I'm alone in the The Blast Factory this morning. Thinking.
"What is my responsibility as an artist?"
I mean, I create by destruction. I blow things up.
I think they are beautiful. Luscious. Sexy. Sometimes.
But, is there something more?
Am I trying to find the truth?
That's what social media is for right? Tweet the truth. Believe what you read. All of it.
Is my work political?
I guess I could blow up images of people that are wrecking the world? Obama? Walker? ISIS? Take your pick. What works for you?
Fact or fabrication? Anything for attention. Ask Jay Z. Or Kanye.
Easier to hate and ridicule I guess, than find solutions.
That is silly I guess. Sort of like Banksy.
Half of you will hate me? And discredit my work.
Do I care?
Sure I care. I care very deeply.
It's great to be cheered on.
Something exhilarating perhaps.
It is exhilarating every time I light the fuse.
I do try to tell a story.
A struggle. My conscience vs my unconscious.
Color is emotion.
Or is texture emotion?
I am integrating things.
Paint. Boom. Scrape. Repeat.
Do the math. Life is an equation.
But of what? There are so many variables.
Was Faust a good jump shooter?
My soul for a "three".
I won't sell my soul to sell a painting.
I just finished "Capital In The 21st Century."
Wealth inequality is a problem.
So is the environment.
We spend more time on Facebook than helping the environment.
I guess so when the world ends we will be the first to post it.
Can my paintings be trusted?
Who asked me that?
I try to control what I can't control. Tension.
I escape to my own world to create original, beautiful, explosive art.
Solitude in The Blast Factory.
So I didn't answer the question. "What is my responsibility as an artist?"
Ah, now I remember. The more gunpowder I use the less there is for killing people.