I'm stripping down. My art that is. I'm getting into my paints like a crack addict who's just scored a fresh load. Music is turned up, supplies spread out - I'm letting go of everything I've been doing for the past few years to return to some roots I've always wanted to plant, nurture, and grow.
My fine art roots.
When I was in high school I always said I would be a painter. Not a crafter or hobbyist, but a fine artist.
I've sort of been itchy scratchy within my artistic soul... and I guess I always am. I am constantly evaluating, re-inventing, and rediscovering who I am. Identifying my style. What it is, where it's going, what I want it to be. Art isn't a stagnant being, it ungulates in many directions before settling. Perhaps it never settles.
My husband recently said... "Paint what's in you... with hopeless abandon. No fear, no holding back.
Don't give two shits about selling anything." (God I love that man)
So I will. I will put aside the notion that I must sell everything I create and worry about stocking my etsy shop. I will instead work on building a body of pieces that will represent me as my portfolio... and hopefully be shown somewhere public such as a cafe' (perhaps someday a gallery?). I realize by abandoning, or rather moving on, from my current style to a focus on fine art... that I am also accepting the fact that I probably won't be published in Somerset Studio Magazine anymore. That's a bit of a nibble to the side, because publications are fun - but perhaps there will be other printed venues for me to discover.
I know the public expects a certain genre of art from me, it's the only thing I've ever done and the only thing I've ever presented... but I feel a rumble. A low lying vibration in my belly and deeper still in my heart that's spreading fast across my skin. The kind that warns of impending rain, earth renewing - flower sprouting - a down pour of the greatest measure.
It's coming and there's no fighting off it's arrival.
There has been a growing disdane in me when whimsical figures. The very thought of such creating, currently turns me off. I want to be free, un-tethered, and lost in every square inch of a canvas. More refined, mature, yet without losing the whimsical bright side that says "this is Ashlie Blake's artwork". That's not to say I may not crave a little craft from time to time, to switch it up and keep creativity flowing... it's just right now this is what feels right.
It feels only natural that this would happen. It seems a lot of me is evolving now that I have caught a good firm grasp on my battle against depression. Not being depressed, lets me see everything in a new light. I don't feel stuck anymore, and I don't feel unworthy of becoming greater. I want to share my work with people... but I want it to be from a genuine and real place inside. A place that after much soul seeking, inner reflection, and talking with my husband/friends has revieled itself as mixed media fine art.
Those who follow me and love my work may not be accepting of the change, but this evolving journey is part of who I am and whom I need to be. I cannot predict whether folks will be excited or dissapointed. I can only hope they will be as excited as I feel.