my ego: fragile, handle with care

Last night I had a quiet fit about the effect of 10 years of transient lifestyle on my art.

All this moving around has divided up my time and my supplies and my momentum into little bits and fragments, so I'm blaming my utter lack of direction on the fact that I never know where any of that stuff is.

I never get anything done!
I never know what I'm doing!
I'll never be successful!

Commence moping, aimless shuffling, downward spiraling.

I'm also blaming my schizophrenic style-jumping on all these moves too -- just when I start to find my groove it's time to pack up and go. When I unpack my canvases I'm always like, what was I doing? How do I finish? I know, I'll just start something new and completely different!

Recently I finished up a few of the bone pieces I've been working on for the past year and a half, a duration that is excruciating, and also not a record. Do I have to sign it Robin Danely, 2009 - 2011? Gah.

But they're FINISHED (a state of being that may be purely for the saying so).

I just started working on a new commission -- which I'm determined to finish this summer, before we move again. This is great for productivity: hurry up and be creative!

I'm also working on getting a website up, a project that is waaaaay overdue (I think it was a New Year's resolution in 2005), and I'm sure I'll instantly become wildly famous as a result, so leave a comment now and you can say you knew me when.

Going through my archives for images for the site, I came across these pieces, done while we were living in Kyoto and I had nothing but time glorious time to brood and paint:

self portrait summer, oil on glass, 2005


jason, oil on glass, 2005


Yuki, oil on glass, 2005

So, okay, I'll concede that some part of moving has been good for my art. Namely, moving to Kyoto.
These paintings, on glass, you'll notice, survived the flight back to the States, and two subsequent cross-country moves. Perhaps I should see that as a testimony to the resilience of my artistic wherewithal.
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