honey and hay

i've always found people with artistic manifestos curious and admirable. actually, i also find them very stubborn and stuck in their ways, especially if they are modernist painters. the reason being that art for me functions as a basic need, a lack if you will, whose formal and conceptual terrain shifts with the changing of the ground and circumstance below your feet. i've been thinking a lot about what being a young, broke, relocated artist means in terms of the work i produce. i've been taking stabs at artmaking here and there, but ultimately finding myself frustrated and a little frightened by how foreign everything feels in this new context. put simply, for someone whose art is based on lack, i now lack different things. in los angeles, a sun-baked hyperactive megalopolis teeming with media images and uncertainty, i need solitude. i need sustained, repeated actions that will restore my dwindling attention span. i need a return to materiality as a counterpoint to the visual superficiality around me. i need to be able to articulate a stable, spiritual body. i need achromatic color palettes. which is why i'm looking into the possibility of ordering some hay.

in terms of life, i have a boyfriend. i have an art friend. i found a part-time job working for a local record label assisting their art director on packaging and web graphics. the office is cool, and they give me free merchandise and buy me vegan lunches. i think it will tide me over for a few months while i look for a more permanent situation, although my life seems intent on its commitment to instability. in general, i'm wrapping up a hectic and delirious summer, and ready to head into a quieter sense of autumn.