We’ve finished our move. It wasn’t a normal relocation, it took a bit longer than usual. We weren’t under the typical pressures of moving. I had no job waiting for me. I had no job I was leaving. In fact, I am beholding to nobody. Now we have our new home with its great new studio, and more space than I could’ve dreamed back in Bothell. Better yet, we outright own it. The silence ends now.
Space Art is back, but the flavor is altered. Much of what I’ve created over the last dozen years or so has served dual purposes. On the one hand, I am painting the things I have always wanted to paint. More importantly, I’ve used this time to refine my skills and techniques. I’ve explored different mediums, different styles, different materials. Each project, big or small, was a learning experience.
The goal was never to be a great space and science fiction artist. My goal has been to become the best artist I can be given the time that I have left. Even now I am nowhere near that goal. I’m making progress, but the reality is I have maybe twenty good years or so left (barring accidents or fascist uprisings that target artists and anyone with at least a half-working brain cell).
We will still be having fun, great fun. But in the transition process of the move I have neglected making the kinds of paintings that I feel need to exist. Some of them will still be space and science fiction themed. But I feel the allure of abstraction, and painting nature with the beautiful scenes I’ve witnessed in my limited travel.
It’s funny to me how many times I’m treated as flippant and shallow by those who have completed Fine Art degrees, or have otherwise once explored life as an artist. Especially by those I’ve encountered in the corporate tech world – the ones who turned their backs on their fine art backgrounds in favor of a big paycheck and a perceived notion of security. I can say this with great authority, because it’s exactly what I did for nearly 20 years as a professional UX Designer and PM. It doesn’t matter to them that my own studies included a full-on Fine Art core curriculum. I merely traded their studio time for more direct focus on Industrial Design (for which I remain grateful as it’s served me very well as an artist and as a corporate stooge).
The Artist Life is difficult. The Artist Life is, in many ways, insane. It’s very easy to walk away and seek simpler means to keep food in your cupboards. But I found the simpler path to be just as tenuous, just as perilous as whatever it is that I’m doing now. I cannot count on a weekly or bi-weekly salary with a 401K, but I will also never live in the fear of them disappearing at a moment’s notice. Being broke for a while goes a long way to getting you over the fear of living as a wage slave. My only real regret is not taking this on sooner.
Instead of grinding my teeth in frustration, I’ve used my time in the studio to pursue my own path. It was immediately apparent to me which areas I needed to improve as an artist. Some of it was a refresher – 20 years ignoring art altogether while slowly dying in a cubicle made me a little rusty. In other cases I could fairly easily identify which specific areas I needed to improve. And I’ve slowly tackled these along the way – Oil paint and mediums, color theory, approaches to realism and abstraction. I’m sure my most ardent followers have noticed along the way, especially those following the livestream.
Perhaps my timing was better than I’d anticipated. Right now, after the move and setting up a new studio, I have all the time and materials I need to let my brain explode on hundreds of canvases.
So welcome aboard the Phoenix Rising phase of Space Art by Christopher Doll. I promise I’ll be breaking a few eggs along the way, and it’ll be fun. Great fun.
Ad Astra!
Christopher Doll is an artist and designer from the greater Seattle area.� He specializes in astronomy, space travel, and science fiction themes. His work has been featured in a number of books, articles, and on the cover of several novels.
