Does every painter sometimes suffer a dense lead sack of chips on the shoulder in the psychological terror-realm of self-doubt? I know I do, and after Watkins Glen, I plan to go underground for a year or two, or at least until I die, in order to erase all artistic envy, which is a crippling, destructive force to any creative spirit. Envy darts pierce the ego to poison the spirit because the spirit has failed in innocence. I am curating my own demise as a painter if I keep seeing what I am not through the expression of great artists like Lupo Sol.
From the Stuckist Manifesto, #8: It is the Stuckist’s duty to explore his/her neurosis and innocence through the making of paintings and displaying them in public, thereby enriching society by giving shared form to individual experience and individual form to shared experience.
Okay, fine. As an expressionist, I will continue to press on toward perfection of my limitations. But they are many, too many, and oftentimes more many than I wish to contemplate.
In the meantime I will declare genius when I see it, pull out another chest hair, and praise the work of these painters because their work is praiseworthy, and all artists need a little bit of encouragement once in a while, for all the turning inside-out of themselves they give.
Here is a song Lupo Sol has chosen for opening night festivities. Come out and be jazz.