Thought for The Day - A Crowded Space

A space for clutter, items that are one step away from the trash, the back of a metal collector's truck or a gallery! The type of area your mother would threaten to skin you if you brought anyone into! My space! My area, my corner of peace. It's similar to the space that lies on the other side of the grey matter in my cranium. Yes, it's cluttered, but there is so much promise in that space!

Ideas, hopes, plans and a past rich with disappointments and joys, resides between my ears. There are times I can cry - and I do - for the things I want to accomplish! But I don't weep for selfish reasons; I've got hope for family and friends as well. And everything isn't focused on earning millions. But it is about living life as "wealthy minded" individuals! My dreams are that everyone discover their promise living between their ears as well! And having discovered it, or open their minds to the idea that exists, we all live together as God has designed us to live!

When you view us with fear and hatred, choices are made to discriminate and discard. But when the whole is viewed as God's image duplicated across continents, islands and remote places, we are beautiful creations, designed to live up to God's expectation!

You are far more than you perceive yourself, in this moment!

Thoguht for The Day - You've Got a "Try" in You

 

You might look at your hands sometime and say "what do I have? Not much, I can't do much with this at all!" You go to your storage, your pantries and your fridge and take an inventory and think: "not much there!" And in you, there is this _______ ...and it's unidentifiable...not quite unnamed, but...you know it's there.

Unbaked

Unprepared

Raw

But don't worry, time and patience...

Come on, it's coming!

Thought for The Day - The Spirit

"The wind blows where it will. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit." John 3:8 (NIV)

To me, I have a serious scowl; I often wonder how I get engaged in conversation since, each time I catch a glimpse of my reflection, the frown lines across my brow are fairly intense! But somehow, before I know it, people have me engaged in conversation and they receive the softer, inner core.

Internal motivation; though I struggled with it - and still do - I have come to admit I'm an artist. I struggled with it because there is a very practical, meat and potatoes side of me that believes in a strong work ethic. When I pick up a brush or pencil (working out the psychology as I go, folks, excuse the head turning, surprised expression on my face and the tears) I think there's a part of me that remembers my mother sitting on the phone and doodling. One of the first times I saw her doing this, I wanted to do the same thing. Somehow, relaxed, at ease. And yet the hard exterior of the world required no-nonsense, hard labor and getting stuff done.

And here I am, in my fifties and the many sides of me are being reconciled, brought together. I am an artist, but I am a messenger as well. I have an assignment to share goodness and kindness with people, often being no more than an ear and a smiling face. I allow people moments of ease, to relax and let go of tensions and worries. I see it in their face and body language when they are around.

"...but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going..."

Thought for The Day - Where The Movement Takes Us

Detail of "Linen" 30 x 40 Oil painting

Detail of "Linen, A Storm's Coming" 24 x 30 Oil painting

I used to think I would lose me. But as I relinquish control, as I surrender, I am found...

It's simple, it is, after all, just fabric. Plain and monotone or bright and colorful and woven, it is created to cover, to drape and accentuate. But how it does it, the way we arrange it, is up to us! And the way we do it each day is an adventure!

Thought for The Day - A Parent's Prayer

I didn't grow up in the worst neighborhoods or attend terrible schools. I spent the first 12 years of my life in Chicago and the remainder in the suburbs. I've been exposed to several home break-ins, had money taken when I was a child, had several fights as a child and then life settled down. I live in a small suburb of Chicago and for all practical purposes, it may as well Chicago itself. The streets can be walked, but not without concern for one's safety. So the other day, when my son sent a text to me saying people were acting crazy at school and that it was reported someone brought a knife to school, I was concerned, but not surprised. I attended the same school, watched guys and girls get in fights in the same halls he walks now. I remember seeing police outside the school and around it for scuffles. And what's sinking in at the moment: there are neighborhoods where this and worse are everyday occurrences!

My concern is for my children, where ever they are. One is on the east coast and has a daily commute on public transportation. My middle child attends school in the midwest and my concern for him is, as a young black male, he is a constant target. And my concern for my youngest is that he attends the same school I did and felt nervous about. As a parent, you want far better for your children. You want them to have opportunities you never did, to be exposed to the better things in life. But in the same breath, I realize the only way to accurately expose them is not to shelter them, but allow them to explore as their heart desires. My role is to guide, instruct, and as they get older, to encourage, console and continue to teach. And over all, to pray for their well being and safety because ultimately, I can't protect them from danger. No the one who protects them when I am far away - or near - is God. And His capability exceeds mine.

Thought for The Day - Power and Wisdom

The Phoenix

The strength of youth,

The wisdom of age...

Live long enough and the former gives way to the latter. It isn't that youth is not smart or intelligent, or even wise. But when you come to rely less on power and stamina, you learn to think before acting; age teaches us the "way" things are. Experience combines with a mental strength and we learn to temper our responses for a better outcome.

Enjoy your strength, nurture wisdom, for it is a blending of the two that speaks to divine nature in each of us.

Thought for The Day - Grown

Rise 18 x 24, pastel

When did I get to a point where "Louisiana Hot Sauce" wasn't hot enough? I can still remember seeing my parents and other adults shaking it on food and thinking "there's no way I would put that on my food!" And yet, here I am, a grown man, willing to combine hot sauce and jalapeños on a sandwich or other foods! Just 'yesterday,' I dabbed a little on my finger, put it to my mouth and had to wash it down with a glass of water. And now, if I prepare a meal, I've got to have FIRE!

Tastes, desires and needs change as we grow older. Some things we adopt may not necessarily be good for us. I remember when I developed a "healthy appetite" and filled my plate with food. I remember when I went back for seconds and it wasn't dessert! The skinny kid grew up to be an overweight man, constantly fighting the battle to be thin again! And in so many ways, I wouldn't have it any other way!

Growing up, I could be glued to the television for hours; now, if I sit for a few minutes, I'm fast sleep. As a teenager, I could ride a skateboard for hours and play basketball in my parent's backyard as long. I wouldn't dare get on a skateboard these days and basketball? I'm not interested in watching anyone play it for more than a few minutes!

One's needs and interests change as you mature and what was once boring is now a great time. But one thing has not changed; that's my love of music and visual art. The combination is my morning routine. Now granted, I could not imagine waking before dawn - and I'm not talking a few minutes before! I'm talking an hour or two most mornings! Sitting down to write and journal, music surrounds me, as well as the work of my hands. Images in process, completed and others to inspire, surround me. And it's been that way since I was a "small lad." Even down to the music genre and medium of choice; the two have remained constant. I didn't have access to oil paints or the skills to do what I do now, but it was my dream. And thank you Lord, dreams come true!

Be blessed and hold tight to dreams!

Thought for The Day - Truth in Reflection

I'm back at it; I put paint on the palette, dipped the brush in the paint and dabbed at the canvas, just a couple days ago. There were moments of guilt, confusion and wonder. The sense of opening the doors of my soul, listening to the spirit's gentle guidance and working out the mysteries of life as they wrestled in my head. When I execute "morning pages," it is an opportunity to face my insecurities, my fears, pains and my hope. But standing in front of a canvas or sitting over paper, those same feelings hover above without the same sense of power. There are no gut wrenching revelations; only quandaries, pleasant puzzles and time to quietly contemplate.

The question: if I'm at peace, why wouldn't I paint and draw regularly? Why is it I lay aside my colors and quiet reasoning to worry and fret? An answer, like a shadow perceived in the mirror, avoids full disclosure to my conscious. When faced with my "shadow-side," my tendency is to run from it, like looking in the mirror and realizing the sag of my cheeks is an indicator I'm no longer 25. I want to "solve the problem," but the "dilemma" is as much a part of me as the spirt that animates my flesh. I fear I will remain stuck in the corporate hustle; that, because of some weakness in flesh, I will continue the morning routine of going to "work," and every now and then, "squeezing in" a few minutes at the canvas. The cruelty of life: what you love, you barely have time for. But what nags at you, persists near endlessly. It sits in your bones and slowly robs you of vitality.

Hope runs eternal; this is the same guy whose mom accused of being lazy and said he would never marry or hold a full-time job. This is the same guy, who, given a chance, would stay in the bed till 10:00 am or later, as a teen. And this is the same guy who thought he might never see a tube of oil paint in his hand. This is the same guy who finds it extremely difficult to stay in bed until dawn and has to write every day. This is the same guy who silently wars against his fears, the needs of family and the incessant demands for his time. Most of the time, I lose; laundry, errands and someone else's needs take precedent. But there is always a sense of hope; at some point, I will "turn a corner," pick up my brush and give my spirit the space and time needed to set me free.

Thought for The Day - Tick-Tock

Hey Mama! 18 x 24 charcoal, pastels

Whatever your age, have you considered how quickly your life has gone by? Depending on your age, you can recall the markers, the indicators that give the impression you've been "here" for a while. But walk with me for a little while. Consider these indicators:

1. A time when you were a child, before school, even kindergarten. Recall an event, a memory of being the small one in a room or playing with 'peers.'
2. The years in school; a teacher you admired or a teacher who made you miserable! Classmates, endless homework, being ridiculed, bullied, or maybe you were the Big Man/Woman on Campus!
3. College years; those few years before you are ushered into adulthood. Your sense that while college was fun, it was a short distance between childhood (being taken care of) and adulthood (the time when you were expected to be the responsible one - and everything that comes along with it!).
4. Your first, second, and maybe third "job." Maybe it was your career, the dream job, the place and occupation you always wanted. Perhaps it was less so, it was a means to an end, a way to put food on the table. And maybe you truly despised any number of jobs held in your adult years
5. Watching your children being born, growing older and seeing yourself and your parents in this new relationship. Remembering their days in school and struggling with homework. Your challenge either being learning the "new math" or trying to recall how to do this stuff.
6. Sending your children off to college - I'm there now - or realizing they would never "come home again." But your trying to put on a brave face, while your heart aches to have them near.
7. Looking forward to retirement; who wants to do this stuff for the rest of their life? Rising early, fighting traffic to get a place where you are considered the Old man or woman, and nearly dismissed. Or maybe you're respected, but you know it's a matter of time before you need to put this behind you.
8. Grandchildren! The circle of life continues as you listen to your children's stories of "firsts" and having to help with homework!
9. Retirement; those years where life seems to slow down, but in retrospect, weren't you just a little boy or girl, sitting at the kitchen table?

My wife's aunt passed away yesterday and as I got up this morning, I remembered one picture of her with my mother-in-law from our wedding photo album. She would have been in her early 60's when we married. She died at the tender age of 87. That was 26 years ago that my wife and I said "I do." There are days where I can't wait for _______! But it's moment's like this, I wish I could freeze or slow down time and just be in this spot for a lot longer. Consider your life; the moments, days and years...time doesn't seem as long when we consider how quickly it flies. 

Thought for The Day - Originality

Individual
Purpose
Gift to all
The collective exercise of our gifts and purpose can improve our world!

When I was in grade school, around the age of 11, my father had jury duty. He came home with a drawing a court artist made of him. It was a profile and just his head, but that inspired me to try to do the same. Any drawings of people to that point were basic faces and rubbery arms, but that image inspired me to examine the bone structure underneath the skin and take note of the muscle and mass.

In high school, art class, we learned how to use ball point pens to create incredible abstract images. We learned how to create still life images, taking ordinary household items and arranging them in front of us. We learned about capturing details of fruit and odd shape vegetables called "gourds." And we learned how to render portraits. It was my introduction to formalized art classes and I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life! One drawing done where I took a photograph of a old house creased it in places and blown up to show the details, still hangs in a relative's home. That was done over 35 years ago!

In college, composition and subject matter didn't change much. What we learned was better technique and execution. I had figure drawing and figure sculpting classes where the model was nude, so we got to see true muscular and skeletal detail. In the figure drawing class, we "warmed up" with 10 second, 30 second, 1 minute and 5 minute drawings, where the goal was to improve our hand-eye coordination. Very challenging, but by the end of the semester, my renderings and skill had improved greatly.

I graduated from college with no prospects and vision of how to 'be' an artist. It was so hard, the next couple years, trying to render anything. I would put images on paper, rendered from my head in beautiful detail, but usually they didn't fill the page so I simply made collage images. But it was the sense of not knowing what to do that left me discouraged; there was no one guiding me, no live model posing before me...

Flash forward to now; children are grown and time permits a few minutes or an hour or two, to render as I wish. No one stands before me, no models and no teacher to assist. But there is an "unseen" guide that directs my creativity. The drive to render, to provide subjects and themes comes from within. No longer do I need to see objects arranged in front of me or have colors suggested. Often themes and subject are developed "in the moment," as pencil or oil paint hits the surface. Most of my images aren't planned, unless I'm working on a series. And then, an image can take an unexpected direction. I don't have classroom critiques, though sometimes I miss the comparison. No, these days, my critic comes from my own critical eyes, examining details others may be oblivious to see.

As an older adult, I create original images and concepts. And my soul is my teacher!

Thought for The Day - Making a Dollar out of Fifteen Cents!

Desert Floor (in progress) 12 x 18 Pastels

Sometimes, your lessons reflect back at you! Years ago, my middle son had an art class. Freshman in high school at a time when I was "considering" getting back into art myself, but not quite there, he was struggling with color mixing techniques. He thought the answer was to buy all the different shades and colors in tubes of premixed paints. A lesson I learned in my college days was the technique of blending colors and creating your own shades. Certainly a tedious process, but you learn as much about your 'vision' as you do about the technique.

Some years later, when I started drawing and painting regularly, I could afford to spend money on paints, pastels and colored pencils. A few times, when I didn't have a certain color, I would express my frustration and limitations and how I could get "this" detail if I just had the right shade of green. And of course, he said to me, "you could just mix it. That's what you told me!" And of course he was right. Not that I followed his advice or my own; eventually, I bought that shade of green I needed and other shades of blue. But...

...When I sit with a blank canvas or sheet of paper, I might have a concept in mind, but often it is the willingness to do so that opens the channel to the flow. I'm learning that the very act of sitting through the process, feeling the frustration, the pain, as well as the joy and liquid creativity is part of the process. There are times when my supply of pink pastel is down to a single nub, but I have red and white in abundance...I make it work. I have had times when I only had newsprint available for paper, but in that moment, it may as well be a sheet of the finest sanded pastel paper as far as I'm concerned! I work the surface as if every thought and emotion in my head, is buried beneath the white surface. And it's my job to bring out what's beneath.

I have plenty of things to say, to write, to express...and the means, the medium and time are limited. But today, I'm making a dollar out of fifteen cents!