Pass it On!

About 10 years ago, when my "middle guy" was 7, he began drawing superheroes and cars and stuff. Nothing unusual; at his age, I did the same things and so did many of my classmates. Everyone was an artist! We didn't concern ourselves with our student loans, the need to put grocery on the table, and whether we could afford a new or "used" hybrid ~ selah! But it was his intensity in drawing that sent up silent hope and a prayer: Lord, bless him to use the talent I have not.

At the time, my art supplies from college were buried somewhere in my parents basement and in my head, "art" was 20 years away for me, hidden behind retirement from drudgery and income-earning. Praying this prayer, of course I secretly longed for my own deliverance, even if, in my estimation, it would only be possible after I served my punishment, having abandoned my talents to the back of my mind, in 1984.

"EJ," as he is known, loved art, but not like his dad. When he started high school, he had his one exposure to an art class. He loved it! When I went with him to an open house the following year, his sophomore year, he wasn't interested in my meeting his current teachers; he wanted me to meet his art teacher from freshman year. An uneventful meeting, on the surface, but beneath words unsaid was the sense that an "artist" was meeting an "artist," introduced by an artist. That same year, he found 'art' behind the lens, in the way my analytical, mechanical minded son would. He was bored with the drawing of details, but he loved that a camera could fill in the blanks with ease. He took pictures of everything, learning composition and lighting and constantly researching as any current generation genius does - through youtube!

Honestly, I still find it strange and fascinating that he's willing to take pictures of me or my "studio." It's as if some magic or wonder is still held in this old guy; I guess that's the bond of parents with children. The image attached is his work, and through his eyes, I see 'me' in a new light. Where I normally see a cluttered combination exercise/studio/office, he sees a land of wonder and imagination. Where I see a place confining, he sees an open door to endless possibility.

I titled this blog entry "Pass it on," but often, it seems my son (and oldest daughter and youngest son) pass on to me an appreciation of the "who" God made me to be. I silently pray that not a day goes by where I don't live up to the possibility God and my children think me capable of.

It's been awhile...

It isn't a lack of things to say - I don't believe there's a day goes by where I don't have a wealth of words to share. No, it is the challenge of the fit. The "fit" is getting the words out on a regular basis and climbing over the wall of self-confidence to share my insights.

I'm no exception; I'm sure we all have a voice, a word to share with one another. As our world slowly moves into a value system where humanity is the asset we cannot live without, we must learn to value, first ourselves and then everyone else. We don't have to spend years "getting to know 'me'" before we extend a helping hand to our neighbor. And if one examines their life, you would probably find you're doing so already.

I love living the life of a "bringer of light." I find, it's a role I've been serving in since childhood. There are times when the challenge is to put a different color on the light (truth, compassion, honesty, creativity, ingenuity) to make it palatable, but simply doing so is just as much the challenge. And yet, I continue; I share what insights I've experienced and my unique perspective on life. There are times when it feels like I'm throwing a drop of water into a great stream, but toss it I do; perhaps the very words or an image will touch the lives of someone and alter their perception and bring hope.

I'm Learning - Soul Dance

The lady emerged over a few weeks, as I sat in my car at lunch. Taking out my sketch book for 5, maybe 10 minutes at a time, I would either flip pages in the book, looking for something specific to work on or simply open it, allowing a blank page or previous work to guide my hand. These were "interesting days," where I only allowed myself these small breaks, to consider practicing what I love. Yeah, I got "issues."

As I said, she slowly came forward, actually, without my noticing until I saw the sway of her brown hips and ample rear moving amidst splashes of color. Excitement didn't overtake me, forcing me to complete the image; having other pictures and responsibilities to attend to in this short period of time, I worked on it as I had time. Currently, I'm concentrating my energies in the part of the drawing where Red seems to be cooling.

I'm learning in such works, to allow it to gather it's own strength and tell its own story. There are certainly times, as I sit before paper or a canvas, I have a title and story in mind. There are times when the message is clear and I can tell it, start to finish before I begin. But in cases like Soul Dance, I sit before the paper, with the same Right-Brain freedom my mom exhibited years ago; it was as though her hand knew to draw a flower or a cube, but didn't need the full concentration of cognitive thought. While on the phone, she would have a sheet of loose leaf paper nearby or in the corner of her phone book, she would sketch. And in that moment the door was opened on my own brand of creativity.

I'm learning to allow the work - the message - to define itself. In the swirls above the dancer's head, there is this sense of sky and worlds 'above.' At her feet is a world cooling down to something concrete. And in the middle, she dances about, spinning and gathering the forces of both.

I'm leaning to see with eyes that understand the marks on the page, hear the music playing (though no one can hear) and to be attuned to a words whispered.

What Others See

The other day, I held up "Triplicate" for my wife to see my progress. Her face said it before the words came out: "uh, business as usual." Her words were: "It's nice, really nice." But I pressed for more, "but..." She said it just seems all your work is the same.

There was a time when that response would leave me wondering whether my work was a true expression of what I wanted to communicate, but lately, having spent time looking carefully at the works in progress, connecting my soul to the work, I came to the conclusion that my work for the last year is about a release of energy. I always got a kick out of using multiple colors, so much so, even with "common" themes of still life, street scenes, there was the release of energy, about capturing and reflecting the rainbow of colors on the edges of leaves, and splashing brightness where ever possible.

Lately, the pattern is embraced. Please believe, I love nearly every subject and painterly style, including landscapes. But seeing through the eyes of my wife, I came to accept that I have a "style." I'll keep working on it; continue to look out for it. Thanks!

Triplicate: Near Complete/When it gets REALLY Good!

I'm putting the finishing touches on Triplicate and actually, there's a few more bold steps I have to take to call it complete. But when it gets "this good," when I look at the actual image or the picture, I feel the energy. Some have said the work is calming, relaxing or makes them feel better. If that's the case, take a huge dose and apply liberally! LOL

When it gets this good...I really could go at this night and day. Rather than look back at my past with regrets, I choose to thank God for the choices I made. Yes, I didn't think it was possible to get back to it, but in actuality, that was the ember of hope keeping me from losing my mind! When it gets this good, on days when I know someone is waiting for me to do something for them or I could be preparing dinner or cutting the grass, I reflect on the work I choose to do and realize, this is my contribution to the world. In the short term, mom's car is dirty and has been for weeks. In the now, dinner may have to be the corner restaurant down the street or whatever everyone puts their hands on. But for the long haul? This work satisfies my soul. I hope it does the same for you.

I Thought it was done...

I think anyone that works on something without a step-by-step plan can identify, but I'm certain an artist can. That is, you're working on the 'thing' and you see shapes coming forth and you can't wait to see the end. Not that you're tired of it, but in my case, often I want to see how the finished product comes together, just to gauge my thoughts about it.

Triplicate is my first work done while I'm in this new phase of my life. Given the time of day, the amount of energy I can exert, it didn't feel risky or  too ambitious; it felt right. So as the colors and shapes came together, and the center filled in, I felt a bit of apprehension about "the end" and the edges of the work. I journaled and studied the feel of the piece and concluded it was energy. I thought I saw a sunrise in the left panel, a womb in the middle and an explosion on the right.

But it isn't done. I post a picture as it is at this moment, but it isn't done, there's still work to be done. Watch!

It's Jazz

Love the recordings that make their way to the final release, where there’s dialogue between the artist(s) and the recording engineer or just dialogue you know they didn’t intend (initially) to release to the public. It’s truly the human side of this creative process. And this creativity is certainly me. As I was to turning to look at the two things I’m working on, contemplating shapes, colors, movement, I hear the end of a recording by Oscar Peterson (Moten Swing (alternate take)) and it sounds like ‘they’ are talking about ways to edit or where to place the song. I played the end another time to determine what they’re talking about, but I didn’t get it. It really didn’t matter, I had gotten what I needed: humanity.

This follows pretty well behind Seth Godin’s blog today: “Rehearsing is for Cowards.” Funny; I do a great deal of looking back – at history, my past, etc. I think about the origins of Jazz music, one of the earliest forms of “American (North America, specifically the United States of America) Music.” I think about the disdain for it, the declaring it to be “devil music,” and despising anyone who listened to it on a regular basis. Then I laugh when I think today we have “Christian Jazz,” which to someone born before 1900, would seem like a true sign of the apocalypse. But we have it and we love it in nearly all its forms. And the funnier thing is now the majority of our society won’t consciously listen to jazz.

In it’s true form while it can be practiced, the best parts of it are the innovations musicians come up with on a continuous basis. That’s true of all art forms, especially visual art. Thinking back, I hated paint-by-number kits before it became popular to do so. Yes, I wanted a picture perfect painting, but I wanted to do it myself without someone directing which paint went where. Nowadays, I can render as I like; I don’t have a number, a teacher or anyone else for that matter, dictating what colors and shapes to use. As a matter of fact, some of my best work is that I do when I’m sitting with pencil, pastel or brush in hand, following a pattern that doesn’t seem to exist. I simply go and go and sit back, amazed at the mixture of shapes and colors. It’s Jazz!