On Apr 22, 2006, at 1:28 PM, Allan Revich wrote:
I remember when I was 20 or 21 I took a whole series, maybe more
that a
dozen paintings, each 4 feet by four feet, and burned them in the
family
fireplace. It felt good and I have never regretted it.
There felt something vengeful about my act. Maybe spiteful. Confused
and angry. There was catharsis, but then it was as though it had
never happened, what was the point? Attention directed away from the
stuff to the stuff-maker, objects annulled, repudiated, renounced (in
Cecil's act) formally and publicly. But immediate regret, I had been
attached to said objects made when I was all of ten, but special,
hadn't really wanted to destroy them, just to no longer consider them
as important.
I made these same time, but they didn't get swept away. I'm glad they
didn't.
http://kforer.com/gallery/?album=figurative_narrative&img=6
It could be that I've pursued only archaeology since that first
regret, or it could be that's the basis of what I do, make, destroy,
extract narrative, recreate.
