Too Hip To Be Squared was the last piece where I executed
a sense of control. Mind you, this is the very thing that seems to define me as
an artist. I'm known for a sense of rigid lines and every colour has a place
and everything makes sense. I used to strive for physical perfection in my work,
I worked endless nights trying to make sure that every single line, angle and
square were perfect down to their measurements.
This almost seems self defeating in a sense, since
perfection in the cleanest line removes the organic human quality of the piece.
It wasn't until I found Roy Lichtenstein's work that I
let go the very idea of perfection. I saw he left pencil lines in his circles
and remember feeling this massive weight lift off my hands, as if I was
automatically granted permission to be human for a second, from the teacher who
had no idea he was the student.
I forget that I am creating a body of work sometimes. It feels as if I'm having those dreams where I'm working and the result never changes and I'm left waking, realising I've been dreaming the whole nights work. My mind saturated with thought, process, that the art itself is a testament to my OCD behaviour, striving for the perfect number, closing in on the perfect pattern, relegating the odd and embracing only the even. The art is the process, not necessarily the final result.
This piece was the moment, where I stood at the ledge of creating my index of safety, before jumping off into more treacherous and certainly more experimental work I knew I'd be able to do.
Will I eventually go back to the structured plan? Maybe, but this was the first time I had the idea to even think about jumping into the depths of my imaginative capabilities.
Too Hip To Be Squared both made me as an artist and saved me as an artist, I owe it everything.