Is the sky falling?

"Life, thought the naked man, was a hell, with rare moments recalling some ancient paradise."

-Italo Calvino

Shapes and patterns, colors and contrasts, line and composition, hard edge and bleed out, which one to choose at any given moment that will make the image powerful or good fire starter for the little red stove sizzling in the corner.  "Photography is ariel acrobatics of the art world."  I told my dear friend and fellow photographer as we sat looking over our last wedding we photographed together.  When you are looking for art in modern moving life, capturing the second or tenth of a second or a moment that says a life time, you have to have the reflexes of the juggler, the humor of the clown, and the judgement of  the tight rope walker.  This......... isn't the "second" though, this is the flowing memory and the feeling of the moment combined in a meditation.  It is slow and ancient compared to photography; an old man watching the Olympic swimmers.  Henri Cartier-Bresson writes about the differences between painting/drawing and photography, for he was both a photographer and painter, his words are beautiful and souring as he speaks of "the artist spirit" verses "the artist's medium".  There are things I can capture with a paint brush that I can't capture with a camera and vise-versa with photographs.  "Painting is self-discovery," Jackson Pollock said. "Every good artist paints what he is."  Today's thought patterns towards art, I am speaking of the over all mass of civilization, tents to take of the view proposed by the "Dada" artists of the twenties and thirties.  Everything is art and in the same token nothing is art, this thought leaves the every day man in a comfortable place were he can say "art is what I like to be art".  For the uneducated majority what they like and call art is what is recognizable and doesn't make them feel insecure by not being able to understand the why behind the meaning that the artist is trying to convey.  We are a civilization of fast food, fast meanings, and fast fixes.  

What I am giving you, above, is nether a fix, an answer or a problem.  It is a question, a question that leads into more questions.  It isn't relativism and it isn't altruism, it maybe both and maybe nether and I don't care.  My friend and art mentor suggested that it be called "Our Father is Watching", I thought it was a good title.  I think you would know what he means by this if you have walked the streets of Manila in the Philippines, or even watch the five o'clock news with out looking at it as the new HBO block buster!

"La Cirque'"

"Now I swallowed it all and could never be full,

Now they call me a fool for leaving"

-Project 86

The snow reflexed the sky like an atom bomb bursting or perhaps walking into heaven for the first time.  I have to wonder if you would know the difference, if there would be a change from one brightness to the next?  Everything melted and ran to the still clear river as it molds under the bridge.  The dogs bounced up the road dragging sticks and stopping at exact moments to make yellow snow.

There has been times when I have wondered about joy and how truth connects with happiness.  I have been reading a couple novels by Thomas Disch who makes life out to be pointless and all of man's dramas nothing but comic no matter how gory!  He is a fantastic writer!  The only problem is is that he too believable and can put a dark cloud in a spotless day if you aren't careful.  I was thinking about him as I walked up the melting road blanketed with sun.  Poncho, my dog, was being even more of a clown than he normally is; running from one soft snow berm to the next and leaping full speed into the snow where he would stick!  Then he would roll over, out of his hole, yip and run to the next bank to do the same thing all over again! I compared his shear joy to Disch's depression and had to wonder if he would have been as likely to take the same point of view if he had owned a red heeler/Australian shepherd. You can't help feel the joy of life when you watch this crazy eyed furball bounce through life with happiness and trust that I love him.  He can bounce from snow bank to snow bank, he knows he is taken care of, he doesn't have to worry about a thing.  I wonder if we knew we were taken care of, if we could be clowns for a day or for the rest of our lives.  But wouldn't that be silly?

"This New Age"

"Standing on the rock, as if fleeing from her own imprisoned arm, she let out a cry that sounded like: It's the octopus! The octopus is torturing me!"

     -Italo Calvino

  Welcome to "The New Age", welcome to today, welcome to The News that will greet you this morning on the T.V.; on the radio to work, on your bosses face and filtered into the Baloney of your sandwich.  Welcome to your life, here and now; what is it that you believe or how much can you believe before all turns into one of those dying stars seen through the Hubbell Telescope.  Everything is moving faster(but not fast enough for us to slow down), the volume on the commercials are getting a little louder, our capacity to tune out stronger and the blizzard of ideas a little thicker. What is beautiful is threatening, what is uncluttered is suspect, what is quiet is annoying and we pray that what is next can stimulate what is left.  Welcome to our "The New Age", welcome to today, welcome to a smile that was left to you for just such an accession.

waiting for that something special.

 Today is a wedding day.  My buddy Scott and I are the honored photo crew of a friend who has put her trust in us to capture her dream day.  I awoke at five this morning with my stomach rolling like the Atlantic in December.  I have never seemed to get over the nerves, though I have shot many many weddings.  So much has to happen in just a few hours, sometimes seconds!  I have to be in the right places at the right time and get the shot, because there is no going back!  I have to think about batteries, light gear, cards, communication, time, weather and on down the road the list twists.  No matter how much I tell my self I have got everything in a strait line, I am balancing the fence and have done it so often that I don't need to think about it.  I am about ready to do cart wheels on the line  but who cares, I know how to do it so why let my head get out of control?  Well, I thought of this at five this morning as I watch the shadows play on the ceiling, and I asked the same question.  "Why do I feel this way, it makes no sense."  Yet, fear rarely does make sense, "what ifs" are just the next turn in the road and you can take the turn or run back yelling "I am not prepared" just as you get shoved back the way you came.  

  This painting I angiushed over most of the weeks, it is call "The Flowers Fade".  I felt like a fading flower when I was doing it.  It exhausted me and I wondered where my worry comes in to this piece.  Where are the nerves.........

A need for repentance.

"So I perceived that nothing is better than that a man should rejoice in his own works, for that is his heritage.  For who can bring him to see what will happen after him?"

                                Prov. 3:22

What is good enough to be happy?  I ask my self as I look at my work, I look at my life and I think about my ego.  I have drank to much this past week, at nights and sometimes on the afternoon.  Other than model photos, for new ideas, I have done little.  My ambition has been low and winter has beaten spring out one more time!  I haven't really been all that joyful and I have grasped for that happiness I have seen come out in paint and line.  My buddy Bruce paints landscapes that would light up Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.  They make me laugh, full and playful!  They dance with color and are a piece of heaven with no shadows.  He told me he doesn't look for reality when he paints he lets the painting take him to a place of peace and joy in his heart first and then lays down color.  I love that about him, I love that about his works.  Each piece that B. does brings a light and happiness into his life and that is enough for him.  He doesn't have to show off his work, he will if you ask him, but you wouldn't even know he painted (seriously painted) unless you spent hours with him.  For his paintings were never made for you, they were never made to fill his ego or for people to pat him on the back to fill their egos by "knowing a great artist".  No!!!  They were made for his own joy and the smile in his soul.  GOD!!!  Would you help me paint that way?

  I don't believe it is the journey that we are on that counts, I believe it is how we approach that journey.