Thought for The Day - Speak for Yourself

I've been a fairly quiet person all my life; never prone to long speeches or dominating a conversation. I want to be heard, but I understand the power of listening as well. I have friends who can talk at length about "anything" and "nothing" in particular and that's also been the case most of my life. I guess I get if from my father, who would get into conversations with his peers, they would go on and on, and all you would hear him say is "oh yeah," and "great day!" His smile and laugh always present.

My work speaks for me, its message can be misconstrued, misunderstood and perhaps minimized and marginalized, but for now, what I write and what is expressed in the colors and lines are my most meaningful expression.

Examine carefully and in both word and visual expression, you will find layers and twists, purpose and meaning hidden in the basic presentation. But then, we are so accustomed to a glut of words being the equivalent of profound thought, perhaps the simplicity will hide what I'm saying...not really. One day it will be clear.

Thought for The Day - Name That Tune

I had a conversation with a coworker not too long ago about art, specifically abstract art. Most of my work is expressionist, very vibrant colors, with subtle turns in shades of blues, greens and oranges. For me, it's my palette, it's the very colors that come from my soul and I wouldn't have it any other way!

He was interested in knowing what it all means, why the shapes and colors form as they do. He said "I really want to know." I took a few seconds to consider how to respond, since I have considered the question myself. I have wondered how, especially jazz musicians come up with the titles for their songs and other visual artist give names to pieces. I've wondered, while in process, what "this piece" means to me and in "naming it," what message would the designation communicate to the observer. I told my coworker that for me, the process of naming the work, the telling of the message hidden in shape and colors is a matter of naming the story or idea. It is sharing my vision, my perspective with my audience. At the time, I didn't feel my explanation to be adequate, but as I have learned, any given moment is a puzzle piece for the whole of life.

But it dawned on me just recently, that while we love naming, quantifying and measuring everything around us, you or I can barely put a name on the impression a song leaves on you. In this moment, I'm listening to one of my favorite artists: Robert Glasper with a song 'entitled:' "Y'Otta Praise Him." Now the beat has samples of Christian flavored songs, but the beats are subtle, with my favorite improvisation runs jazz musicians are famous for. I could listen to music all day...and I could paint all day...and I could sit in the middle of good conversations with great people all day...but I can't name that tune; I simply live it. Some songs bring up memories, others, story ideas or Friday night dates, but name that tune? No, I would rather enjoy the moment. 

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!