Mercutio

After intense focus on my last painting, ‘Mercutio‘…eating, sleeping, thinking about it, I am at that place again of starting over. I am very proud of ‘Mercutio‘ and feel I walked through the bone, muscle, blood and skin of that figure under the dense velvet of that robe. I can see it in my mind and almost ‘feel’ the figure. An artist may not live on the success of any work and its time to move on. Beginning again almost always brings depression and struggle, so I have been living in that place for a few weeks now underneath the busyness of life. The business is coming to an end and the faint voice in the distance of that next work is eye to eye with me now demanding to be contended with. Health issues have abounded lately and being one of those folks whose physical state is directly linked to her emotional state I am not winning the victory at the moment. I have learned that it WILL come to me but I have to be reminded not to take this gift for granted thus the fight. I have learned to look at my bodily struggles in the same manner. Health is a gift. The art is a gift. We do not appreciate things that come easily. The seasons of struggle teach us that lesson.

9:30 clu

Rollins, Black Flag 1983 (left) and Ian, Minor Threat (right)(photo Glen Freidman)

Craig and I went to a show at the 9:30 club on Sunday night as sort of chaperones. Along with Atlanta’s Metroplex and CBGB’S the 9:30 is historic as far as being a birthing ground for important music in the last 20 plus years. Walking through the doors was amazing for me. Having been embedded into the scene in the early 80s I learned early on about the existence of the 9:30 club.

Once I tried to explain to the mother of one of our charges my own experience and how I felt seeing Black Flag live for the first time or hearing the Melvins for the first time. These were life changing events for me. As a teenager I always felt like I didn’t belong anywhere and in this community I found a place where people felt and thought as I did. I lived in that community of comrades for many years and still hold to some of the ideas and thoughts.
The punk and underground scenes began as a protest against the overproduced, overly long songs of the 70s. That was the time of the reclaiming of the simplicity of music and the idea it belonged to everyone in a protest against rock stardom. People started their own record companies and pressed their own records and printed their own magazines. Lyrics were about ideas and issues. The hairstyles and clothes were a direct attack on the establishment and being status quo; not being one of the herd. This was a time of do-it-yourself in music and thought. We certainly had our share of boneheads, but it was mostly a positive scene.

Though I did not hear or see anything I haven’t before on Sunday night, I was impressed by the fact that the next generation has embraced this music and that for them it is a totally new thing. The electricity is still in the air. You can feel it as soon as the first chord is struck. You can almost see the energy of the music. And to see a new group of people experience what I experienced (and still experience) is really amazing to see

abstract art

I have been looking at a lot of abstract art lately. This kind of work used to absolutely annoy me. It seemed an excuse not to work on anything that has form. Many artists see the modern art period as detrimental to art history feeling it has made artists and audience lazy. I like a lot of it now that my hyper critical stance about art has sort of settled down and now see that whether something is art or whether someone connects to it is purely subjective. I also realized I was creating some of it myself in my paintings without really realizing it. I did see some stupid comment on an abstract artist’s website stating that "Art that has to be explained has failed." That was the last line under his explanation of abstract art under the title ‘An explanation of abstract art’. There are times I feel that many artists do ‘folk’ art or ‘abstract art’ kind of as a way to avoid anything hard or anything that takes work. I have seen a lot of artist’s statements ..a lot…..at several galleries recently that basically say ‘I am not interested is technique but in the emotion or primitive effect, in my instinctual interpretation…….’. And I am sure some of them are being truthful and this is valid but this way of "working’ seems to be more and more common.
For me, the abstract or impressionistic paintings I do are a ‘break’ so to speak from my more representation work that I really put a lot of thought and sweat (sometimes blood) into. Its fun time. And I find that when I am creating these paintings that abstract images continually come into my mind when I am NOT working, most strongly at night when I am going to sleep. Colors in layers and in drips and strokes naturally flicker in my mind like photos. Weird. But it really shows the strong, strong effect that pure color has on the mind and soul. I think that accounts for the huge popularity of abstract art forms. I have read the myriad of definitions of what abstract art is. I still don’t get it.

Atlanta excursion

We returned monday from a short trip to Atlanta to see family and friends. The appeal of traveling is wearing for me. Atlanta doesn’t hold a lot of reasons other than my sister and her kids for me to return, but Craig was born and raised there and obviously has much more invested. Starting with the failure of a family member to book us a hotel room and great difficulty finding one, we stayed one night at a dump where the rooms were freshly painted causing us both massive headaches. We moved the next day thankfully having found better quarters.

By the time sunday rolled around after too much socializing, most of which was enjoyable, mind you, a depressing bit of news from my sister and hard to handle in-laws, I was getting sick. Literally. I wanted to go home. I think even Craig did and he is the most social creature I know.
We did go to a friend’s gallery openning saturday night. It was a group show and although most of the work was pretty uncompelling to me, there was this painting by James McLaughlin Way called "25 Hands". Yeah, another horse painting, but the thing about this one way that it is HUGE. It has to be something like 60′ x 30′. That’s FEET. Beautiful and I always love to see things painted big.

Also as we were in the hotel room one night PBS had a piece on Sunny Taylor. Amazing. Have a look if you want to stop complaining and get a kick in the tail.
Home now. And after much wrestling, "Jeff" is finally birthed……..

western society and over abundance

I have really weird and changing sleep patterns. I don’t remember ever being a solid sleeper even when I was on antidepressants for six years (yes, perpetuating the stereotype that artists are depressed people, I know..). I should be working today…. I feel out of my body today. I wake up over and over throughout the night. The recent tsunami disaster has really effected me. I so internalize images that they become their own life in my mind and its like I was there. I have to be diligent about what I allow myself to see, hear and think…it can consume me and I spiral completely out of control.
I have been thinking about our well off western society and our over abundance and consumerist way of life and how that way of life creates in us an weakness, an inability to understand the suffering of others or at least we are able to momentarily feel and then just as quickly turn it off and go to Starbuck’s. In thinking about what to DO…what I can do about this tragedy over and above contributing financially to aid, which is the American way…write a check and its fixed….I found that by entering into the grief of the people who have been a part of it I can do something more. Sympathy is a big thing, isn’t it? And somehow in my high walls and soft clothing when I can enter into that pain God sees it and the incense of that grief goes up before Him and we enter into the human condition of the destiny of inevitable and certain loss

living in reality

Living in reality is a challenge for me. I am a realistic person, but my creative mind takes me to all four corners of my brain….at all times. Dreams are intensely detailed and colored.. much like novels. Constant imagined places, people and situations ebb and flow in my mind naturally while awake. It is a difficult gift to get control of and I can quickly dissociate from any reality I am in. I don’t lose touch I just go somewhere in my own mind. And honestly I prefer it to reality.. though none of it is real. When I am not sleeping well there is a strange unsettled feeling and I have a hard time staying focused, so getting painting or anything else done is virtually impossible. I have never been able to discipline this imagination and quite frankly it is who I am as an artist. As an artist this ability is essential to my work but guilt that comes with it in a conventional society is at times overwhelming. I still struggle to accept this gift a gift. Apparently my personality type comprises a very small percentage of the population. I was relieved to read the studies about personality types. I can see that its true and have know that from early on. Always thinking that I am the weird one or the outsider and why is everyone else so normal. So, all this to say that I have produced little real work today… I am in the zone.

I knew this person in Atlanta who was a bit of an environmental nut. Her blood would begin boil when she saw anyone driving an SUV. I have to confess that I too have a rise in my blood temperature at the sight of one of those obnoxious, huge consumerist fuel burning machines (which by the way are usually driven by a woman who doesn’t know how to handle it). And when they have a few of the myriad of environmental stickers on the back its even more ridiculous. So, those SUVs are like lepers to her. Everyone has lepers in their life. Each of us has something that we are absolutely unwilling to touch or accept or forgive even. Mine would be the act of anyone throwing trash out of their car or worse yet flicking a cigarette on the ground. I have a fond memory 8in my B.C. days of following someone to a traffic light and throwing the offending butt back in through their car window stating, "You dropped something". I have more self control now, but it is something that I never could understand or comprehend. It is, in my opinion, the height of arrogance, laziness and inconsideration and something that says VOLUMES about a person. Sitting in Panera the other day I watched a woman take one last drag out on the sidewalk and throw that lit cigarette into the sidewalk before coming inside. You know how you make movies of yourself? I made a movie of myself like Jesus in the temple. I jumped out of my seat and started the grand confrontation about the offense…..sandwiches and soup bowls flying everywhere……in my indignation. And she felt really bad about it and learned a lesson.