In 1994, I was sitting in Heathrow Airport after a long overnight flight, backpack at my feet, a Eurail pass in hand, and two and a half months of Europe stretching out in front of me with no real itinerary. I was jet-lagged, trying to figure out how to get into London, find a youth hostel, and make all the little decisions that add up to a day. Suddenly, I was seized by an overwhelming sense of panic. What the hell am I doing? How am I going to get through this?
Four years later, I was once again standing at the beginning of an incredibly terrifying and overwhelming journey. On July 1, 1998, Wilbur and I took possession of the Blue Earth County Poor Farm. A rundown, decrepit mess. Nine thousand square feet of mess. I had absolutely no idea how we were going to get from point A to point B. I couldn't begin to imagine all the things we would have to learn, the problems we would have to solve, or the sheer amount of work ahead of us. And yet, here we are.
And now, 28 years later, here I am again, in my studio at Poor Farm, looking at a gigantic blank canvas. Stretched, primed, ready to go. And I have that same feeling. What am I doing? Where do I begin? How do I take that first step without knowing where it leads? Maybe that's the job. Standing in the not-knowing and making a mark anyway. See where it takes me. And then another.
Looking back, I realize that my life has been a series of risks taken in the service of art. And not all of those risks involved making paintings. Some involved getting on an airplane, buying an enormous old building, or simply deciding to do something without the slightest idea of how it would turn out. I didn't take those risks because I knew I would succeed. I took them without knowing whether I would succeed.
After more than fifty years of making art, you might think I would have figured out how to avoid that terrifying moment of uncertainty. But the truth is, I think I've spent much of my life deliberately seeking it. I know how to make paintings. What interests me is discovering paintings I don't yet know how to make.
What the hell am I doing? Exactly.
