Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Bill And Ted Can Kiss My Art
When I discharged myself from a psychiatric clinic in Sydney, just a week ago, I made up mind to change nearly every aspect of how I lived and worked. In some ways, it wasn't hard. I had lost my home and my studio. I had also been confronted by the unreliability of not only my family but also many personal friendships and professional relationships I had grown to trust. Ironically, it took madness, artistic failure and bankruptcy to deliver a stark reality check.The life I have now is designed to be frangible – not just adaptable to sudden change but entirely disposable. A friend of mine calls it being 'chaos compliant'. Nothing is fixed. I live week to week in a small hotel and I rent my studio space by the month close by. I have no need of a car: the half a dozen city blocks I look out onto from my room contain everything I need, from art supplies, a gym and fresh sushi to DVD rentals and sex. I have a P.O. box number as a mailing address and an unlocked iPhone with a pre-paid SIM. I don't have a credit card so every transaction is in cash. Except, maybe, sex.I can't wait to see what effect this less burdened, free-flowing context has on my work. I have a deep backlog of commissioned works to complete – as well as works I have to repaint because I defaced or burned them in a manic frenzy just before I was committed – but as I develop new routines and disciplines, I can't help feeling that my art is about to become a 'most excellent adventure'.