Following the Guide

Getting up early, staying up late and thank God, not all in the same 24 hour period, I'm on a mission. Not a every-step-is-clearer trip, but one where the best laid plans seem to get turned upside-down. But on a mission, nonetheless.

I completed a painting (well not quite, one small area to be completed) recently that sat on my easel for a number of weeks. It sat in my head and sketch book for months and the idea of 'getting it out' was getting to me, so I started, and then slowly, agonized over it for weeks. It's a dark piece as a few are that I've worked on. The image has the sense of night or early morning just before sunrise. A forest view and a pond are nearly black, subtle colors used to capture the sense of darkness. A single bird takes off from the pond, heading west. But no sooner had I took a break from it, I was back with pastels and lots of colors.

I know, there are times when I don't follow the path laid out by other artists. I see the work of others, their series where a theme seems to get worked out over several pieces, but that doesn't seem to be my path. If I was 21, I would do my best to be like other artists. I would strive to be in a gallery with 3 - 8 pieces as part of a series. More than likely it would be the work 'everyone' loves. But I'm a great deal older and far removed from the 'artists culture.' I do what is in my heart to do. Don't get me wrong, it would be wonderful to be accepted in the world of artists, but about now, a full sketch book or two or three has me on a journey. I could sketch and draw, conceive and plan, paint and mold clay, for another 40 years and never tire of this process. And it seems like I receive guidance from God himself.

Some Days...It Doesn't Take Much

You wake, early and before you know it the wheel is turning fast. So fast you look down and don't see your legs. The mind is elsewhere, asking the question, "how did I get on this thing and when do I get off."

I've been told since childhood to "get an education and a good job." But the same folks that told me that, didn't tell me it isn't enough. They didn't tell me about the part of life where dreams fade long before you wake. They didn't tell me that longing never goes away; that it just turns into cardiovascular disease, or high blood pressure or an unhealthy obsession with alcohol (which I don't have).

Sometimes, I wake while it's still dark and wonder should I just go ahead and get up? In my heart, I know I should be sleeping and getting as much of it as possible, but whatever sleep and dreaming is supposed to do, it doesn't seem to be doing. No panic or fear about it, just an acknowledgement of the work I should be doing.

Sometimes, I just want to sleep, especially when that treadmill follows me through the day and the STOP button is too far away to reach. Some days, it doesn't take much. And I want a break. But everyone knows...

Early Morning Work

It's 9:30 pm. I have a canvas sitting near complete, one I'm itching to get to and a sheet of pastel and watercolor paper I would love to give some time. But again, it's 9:30 and in another 7 hours, if I do this right, I'll be up, going to the gym.

It's a new habit, waking at 4:30. So far, I'm awake before the alarm clock goes off. Three days a week, out the door at 5:00. Two days a week, I'm up, reading the bible, praying and squeezing in time for the art.

It's an effort, a spirited attempt at getting a sense of order in my life regarding both exercise and the painting. If you've noticed in earlier blogs, I might stay awake until 3 - 4:00 am, trying to paint, but nothing with consistency.

Early morning work is my attempt to trick my mind into thinking I'm making progress to a better me; physically, spiritually and creatively. Let's hope I can this going for a few years.

Additional sites

Check us out on blogger as well!

in reference to: His Words Blog (view on Google Sidewiki)

A Change Going Come...Walking in the light

I've been working for months - if only primarily in my head - on a theme of night or early morning images. I have other ideas in mind and on sketch pads, but as far as my preferred media, I've been working on these dark images. Many observations were made, lessons learned and images gathered. One lesson learned is there is always light, though it may not be the type we're accustomed to or comfortable with. Wake in the middle of the night, but rather than flipping on lights, leave them off. Most of us are comfortable enough in our living space to walk in the darkness. Find a chair, anywhere in your place. Sit and observe. Before you know it, you'll notice you can distinguish between the wall and a table or 'discern' an object on the floor ("kids, always leaving their socks lying around!). That's been the world I've captured for a while.

I'm certain I'll continue drawing and painting these themes; I still have a few paintings to do before I call it a done deal, but the image included here came just as many of the others do: in one of the moments when I'm dozing, I saw this image. It is a forest or a path thick with trees and foliage. The concept seems to be a place where most of us find a sense of discomfort. Others have a certain sense of exhilaration in nature. But most of us don't notice the play of lights and dark, filtering between the tree limbs. We don't notice the tones as sunlight mingles with earth tones on the road ahead of us, or beside us.

I think I'll be busy with images where there are highlights and judging by the inspiration I have, there will be a great deal. By the way, this is another image I work on for about 15 minutes a day (thanks, Alyson Stanfield for confirming my afternoon breaks!); it just so happens I took a day away from the daily grind and decided to spend time on this today. check www.flickr.com/photos/hudsongallery/ for the updated image. This is also a move toward working in daylight; hopefully I don't lose the edge of night. More to come...

What do you do on Day 3?

Since late April of last year, I've:

• Finished a second year of a Master's program for Counseling
• Begin painting
• Begin drawing
• Posted photos on my Facebook account
• Created a Flicker account
• Begin putting images out there
• Labeling and describing the images
• Created a blog (kind of fell off the regularity wagon on this one)
• Created a Twitter account
• Created a website
• Working on a monthly newsletter

I forget to mention, I sold a painting. But in the grand scheme of things, everything I do seems like day 3 of a very long journey. No discouragement or anxiety, just an acknowledgement that I have a great deal of work to do. 

I've said it before, work is good, especially when it's work you love. I've spent the last three weeks developing enough content to post to a website, then late nights and a long weekend wrangling files between my computer and the hosting company. And finally the site could be clearly seen. So many times, I wanted to call an 'expert.' But I kept reminding myself: "this is my work. And every detail I learn to do myself, the greater my help to myself."

Somewhere in the future, it's my hope that I am known by my art. I would like to have a following that allows me to rely solely on the business I create. I want to have my days (and nights if I desire) available to work as I see fit. Each day I do the work, each time I exercise my ability to "do the work," tossing aside exhaustion and frustration and pressing forward.

The day will come when I will rely on others to manage the business, but until then, I will struggle to establish my image and make Eddie L. Hudson, Gallery Hudson, Hudson Gallery and His Words, synonymous with creativity and light.

Just "Doing" it

At a moment (Ray Charles playing in the background) I'm doing it. I'm painting, the thing I say I was brought into the world to do. Last night, the night before and for the last two weeks, fear had my hands and mind locked. You know, I can see how artists, musicians, writers and other creatives end up dying of an overdose. There's a feeling that comes over me, a sense of existing in a world beyond this mundane existence of dinner, money and heartache.

So today, I shut off the television, put down the games, placed paint on the palette, picked up the brush and went at it. The corner of the basement I work in is cold (gotta love a Chicago winter), but until I stopped to reflect on the moment, I didn't notice. Between the work, the process, and flow of energy, personal comfort didn't matter. All that mattered was the doing it. My constant prayer is that the only concerns are the process and those effected by the work.