Years ago I enjoyed life as a couch-artist, which means I played around with art but didn’t do much more than keep it to myself. Granted, I participated in online art exchanges, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and some of my work has been in magazines, but I didn’t strive for galleries or selling it or anything like that. It was a personal project.
Making art books thrilled me. I did some exchanges with wonderful people and created an art book for inclusion at a juried exhibit at the Indianapolis Art Center where I won an award for Surface Design/Mixed Media. They loved my book and spoke excitedly of it during the pre-show tour, which flattered me (they didn’t know I was in the tour). Until my book, the Indianapolis Art Center had never had this kind of entry into their shows and it thrilled them.
I took the above photo on a late afternoon as the sun streamed through a window and lit the art books. The chiaroscuro caught me. The way the light played against the dark, along with the (intentional) battered-looking art books, created a stunning still life.
I don’t consider myself an artist. However, I’m getting the urge to return to making art. Especially art books.