|"Female model at Barnstone" 18" x 24" conte on hardpressed bristol, 2012|
|Close-up of drawing|
Anyway, had an amazing night at Barnstone...lately, I've been cranky and dreading Monday drawing sessions. I love the old man...he is just beyond description when it comes to my admiration of him, his amazing genius, his tenacity, his wit...and ultimately, his good heart underneath a gruff exterior. I have known him since the early 90s, and could be here till next Sunday listing all the things I admire about him, but, with recent events, I've been thoroughly worn out, and having my work torn down, even if it was under the guise of spurring me to new heights, began to wear on me, and make me depressed. After all, this is the one thing I know I am good at, and a part of me deeper than (please don't take it the wrong way) even any person on earth...it is truly my connection to God, although we have a constant ongoing battle because I am mostly an imbecile.
The drawing above was done tonight in 45 minutes. I wish I had more time to develop it further, but that's OK. Lately, I seem to have ADD...but, once I get into my zone, how I love to be there...it's a beautiful place that makes everything worthwhile...but, those times are not usually the norm. Most times, it's a struggle, and a dastardly one.
So, over my tremendously salty roasted chicken supper at the local diner, I began to wonder in a depressed manner whether all of this was worth it...and, if you are not an artist, no offense, it will be hard for you to understand the depth of this feeling...after all, you can always find another job, or be validated at least daily by your clients, patients, customers, whatever. Being an artist is a lonely journey, to put it mildly. I began to feel a cranky feeling of, why the hell do I do what I do? Why?
Now, here is where I will differ and give my version...and not the globalist "Miss America" version many artists spout nowadays...talking about unifying the world, inspiring global peace, or some other Postmodernist crap. I simply do it because I can't NOT do it. I have had the urge to create and record the beauty and times we live in, sometimes with words, mostly with paintings.
I create to send my voice out into the vast wilderness we live in, and hope other souls that are grappling in the darkness will connect with the humanity of my painted insight at that very moment, whether it's a solitary landscape, or a figurative painting. It's my connection to this universe, and the earth that we inhabit. I wish I could give some sterile reason, some aloof explanation as to why I do what I do, but I can't. I am simple. I am complex. I love the beauty of this world, and it consumes me. I hate people, and I love them beyond the expanse of my heart. I don't know if you can understand, but the order, symmetry, complexity, and immaculate beauty of the physical world enthralls me. So, there it is.
Why do I do it? Because I have to, or I'll die. My whole existence will be invalidated. I worry about dying and if I make it to Heaven, what if I am not a painter??? This terrifies me. What if this is the only time through eternity I get to do the very thing that IS who I am. This entity, that lives just outside of me, is truly who I am...who I confer with, who always whispers in my ear...who has been with me since my first thought...what will I do if we are not unified in eternity? If I don't get to paint in the halls of Heaven? Or Hell? Utterly terrifying.
So, that's the basics of my obsession, my drive to create, in an extremely abridged and simplistic edition. Strange but true. Hope you can get it, without being scared, offended, or baffled. Now, the sky is crystal clear, and the tendrils of new grass and spring flowers fills the air after the rain, so I must go breath it deeply...