Permission not to Know

When I first started working with collected images (mostly photos), I had this problem where I'd weed out images that I actually liked. I'd look at materials and think, "Wow. I love this. But it's too pretty/silly/weird/unrelated subject matter to go with the rest of the imagery."

This blog is proof that I've struggled with that-- just look at the tuning musicians photo that I wasn't going to paint.

Fortunately, I've learned that materials don't need to be homogenous to be related, and that if I love something that's probably a sign that I should include it in my projects. I've given myself permission not to know exactly where a project will take me, or how components will work together, or what something means. I try not to stumble blindly into my projects, but leaving my mind open keeps me from prematurely killing a good idea that might pop up.

I try to use this newfound power judiciously. Just because I love a picture of my little sister leaning over a stingray pool doesn't mean it belongs in a painting about, say, personal adornment (though even as I typed that, I thought -- ooh, maybe it does!). One really big challenge right now is trying to remain open-minded even as I do things like write artist statements and work on the BFA show which tend to be narrowing, focusing activities. I feel like every few days I'm asking myself what I want my art to be about, what I want it to look like. It's exhausting and discouraging, but remembering that just about anything can find a place in my work lets me breathe a little easier.