Every time I look at my work, I'm not sure if I like looking at it or not. Sometimes it looks so close...and other times, so god damned far off from where I want to go. While I keep telling myself I'm working towards it, I can't beat away the million doubts that rush me. I mean- how do I know? Maybe I'm driving myself in circles again. If I look towards human history to account for my own, I really have to question whether progress is possible at all. My mind scrambles to account for a million different things, between materials and subject matter... some areas are limited and forced into ultimatum; do I start a piece with a 'plan' and allow that to go into disarray or do I start with the usual familiar chaotic strokes? Right now I lead more toward the latter; I want not only my images, but my paintings, to follow the same patterns that life does. While the movement of the stroke is chaos (just like the initial conception of children- all those sperm going for the egg) once that stroke is put down it can't be revoked, and the dna starts to meld- and that's what one has to work with. But then I think of scale, and am I useing a direct or indirect method? There seem to be so many directions, that sometimes its hard to move at all.
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