Vincent Chorabik, 2019
Vast unexplored possibilities.
Opportunity shrouded in
doubt, fear, anxiety.
Hours spent worrying,
“What is this for?”
“Why am I doing this?”
“Who is this for?”
The Worry of Waste.
The Worry of Failure.
Just do it. √
Who cares? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Anything is better than nothing.
What do I want to bring into the world?
What wants to be brought into the world?
Oh, Empty Canvas, tell me, what do you want to be?
A Dragon basking in the warmth of Yellow Ochre and Crimson Red radiating from a Dwarven Forge?
A surface of material exploration?
Oils Thickened with Cold Wax
Fibrous Materials and Colourful Mud in Conversation with “the History of Painting”
Are you part of a macho history? Or it is blasphemy?
Creative women have shaped you endlessly, (and what about those identifying with neither gender?)
Do you speak for me?
Am I merely a vessel for your birth? Are you destined for something more?
Are you nothing without The Audience? The Viewer?
What will people think of you? Will they understand you?
Will someone be begging for a “deeper meaning,” or your place in “the context of contemporary art?”
Are you capital “A” Art if nobody gets you?
(Pause, in Thought)
Oh, Empty Canvas,
At what moment are you Conceived?
At what moment are you Finished?
Dust & Fingerprints
(and Last Night’s Spaghetti Dinner) will sit on your fibers, your skin.
Are you alive?
Have you been ruined?
Or, Empty Canvas, is this all part of your journey, your history?
Thank You (Bow)