I Had Heart Surgery And All They Gave Me Was This Orange Lustre Stump.

Recently I've found it difficult to read about art.
It'd be nice to call it a hangover from the dizzying art-party of '10, and the competetively theoretical nature of BArts(Art)(Hons). It might be. But general mental fatigue results from a bunch of things, including endless late nights and computer-screen staring, oppressive weather, and getting too easily sidetracked by the obligations and anxiety of general life.

The thing is, whenever I open a book or magazine or catalogue and begin to read some person's thoughts about contemporary art, I become physically tense. Frustrated, my eyes flit distractedly over the columns of text, and I realise that I'm simply overwhelmed by total disinterest. I can't help but assume that it's going to be five pages of jargon that will either be a convoluted statement of the obvious, or that the writer's speck of insight will be disproportionate to the length of the article, such that the time required to read it would be better spent, say, enjoying a macchiato from the gallery cafe, or a quick nap in the car.

A lot of artwork has this effect on me too. If it looks like it's going to be too much work, I dismiss it almost immediately. I don't think this is shameful. I won't necessarily always think this way. Maybe that art is just not appropriate for my particular situation right now. I need something that has the power to make my vague, elsewhere mind think that it is in my best interest to return to the present, and exert a bit of energy in actually thinking about the thing in front of me. It's an annoying cliche to say that ceramics has this right-here-right-now capacity, but I guess that actually is why I like it. It suits my frame of mind.

It's probably fair to say that I'm more comfortable making art than looking at it. For me the actions involved in doing art stuff are more valuable than observing the finished product. Maybe that's because the objects I make are mostly acts of research, or ways of thinking about things I've seen. I prefer studios to exhibition spaces. Though ideally the two are the same.

Clearly I'm feeling a bit pent-up from a lack of activity, and rather than make art I've been reduced to blogging. I have also been riding my bike to interesting coastal locations and taking crummy photos of things that I like, but until I get sorted with a studio space and a kiln they are going to remain as crummy photos of things that i like. Such as this.

I Had Heart Surgery And All They Gave Me Was This Orange Lustre Stump