New Paintings by Geoffrey Greenewww.ArtPal.com/imtexfx
One of my childhood friends could draw a perfect motorcycle; just pick up a pencil and with a few precise strokes make an ideal “hog” appear on the page. It was always the same and always exactly perfect - you could almost hear the darn thing roar. This excited something akin to envy in me and I tried to copy his drawing, but mine never came out right. As I tried it again and again my drawings weren't even motorcycles but began morphing into horses, birds shooting flames from their mouth, naked women. Intensely frustrating.
Yet one day, looking over my abject failures, it hit me: maybe what I was doing was not failure. “Always the same, always perfect”… is not what art is. I struggled to understand my own thoughts: my friend’s perfect bike was way cool but it was finite, closed off, like, sealed. Dead in a way. It came out exactly the same every time, it would never burst free, never grow into anything else or sneak in through the backdoor of your head, as I realized my drawings - flabby and imperfect as they were - had the power to do. That realization was, I think, what laid the foundation for my philosophy of art and it has stuck with me to this day.