Last week I was digging through my archive of images, trying to make sense of it all, so the entire lot could finally get backed up in the cloud. During the process I stumbled on the image above. I created it near the end of 2009 or early 2010, while transitioning away from painting and drawing. Five years removed, the piece has taken on new meaning.
If the blister looks a little odd, that’s because the photograph was manipulated. At the time my artwork dealt with fear and paranoia surrounding our bodies, and my vehicle for that dialogue was the cartoon speech bubble, sans language. I wanted it’s shape, action, and location in the body to create meaning for the viewer, who could project their own thoughts onto the bubble.
If you take a look at old work, you can see that until this image was created, all the speech bubbles were perfect orbs, ebbing and flowing through the body. I never let a bubble burst. I preferred tension, implying that one could let loose at any moment within the work.
That’s my blister, acquired on a hike and during a time when I was questioning my artwork and struggling to motivate. Shortly after this image was created, I stopped making art, at least with paint or pencil. I moved on to photography.
Like all blisters, scratches, and cuts, the wound has healed. I’ve moved forward and may circle back someday.