The best part about the screenprinted panels was that they were jagged, ragged, and had some of the words obscured, smudged, or faintly printed. It's a great story how these templates got so yellowed and waxy. I was so broke back then I couldn't afford to print this text onto clear acetate--so I tried soaking my free black and white printouts in linseed oil so the UV rays of the exposer unit could penetrate and do their job on the screens. While I was painting, I used a sanded-down plastic knife from the canteen (cafeteria) as a palette knife and mixed my colors with glossy white housepaint from Woolworths, since it was all I could afford!
Well, it worked--the panels and paintings were a success. Why didn't I hang up the final series, then, you may ask. They were stolen after I put them up in an empty hallway! Luckily it happened after I was graded, but I was upset for a while. I saved these templates hoping I'd someday be able to reproduce the series. But now, I think I prefer giving them a second life this way instead. I just wish I had enough space to frame and display all of them. What a great way to remember the friends and experiences that inspired these words.
This all goes back to my philosophy about art: Make it personal, give it a story, and make it BIG. Each one describes part of a dear friend's house and some of the adventures we had while growing up. Framed, each one is just over 20.5" x 20.5".
Even though only one of the houses is still around (owned by that friend's parents, of course), I blurred out the street names here on the blog.
This whole new look in my Living Room reminds of somethign I recently read in this giant coffee table biography of David Hicks. I was surprised to see how the King of Maximalism was transformed and inspired by an early trip to California--he stripped down the main room of his house, painted it all white, bleached the floors, and pared down his artwork to a few key pieces.
Seems like I'm just getting back to my roots ;^)