Why is it that the more exhausted I am, the less sleep I am able to get? Here I am, at 4 am, desperately wishing the full moon weren’t so bright and my mind would quiet enough to let me sleep a few hours more. Instead, I am trying to put a show together in my mind that doesn’t (from the visual end) want to go together.
September 3 is the opening reception for my next solo show at Winterowd Fine Art in Santa Fe. September 3 is also just past the deadline to have 13 finished sculptures up to Denver for installation in the new 4 Seasons Hotel. September 3 feels like it is tomorrow and I am awake because I do not know how I am going to put my sculptures and abstract landscape paintings next to where the work has moved now — urban landscapes that are dynamic, architectural and bold.
I wish I had a huge space. One that would allow me to show the evolution of this work and the dialog in my mind. The color field pieces are like nature itself. Huge, powerful, so immense that in spite of their inherent movement, and energy, they are still. Or maybe, they render me still. I get lost in them. I am overwhelmed, small and irrelevant. They make me feel like I am in the woods or a busy field or in a storm and remind me of my own fragility.
The urban landscapes are different. They are about constructs, the inate human desire to be important, to have an impact, to control or block out the force that is nature and to render ourselves, even if only for a split second in time, as powerful. Interspersed throughout are are the sculptures. Snap shots. Punctuation marks. Poems.
So how do I show these works and have them make sense in a small Canyon Road gallery? How does anyone understand that all three “bodies” are interrelated even though they look like they come from three different artists? And why does it matter so much its interfering with my sleep?