Style and Inspiration

Throughout the years 

I’ve looked upon masterpieces,

a great painting or drawing

created by a

legend,

filled with covetous desire.

In this age of readily available artistic imagery through social media 

the paintings that my mind gravitates towards has changed from one or two ideas or images, 

perhaps a Klimt here or a Degas there,

into a non stop onslaught of paintings that are ownerless and orphaned in the sea of an algorithm.

The feeling still persists, so much so that I have curbed my use of social media

If the covetous desire is still present among these headless paintings the question arises in me,

what is it that I covet? 

Admiration?

Maybe. 

At the most foundational level it comes down to possessing the ability to move others in the way that the painting has moved me. 

in other words

Control.

in my youth outside of a clear artistic statement or intention the idea of painting was not just admiration—it was the desire to move others the way I’ve been moved. 

Control over how my work is received. Control over how it makes the viewer feel. Control over a life that at times, and despite my best efforts, felt out of my control.

Escapism

To put my attention on what is outside of myself to not have to deal with what is inside

for if my aim and efforts were to control how people felt when looking upon a piece then I was able to forget how out of control I felt  

 Make no mistake painting for me isn’t about control. 

The covetous feeling of seeing a technique, colour scheme, shape, technique is about control.

When painting I don’t want to dictate what someone feels—I want to create something that activates them.

It’s easy to borrow techniques, compositions, or styles, thinking they hold the answer. That they illustrate a clear path to my artistic growth, and at the end of the day, success.

But if I use them without a unique personal intention, I’m not truly  painting—I’m securing a perceived outcome. 

The real question isn’t how to paint a certain way,

but why I want to?

What does this painting bring up in me? 

Why do I wish for the ability to duplicate that reaction in others?

The way I paint was present before any painting tool was taken up.

It was covered under the many guises I had adopted to feel safe and hidden for fear of being outcast, shamed or ridiculed 

Style isn’t something I take or acquire—it’s something that

emerges. 

Style is me baring my soul to the world

Style is the shape of my honesty.

Painting is the tool I use to explore my truth

When I stop trying to control, when I paint from the place where my heart resides, the work breathes— 

“I” 

breathe

At times fearful shallow breaths

At others 

deep and courageous 

but at the end of the day

It is

me 

Metadata

How might I express to you,

my beautiful soul,

What it is I wish

for you to understand?

Not that the information is being given or transmitted but,

Activated from within,

switched on.

Something that is outside of my desires

A painting that opens the door to a memory

Shapes of colour that that act as a flint

So that some part within you, like steel

Is struck

And when these two parts find each other

A spark is created

the creation of life is found

within the painting

Within you

Within the interaction

So as you approach the painting

Lay your eyes lazily upon the surface

Turn away

And with haste,

step away

intent on a destination

And during the third or fourth stride

Spin quickly on your heels

What grabs you?

Do you feel tethered to the image?

Bound?

Pull at the string attached

From you to the painting

So how did it happen?

How could this paint covered canvas

bring you to a place

Whether you recognize it or not

That feels like home

That makes you feel safe

How may I explain to you the steps made with paint

The decisions I take

In order to activate

That place

And feeling

Welling up within?

I’m absolutely floored on the complexity of mark making that is possible.

The seemingly infinite amount of strokes that I have made(and will continue to make)

Falling in and out of the fads of my youth

Pliable

And over time Aging like liquorice in a bag left open

Becoming rigid

Slowly beginning to break apart until,

The present moment,

in the midst of letting it all go

Neither here or there

And at the same time

holding on for dear life

In all seriousness

the effort in painting for me lies in feeling authentically, being open, to what is in front of me

simplifying the visual language so that you may have the opportunity at finding a connection to the work

and in turn to me

This explains that in the distant horizon exists

A part of me that

Finds a connection in you

I can understand that you may have been feeling lost as of late, alone

Maybe not understood?

Betrayed or

Even afraid

What lengths will we go to in finding a safe connection?

Where we can open ourselves up enough in order to receive it

Some of us need to be in a drunken stupor

High af

Typing furiously away online

Some of us look to social media

Others put paint to panel

Are you listening my sweet soul

whatever it is

Unfurl

Open up

Like a flower to the

Morning sun

Hold On

There is a human propensity

to grasp and hold tight to things,

to tether ourselves to what we love,

especially in relationships.

This urge to claim, to own,

transforms love into possession.

“It is mine. I own it.”

But in doing so,

the beloved becomes an object,

the soul of them diminished,

boxed into a shape

that can no longer move or breathe.

And yet, the grip tightens,

for the fear of losing them

looms larger than love itself.

The Woman Who Has My Heart

I think of her—

the woman who has my heart.

What drew me to her

was not her form, though beautiful,

nor her words, though wise,

but something altogether ineffable.

It was the smoke rising

from the fire of my passion—

formless, forever changing,

beautiful, and free.

She was magic—

the kind that cannot

be labeled or contained.

To try would be to destroy her.

The Fear

But fear crept in,

as it always does.

Fear that she would leave.

Fear that another would take her from me,

as a thief robs a bank.

I had no say in this.

I could only stand by,

vulnerable, exposed,

the connection between us

fragile as glass.

And so I clung to what I could:

The fear itself.

It was corporeal,

something I could hold tight,

lock away, own.

And in doing so,

I pushed out the magic,

the beauty that had first captured me.

The very act of grasping

extinguished the fire.

The Mirror in Painting

In painting, too,

I see this mirrored.

The temptation to push an image

over its message,

to fixate on the visual beauty

rather than the feeling it evokes,

is strong.

A painting begins as something

ethereal, wild, free—

like love,

it cannot be boxed in

without losing its soul.

And yet,

the fear of losing the image,

of losing the magic, creeps in.

It demands control.

And in that control,

the painting’s spirit fades.

Letting Go

To hold too tightly

is to kill what we love.

Whether it is the soft breath

of a relationship,

or the fleeting spark of a painting,

the challenge is the same:

To let it be wild,

changing, and free.

To love without owning.

To paint without fixing.

For beauty and magic

exist only in the untamed,

the intangible,

the ever-changing.

And it is only in letting go

that we can truly keep

what we cherish

The Fear of Vulnerability

Looking back, I see that the missteps and roadblocks of life weren’t mistakes but divinely designed steps toward where I stand today. This understanding deepens with time—and this weekend, it hit me harder than ever. I was cracked open emotionally, discovering a blind spot that fuels my intent and attachment.

Here’s where painting enters: like life, it reveals my struggle with attachment through the act of vulnerability. Vulnerability, for me, means letting the world see parts of myself tied to shame, embarrassment, and the fear of abandonment. These feelings ebb and flow, but I’ve learned the intensity isn’t random—it’s tied to my craving for connection.

Now note the wording: these feelings are only seen as vulnerable because I’ve attached them to shame, fear, and embarrassment. That’s the key. There’s a part of me—so central to who I am—that I desperately want the world, family, friends, strangers, and lovers to see, recognize, and accept.

At some point in my past, I learned—wrongly—that this part of me makes me unlovable. That if I want acceptance, I must hide this aspect of myself. The lesson embedded itself so deeply that it shaped how I show up in relationships, both with others and with myself

Now, of course, writing this doesn’t eradicate this way of operating (although Lord above, I wish it did) but instead gives me space from the fallout. Being a historically emo human, ruminating on an interpersonal relationship seems constant, while it’s the relationship I might have to a subject or painting that never finds a footing.

Outside of the technical aspects of painting, my entire journey has been about allowing myself to show the vulnerable parts of me on a canvas. Like love letters addressed to a crush, the anxiety in painting comes from being attached to the response.

So much of the time, I’m caught up in crafting the perfect love letter (re: painting) with flowery, beautiful language and moments of passion wrapped in perfect comedic timing, hoping this might sway someone to accept the shameful and seemingly gross part of me—and lead to the romantic comedy partnership of my dreams.

And in this way of thinking and feeling I became aware that the pursuit of a beautiful painting and the desire to create art are at odds

One asks to be adored while the other hopes to be understood

The questioning fear and anxiety surrounding each step along a path to the desired endpoint in a painting finds a solution not in technicality but here:

“What part of my vulnerability is showing up in this piece that I am seeking to hide or beautify so that the viewer will accept it—and ultimately me?”

Inching along

On a sun-drenched afternoon, I discovered an inchworm on my leg while driving. This tiny traveler, embodying the silent wisdom of the cosmos, clung to me. With a gentle hand, I placed it upon a tree near my storage locker, feeling the subtle pulse of our connection—threads of existence intertwining in quiet harmony.

Later, as I painted the interlacing leaves of ferns, lost in the abstract movement of their life, I glimpsed another inchworm, mere inches from my eyes. In that fleeting encounter, the universe whispered its secrets. The dance of life revealed itself in the delicate movements of this creature, an echo of the hidden unity that binds all things. As all three of us sway to and fro to the music of the wind, part of the vast, mysterious web of being.

I picked it up got into the car and took my sweet green friend to to meet their compatriot

Mantra

As much as I love the physicality of painting.

Letting loose

Not having a specific direction in mind

Reacting to the initial act of the first colour and how it sits

On an auto pilot of reasoning

Letting intuition take the reigns

There is something to be said about its opposite

An idea, feeling or image

Formulated before painting

Either detailed, complete

Or foggy, abstract

A foundation

That may be a mantra to guide

While painting

For this painting I’m starting Now

My Mantra is as follows

A painting

That is Closer to

A valve that

Releases

pressure

I’ll let you know how it goes

Intent and Environment

. 

It is cold,

blustery.

A wind whips rip curls into the frozen coast, 

and every part of me.

Thankfully,

a network of respite falls strategically throughout the dunes.

Small families of Jack and Ponderosa Pines shield from the storms. 

I find myself between 

Three siblings

and a French easel.

The waves being hurtled towards the beach

The thick and thin storm cloud ceiling 

speak in

Line, shape, and colour.

Skipping back through a single track of sand to experience a more expansive view,

wind whitens knuckles 

And hurries my pace.

How this wind,

On this winter’s day,

is shaping, not only, the way I move through it, but

also my visual expression 

When I was out there recording the notes of this field 

it was in a no nonsense, 

to the point,

language. 

A pencil,

cutting into the thumbnail.

Slashing to and fro,

from hard to soft edges, 

from dark to light.

All the while

looking upon the horizon,

Into the wind, 

sand stinging eyes.

Taking in the visual information in furtive glances,

snapshots of what I see.

Compartmentalizing the environment and hurriedly putting it to paper.  

Even while writing, 

I am becoming reactivated with the energy of the day.

Looking back at my first drawings

I see a duality of experience. 

Two versions of the same moment.

Firstly,

I see the connection

between myself and the world.

The blurring lines of dichotomy eeking ever closer to a unified front

Secondly,

 The raw sensory data.

Taking stock of my body’s response to being in the environment

and recording it with pencil and paper.

My response to the cold windy day 

To the duality of desiring to be in a place but being so uncomfortable that I wish to leave

How does my visual expression alter depending on where I am?

Are the drawings more hurried than normal?

Lines heavily weighted in gesture because my fingers are too cold to spend more time refining? 

And if I fought this?

Battled against the natural inclination to jam my hands into pockets?

How might the quality of line change?

Resolute? Forceful? Strong?

whichever way I look, 

Into the sun or away from it,

will change the way in which I feel.

Ultimately changing the manner in which I express it.

the environment

shapes my

Expression. 

Environment shapes expression

Regardless of what environment I find myself,

studio, library, street corner, cafe, or couch…

Within the metadata of a stroke,

Where the finely tuned instrument that is the human body,

Cannot help but be effected by the environment it finds itself.

(And the only different between effect and inspiration is that the latter produces the desired result)

So here lies the duality of experience

How all of my senses interact with the environment that I find myself,

Coupled with the desire to foster a feeling of unity within the viewer.

Or

the intent of expression.

The drive to create,

Simplified into an easy to understand statement.

A foundation for me to stand upon,

Throughout the painting

If my intent is strong enough it

Is imbued into every atom of paint,

Into each potential or kinetic molecule of movement,

into the abstracted corporel shapes, 

Into every mix of pigments,

Into every stroke. 

All of this a mental exercise

a game plan 

to better assist

Painting from a place of freedom.

For in the end I let go to become fully immersed in the moment 

Acting and reacting with abandon

I have faith that my intent

Formed before hand comes to brush is what,

I stand upon,  

beats within my chest, 

floats away on breath,

and has become

the fuel 

on which this engine runs.

The intent that I have refined gives a starting point a place to move from

And the environment provides the language to voice it

And in the end

Regardless of my well laid plans

In spite of the wind blowing through my flowery thoughts.

The two factors that have the greatest impact on my painting

happen before I ever pick up a pencil or brush.

One is the seed and the other the soil

The

Intent gives direction
Environment shapes expression 

A Gift and Burden

In the heart of creation, where brushstroke meets canvas, the dance begins:

Two partners hearing the same melody.

Bodies forever intertwined 

Each in time with tempo and changes

Forever moving with each other 

Beyond gender

The lead taken by whom the artist wishes

They are 

divine will 

and 

preordained plan. 

The divine will is forever connected to fate, 

as a preordained plan is to destiny

And as the last bit of paint is laid to rest

I find that the foundation of painting is something that has very little to do with, the physicality of applying paint to a surface, and everything to do with how I view the world 

For with the lense of fate I look upon a less than desired result 

while through the eyes of destiny I see an unknown desire fulfilled.  

in strokes, 

lines etched 

hues left 

In saturated shapes

the infinite essence of the universe 

whispers back and forth

A choice

between 

struggle and ease

A dichotomy: 

Starring

The aversion to the will of any god 

Believed in or not

That becomes our fate

And

awaiting our destiny  

The precious hope 

At the inclusion into

A joyful preordained plan

So by the will of a god 

of your own choosing,

whether it be commerce, fame, or an old man with a snowy white beard,

canvas awaits the touch.

The conduit in which a brush 

dipped in colors moves through

With twists and turns

Where the choices must be weighed 

And with every step after the last 

I check

to make sure 

that the direction, and result

I am heading towards 

is desired 

Or perhaps

Dollops of paint

that cling to canvas 

with shades varied.

The moment they are seen

is the moment they were needed. 

A painting completed

The end of the journey has been reached

Before I knew it even approached

and as all of those subconscious 

secret dreams

I’ve held guarded in the back of my mind 

become true 

without any effort on my part

I realize

Destiny guides the strokes

Yet, as an artist

navigating the picture plane 

this interplay, 

Within the will of an infinite source,

whether divine or not,

Wrestling 

between 

attraction and repulsion, 

stress and peace, 

correct or wrong,

Exerting what little choice I have 

in order to claim the end image

for my own.  

That

in humbleness

or fear of failure, 

I have been assigning the end result to something 

Beyond

Separate 

Outside

Of

Me. 

And within this cosmic theater, 

the burden of decisions 

Or the wings of resolve 

Each create a different weight to painting

It's not merely about selecting a foundation or starting point; it's about embracing one that sustains artistic vision.

Fate:

The weight of deliberations,

the fear of erring,

a risk that stifles the organic evolution of creation, 

yet offers 

a palpable element of control

Verses 

Destiny:

An unknown impetus 

Calling you forward 

a roll of the dice 

Both exhilarating and fear laden

The game of letting go

of connecting

one step to the next,

As a destination is reached. 

every moment 

becomes clearly connected 

revealing a paved thoroughfare 

through the infinite chaos of life

Choosing a foundation on which to build a painting

that harmonizes with the artistic endeavor becomes pivotal—an anchor that allows for freedom but keeps us safe from drifting into dangerous waters,

A compass that guides without dictating.

An abstract choice in which even the smallest of decisions is based on

It's not solely about right or wrong,

but about fostering a space where the artistic soul can breathe, 

where strokes align or don’t

within a divine or soulless world 

Marks made upon the canvas

Are a statement 

a testament

to the artist's journey.

In this incarnation I find myself embracing both the wrestling with and the surrender to, 

My fate or destiny

ultimately birthing work that transcends the realms of both. 

That is the beauty for me of being, 

not only an artist,

but a human as well.

The ability to take the raw data that I have acquired through my senses, both known and unknown, and be able to choose, how that affects/what it means, in my life

Simply put:

The magic that we all possess 

In a world in which anything may happen 

It is Our ability to

Choose 

How we wish to understand

the world 

we live in

And the one unifying factor

Beyond demographic

Is that

We

All must

Choose

Subject vs Object: part 2

painting,

has always been for me,

a tool for understanding.

Whether that be investigating complex physical objects,

or the study of elusive emotional subjects.

Hunkered over sketchbook

Walking to and fro in line with easel

Studying the evidence laid before me

an investigator

Three days of stubble

Coffee stained shirt

Dark lush pillows under eyes,

That are still bright and hungry,

Ready to solve the case

The evidence:

Value

Hue

Saturation

Shape

Line

Each like an island

Separated

in the vast

ocean of

vision

A stroke of paint,

Smudge of graphite,

Slowly constructing bridges

Connecting those distant shores

So that a network is created

A visual infrastructure

Where the eye may travel,

And

objects begin to appear.

After three decades of studying objects

from life

An elusive language beyond demographics

Has been created

The ability to communicate subtle feelings and ideas

To the viewer

outside of linguistics

Deconstructing recognizable objects of the world

into abstracted shapes

of colour.

Into their original state.

reverse engineering

human vision

Where each thing I see,

Whatever it is,

Communicates to me in a way outside of any detailed information

I may hold of it

Where the object ceases

And

The subject is born

dissolving the physical boundaries I see between things

in turn

Dissolves my boundaries

And i know I’ve mentioned this before, so pardon the repetition, but:

Once the many iterations of the physical universe become dissolved into

one

The result becomes

A life

Where I cease to be apart from the world

and become

a part

Object to Subject to me

Object Subject Me

objectsubjectme

Me

Wading through the universe

Swimming in myself

I understand that if the “I”

keeps these objects and subjects clearly defined

Whether in vision or upon canvas

I understand their place in the world

I understand my place in the world

understanding this has become my security blanket when faced with the ambiguous and chaotic nature of the universe

Please remember that:

Understanding that keeping my boundaries defined has become my security blanket when faced with the ambiguous and chaotic nature of the universe

In this way,

painting becomes a dialogue

With

The sky, the light, the rivers, and trees

Trying to discover

To understand

the universe I am painting,

And their testimony always brings me to the same conclusion

These objects

myself

the subject.

Are one and the same

The questions I ask of the universe are being asked of

Myself

My

Self

Where ‘my’

Becomes the sole proprietor

And ‘self’

the small part of the universe that I inhabit

The part of the universe in which I have claimed as my own

The supreme vehicle

That has been gifted to me at birth

And as I meditate on this,

typing away,

I close in on the truth.

For when speaking of painting

Any part of it

Object,

Subject

Me

You

the beginning or end

All are just

the same.

Whether separately connected

With the bridges of vision

Or

When the bridges, and the shores they connect,

Have been dissolved

Into

One

a separate reality

outside of human experience

Or

Pure experience

It is all just a way to understand.

Two tools

Available at any moment

In order to experience.

One not better than the other

It is in their dichotomy that the richness,

of what it is to be an artist,

is

Found

At first I thought that when going out to paint from life, en plein air, it was the landscape that I was studying

But now I find that I am studying

Not merely a landscape

Nor strictly my self

But

one in the same

This agent of understanding

fuelled by the dichotomy of

Me

and everything else

Becomes a resting place

Dissolving back into the source

Unity

(Well sort of)

one foot in and one foot out

I am neither the universe

Or the self that is viewing it

But

both.

It is in this that i find true freedom

Free from my security blanket

The need for understanding

The self

the universe

the same.

Inclusion

Barr exception

&

In the times of frustration

In loneliness

I wish to burn the security blanket

And truly see by the light of its flames

No longer do

I

wish to understand

I

Like a flag atop the mast

Whether seen in reverence or disgust

saluted, burned, or forgotten

matters not

I shall give myself

freely

to the coming and goings

Of the

Wind

---

Make, Believe

I awoke this morning.

The low light of the early sun barely making it through the window

Barely making its way

into my

two windows

Eyelids open a sliver

The room before me slowly changing from

singular to plural

One thing

to

many

A room of shadow

giving way to shapes

Edges form

Separation starts

In the early hours

Magic

that has become mundane

Begins

The subconscious incantations that murmur

The quiet hum of the mind’s machinery

a brain

Makes

While a heart

Believes

a world is birthed

From light reflecting off of atoms

Where

in the sea of information

I plot a course

Avoiding the pitfalls I fear

And moving forever toward

my desired

destination

Relationships

Understanding how colours work

When mixed together,

Or maybe

How they don’t work together,

Feels very elusive

At the beginning I pick and choose colours in a random way. Having started out with a set palette of:

Ultramarine Blue

Prussian Blue

Cadmium Red Medium

Opera

Cadmium Yellow Light

Naples

White

After a few seasons painting with this palette two questions began to form:

What colour(s) do I use most?

And

What is the reason I choose them?

painting for me is about relationships

and one of the relationships I think about consistently in painting is

Colour

How I understand colour

Is vitally important to

To the efficacy of my painting

I am not speaking about technically understanding colour

Whether it is warm or cool

Saturated or not

Matching

Clashing

Classical or modern

A manufactured hue or original pigment

These are all technical issues.

To be quantified and tested on how the artist sees fit

I am speaking of something more elusive

How does this colour make me feel?

Or perhaps.

What does this colour activate in me that I wish to share with the world at large?

outside of all the technical issues what is it that is causing this colour, or combination of colours, to effect me in this way?

Yes,

The relationships between colours is important

But I am curious of the totality of their “conspiring” together and that groupings effect within me

Now

My instagram therapist has told me

The key to any good relationship is understanding

Firstly,

Understanding myself.

Then

Secondly,

Understanding my interaction with the other.

The other can be anything:

• Romantic partner

• Platonic friend

• friend zone

• A bag of chips

• My reflection

• The wind

• A painting

  Anything

Subsequently

When dealing with colours, in relationship to each other, where I am in control of colour choice (anytime I paint)

I find great insight in

Asking myself this question:

In this moment, within the totality of me, what colour would i be?

Haha so ridiculous

Hippie idealism

But humour me

Please there is a

Point

at this moment

(Which hopefully will be when you are painting from life😁)

what colour would you be?

Warm or cool?

Light or dark?

Take into account all things quantifiable that your senses are giving

But perhaps leave room for mystery.

For feelings and data you may not have any explanation for

Your gut

Intuition

Voice of god

Whatever

as this colour

If I am in a

relationship

Of any sort

mixing

(whether on the palette or visually)

With another colour

Regardless of whether or not the effect is

Appealing

I ask myself

Does the relationship of these two colours have the desired effect

Putting paint onto canvas is making a statement

A response happens with the viewer

It could be emotional, intellectual, or physical

If I consciously choose a colour (or group of colours) that represent the totality of me at the moment of creation, I have set up a palette that, at the very foundational level, that will be imbued with my voice

When asking a question in painting

With

Black and white

The answer becomes

Good or bad

Yes or no

Right or wrong

The fewer the steps (greys) between black and white

The more succinct my answer

In monochromatic painting (or drawing)

The decision comes down to

either one or the other

with as many decisions made as needed

An infinite amount of

This’ or that’s

black or white

In this way of thinking

Colour becomes

the subtle nuance

in a cut and dry world

of

black and white

Where each colour comes with a chance to communicate

At a level deeper than this or that

While in relationship to another colour

Sometimes the tool

Its ability to communicate

is subtle

The difference in a blue

(ultramarine)

That activates feelings of

coldness or fragility

Vs

The effectiveness of another blue

(cerulean)

in activating

warmth or strength

When these two blues mix the range of experience that a viewer has is subtle

If we changed out one of the blues in the first colour relationship and replaced it with a red

The range of experience available to the artist, and subsequently the viewer, in this new colour relationship is vastly greater.

When viewing a painting

(regardless of the subtle, or gross, variations in saturation and hue)

Our first reaction is with yes or no language

Good or bad

Like or dislike

Black or white

Monochromatic

The secondary reaction is where

nuance

is found

The subtlety of colour

beneath the surface

Of stark dichotomy

Where feeling resides

How is my response shaped through colour

Related to actual human relationships?

What if this definition of colour relationships is shifted entirely to my relationship with others?

You are a wonder

The colours you choose defy reason sometimes

We pick and choose

As we are picked and chosen

In what feels like a precisely organized random selection

Or

Laboriously crafted choice

What I create from these interactions

defines not only my paintings

But also

my experience on this earth

So that now every moment I am painting

Feels akin to comprehending relationships with people.

Initially, I randomly select colours, much like I choose individuals based on instinct.

Self-understanding is crucial in both contexts.

In this way I am actually

grasping my motivations

for colour choices and interactions with others.

Colours and relationships evoke emotional, intellectual, and physical responses, shaping our experiences.

Communication through colours and expressions in relationships conveys messages.

Nuances exist in both realms,

defying simplistic categorizations.

For now I sit in both worlds

Relationships that emerge from both random selections and deliberate choices.

Using my past experience to guide me but,

Leaving room for chance

Painting En Plein Air: Unity verses Dichotomy

Unity

the state of being joined as a whole.

Dichotomy

a division or contrast between two things

understanding and gaining success in painting for me lies in understanding these two terms.

Not merely their definition but the role they play in the construction of our reality.

Simply speaking unity is one and Dichotomy is everything else

In these definitions it is quite easy to surmise that the English language is based on dichotomy

Unity’s definition (pulled straight from Webster) intuits that the natural state is originally separate.

For me, visually, first or second place matters very little.

In my experience they are two points encompassing the human experience

Both equally important for how I understand and interact with the world.

With regards to painting from life these two states are the difference between painting

abstract shapes

and painting

identified objects

Searching a landscape to find the items that make up the forest, the beach, the city, a face

The issue lies in identifying

the moment I identify a thing is when I stop studying it visually

Moving on

I begin to search anew.

This then begs the question:

”what am I searching for?”

The Search

Without getting too intellectual, or making this note a social commentary, I am searching for what I

desire

so that I may get closer to it

and

Searching as well

for what I

fear

So that I may avoid it

Want More?

Click here

Painting through the lens of Dichotomy

When looking at the world through the lens of dichotomy while painting or drawing I am looking at the identified objects that fill the world.

Lets say that the painting is of a sunset bathed city street

Filled with Telephone poles, street signs, trees, shapes of light and shadow, maybe a few parked cars, a squirrel, you get the idea

A scene constructed with all of the objects identified

Like blocks of stone

these objects

Carefully carved and placed correctly

Building a scene

Constructing a painting made up of separate pieces

Symbols

Painting through the lens of Unity

Setting out to paint or draw from life using unity I see a scene that is a singular object

abstract shapes of value and colour

Identified objects cease to be

A world where the lines of individualism blur

Things in this world

Become a thing

The world

the information I am searching is unfettered from my preconceived notions of the world around us.

An unbiased view

and by unbiased view I mean my bias is gone

There is no desire or fear

attraction or repulsion

to any of the objects

because there are no objects

only a scene made up of shapes and colours.

think of what it means to paint En Plein Air

A purist will only touch the canvas if outside on location.

If the canvas is worked upon anywere else it ceaseses to be a plein air

painting

en plein air = outside

what are the boundaries that you set yourself when painting (or if you were to start ) painting en plein air/outside?

At the root:

How do you define outside verses inside?

Walls?

A roof?

feeling the breeze?

Does the body not house a consciousness, spirit, or soul?

the only walls that truly house me are constructed of

flesh and blood

And this is where I have found myself

painting en plein air

Outside identifying as the body,

Separate from the world, or outside of it

No longer is it a sense of self that sees feels and perpetuates a separation with what I am painting.

when plein air painting I am after the foudational element that holds the scene together

I am that foundational element

The I that has no end

No beginning

how can a painting be truly en plein air if I am trapped within the walls of my own individualism

My ego

As it sits amidst

A Universe

And

the creation of me

A human being

@

panel with paint

Within the confines of my

known world

Is the universe experiencing itself.

Behind the pochade box

Looking out into the horizon

Akin to

Earlier this morning

When I first awoke

And studied myself

in the mirror

What God do You Serve?

As funny as it sounds,

This message,

Isn’t just about smoking drugs.

The drugs are only a way to set up an idea outside of the hang ups, opinions, and preconceived notions

That I

, And perhaps

you,

Have around painting and art.

That being said

There is something funny that happens to me

in regards to cannabis use.

It is always, and has always,

been

cyclical

Meaning that at some point I go from very little,

if any,

to a multiple times in a day

frequency

No rhyme or reason.

Some times not at all,

and other times,

I can’t get enough.

This state is the dried forest floor in late august

Ready to welcome spark

The spark remains to be seen

---

The spark

cannabis use in my life

How it manifests

Why it does

a loose pattern

but if you follow along

it will start to ignite

1)Celebratory, initiated by others(whether friends or a music video)

2)Celebratory, initiated by myself

3)Heightening experience, whether its painting or cooking,

4)Creating a heightened experience, to facilitate creativity/flow

5)Boredom, first resort to fill my time, a choice between many

things

6)Boredom, as a coping mechanism, the first and only choice

7)Desire, it’s something that I am looking forward to, planning

8)Compulsion, without thinking, the beginning stages of abuse

9)Enslavement, there is no choice, i do what it says.

---

Now currently, after clarifying my stages of cannabis use, I realize I am sitting in between stages 3 and 4.

In fact I am going to roll a joint right now and then continue writing this article.

Normally I spend at least ten days editing but this will be posted just in time for dessert tonight.

I just hope its sweet enough for you

Gimme a sec to puff puff pass

---

The smoke is filling the room and my thoughts.

The spark

What is it that causes me to smoke weed

My body

How it feels

or my heart

mind

Soul

Or however you identify the thing

that is

you

The question

How do I feel?

The first answer

in black and white

And then

Over time

subtly moving into greys

Good or bad

Into

A warmth travelling through my heart, fueled by a belly, and emanating from eyes

Or a weighted

wet blanket

in a

cold

cruel

world

The question

What is fuelling the use or misuse of this plant?

I ask this of myself,

And sitting from here,

between

A spark of

3 and 4

Multi tasking between

online dating

And

This message to you

I find myself drawn to the back and forth nature of being this high

To quickly focus intently on two different things

In the space between the two

The intent

and language

I use

When talking about them to you

At two ends of the spectrum

Smoking weed dude

Finding love

And in this back and forth a common theme forms

A little bit

of spirit

from

each of them

Become

Intermixed

With the other.

And just like that the two have become one

This is why,

when I am writing, about getting stoned, it sounds like a love letter to

The one

that is

loved

---

The question becomes more refined

And answers in kind.

This type of high

Feels like a transition

From

Liberty

To

Compulsion

An irresistible urge

Outside of decision making

Something being done to me

Rather than with me

Is there a way that this experience could ever feel controlled

The outcome

The journey?

Being compelled to smoke

To get high

Balanced so delicately

With the freedom to choose when and where

Even when sober

My ability to control a journey or outcome

Is suspect to say the best

Where i currently am

a spark burning between a three and a four

the transition

The change

is it just a dance

And what starts out as a separate experience

A person dancing with another

when the music starts

Intertwined

Two bodies held closely

Four feet moving

In conversation

Syncopated in time

To the beat of music played through speakers

Or

Through hearts

Combining

Two

To become

One .

Two become one

That is the difference

being a part of this universe

Over

Being apart from it

---

This drug

Which has been a gateway to so many different places for so many different people

Where I find myself blowing the smoke into my creative sails

It becomes an echo of what is inside of me

---

What if

What if painting became the drug?

What if art?

What if your medium, or platform becomes the drug?

Where do you sit in your interaction to it?

Is it a compulsion??

Does it bring liberty?

Does creation come from a place of fear or love?

Has it become an addiction outside of choice. Filling the void. Empty strokes that speak to being lost and looking to occupy time ?

---

The potency of intent

Where it can take me

How deep I can go

Regardless of what else happens in this life

Let it be said that there was a direction I travelled

A destination I was heading

Some times I knew not where, how or when

But trusting the next step.

Until the end

If there is even an end

The Gifts of Painting

Visual arts for me is, and will always be, more than just creating pretty pictures

It is about understanding

Of course understanding the world in a visual sense, locating the key foundational visual elements to create evocative paintings and drawings

These are all gifts that come from painting to be sure

There is one gift which ended up being the most valuable though

And that is:

The clearer I get in drawing/painting, even technical understanding, the clearer I get in understanding myself.

With unwrapping this gift comes insight

-into the rules or principles surrounding visual art

-seeing the world outside of symbols or narrative

-How much, or little, I flavour what it is I see with my own personal experience

-and what all of these gifts say about me as a person, whether that is rooted in my fears or desires

Esoterically this is all well and good, but how do the inner mechanics of learning about myself through learning to paint/draw manifest?

It has all come about through creating a distinction between the “right” and the “wrong” way of doing things in painting

Designing rules or boundaries, sometimes consciously but more often than not subconsciously

Using these rules to fence in my attention and effort among the infinite amount of information

And

Eventually breaking, bending, or redefining those rules,distinctions, or boundaries

this becomes the unwrapping process that fosters insight

There has long been a distinction in me

Whether it is something I keep from others, ashamed or frightened of how they will judge me

Or

A mighty psalm that I hold at the ready, to proselytize from a soap box mountain top bringing lost souls into the flock in order to illustrate the error of their ways

The distinction is as follows:

Drawing and painting from life

(Being in front of the subject/object that you wish to paint or draw)

Is greater than

Drawing and painting from photograph

(Having a photograph of what it is you wish to paint or draw)

As an artist, regardless of how long you have considered yourself so or the perceived level you put yourself at, have you experienced this distinction or felt it looming over you?

In my artistic life the boundaries of creating from life as the source for inspiration being more valuable than creating from photograph has changed multiple times

As well as the importance I place on it

And feel grateful to currently be in a place where the distinction has very little importance

Being present and noticing the

boundaries of dichotomy

Has overtaken the old photograph vs life debate

Now before you get too fired up or, ashamed, or whatever else let me just go ahead on record and say that at no time in my entire life have I not used a photograph as reference or to help me understand 😁

what it is I am looking at

let me call attention to two phrases that I just mentioned that are the key in understanding what I am speaking of:

1) “Boundaries of dichotomy”-the line of division between any two things

2) “What it is I am looking at”-Looking verses Seeing

click here ⬆️

Let’s continue

The humble beginnings of understanding painting/ drawing started with

what it wasn’t

Drawing from life meant that I wasn’t using photographs

I realize that this was learned behaviour, at some point I read or heard that using photographs was not a good way to learn how to draw/paint

Holding on to this opinion for many years was valuable as I do think it is important to learn to draw/paint from life

It kept blinders on me and I was able to focus on the task of drawing/painting without veering off course

And

The skill set of being able to take in and compartmentalize the vast amount of three dimensional visual information into simplified two dimensional shapes has been invaluable in so many ways

Outside of the technical reasoning behind drawing from life vs photograph a change began to occur in my thought process

Sri Ramana Maharishi talks about the Neti-Neti form of meditation, where the practitioner uses self inquiry to discover what/where the self is. It is a way of clearing out all of the physical and mental information and stimuli that might be confused with the actual self. Neti-Neti is translated roughly to not this-not that. The practitioner slowly begins to scan the body and mind in search of the self or “atman” and every new sensation or thought that arises is met with Neti-Neti.

Originally drawing from life felt very much like this

Neti-Neti

Not this-Not that

Which caused the thought process in my own mind

if drawing from life is not using a photograph what is it?

The transition of “Drawing from Life” as not drawing from a photograph

into

“Drawing from Life” means being in close proximity to the object or subject, whether that be a life model or still life set up,

was a crucial step in unwrapping my gift

Think about that statement

Drawing from life means I am in close physical proximity to the object or subject

Photos themselves outside of the images they show, whether on the phone or paper, are objects, which may very well turn into subjects, that I am in close physical proximity to.

Viewing the photo, say on paper, as an artifact that I am drawing instead of drawing the image printed on the paper are two very different drawings.

Not so much in the final product but in how the the act of drawing takes place internally

This little switch in thinking allowed the inclusion of photographs into my practice

They after all are objects that I am indeed in physical proximity to

the definition of painting or drawing from life had changed

No more was the definition tied to the physicalities of technique

Or an ethical debate on what I had used to get to the final image

Over time

Day by day

working through line and shape

My definition on drawing from life became:

How I was viewing the world around me

And just like that by having the definition change

So did my boundaries

Remember the statement I made note of:

Boundaries of dichotomy-the line of division between any two things

What is a drawing?

Boundaries of pencil and charcoal

The very act of studying from life forces us to study life with boundaries!

How it is made up

How we make it up

and

Which is which

When we look out into the world whether at a landscape, still life, or model

We are seeing separate items

Different people

The expansion of boundaries to become more inclusive of what I was “allowed” to do eventually began to thin and fade in parts

Looking out into a forest with rigid and defined boundaries I might find trees

The more those boundaries thin the less I am looking at trees and the more I am seeing shapes

Untill the boundary thins to reveal

One

shape

So much of drawing from life equates to the specific way in which I am taking in visual information.

It is impossible to live and act in a world with no dichotomy

Boundaries are a must

As long as there is someone who is drawing/painting

There is a separation between the artist and their work

The artist and what inspires them

Today I realize that the gift is not my recognition of these boundaries

Or even

Recognizing that I have created the boundaries of dichotomy

For

In order for me to look and experience the world

There must be

Me

and

everything else

The gift is:

that I have the ability to blur these boundaries

To lessen the distinction between things

between me

Between you

Between us

Seeds planted

Every single thought or action in my life

started as a

seed

Whether that seed came from:

An amalgamation of words half heard

Run through

my brain box

forming into something new

Unique

To me

Or perhaps

A message from

above

The divine guidance disguised as

The tiniest

kernel

of knowledge

Bestowed with love and

In time

blossoming

Providing shade, nourishment, and the information to move

forward.

Or maybe,

A bit of

Both

One thing is for certain

The seeds are there

Deep

Gestating

Waiting

For their season to grow

To push through the earth

and make their presence known

—————————————————————————————

The choices that arise

in

art

Are the same as in

life

Which seeds do I foster?

Aiding to their unfolding

and

Which do I abandon?

Making sure they never take

root

Different plants require different things

sun

(The amount of attention I shine upon it)

water

(The effort I provide)

soil composition

(The intention in which I plant)

Certain seeds

qualities or behaviours

thrive in different environments

A seed which will grow into a kind and empathetic outlook on life

May have a hard time

Surviving in the soil of

personal fulfillment

But may thrive

in the fertile earth of

selfless service

Further more

failure to reach

fruition

might just be

the very thing

needed

I think back to the many seeds planted of their life and their inevitable death along the path to maturity

Whether they reach it or not

Their bodies

composting

creating the perfect chemical make up

from which future seeds need

to grow

—————————————————————————————

A doomed romantic relationship

Grown from the seed of lust mistaken for love

and once the fruit was born

I understood that

sweetness

without

nourishment

has a shelf life

And I can’t stress enough

That without the decomposing body of

lust

I could never have grown

love

—————————————————————————————

What does all this mean?

Well my dear friend

There is no

failure

The seeds that we grow

That become

disappointments

droughts,

that decimated hope,

are in fact the

building blocks

needed

To nurture the next

blossom

Whether what flowers becomes

A piece of art

Or

Life goal

—————————————————————————————

I find myself moving up and down the

rows

among thousands of

seeds

Giving to them what they need

What I need

to grow

The hard part for me to accept

and even realize

No matter the choice I make

No matter the path I take

What i wish to water

What seeds I

desire,

and those I

fear,

To sow

Are always what is needed

For me to grow

Read that again

There are no mistakes

My Artistic pursuit

started as a seed

Planted

Grown and continuing to grow

The idea that I make missteps

Stunt my progress

My forward momentum

into decay is

fallacy

Painting, like life has a very intricate growth cycle

spread out

Over the milliseconds

Days

years

Moments

Seasons

The painting that appears today is from the seed of a subconscious idea from years before

When it is time to harvest

I will

The fruit will be born at the

right time

And I will be there to

pick it

Painting as a Conversation: studying from life

As serious as I want it to be

When I sit down to discuss a topic

Regardless of what that topic is

My one wish is that I am understood

Please correct me if I am wrong but isn’t that what we are all after?

To be understood

Especially if the topic is close to our heart

Here is the crux of the matter

Each painting is intrinsically tied to my heart

Not only that

I want the viewer to understand clearly what I am trying to say in each work

In fact I would go so far as to say that it feels like I need them to

understand

Now I get the fact that this type of mentality is linked to external validation at its worst

But

At its best, this is about data.

Data that tells me if my visual language is being understood

If my painting is clearly saying what I intended of it

If the image is activating in the viewer what it has

activated in me

If I am trying to express an opinion to someone in the realm of speech

Especially if I wish people to understand clearly what it is I am saying

I will use all the tools at my disposal

Vocabulary

Pantomiming

Volume fluctuation

Emotional imperatives

What ever it takes

Like any conversation or point I am trying to get across

The more detailed and acute my selection of words the more detailed and acute my point may be

For example how might the conversation go If I were trying to express whether I am:

happy or sad

Or

lost in the wonder of a sunrise

Or

entrenched in the fear of my own mortality

Now imagine how the paintings might differ

How our visual vocabulary must have the same vast lexicon

The same subtle insinuation

That our actual language does

Perhaps even more so

As an artist I can see the benefit of both:

The explanation of emotions

And

the retelling of cold hard facts

Is it important that the viewer understand that there are a herd of horses in the field?

Vs

Is it important that they feel a sense of belonging?

Which is the more important point in the painting?

How much weight, time, canvas do I give to each?

Making a broad statement that is open to interpretation

Giving concrete information so there can be no doubt what the intention is

Are we:

Activating a feeling that is seasoned with the person’s own memory

Or

A nuanced well described idea that seeks to inform the viewer of something outside of their experience

One draws on empathy

The other on sympathy

abstract or representational

The thing with painting as a conversation is that I wish to have as many options,

As many techniques,

As many words

As possible

I need to be able to use everything at my disposal

The tools, paints, substrate, texture, colour, saturation, value, composition, design, abstraction, symbolism, stroke economy, contour, edge, softness, light, shadow, size, and on and on and on….

There is no end to what is available to you

We can break down each of those examples into smaller and smaller examples more and more detailed

Infinitesimally finding more and more detailed ways to work.

And at the same time I can move the opposite way becoming simpler more broad

Not even concerning myself with a slow methodical detailed approach

but using a intuitive and emotional set of parameters that are done in the moment

Which is a whole different way of speaking

A scene from hamlet

Vs

An improv comedy troupe

Perhaps we can move beyond those things?

Or

At the very least work in and around them

The same goes with painting

The ability to paint in different ways

Not purely style

But the metadata that makes up a style

Okay this is all well and good.

I feel like that point is easy to understand.

SO

how does all of this talk of communicating an idea, or feeling, visually have to do with studying from life?

Studying from life is the one way in which we learn how to speak visually.

We learn what the shapes, colours, lines, values all mean

I am not speaking of a definition of what a certain colour or shape might mean

But something infinitely more detailed

Have you ever been to a place and felt joy?

A joy that is outside of any previous experience or memory of said place?

How much of what you are feeling when you look out into this place is based on the the visual elements?

Is it a lake?

A sunset?

A las vegas casino?

By stopping and studying, whether drawing or painting, you are actively claiming the complexity of all of the visual elements that make up how you are feeling.

Ascribing each paint stroke, colour, and shape, to a feeling. Whether conscious or sub

What if the next day you go back to the same spot under the same conditions but this time you have gotten into a fight with a lover or friend?

Do you not think the painting will turn out the same if the visual information is run through the lens of pain and suffering?

Will the two paintings, when placed side by side, tell a very different story and illicit a very different response?

—————————————————————————————

If I asked you to create an abstract painting that represented love what one colour would you choose?

Red right?

Now how would you go about creating a painting that activated in the viewer the idea of love if we were limiting ourselves to only black and white paint?

Would you paint a white heart on a black background?

What if we wanted to create a black and white painting, that is completely abstract, about love?

What if instead of love we wanted to activate the feeling of the first time you kissed someone romantically?

Each of these questions requires critical thinking and a vocabulary that can expound the efforts of that thinking

Outside of trial and error, which I feel will never leave my tool kit, there has to be a pathway to create.

A way in which we can at least move towards the goal.

Like most ideas that I bring up in conversation, this blog, or the podcasts, they take time to hone.

To polish and sharpen

until it slices through any misunderstanding or confusion

And here is the kicker

What if my wish is to confuse and create misunderstanding?

Will people understand that I am not trying to be understood?

The legitimacy of your painting

I.e. how serious people will take what you do

Rests entirely on the visual language used

---

If you have made it this far

congratulations

After rereading this essay the one question that comes to mind is:

Am I saying that you must continually study from life?

That if you don’t then what you are saying is pure gibberish?

No

I don’t think that is the case.

A limerick

is very different from

a scientific journal

They both have value

They both help the world

They are both needed.

Just as different styles of painting

The reason painting is never ending is because of the infinite visual vocabulary of humanity

There is a different unique artistic voice in every single person.

Not everything has been said

Like the times,

language changes

especially

visual

And whether fortunate or not

So

do

we

Point A to Point B

our RELATIONSHIP with nature

From the moment I wake up I begin plotting my journey

Whether conscious, or sub-conscious, the idea that my entire life I am on route to a destination

All of these voyages, short or long, are all fueled by either desire or repulsion

If I desire something:

lying in bed, in the morning, and craving a coffee

I don’t even have to think that hard and the route is set.

I leave point A (the warm and comfy bed) and move towards point B (the coffee maker)

All done right?

Well yes, for that one route.

Now the Point B (the coffee maker) becomes Point A

And I begin the cycle again.

And depending on the time, place, mood, and how my desires or fears manifest in that situation

the next journey is made.

If there is a job to go to, a certain destination is set verses if it is a day at the beach

the next little journey is planned and off I go.

hopping in the shower or gathering beach towels

the adventure begins .

This is what I do

throughout the day all day every day

trying to get some where

get to my destination, or transversely enjoy the destination

At times my pace is relaxed, beautiful and fun

And other times it is stressful, ugly and fearful

Now in a life of journeys or destinations my concern over whether I feel joy or pain fluctuates

And trying to control how I feel during my journeys feels like trying to bail out my sinking row boat with a colander

Try as I might, scooping water out of my sinking ship, I am still going under

---

The idea of a life lived from point A to Point B moves beyond physical destinations and starting points

Underneath it all there are emotional and intellectual destinations and journeys that I have created long before the physical course has been plotted.

My desires or fears have been manifested into action plans

The journey to abundance, peace, happiness, love

or its opposite

the journey from, scarcity, chaos, sadness, apathy

very quickly become broken down and actions, to be taken in the physical world, are assigned

my journeys fall into two categories

moving to something (desire)

or away from something (fear)

Even if that desire or fear has a physical manifestation or not.

---

Now good people please allow me to introduce you to:

Point C

or

the moment when the journey

between Point A to Point B is

paused

Driving home at the end of a long day and becoming mesmerized by the setting sun

Stepping out of the grocery store and becoming transfixed by the patterns of birds flying above

Checking for mail and freezing at the sight of a looming unrecognizable shadow

welcome to

Point C

a moment when the world at large,

the universe,

abstract infinite,

god

Nature

however you would describe it

communicates directly

At some point along my journey I have ceased to travel along the path and reacting to:

roadblocks (things that are slowing appear to be keeping me from reaching point B)

or shortcuts (things that are aiding me to reach point B)

and

have began interacting directly with the universe

A conversation is occurring

beyond language

I am so intent on listening

That the journey stops

I have become immersed in the moment

Point C is everything

All that there ever was

Since the beginning

the journey and the destination

Point A to Point B is my Karma

the human condition

the meaning of life

Point C

is a moment when the “I” disappears

there is no time to reflect on what is occurring

there is nothing to reflect

And this is where painting gets involved

the foundation of what I am doing when I go out with my easel is so intrinsically tied to Point C

These paintings, my work, are the moments of Point C

Finding the foundational visual elements of the scene that have ignited the shift into point C within me

and

Bolstering those shapes of colour and putting them onto a canvas, to ignite within the viewer, a shifting into Point C

In this way these paintings done in the moment of Point C are not mere recordings of a place or time

But become a

tool

a tool to activate in the viewer the times when they are in direct conscious communication with the universe

Point C

---

Travelling out into the world

keeping myself open

Painting on the canvas

a shorthand of vision

that has one express purpose

To activate in the viewer a moment

Outside of a journey or destination

a time in between our struggles and joys of life

a place in between

here

and

there

A

point

where

we

begin

to

See

Following Your Heart

Success = Following your heart

Failure = not following it

Heart = Love

Love

A four letter word

❤️

most of us will spend a great portion of our lives trying to:

figure out

experience

save

hold on to

chase

feel

or better yet

just to define what love is

The definitions I found online categorize love into three parts:

1) a strong or constant affection for a person

2) sexual or romantic desire

3)A person you love in a romantic way

Great definitions but underwhelming

How do these three definitions explain the myriad of feelings that I have felt towards activities, objects, and people that I love?

A simple word meant to encompass a greater spectrum of emotions and actions.

Perhaps an analogy might get across what it is I’m trying to say:

A young child waits for the school bus every morning

This school bus picks up all of the kids in the neighbourhood at a central spot

let’s say the park.

Every morning this child walks to the prearranged location and meets up with the 6 other kids to catch the bus to school. As the days go by the child begins to become friends with another child and one day the two of them are waiting in the rain and some of the others start splashing in puddles. The first child starts to head over and splash as well, but stops noticing that their new friend isn’t following.

The new friend doesn’t have rain boots so splashing in the puddles would mean wet feet all day.

the child loves their new friend

And doesn’t want to be exclusive

What would you do in this situation?

If a person you love was feeling excluded?

perhaps you might:

grab a pair of old boots

sit under the tree together and wait for the bus

Maybe take turns with the boots you do have

go barefoot with each other to the puddle

There are quite a few ways that the child could act that would be aligned with their feelings of affection and love.

In this scenario let’s say that

The child, realizing their friend doesn’t have the same opportunity for puddle jumping, takes off the rain boots and encourages the new friend to do the same with their shoes. Both barefoot they run and jump into the nearest puddle laughing and cheering until the bus pulls up. They both use the drive to school to dry their feet. Stepping off the bus they have big smiles and dry shoes, ready for a big day.

The child’s

Art

is taking off the shoes

the painting

is the two children jumping in the puddle together.

Art: a way of solving a problem that is skillful and individual to the artist

What if you wished to express love and affection on a canvas with paint?

The ups and downs you would experience getting to the final painting would be a lot different than mine.

Which makes sense in that our art is different.

We are Different

How we get to the final painting would be different

as would the paintings

The art world, critics, peers, social media, telling you what you should or shouldn’t paint, or what makes good or bad art would be like having a parent telling the child not to take off the boots, or a Good Samaritan giving a pair of boots to the child before the first drop ever fell

So how is this an analogy for art?

Well in painting we are always making decisions

Some decisions all make

to drink if we are thirsty

eat if we are hungry

it is in the specificity of these decisions that our individual voice in art is found

(choosing what to eat or drink)

In the analogy I’m sure you could think of different ways to show affection to some one you love who wished to puddle jump with you

Art is not stagnant or something that can be held down and quantified

There are an infinite number of ways to express

describing an action as if it were an object

“What a wonderful piece of art“

a painting, sculpture, film, or birthday cake

The art is the action it took to get to the finished product

The destination is the painting and the journey that the painter took to get there is the art

here is the tricky part

How much of the journey must the viewer know in order to understand the product of the Artist?

If I judge the efficacy of a painting

verses

If I judge the Art that got me there

How might these two judgements change the feelings of validity in my artistic pursuit?

Do I try to quantify success and failure in my paintings as a way to move forward?

or

Do I immerse myself in the process without concern for the final product

The answer that has helped me the most follows:

the quantifiable world is an anchor made out of styrofoam on the ocean of the abstract infinite

---

Good LUck

🤞

Engagement through Abstraction

Here is an exercise that I have been playing with the last couple days

it has helped me become more decisive in my painting and drawing

Possibly the greater boon is how this simple 5 minute “drawing” really drives home the importance of engagement from the viewer

Outside of having an engaging statement, idea, intent, or thought in my painting I desire to have the viewer be so engaged visually in discovering what that statement is

And

it is all in mark making!

What you will need:

1) A permanent pen or marker

2) An erasable pencil, charcoal, or pastel

3) An eraser

4) A piece of paper

Enjoy and

Good Luck

As always please subscribe and share if this hits with you!!

The Art of Snacking

A random moment this Sunday morning of the long weekend

An assortment of snacks from last night spread across the table

There is something about the high I get from fulfilling my sense desires

Sense Desire:

An action performed which specifically satiates the hunger of one or more of the 6 senses available to me

Eating a bag of Ketchup chips acts on my sense of touch, taste, sight smell and sound.

So 5 out of 6

Not bad

Now consuming that many chips some times feels good and some times feels bad

Setting out to write this morning my desire wasn’t to make a blanket on what is a good or bad snack for me

My sole purpose is to continuously be aware that at the level of my senses I am constantly consuming

Whether I am ingesting

food, drink, ideas, images

it doesn’t matter

every thing I take in through my senses effects me

regardless of whether that’s a whole pizza, salad,

self help YouTube videos,

or QT pie insta reels

As someone who has lived following his desires more often than he would like to admit one thing that is clear to me

My desire isn’t found by what I think

but

by what I decide to consume

I know eating a whole pizza will make me feel stiff, bloated and lethargic the day after but some times what I desire is at the beginning of consumption

in other words

the crime is worth the time

in the same way I might spend three hours scrolling through 100’s of paintings on social media

what I think I desire,

to get inspired and motivated to create

In actuality becomes

Me being overwhelmed, driverless, and despondent

Some media acts on me like health food

Some like cigarettes

In the beginning I have the ability to choose

In the end

Like quitting smoking

Some ideas or habits find a way to attach themselves to me and it requires effort to let them go

But the good news is

I have the ability to let them go

Happy Snacking, painting

or if you’re lucky

Both