Drums in the deep

'If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.' Thoreau.

Just in from viewing the ESSA show and the quote sprang to mind - one I have long loved but often worried that my love for it is the basis of yet more self delusion. I thought my picture stood out well among distinguished company, thus the quote, but that always ends up with the hanging question - 'but in a good way, or...?' You know, as I wrote that I was hearing my grandmother with her infinite cynicism and put-downs, so maybe the answer lies within my endless capacity for self-flaggelation. I find it extremely hard to be objective when viewing my paintings among others, besides noting its dissimilarity to most of them. Figurative work really doesn't appear at the moment apart from life studies and figures secondary to the landscape, so mine automatically stand out from a subject matter point of view. All the 'big name artists I recognised in the show were exhibiting still life, which were beautiful, but never seem to rock my boat when it comes to my own work. I did do one of my slippers and birds of paradise flowers; 'Mes Pantoufles' and I really enjoyed doing it, which surprised me, but this is the minority in my work. I love the way my digital camera recognises and focuses on faces in the viewfinder, including the ones on my paintings; the other day I took a pic of a basic outline and it still recognised it for a face. Would have homed in on mine in this show for sure!

What disturbs me is the 'different' thing - a different drummer, a different subject and style; never knowing whether this is good or acceptable or what I 'should' be doing. Hence, I love that quote as it justifies and excuses my little ways, lets me listen to my own drummer.

My brother was a comic book fiend as a boy and I remember a strip called 'Halo Jones' featured a sect who had some kind of electronic implant in their ears so they could only hear drums - they were called 'the distant drummers' and always appeared hunched in corners listening to their constant rhythm at the exclusion of all else.

I suppose, with notable exceptions, the portrait has maybe fallen out of favour through overuse; looking through my 'Giotto to Cezanne' book there are an awful lot of figurative works. It just seems so obscure that something as essential as someone's art should be dictated by fashion, the ficklest of beasts. Alas, so it has always been I am sure, and many a lonely painter would nod their heads to the rhythm of that one.

The other disappointment from my angle was due to my expectation of what a silent auction entailed. Armed with the Wikepedia definiton and my imagination I had constructed a scenario where images would be displayed alongside the bids, which would be updated in real time as the auction progressed. Granted it would take manpower and a little organisation but it would at least give the impression of an auction and the attendant intrigue and suspense. Without it this is merely a show with no prices, or with prices that are not necessarily set in stone. Combined with the number of paintings - too many - and the impression is more of a car boot sale than an 'auction of contemporary art'. I hope I am wrong as the societies need the funds and I am quite sure the artists need the money, but the format they have ended up with just seems unenthusiastic and tired. The building is fab as well - maybe I have spent too much time with my marketing and event manager extrodinaire pal - but an opportunity to do something really special has been missed, in my humble opinion.

So back to the workaday matters of my studio. Do I loosen up, splash out, try to find a new aesthetic? Or do I get on down with my potatoes and my scratchy stick and see what comes out of my head this time? I'll go put on the drums and listen.