the accidental artist

It's been said,
one cannot call themself a photographer,
unless they earn their income by being one.
So I guess I'm not ACTUALLY a photographer,
I just enjoy taking pictures,
and the less post production, the better.

Apply the same to definning an artist,
and I'm probably not an artist either.
Although I did go to the University for art,
I was an accidental artist.
I just fell into it.
I 'fall' into ALOT of things.

I had no plan for school or life.
I just didn't want to wear a suit and work in a cubicle.
After a year of college I needed to 'decide'.
So with my list of classes taken, I went to the counselor's office.
The stipulation, 'no math classes, and very little science, please'.
HEY! BFA!
So I cleaned house in the production art classes.
Desktop publishing, offset press, design & layout, screen printing.
Got my associates in a year and headed off to the University,
ready to be an 'artist'.

But my portfolio wouldn't waive the foundation level classes,
so I was starting over, no problem.
Ceramics, art history, the obvious favorite
print making, acid etch, stone, any form.
But the installation class ruined any concieved idea of art.

To stand out on the sidewalk,
looking at a stack of bricks wrapped with barbwire,
trying to decipher the meaning, oh, sorry..
'interpret what the artist is trying to convey'
with a bunch of bitter divorced women....
Well, there's no asthetic point to it.
The debates with that teacher led me to many conclusions:

In the grandest form, art is just a joke on the observer.

or,
If YOU like it, that's all that matters.

The crappy, mass produced painting on a motel wall,
yeah, it's ART.

In my sculture class, we used five gallon buckets for molds.
Everyone carefully removed their molds,
chipped away at it,
and spent countless evening hours sanding away,
to create that perfect work.
Mine?
cracked while removing the bucket.
So I kicked it's ass with a hammer and called it a day.
There was skating to be done.
When the class critiques came around the next day,
well, it'ld make you puke.
I still can't stand being next to people 'critiquing' 'art'.
But I more than passed.
Much to the disappointment of those who knew
how little work I did.

I'm an idiot, but I didn't think I had some 'midas touch'.
It just reinforced the joke of art.

There's no reasoning.
When I get that photo I love, it comes out perfect,
it doesn't sell.
The random half assed photo with no importance to me,
but I still submit it,
sells on opening night.

So maybe I can call myself an artist,
since it is a joke in itself.

With that said,
the gallery show this month is 'Off the Wall',
a sculpture themed show.
Well, MY goal this year was to submit to every show,
and get in.
BUT I SUBMIT PHOTOS.

So with an idea completely stolen from my tattoo artist,
wood, chicken wire, and Great Stuff,
I submitted my 'sculpture'.

Remember I'm an idiot?
Yeah, Great Stuff is great at glueing your hands together,
which is what I did. And it's also great at NOT COMING OFF.
For two days it looked like an elephant sneezed in my hands.
AWESOME!


I don't know what to say.


Except that this was ACCEPTED into this month's
'Off the Wall' show, opening July 3rd.
I don't know who the joke's on.....but it's not me this time.
Except for the Great Stuff that's still stuckto my fingernails.