so, I'm bald

...and apparently that means I look like or remind people of every other bald guy of a certain age. In an effort to help distinguish my bald head from all others, let me provide you with a list of people I seriously do NOT look like:

moby

michael stipe


scott hamilton, no really.

and this guy. except for the white t-shirt.

Alright, enough nonsense. Get back to thinking.

small changes

Someone told me that Albert Einstein once said: "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.". I don't know if he really said that, but let's just suspend our doubt for a moment and go with it.
Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different outcomes is crazy...I can agree with that. But what about doing things a different way and expecting the same results? Is that also insane?

Because that's what I'm on the verge of doing.

If you're lucky enough to enjoy some amount of positive response to your art work it can be easy to fall into the trap of continuing to turn out similar work for years hoping to continue to enjoy that success. If you're not careful, this can cause you to stop taking chances, to stop reaching further, and to stop being honest in your work.
But if you step out of that comfort zone, out of that established area of what viewers think of as "good", you run the substantial risk of failure and rejection. And aren't we all afraid of falling flat on our faces in front of everyone? Don't we all fear that scathing review that announces that our work is just not as impressive as it used to be?

Perhaps not as much as we fear becoming a one trick pony.

Maybe no one will notice the changes. Hey, it could happen.

so long, beauford.

Beauford 2006-2008

Beauford was a nice little sculpture with a great sense of humor. He was built specifically for a solo show at the SC Governor's School for the Arts & Humanities where he served as a focal point welcoming viewers into the gallery. In early July he was quietly disassembled.

My decision to kill off Beuford was immediately met with a "Why?" followed by "That was one of my favorites. What were you thinking?".

This has happened before, you know. A few years ago I bisected a large sculpture intending to create two new sculptures from the pieces. One day after the separation a collector contacted me and asked to buy the original.

There were several reasons Beauford needed to go into that sweet by and by but the most important reason is that what I was trying to communicate with him, I never felt I was able to completely get across. The visual focal area was so strong that most viewers concentrated only on that area for interpretation. A few of my ideas were too quiet and at least one was far too loud. So after second and third guessing myself, I hacked the sculpture into pieces and began the process all over again.

Over the course of the last month I've had a couple of cursing fits, I've tossed a couple of hammers, and I've almost given up on the project three times. Seriously. And I'm not much of a giver-up-er. I am not proud of my almost-tantrums nor my extreme frustration, but in my defense it has been about two thousand degrees here recently along with humidity you almost have to dog paddle through. Add some molten steel, long sleeves, gloves, and thick denim jeans to that and you might think of throwing a hammer too.

All silliness aside, the really bad part is that each day when I left the metal shop and each day I arrived again I would look at the sculpture with a quick thirty second critical eye. Each time I was disappointed. Each time I shook my head and wondered if I had made a huge mistake.

Late Saturday when I left the shop, I gave the work in progress the critical once-over and for the first time I sort of cracked up a little. This is a good sign. I think it's working. There's still another couple of weeks of heavy grinding, sanding, and serious critiquing, but there's a chance this one could be really good. The uncertainty is healthy.

doldrums in green and blue

green's peach farm

bushels

cicada in need of a jumpstart

blue

you only love me for my lunchbox

7-11-08 at the Showroom

photo by Steven Long

Sometimes you just have to go out and see some live music. Sure, it might mean not getting that new drawing finished or not spending the evening working on the sculpture you're excited about, but sometimes you just have to go to a concert.
Last Friday I shirked my creative responsibilities and went out to the Showroom (www.hub-bub.com) to catch a show by The Asylum Street Spankers. And what a show it was.
I love live music but I'm not such a big fan of crowds and I could do without loud drunkards attempting to sing and dance (and talk) while I'm trying to listen to live music. So when the Spankers came out to begin their show and kindly asked everyone to turn off their phones and to refrain from talking and being obnoxious I knew I had made the right choice.
Though I've listened to the Spankers for a little more than 5 years, I was still surprised and impressed with their vocal and instrumental prowess. The songs can be pretty raunchy at times but the band members keep their tongues firmly planted in their cheeks and you'll find yourself unable to hold back your laughter. However, when not being naughty, the Spankers tilt toward the beautiful with wild and lovely songs of varying tempos. In fact, their most recent album is a children's album - though probably not what you'd expect from a children's album - and while it is completely innocent on the surface, it is probably their best complete collection of songs to date.

As it turned out, this was not as much of a distraction as I thought from my creative duties. These guys (and gal) were having a ball doing something they love. They seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves and their creative output was not only entertaining and beautiful.....it was also thought provoking. Even the most goofy songs brought out topics of religion, politics, individual rights, and philosophical truths. Their songs seem to strive to offer something for everyone. You can choose to take their lyrics at face value and laugh and get on with your life or you can begin to peel back the layers and think about what they've carefully placed just beneath the veneer of beauty.
And thanks to Stephen, Alix, & Betsy and everyone else involved with Hub-Bub.com for bringing such a great band to our town. Let's face it, we don't live in the cultural center of the universe, so to get an act like this in our back yard is a big deal.

Go Ahead, Ask.

I think it's funny that people get the idea that I don't want to talk about my artwork.
Not funny in a humorous sort of way, funny that odd way.

Upon seeing my work people often ask, "what is it?" or "what were you thinking of when you made that?". Excellent questions. But when I explain that part of what I'm trying to do is communicate ideas visually in a manner that rarely lends itself easily to ordinary words or labels, I can see their eyes glaze over and if I look closely...I can actually see them lose all interest in our conversation.
This is something I see in my students all too often. Many, not all, but many come in to an art class looking for the formula. They want the equation or the easy template they can memorize and simply apply to all future artistic endeavors. They may or may not realize that what they are asking is if there is a way to keep from ever having to think for themselves or make difficult decisions. Much to their frustration, I espouse a philosophy of teaching that centers around exploration of media and ideas and learning as you go. Even if there are some easy answers and easy solutions, I encourage my students to distance themselves from such drivel and to keep digging below that surface level in order to discover something new and meaningful.
My dad always says, "if it were easy, everyone would do it." My dad's really smart, by the way.
A recent article about a public exhibit of my sculpture began with the words, "Don't ask....artist Doug McAbee about the concept behind Herman and Elmer, the large yellow and blue sculptures....". It was a thankfully positive article, but I can't help but wonder if this lead sentence might give a reader the impression that I don't want to talk about it at all. I certainly do not want to give my viewers the idea that I just crank out strange objects and images that do not mean anything and that should not be given considerable thought. There are, after all, hours and days spent working on refining, economizing, and abstracting specific realistic images in the hopes that I will be able to visually communicate my ideas to viewers by carefully tapping into both personal and universal memories and experiences. These memories and experiences are shared by artist and viewer and they create a common ground on which this new visual conversation takes place. This visual information is so carefully chosen and always has the viewer in mind.
Think of it this way: Do you know why they don't sell connect-the-dot puzzles with the dots already connected and the puzzles already solved? Exactly. What would be the point? Where's the fun in someone solving your puzzle for you? The fun is figuring it out for yourself.

So please, go ahead and ask about the artwork. Just don't be offended or put off if my answers come back in the form of questions. I want you to think about the art. I want you to think about what it means to you. What do you see in that jumbled mess of bright yellow steel?

Anybody Want This?

I made this table and set of 4 chairs in 2003. It's awesome. It also needs to go. I have sculptures, drawings, and frames crammed in every cubic inch of my storage areas and this ended up the odd man out.

It's one of a kind, hand-made and still in very good condition. Yes, I know the faux-fur seat cushions rock.

$100 for all 4 chairs and the table. Comment or email me at my website if you're interested. UPDATE: someone called dibs.