February 15th, 2012
"Magus"
It happened at a time following a bad winter; his tax work had fallen to pieces, his car burped bluish smoke, and his house needed work. Everything about his house and his life and his car bothered him in the cold. He needed to wait for things longer than he had to in the Springtime. Lines were longer. Dreams were longer and less clear, less satisfying or memorable. Joy came at shorter lengths coinciding with abrupt shifts to absurd, unfortunate circumstances he couldn't comprehend or accept as fair. In the year 1994, everything for John S. Sylvester seemed bleak and grey.
It was March when it visited.
***
new paintings in detail, some conversation about Montserrat’s illustration showing, some conversation about sketching during last year’s commute
Not in Kansas
(This shift in format may be awkward.)
Coming up quick is the theme show for Montserrat's illustration department, and this show is always something I consider to be a benchmark in my and many others' creative year. The entire program is called back. Alum. Faculty. Students. Everyone is invited to contribute to what usually ends up being a very exciting, colorful, and funny opening. Prizes offered for arbitrary (and hilarious) competition. Good work. GREAT work. This is an opportunity to show alongside many walks of illustrated life - faculty work (always impressive), hotshot underclassman pieces, underworked rush jobs, poor presentation, incredible presentation. The works, you know? It's always great. Now, if only Kelly Murphy would get back to making theme-appropriate cakes like those of old. A guy can dream...
Anyway, I always take this show seriously. I take it as seriously as I can, artistically speaking. As I said, the event is what I consider a benchmark for my creative year. I almost want to suggest that I see it as some kind of weird, silly culmination, where my work from the year prior to comes to a front. New techniques learned are pushed, new scales are achieved, and, generally, I try to blow my work out to the point where I feel I have a better scope for the coming year of getting my hands dirty.
Does that make sense? I guess I'm trying to say that I make a point to raise the bar for the expectations I have for my own work. One theme show ends, and a new year of work begins. That kind of thing...
Littleton/495
Cleaning and reforming my studio the other day allowed me to review one of last year's sketchbooks. If you've been paying attention, you'll recognize some of these pages. I went ahead and rescanned this work. I kept the edits limited to cropping. Take a look.
I'm not sure I'll have the kind of opportunity last year's commuting presented. I'd take the 57 from my place in Brighton, the green line up to North Station from Kenmore. From North Station, the Fitchburg line to a tiny stop called Littleton/495 - a shoebox train station nestled between wooded parking and a nondescript industrial warehouse. I guess the station is beside the point. Maybe not...
I'd have time. I had a few hours of broken time, to be clearer about it. I often felt obliged in conversation to mention the commute as a boring pain. It could be boring. That's fair. Most of the time, there was a ritual to it. Get on the train in my shirt and tie, maybe a coffee in hand, always with my green travel bag, a McDonald's snack wrap. Sit and wait for the conductor to either check my monthly pass or skip the step to give me a nod that indicates recognition. Do nothing else up to this point. Starting a sketch only to be interrupted in a way that could've been avoided from the start is the true pain.
Each one is a full ride, I'd bet. Close to that. Full rides in October and November needed the distracting intensity of a sketch that builds on itself. That much I remember about it; and there would be times later where the sketches would just kind of dwindle. I'd start too quickly and finish after a half hour - too much time, then, to look out the window, and not enough time to start something new. There was a process of working on one sketch that prevails today, I guess. I do the same thing in bits on the bus when I have time, when it isn't too crowded.
Funny, too - there was always this strange concentration devoted to a piece as a one-per-day. Keep in mind that these were made around the time that I started dropping off with the intensity and consistency. Let's be clear in saying that one-per-day died in the summer of 2010, shortly after. Still, there was this constant, autumn sense of working a piece around a loose narrative, some vague story or dream that I wanted to share. The irony: the commute afforded me the time to sketch, but eliminated chances to devote that time to scanning, writing, concentrating on posting to facebook.
After a while, the time on the train became a familiar thing. A friend? There was nothing like it, and I don't really have anything like that now, which isn't pointedly good or bad. It's just a thing to talk about, to consider.
October 15th, 2011
Do you know what you're being for Halloween? I don't have a costume plan, yet. Good god.
-
September 11th, 2011
“History programming is great.”
There's been a large enough voicing from followers and friends for me to start a project that has some kind of overall continuity. So, in the next few weeks, expect to see some bits from this new project as I work out the scheduling for releasing information about it. My idea is to work through a substantial amount of rough pages before sharing anything especially telling. I'd love some feedback, though. The working title is obvious, I think, and I'm excited for this.
Want to be involved in the process, get close to what's going on?
Email me: andrew@andrewmarathas.com
OR
keep coming back to my facebook page for updates, etc. ...
http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Paintings-etc-of-Andrew-Marathas/82949433514
This isn't an installment of one-per-day. It's a better thing.
-Andrew
***
September 6th, 2011 — “Darcy and The Martians”
"Though also set out to be a popular, Albuquerque-based band, Darcy and The Martians have a legitimate reason for being on Earth, and it is, arguably, more important than Space Rock."
***
September 1st, 2011
"Barbie Boat"
The overall accuracy of the brochure was brought into question the moment she walked out on the pier to see the vessel. Bright pink. Huge, goofy plastic like balloons that piled high into sticky masts with pillow sails. How does one sail it? How does the wind catch it, push it out into the sea? One look at the deck told her that there was no standing, only comical bouncing and bounding. Worst vacation ever.
***
August 27th, 2011
It's basically the same. Lots of backstock marked up with sharpie, lots of paint, the smell of paint, mediums, tons of art supplies, some expensive, some not. It's bigger. The building is bigger. There are more people. There are more people, and you can look outside and it isn't Providence. It isn't a southern street with shops to the left and a highway on-ramp to the right. Instead, it's a busy corner - Boston. It's Boston and it's entirely disorienting, pleasant.
August 26th, 2011
"BUB"
She waited five minutes in the atrium before heading back to the parking lot. The cars, most of them shining, new, all of them empty, were parked in rows with antennae cutting up into the summer glare. You could tell about the heat coming off the hoods. You could tell about the windows and doors, things markedly hot without burning. The colors shot from the paint from the light of the sun. She shielded her eyes with a soft arm.
***
August 15th, 2011 — “December”
"December"
I look from the futon to the dresser at the other end of the room. My uncles' old furniture.
***














































