. At these things, I lash out through my art. Sometimes. At least, in my own private study. I have little that is private to me alone, and this is another thing I profusely resent. The world is intrusive, it claws at all that is mine and my only true posession that is my own is my mind and the thoughts it records. But sometimes I wonder for that too…
I am currently an art A level student in London somewhere, my other subjects are history, politics and psychology. I chose my subjects through interest rather than for the pursuit of a specific career path, as many of my fellow students did. I regret this somewhat, as my life lacks direction at the moment. Art is my favourite subject, but I have not enjoyed this project title of “freedom”, as I was just never particularly inspired by it. It was too broad, and I resent the exam board for choosing it (here I go, resenting again!).
Quite simply, I feel that the exam board punishes creativity and rewards lengthy analytical evaluations, which I don’t feel is art- rather: English. I don’t despise English, I did well at GCSE level with a double A* in English Language and Literature, but I hate to analyse everything as this to me prohibits creativity. Some evaluation is of course needed in order to progress, but why must every brushstroke have a reason?
Art for me, it can be senseless, it can be sporadic and yet so passionate. It is undefinable, and sometimes it has no reason other than beauty itself. Sometimes it is the reverse, brimming with reason and meaning.
In my project, I began to look first at Marlene Dumas’ emotionless people, but as I grew tired of dealing with people, I began to look at flowers, in particular roses and sunflowers, and I was introduced to Sebastian Horsley’s “Flowers of Evil” work by my teacher, as she said my flowers were evil too. This morning, to little avail I’ve been researching his work and Dumas’ work, but nowhere has the information that the goddamned A level syllabus demands. It asks: “why?” but nowhere in this vast space called the internet can tell me. It can tell me the dates of gallery exhibitions, canvas sizes, materials used… but the “reason” or “influence” behind the piece? Not even a slight hint.
“You’re a bitch.” Thanks, Dad.
And with that, farewell until the next occasion I feel the need to give a lengthy abuse of webspace, and a running commentary on what’s going through this somewhat tumultuous mind of mine.
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