I was going to write a long post on things. When I say “things” I mean, “stuff”. Object lying around the house, most of which we forget about in our daily comings and goings. I like to paint these things from time to time. I was going to elaborate on how my paintings fit into the dialogue of art history, however that seems far too burdensome today. I paint these objects of the home, not because I love spoons or whisks or coffee pots, but because they are rooted in memories for me. I also realize that, since we live in such a industrialized world, some one else may have feelings similar to mine about that very same object. I don’t know anything more familiar than the wooden spoon. Sure, it may conjure up childhood anxieties if your parents were of the spanking varieties (let’s not get off subject here though…) Lately, since I have been doing a lot of bread baking I’ve gotten a little attached to my special wooden spoon. You are supposed use the same wooden spoon to allow all those lovely microorganisms that help the bread rise absorb into the fibers of the spoon. I know, also a little weird, but hey, if it makes delicious bread, I’m in!
How about you? What do you think of when you see a wooden spoon?
I guess it doesn’t really matter how this work relates to art history anyways. I just want someone else to be able to appreciate my painting, and perhaps think about the value of the objects in their home as not just products from Wal-Mart, but little vestibules filled with memories and the potential for new memories.
The original painting below is for sale at my Etsy shop: myquiethouse