Linen...progressing Expressively

This past week I turned 50. The big 5-0. And I'm glad to say it doesn't feel like I thought it would! At birthdays, the beginning of a new year, a new day, I make assessments, evaluate progress and determine what corrections and changes are needed. So it is with my latest work. Actually, this week, in evaluating my life through journaling, I realized a "flow" exists in all aspects of my life. I have come to acknowledge, at any given moment, I may feel joy, pain, sorrow, love and any number of opposing feelings. I have also discovered it is the EXPRESSION behind my expressions.

Any given morning, when I take a moment to look back at the bed, the sheets and comforter are twisted and strewn about as if a storm hit. But the best night's sleep is had in such a wake. My body and the sheets paint a picture of wrestling with spirit and a world beyond sight. This is my work, this is my life. A friend at my current contract assignment has me pegged as a "future employee." I repeatedly declare there's more to "Eddie" than meets the eye. I might seem compliant, agreeable and a "team player," but there is a side of me that will not allow me to simply "go with the flow." I am a mix of rebel and patriot, friend and antagonist. And though for the most part I seek peace for all, I am fully aware that peace sometimes comes as a result of speaking one's truth and that truth disturbs the quiet.

Linen, the work displayed is 'me.' It is a mix of colors and patterns. There are parts that don't fit and when you think you have pieces "compartmentalized" - code expression for "categorized" - it turns and twists off into a world you can't see. Linen is my expression of a complex of twists and turns that so very often I don't understand about me. While it is me, it is not all of me...there is always more to come and far more to know about me.

Linen...In progress

Sunday morning...preparation for Praising God. Unashamedly Christian, in love with a God whose love holds all things together and yet allows man to find him of his own choice. Awesome. Had to say it, record that thought before anything else is said.

Sunday morning. I'll keep this brief - I hope. Sometimes the flow starts and things are stated I didn't know were there. Like the painting currently on the easel. It began as an act to fill a huge canvas purchased about a year ago. Had another image in mind but knew I didn't research enough to bring it to canvas, yet. So I grabbed the canvas, setting aside a "self-portrait" (I might allow that one to get some "air time," one day), fresh paint remaining on the palette, I did what has become my habit: applied a stroke here, there, allowing an image to take shape. The colors to guide me. Subtle oranges, yellows and tainted white began to appear, like "Linen," folded, stretched and creased over a surface. Beautiful!

That was some months ago, before giving my best hours of the day to an employer. At short intervals, I sit with a few dabs of paint on the palette, apply a little here or there and observe its progress. More often than not, I look at the painting as I sit in my morning devotional time, contemplating its message and direction.

Anyone that follows my work knows I LOVE colors, and mixing them in ways both unexpected and strangely subtle. Texture is another vital part of my work, as I mirror what life is to me. Life is full of complexities, layers of people, thoughts, experiences, sounds, sights and LOVE. Like the journey of life, the experience of painting has become a long distance run. There are certainly times when I want the sojourn to be over, the Finish Line to be in the perceivable moment, but that isn't life, and for this painting, for the time being, that is not possible. I see so many more layers to go, so many subtle colors to apply and when it's all said and done, we will ALL see the end result.

It's a a surface with a linen texture and when it's all said and done, it will remain the same. Except it will have multiple layers of colors, strange textures and daily experiences where you find yourself wondering "how did I get to this point?" That life...that's Linen.

A Life?

Landscape

 

On Joshua Redman’s cd “Beyond,” he has a song by the above title: “A Life?” The song does not sound like a question so much as it is a statement: A Life. – please note the period.

From a pure emotional, intellectual and creative response, in my opinion, the CD is near unmatched and probably undiscovered by most people. He just happens to be one of my favorite musicians, so listening to Joshua every now and then, and this recording in particular, is a necessity. Couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve listened to this cd alone, over and over again. Especially when brooding over art in process, having a life of its own. A Life? Again, not a question but a statement.

In any given moment, quiet reflection brings me to wonder about my life. A life, my life, The Life; whatever brings me to the point of reflection. Sometimes, it’s the sheer weight of the glut of activity at any given point in my life. The twists and turns and the way life seems to fold back on itself; at any given moment, it’s a roller coaster ride where I should be familiar but in that moment I’m totally baffled by the roll and twist.

A life. Like Joshua’s quiet beginning, life has moments of quiet reflection. Sitting in the waiting room while my father is in a lab having an angiogram – which, by the way has to be making him nervous – I reflect as if I were at the center of a whirlwind, the stuff of life swirling around me, so close, that at any second, I can literally snatch a thought out of the spinning chaos, examine it, and allow it to swirl away, only to be seen again…and again…and again.

A life…calm for a moment then climbing and collapsing, spinning and near intangible in its swirl. At any moment, life happens and it needs no encouragement or judgment. It happens while we’re asleep and whether we want it to continue or not. If I decide to “check out,” call it quits, I have not stopped my presence, my life. Even after I disappear from the headlines, another victim of the circumstances of life, my life, your life,  will be examined, picked apart and dissected. Someone at some time, will look at what they determine are the facts of our life, determined to know ‘why.’ But life has more mysteries and hidden agendas than all of put together could conjure up. It is, after all, LIFE. A LIFE. A Life? a life.

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.