SHINCHON CROSSROADS 5
In an earlier entry, I made the remark that these sorts of things come at a price – the sorts of circumstances that pave the way for changes in your work as realized by others instead of yourself. I guess this sort of matter affects artists in different ways.
The price I paid was a sudden halt in a vibe grabbed from the best black and white work I would ever produce. I had arrived at a glorious place, “Finally here!” I felt, and I was suddenly torn from it by outside agencies. At first, I wasn’t too keen on it and started questioning if this were a group I indeed wanted to show with, since obviously we were not riding on the same waves of sensibilities.
At the time, I quickly put this aside when initially enthralled with the new possibilities of colors, but it had a deep impact I only realized years later, when reflecting on those days and putting them back together in my head.
It seems to me that I lost a connection with the subject matter I was provoking in almost automatic drawing (akin to automatic writing). In giving up on that path, I was dropping a live bomb of fresh, wonderful concepts in order to get back to basics and contemplate old art school stuff.
That – the abandonment of a wave of some of the best subject matter I would ever make – was the price I paid for change.