The Turn

No one understands where it comes from and of course we don't know where it leads; the turn. Shows up all over the place! You don't have to call for it or request it, though we do. We want our bank accounts fat, our homes 5 bedrooms and 6 baths, and our spouses to understand us. But the turn...

Find yourself staring at the bend in a road especially when you've mapped out "straight ahead" as the preferred direction, and you find yourself anticipating trouble. Sometimes that bend is exactly what was needed, except at the time, it's the turn in our gut that tells us 'no.'

Experience tells us, if we listen, that bends and turns don't come for nothing and often they are exactly on time. Finding yourself wondering as you stare at a turn you didn't anticipate? Hold on, slow down and ride the bend to see what's on the other side.

Peace.

Same Old Stuff

 

RISE!

Working on a new pastel image, “Rise;” feeling good about the colors, the layout and how I’m inspired to show it to the wife (funny how, no matter how old I am, I still go back to "mommy” for approval). She makes it downstairs, asks, “That’s what you’re working on?” I say “yes,” and she says, “looks like everything else you’ve done.” Slight ouch!

See, this is a work of heart, comes from my allowing my spirit to commune with God. So, hearing that is more of the “same old” (yes, sorely tempted to use Jean-Michele Basquiat’s aka SAMO), I sat quietly with my disappointment.

I’m slow, takes time to process stuff, so going to bed, these thoughts in the back of my head, I looked at the rendering with fresh, morning eyes: same old stuff…THAT’S GREAT! I have a style! Now mind you, she’s right, and mind you, she’s wrong. When I work on something from the heart, typically the image is completely abstract expressionist. This image began with the central figure, the lady seemingly stretching and rising. Never mind, she isn’t anatomically correct, this isn’t about capturing or rendering precision and the body ideal, the image is my expression. The colors are me.

I can’t speak for other artists, only me, when I say, so often inspiration, an idea comes to mind and in the process of developing the image, I begin laying down the sketch of that idea. Sometimes, there isn’t an idea in mind, just a need to render. I lay down pastel, oil paint or charcoal and it’s shape begins to appear. Often, as I’m rendering, other colors or textures, and brush strokes come to mind. Progressing through an image, it’s like having a plate of food before me, full of the best seasoned, best prepared morsels I’ve ever tasted and every bite is like a symphony in my mouth. If there’s good music playing, the combination of music and food brings me to a personal dance. That’s what happens when I stand or sit in front of a work.

Is it all the same? Oh, if you only knew, if it were possible to explain how I am moved to render! Maybe in time, with practice, I can move away from the ‘technical’ aspect of describing a brush stroke, but for now, please accept this explanation: in those moments, it is as if God and I were speaking to one another, completing one another’s sentence and laughing at one another’s jokes. Hope that helps to understand this sense of JOY!

In Process

The Turn...also In Process

 There is something to be said for development. For the last 15 years or so, I’ve been involved, career-wise, in the Software Development Life Cycle. I’ve worked as a business analyst, data analyst and software tester, also known as a Quality Assurance Analyst. The goal has always been to produce a great application, one that meets the customer’s needs. I have worked on multiple projects and watched them go from one or two line requirements to installations on multiple computers, across networks and even across the world. And there is more that can be said for the continued development.

Thirteen years ago, traveling home from work, a question came to mind: “Where do you want to be in 10 years?” Instantly, without hesitation, I envisioned me in a studio space, painting, large canvas in front of me, palette in one hand, brush in the other. And my response was just as fast: “I want to be an artist.” Wasn’t painting at the time; I had paints but didn’t know I had them. I had brushes but they were hidden as well. In that moment, 10 years seemed like a lifetime, as though I was saying, “30 years from now, I should be ready,” or “When I don’t have any excuses, I’ll be ready to do paint again.” Hmmm…the power of a ‘confused mind!’ Certainly, I was excited at the prospect of getting back to my first love; nothing moves me like being in front of a canvas or blank sheet of paper and allowing the work to flow, but Who Would I Be, as an artist? How would I survive? Would my wife leave me because I was a starving artist? All of these feelings surfaced in that same moment I imagined me as an artist. And those feelings kept me imprisoned for 10+ years. But there was work “in process” I knew nothing about.

This is a blog, not my life story, so I’m not boring you with the details. Suffice it to say “I’M BACK!” But funny thing about being back, gone for so long and having to travel so far: I feel like there is so much work to do! Not that sinking feeling when you’re building a house and you look up from hammering a 2 x 4, and realize you’re only at the base of the building. No, this is the feeling like: “I’ve accomplished major milestones; keep going, we have time to improve the current structure and plenty of time to build on additions. I’m in process and making progress…

If My Peers are The Standard...

After the Dance

 Competition is a funny thing; it can be subtle, nearly undetectable, like natural gas without the ‘funk’ additive. J It sneaks up on you, especially when your aim is to live your life on your own terms. Not everyone lives with a ‘scarcity mentality,’ that is, a belief that there’s only a short amount of ______ to go around. A classic example from my past is high school and college art courses. In Still Life 1 (too long ago to be sure if that was a title), we came into the classroom and the teacher arranged a boot, a glass vase, a gourd and a plastic apple and orange, on a table. Our assignment was to draw the images. In a classroom with artists skilled in hand-eye coordination, in an hour’s time, they were finished, including shading, highlights and rendering the various textures. But there were other students who, in an hour’s time, were struggling to round the orange, or they somehow had the boot looking like a swatch of cowhide. But there was a third group: the students who were making a valiant effort, with the shining example of the first group as their model. They had erase marks on paper, a look of determination and frustration on their brow, but they were faring “better” than the second group.

And so it goes: competition without really trying. I recall folks showing up with a number 2 pencil and believing that to be sufficient. It was and can be. But when they would see me with my set of pencils with designations from 4H to 4B, a pink pearl eraser and maybe a kneaded eraser; you could see that sense of self-esteem slip a bit. But I wasn’t the standard and truthfully, I was striving to reach the standard others were setting. I watched them, bodies relaxed, yet focused on the task, confidence shining like a silver knight’s armor. I wanted to be one of them.

I’m not sure if it’s the “times” or a movement that seems to be happening “right now,” but for me, my life is ordered by a higher direction. Certainly, I may look at the work of a Serge Kponton, or Matthew Ivan Cherry and think “I wish I could render the way he does,” but most of the time, I hear someone who seems to direct my work in other ways. I am not instructed to “do it just like him or her” but to allow my mind, my body and my soul to receive what is there and to render as He directs. It’s a beautiful thing!

My peers…they aren’t the standard any more. There is one who directs my steps and he is more than a standard; he’s my muse and spirit of abundance.

Clarity’s Call

Clear Channel

 

This is a repeating theme, but as additional definition and shape come forward, I have to share. I’ve looked at the body of my expressive work, the work that some would call abstract. I’ve considered the ‘naming’ process, especially when I think of musicians like Pat Metheny and Bob James, Roy Hargrove and Joshua Redman. That way you contemplate what is being said “here.” Sitting at work with a piece, I search for the message it seems to convey. And clarity comes through.

There are times I see fine details in a painting before I touch brush to canvas. A response, an answer to a problem I didn’t know existed. Clarity. At times, it’s the simple bob of my head to a song I hear adds to the joy experienced in these precious moments. Moments become eternity when things are made clear.

Love guides my hand; it is both a response and a call. Love motivates me to write and give further light to the subject of my renderings. So sacred are these glimpses into eternity, I would be remiss if I didn’t share the Love. So I paint, sometimes I grab a pencil and sketch, or a pastel and allow the intense colors to draw lines from me to God and back again.

My friends, this is my sharing. This is my heart given to you. Allow the light of God to guide you and reshape you.

Declarative Statement

Shaken Up!

It’s important to make your statement.

I know I’m not alone when I say this, but more often than not, I wonder what difference my contribution to the world makes. Do I have an impact? Will the lack of response from those who see my words and images prevent me? 

And when I sit to draw or paint or write, no visible or audible audience is near, and yet I express myself, regardless. And yet, there is an unseen audience that hears, sees, and inspires what is said and rendered. Who is my audience? I’ve asked that question, trying to determine who to ‘target’ for the work. Well, if I take Jesus at his word, then this is my audience: “But I, when I’m lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself.” (John 12:32)

This isn’t a declaration of the Christian message in plain text. No, this is declaration of the supremacy of God as the creator of all things. I don’t deny my faith in Christ or his deity. I don’t deny that I believe he upholds, holds together, all things by the word of His power.  And yet, though he does this, I know he is intimately involved in my life. He brought me back to my calling, the expression of creativity. He has expanded that expression with words as well.

Sometimes I wonder if others understand; concerned with clarity I do a great deal of editing and withholding. I think I’m somehow ‘responsible’ for YOUR understanding. Then I remember years of underground work done in my life. When I was busy raising children, earning money, and working in ministry, and felt completely helpless, God was doing work that others could not see. While I was depressed to the point of suicide because I didn’t feel like I was being heard or was making a difference in the world, God continued to listen as well as express his love for me. I will continue to express myself in the unique way God has gifted me. Someone, somewhere and somewhen, is listening. They are listening, they are watching and the message is sinking so deep in their soul that the only way they can respond is by the grace of God as he works secretly, underneath the surface of their conscious. His work is never in vain!

It's Okay...We'll Take Our Time

I pulled out a charcoal sketch I begin a year ago. As it often is, I start things on what some would call a ‘whim,’ a quick thought or near gut reaction. I took the time after the last time I worked on it, to spray a workable fixative on it, so as not to smear it and just in case I wanted to finish it. Following that ‘gut’ again, I took it out of the case where I keep my work, taped it to my easel, fully intending to return to it today.

Before long, it was time to start dinner. I’m no cook and certainly don’t prepare dinner often enough to be quick about it, so as usual it took some time before dinner was done. As a matter of fact, I had just put the tilapia in the oven when my wife made it home from work. Oh well, so much for having dinner on the table.

Plan B: get back to the charcoal sketch, put finishing touches on two paintings and revel in my success. Plan C: sit back and wonder where the time and energy went. Plan C got a unaminous vote. It’s late, I’m tired, and I’m awake in less than 5 hours. I’m calling it a night. But sitting up looking at the sketch, I realized I had areas of detail to be worked out and like finding a treasure buried in sand, getting that detail out will take some time. In the moment I realize I don’t have a deadline. I also came to realize this: the discovery is not in the destination (reward) but in the journey (effort).

I know how it easy it is to be focused on the other side of an equation. You know 2+2=4 or man+woman=romance; we spend a lot of time looking at the right side of the equal sign and want to rush to get to it. But…