Friday, February 8, 2019

See A Difference?

See a difference?  I sure do.




What a difference six years makes.

Actually, the difference was quite apparent after two years.  While still working on this series, I looked up from my worktable and saw this piece hanging on the wall.  I had looked at this piece almost everyday for two years.  And it hit me.  Where the Asian girl is -- where it says 'yellow,' was actually yellow.  I gulped.  My eyes ran over and over this piece.  The vast majority of pictures had faded.  The once vibrant flowers were all pale yellow.  I felt sick as I inspected two dozen other pieces, the vast majority faded in several places.

In that moment, there was only one thing I could do.  I dropped to the ground, curled into the fetal position and cried.  And cried.  And cried.  Feeling useless and unconsolable, this is pretty much how I spent the following week.  Should I throw them away?  Should I pack them away and move on to something else?  Should I close the door to the studio and start working as a temp again?

I loved these pieces.  They were my stories.  They made me happy.  I had to try to fix them.  My website had just been completed and focused solely on this series.

I ordered more copies of the vintage flower books I had used.  I ordered top quality colored pencils to re-color the flowers. I ordered expensive UV glazes.  I worked and worked to restore all of these pieces.  Several weeks later, they were all rephotographed and my website was updated.  Now, to get gallery owners to view my website.  As I am reluctant to put myself out there, this process was slow to start.  Very slow.

Another year went by.  Busy as ever on creating, I looked up from my worktable again.  And most of the bits that should have still been red and orange were yellow again.  Tears.   Fetal position.  Removal of pieces from website.  Series marked as damaged on my inventory list.  

Most of my wall studio wall space is still given over to these pieces.  Even in their faded glory I feel love and pride.  Every day I look upon their beauty and failure.  I love them and hate them.  I am lifted up and beaten down by them.  I cannot force myself remove them to make way for new pieces.  The studio gets smaller and smaller as I keep going forward while bringing along the past.

One of these days, I will make room for the present.

Or buy a larger home.



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