Please Try Again

There's nothing quite like being completely humbled in the face of what you have chosen to do for a living by someone who has done it so much longer than you have. I don't get humbled by artwork done by artists still living very often. It's a vanity to say so, but I'd be lying if it wasn't true. It's not very often that I see a piece and am completely unable to say, "With a little work and effort, I could do that."

A lot of people cannot do what I do. I know this. Again, it's a vain statement, but it's true. Everyone could learn to do what I do and become moderately adept at the least, but most choose not to. It's time consuming, passionate, and frustrating.

Art is like the best and worst relationship you have ever had rolled into one without the perks of getting laid.

It makes you scream, it makes you cry, it makes you laugh, it makes you glow — and you can never ever walk away once you're hooked.

It's kind of like running in that way. Although with running, you don't walk just based upon the mere concept. After all, it's running.

I work with Robbie Jarvis, the artist Jarvis Lamoreux, building his website. To my recollection, I've never seen his work in person until today. While he is mildly eccentric, and 100% enthusiastic about the wonders of web work, I found it difficult to get really attached to any of his work — it's all abstract (not so much my thing), and via digital photo simply abstract.

Don't get me wrong, abstract — true abstract, that is, not the crap where someone's painted a canvas blue and called it "art" — is hard and I have a great deal of respect for people who can do abstract.

Robbie's work is simply abstract, that is until you are with the piece in person standing four feet away and breathtaken by the sheer intricacies involved with the medium, stroke, and tiny tiny detail of these huge works of art that a camera simply cannot begin to capture.

When building his website, this piece was my favorite, hands down.

Nobody Nose
122cm x 122cm, ©1974, oil on canvas

Do the math, this piece is roughly 60 inches by 60 inches, or 5 feet by 5 feet. Overwhelming, but in real life this piece is probably the least impressive piece. Its almost a WYSIWYG (what you see is what you get) piece when translated into a digital photo. Still incredible, but nothing overly spectacular in the way of detail.

This piece, however, takes on a whole new world of being in person.

Clown Mine
132cm x 147cm, ©1993, acrylic on canvas

There is an iridescence in the paint, minute detail behind the stripes on the left (which are shimmery and pearlescent), a crispness in the hand-blocked lines that only a true master could hope to accomplish.

This piece (below) looks harsh and rather garish — and not to my liking — digitally.

 New York Vibes In The Lower East Brain
168cm x 203cm, ©1971, oil on canvas

It's huge in reality, and the contrast between the true blue and bright red is phenomenal. I cannot even begin to describe the impact it had on me when I was standing not ten feet away.

Actually, I can.

I backed into a glass side table decorated with a few potted cactuses and knocked it over — riddling my thumb with cactus spines when I attempted to clean it up without taking my eyes off the painting. Rather embarrassing, really.

In comparison, my artwork is paltry, amateurish, and infantile. The work of Jarvis Lamoreux simply breathes "master" when you see it. That is the entire focus of my mind today, and I cannot begin to imagine being able to do that.

Here I was thinking I was a good artist. I'll let you know in thirty years.

TODAY: 5 miles