Last Friday's wander through 1st Friday Gallery Walk in Philly sent me into a wonderful revelry. All along the streets were young folks selling their art and craft work just outside the doors of the galleries. The art within was beautiful, upscale, collectible art. There was enough of a contrast to finally point out to me that, while I admire the craftsmanship in fine gallery art, I am much more moved when I see the hand of the artist. The work I saw at The Found Object show was just the ticket.
Not that the "other" stuff isn't great, beautiful, compelling, etc. I spent the first big part of my art career learning how to do that and I admire it and am grateful for the training.
I think that the reason I feel like this is because there is such an absence of craft in the world. I seek it out in every aspect of my life, from the food I buy, to shopping at Etsy and craft shows, to the artwork I love. The raw, the worn, the wonky interests me more. I love seeing the hand of the artist: when a line has been drawn quickly and vigorously, color bold and boisterous, a sense of humor slyly inserted. Rough, wobbly edges, vigorous line, color applied with a confident air and the definite feel of joy in the making. Yep. That's for me these days.
Matchbook art by "DL" :)