shattered direction (illimitation)

Without being fully aware of the fact, from the time I moved to Vermont until somewhat recently I had been heavily focused on end results. “I want to make this happen; how do I start and when will it take form?”, “I want to create a painting that encompasses this emotion and makes this noise; when will it satisfy those desires?”, “I must create this color I’m seeing; how many colors samples will I create until it’s real?”. The process of getting to where I wanted was something I paid little attention to, and my overwhelming question of, “when am I truly going to feel like an artist?” was going unanswered…it bothered me; it would keep me up at night, it made me feel shy when introducing my work, it made me feel false upon introducing myself.

Slowly, during a painfully confusing and congested winter-a time when no painting was working, no writing found rhythm, no color or shape found reason-a new awareness was setting in. While I was feeling despondent and humoring the idea of collecting rocks for my pockets if the pieces didn’t fall together by spring (An artist who can’t create? It feels shameful) my awareness of physical surroundings, interactions, energy exuded and stream of consciousness began to come into focus. Combining my internal state of being with a fiery desire to feel something as yet unknown, I pushed myself to take risks to their limit, abandon fear, find the root of my thoughts both rational and irrational.

It wasn’t until the beginning of March that any of these scattered ideas, activities and emotions found their home on canvas. While standing in front of 3 paintings, mentally running back and forth between where they were and where I wanted them to be, the force of the physical process completely overtook me. Is the act of creating not art itself? Is the process that leads to an idea, the travels and stories that each stroke of a palette knife relays, not just as beautiful as the whole? Are we not artists because we do create, rather than being artists because we have something tangible to show for it? Somehow, as the sun began to simmer and set, take leave and then rise again, locked up in the walls of my studio with the same song on repeat to lose awareness of the passing of time, the energy of the act of painting itself seemed far more powerful than anything any of my paintings would ever say. There is something to be said for having the presence of mind to fully relish the act of a mystery revealing itself, allowing each moment to be exactly what it is, enjoying the fact that there is more to come but you must wait, because first you must experience what is. It’s so powerful to be able to say “this makes me feel this“, and experience each emotion. As I lay in each color of my paintings, layer glaze over glaze and scrape wildly into built up areas on the canvas to re-create new patches of attention, I can hear the coyotes and distant train whistles that lull me to sleep, feel the energy that inspired each color, remember to the point of virtual time travel each word or thought that laid its mark on subconscious. All of this transforms into a newly found rhythm as current time and surroundings make their mark on creativity, eventually birthing a tangible piece of art that reflects what is only palpable to me as an individual.

dawn breaks

There have been two great quotes I’ve been carrying around in my pocket this past month. One is from a “farewell letter” of sorts, written about the devastating loss of Alexander McQueen:

McQueen was also self-destructive (like so many creative types who give themselves over completely to what they love).

Is this true? Is that what this process is about? The art of merging the lines between your physical and creative lives? Is it a process of finally giving in, no longer refraining from allowing yourself to fully exude and inhale the things you save for your “creative moments”, so that every moment is, in fact, a moment of living art? And, is this really destructive? Or could it in fact be liberating? The other quote is from an interview with Marina Abramovic:

…just being present as an artist in a space, with full consciousness and your attitude with your body (…) the meaning of the meaning, that is the most difficult

Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe what has slipped past me while I’ve been so focused on trying to find it, but the sensation that comes with realization is so incredibly satisfying. I don’t deny that the process of re-discovering the process was excruciating, but I believe I once read that, “every artist must die at least 5 times in their lifetime; preferably bloody, painful deaths”. It feels beautiful to re-emerge.

"Shattered Direction (illimitation)", somewhere near finished

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