Saturday afternoon revelation . . .
I was just perusing Facebook and saw an updated profile pic of an artist that I follow. The image was dark and sultry, the artist has lots of exotic ink and exudes a sense of avant garde style and je nais se quoi. She writes esoteric descriptions of her work (work that I actually really like and why I follow her) that defy comprehension (well by me anyway) and does trade shows in Paris (on my to-do list).
Which is why I got to thinking and how I came to my Saturday afternoon revelation.
Okay, deep breath here ...
There is nothing dark and mysterious about me ... I would settle for eccentric, but that doesn't seem to be working out either. Oof, there it is in print, for god and everyone to see.
My upbringing was totally milquetoast middle class suburbia. You know how people are always looking for ways to feel inadequate. For me, it used to be that I didn't have an MFA or a degree of any kind ... well, I did manage an AA that only took me six years to finish. Anyway, I pretty much got over that one, only to be replaced by the not having a bohemian background haven't traveled around the world as a gypsy still don't have any tattoos sadness.
You see, as I am putting together this little Urban Primitive Core collection, I toss around ideas of where I see it going, who's going to be interested, what sort of shops do I want to approach? When I dream about landing one of the big gun accounts I fall into my latest inadequacy woes. It just seems like regular people with a plain old upbringing don't get the fancy big accounts, at least they don't show up much in the press. Dang, why couldn't I be exotic?
c'est moi ... wysiwyg and then some
But there it is ... one thing I am, always have been and hopefully always will be, is the very opposite of exotic and the very essence of WYSIWYG ... what you see is what you get.
No pretense, no fancy stuff, no smoke and mirrors or grand dark mysteries. Oh I guess there is one big mystery ... considering where I started, how my aesthetic traveled from milquetoast to find my way to Urban Primitive.
Looking back, I know where and when it began ... pottery classes at Whatcom Community College in Bellingham Washington, winter 1982. My pottery teacher, Kathryn Roe, was not easy to get along with, but for some reason she took a liking to me - fresh from Florida and just beginning to learn the magical ways of the Pacific Northwest. I am eternally grateful to this hard as nails, supremely opinionated and surly as all get out, pottery teacher for taking a malleable suburban girl and opening her eyes to the Japanese aesthetic. That was THE revelation because it set me on my path to self discovery and developing my own strong artistic voice.
Guess I'll just have to be okay with being fairly normal and well adjusted ... crikey. C'est la vie!
with deep gratitude - kvk