This work is on Canvas board, it needs to be framed to be hung.
Week 51: "Freedom"
During this time of year we can all get caught up in the hussle and bussle of the holiday season, but end up loosing sight of all the good things that we have. We begin to look at the negative of what we didn't get, or that pair of socks and underwear that we received from grandma. For me this year I am trying to make sure that I don't forget what truly is a gift, a freedom of self.
Over the last year I have really dealt with alot of issues that run rampant. I tried to break free of the bondage of my own cage of character defects. I have found a sense of exhileration in breaking those binds of self. With each step I make I reach and gravitate towards lightness of soul. At times I have found myself even falling in love with myself and the person I have become. I have come to truly see myself as a gift to myself.
For most of my life I have been one to always feel like my self worth is based on what others want me to feel, but the day I painted this blog I truly took a step in another direction. The importance of a the day was for me and me alone. I did not mind that some people in my life didn't recognize it. Each day in my life I have to always remember that I am a gift and I must treat myself as one. In that I find true freedom within my soul.
Note to readers:
I can not believe there is just one more painting left. It is an amazing feeling to have accomplished this. Without you, my readers and supporters, I would not have gone on this amazing journey of self re-discovery. Thank you, much love, and Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.
This work is on Canvas Board, it doesnt need to be stretched but must be framed to be hung.
Week 50: "From the Mountain"
With every journey in life there is always an end. Soon my journey with this series will be complete, but then where do I go from here? That is the question on my mind, especially after the entire year of struggling and searching for growth. What is the next step? What will that next step lead to?
When we journey over a great climb or accomplish a great task there is a sense of pride that leaves us satisfied for a moment. Yet when the feeling of satisfaction dissipates we long for it again. We let our desire for growth and movement forward drive us toward the next journey.
I am coming down the mountain to the end, looking back at what I have done, and then turning to see the new journey in front of me. It is clear and clean, and open to whatever my mind desires. I allow my feet and my desire of growth and movement move me away from my journeys of the past toward the new.
This piece is on Canvas Board. Needs framed to be hung.
Week 49: "In Between Negative and Silence"
Over the past week, as I start to realize that another year is soon to go by, I have been quieter than normal. The people around me know that I can talk, and always have something to say, but recently I have had this want to be silent. In a world of go go go, and always wanting to have voices heard, I find people think that silence means that you're being negative, or in a depression. My question is where is the line that separates negativity and silence.
Recently I have had the desire not to speak, but to listen. Listening for what, I am not sure. I have found myself not wanting to say anything or speak, but to start to listen to myself and the world around. Religious men and women take vows of silence as a way to connect with the world that has gone mad with noise polution. Yet when someone outside of that realm decides to live in silence, for even a brief moment of time, people become uneasy or feel the need to force vocal diarrhea from them. Is it their own insecurity of silence? For me I am begining to learn that for my life to grow I need to just sit and be silent. The only issue for me is that I must watch closely to not cross the line into the darkness.
Many say that silence is golden, but I find that silence is in between all colors and no color at all.
This work is on Canvas board. It will not need to be stretched but will need to be framed to be hung
Week 48: "For Home the Bell Tolls"
So this week I took some time learning to be with me, myself and I. It is a very difficult concept for me to understand. Recently I moved into my own place for the first time in my 30 years of life. After living with loved ones for so many years, which help drown out the voices in my own head, I have to learn how to deal with memories of times passed. Whether it is a movie, the smell of something cooking or an object, I find these memories ring in my head like the sound of a bell tower in the distance.
During this time of year many of my thoughts lead me to traditions and family, which for me are a safe place. Yet this year I am on my own, staring out into an unknown world and an unknown path. Placing ornaments on a tree, or putting on a long lost scarf given to me by someone special, cause memories to rush over me. I know that I must not live in the past, but at times the creature of habit rears it's dark head and pulls me back.
As I step out into the unknown path that is my new journey I must remember the memories of the past, but let them be a sound of the a bell tower in the distance, and not morter and brick that keep me stationary.
This work is on Canvas Board, it doesnt need stretched but needs framed to be hung.
Week 47: "Dream in Colors"
I sat with my head resting today and as I started to sleep I began to slowly slip into a dream. Light started to come through the darkness in my mind. Greens and teals swirled while dancing white lights filled in the middle. Many times in my life I had colors in my dream, but it was always dark. When I awoke I questioned the meaning. Do the colors that we dream in tell us what is store for us or does it represent where we are in our lives?
Green to me is the color of the Earth, renewal and growth. In my life lately I have found that I have grown. After a long time of just living life on cruise control I started to have moments of clarity. Of course I didn't come to this easily. Coasting through life I began to be aware of my own growth, like a plant in too small of a pot. Is this a sign for me to start looking at repotting myself in my life, to begin to renew my thinking in my life so that I may grow?
This work is not on normal canvas, but canvas board. This piece will not need stretched, but will need framed.
The death of a love one is extremely hard and takes time to heal. What about ones that have moved on or are lost in their own demons. With the loss of someone so close we have to go through, our own mourning cycle.
As many know I have been given the amazing gift of recovery, yet I meet many on a daily basis that still struggle. Tonight, before painting live at an art show I found out that a close friend that I care for and love decided to listen to his demons and disappear into the depth of addiction once again. When I see and hear about these things it cuts deep. The hurt of watching someone I care about so much give up on himself rips through me. This grief process of knowing someone is gone from my life gives me a quick kick in the stomach, but I must move on.
The thing I have to do is hope that the friends that are lost may return to me someday. I have learned to except the fact that I they may never return. I must focus the anger and the fear towards the inner demons and not the friend. I know that when the darkness doesn't have its grip on them that is where my friend still exists. For I know them, they were me and if I am not diligent it could be me.
So I weep in silence for those in my life that are lost. I shed a tear for every one that have come into and silently slipped back out. I mourn the loss of my friends, but have the love to move on to new friends with open arms.
Are all men created equal? Do we all have this basic right? Or in the land of the free do we have the right to beat down, hurt or destroy the emotional self-worth of another without retribution?
Over the last several months I watched our nation decide that they would acknowledge the cry out of youth in this country. Everyday young people in this land bully others in the pursuit of making themselves "feel better". They say that they have the right to say what they want because of the freedom of speech. As well as government saying that everyone has equal rights under the law, oh, but not this specific group because they are different. What type of lesson does that teach the youth of this country and the youth to come? While the government and people say we need to stop the outbreak of bullying, they teach youth that it is OK to bully someone if they belong to a specific group.
My inspiration this week was that of Veterans Day. These proud and brave men and women fought and still fight for the freedoms of this land. They fight so that we can still have those rights. How long will we as a nation teach hate, instead of teaching how to pursue true happiness? How long will the young minorities that make up this land have to fight?
Throughout my life, whether it was my childhood, young adult or now into my 30's, I have always tried to overcome my fears. I once was afraid of heights and roller coasters and to break through that fear, I rode on one. During the course of life, I tore down the walls of my basic human fears. It is my belief that fear is the core basis of all negative emotions, the question is how to over come my greatest fear.
My deep dark fear is, like many others, growing old and dying. Many take any and all precautions to make sure they don't appear to "look" old. For myself, it's not about looking old, (even though that is an easy fix), but more so the fear of being alone. The thought of growing old and watching all my friends pass away scares me. Yet the question I ask myself is, how do I move past the fear and conquer it?
The answer to this question for myself is all about doing the opposite: LIVING. Life and creating becomes the shield and sword in my personal battle. I find that I live when I create, so to answer my own question of how to conquer my fear of death is to always keep my eyes forward and during life, stay awake.
Week 43: "Night Light" As I stepped out of my new front door into the buzz of the city, I reflect on where I have been, where I came from and where I am going. When I was kid, like many, I was scared of the dark. I always had to have the door open or have the light showing the way. As I come to the end of the first week of living on my own I realize that like the lights of the city, I have had many night lights to guide my path to where I am now.
Every choice I have made and every person that has come into my path of life has been some type of stepping stone down the narrow streets of this crazy maze. Some have cleared the way for me to make easy strides down the sidewalk, and some have created obstacles. Of course the biggest one of all has been myself. In my life I have been the one reoccurring path blocker. Since I came to that realization and started to move out of my own journey the street has opened up. There are many times where I begin to back track my steps into the dark alleyways, but all it takes is to stop and turn myself around toward the lights.
Now I have come to this point in my life. I have now started the journey of living on my own. I've stepped out of my own way and let the lessons I have learned now be the lights along side of me instead of the potholes in front of me. Lights illuminate the path of my life as clear as day, but only if I let them.
I Dedicate this weeks work and blog to my best friend and roommate of almost 8 years. Love you my "Gracie"
Week 42: "New Chapter" To me a box can say many things. You can feel boxed in or a over whelming sense of entrapment. To me it can be a symbol of secrets being hidden from the world, but lately it has given me a totally different meaning.
As many readers know I am moving this weekend. So I am really drawing inspiration from my environment. Yet while being surrounded by boxes of all shapes and sizes I am not feeling "boxed in", but a sense of excitement, fear and accomplishment.
In the grips of addiction one can be trapped with in a containment of their own making. Or even literally be taken so low to the point of making a box a home. I was a lucky one who did not make it that far. I knew about being inside the box; the secrets taped shut inside so that light could see them. But when I became sober the box was opened so that the air could rush in and dust out the old secrets long forgotten. This created excitement for me of life and of the journey I would begin. Now there is excitement once again, for I now once again being on a new journey into the unknown. While I pack the cardboard squares of memories of the past, I see the next journey I embark on.
The boxes packed around me are a symbol of my success and of my personal growth. For the first time in my 30 years of life, I will be living on my own. With that there is a fear of the unknown. It will be my responsibility to love myself for me and take care of myself.
Just like the pages in a book, I have to read word by word on a path to end one sentence. I finish the sentence and move onto a journey through the paragraph, until it comes to the last page. I look at the boxes and read the words, sentences and paragraphs of a new chapter.
The touch of hands across the skin can send shivers. A touch of lips on a neck can leave one breathless. The watchful gaze of someone's eyes upon you can hypnotize, but scent has the power to transform.
Scents can intoxicate and infect all the senses. If you can not smell, you can not taste the true flavor. When we inhale a scent we hold it in and become breathless. Aromas can change a mood or intensify a current one.
This week I wanted to paint the smell and sensuality of a scent. I wanted to showcase the lustful intoxication of fall. The smell of turning leaves mixed with fleshy apples; when the fruits are full and plump about to burst. When my nose is full of these ingredients mixed with the perfume of the chilled air I find myself changing between serenity and sexual, from contemplative to stupefied. Incense fills my nose, my mind begins to transform and transport me to the intense recesses of my soul. The nose knows.
Tonight I had coffee with an person whom I have only spoken to a small handful of times. Until this evening she was a basic stranger to me. I did not know her story, her struggles, how she grew up or where she felt her life was going, yet there was always a magnetism to her that pulled me in.
Without hesitation, and without fear I was able to tell her my story, where I came from, and the hopes of where I am going. She as well opened up the book that is her life and read the pages to me. We found that our stories were different, yet many key markers were the same. While we sat there at her kitchen table, light pouring in from the large bay window, I began to ponder why is it so easy for us to spill some of the darkest secrets of our pasts to people who are total strangers.
For me a total stranger is usually able to listen without pretenses. Their ears are open without any memories of things said or done by me. I have also found that it seems to be human nature to want to know other people's problems and stories. When talking to a stranger I also find it to be a bit of an adrenaline rush, for there is always that slight thought of, "What if they tell everyone what I have said?" I have also found that there is a dark and light side when I open myself up to someone. It is good to free my soul and let the light shine in, but hope that I haven't opened myself up to the darkness. Tonight I opened myself up to a stranger and found a friend.
In the news lately there have been stories of kids that have been so severely bullied because of their sexual orientation that they have committed suicide. To hear these stories not only breaks my heart, but sickens me.
The belief that homosexuals are an "abomination to God" is one the many mantras used as fuel for this bullying which is often taught by religious leaders. These leaders of religious institutions preach about love and that "He made us in His image" except if you are are gay. I find these people in our society extremely hypocritical and no better than any hate group. I do not direct this towards the religious institutions, but at the leaders that use these venues to spread their message of hate and ugliness and not the beauty and love which are part of the teachings. I am not anti-spiritual but anti-hate.
We as a society must look at what is being taught to children at a young age. We have to stop the hate instead of instilling it. I think that if someone is truly a spiritual or religious person, even if they don't "agree" with homosexuality, they love someone as a fellow human. I implore my readers to take a moment and spread love to someone that may need it and help support bully prevention in schools.
If we are all truly made in his image, no exceptions.
As many know by now, I am inspired by many things. But most of my inspiration comes from music. I find that lyrics in a song or the sound of chords conjure emotions and thoughts, which in turn become my muse. This week is no exception. This painting was inspired by "Blackbird" originally by the Beatles, yet I was inspired by Carly Simon's rendition. Below is a link to her version.
"Take this broken wings and learn to fly, all your life, you were only waiting for this momentto be free"
In this simple lyric I see myself. Over many years of struggling through life as a broken person, I was unable to be whole within myself, kept waiting to be free. The freedom I sought was so out of my reach because I was unable to let go of my own wounds. I clutched for dear life to those things that kept me sick, and damaged, such as addiction and failed relationships.
Over the last 3 years, or what I have been calling my new journey of life, I have come to learn one important thing-to heal I had to learn to let go, or at some point just stay still until I was well. At times as the lyric says "into the dark, black night" I had to fly blindly into the unknown trusting that as long as I let go everything would be okay. This to me is faith at its basic level. Not from "religion" ideals, but pure human faith, this is what this piece means for me. That to me is true freedom. Flying through the night, blind, but safe and healed.
Actual size of this work is 9 inches (h) by 50 inches (l) Click on the image for larger view
This week's work was painted live while people watched during the "Third in the Burg" Art and local business walk at the Historic Harrisburg Association. Thank you to all who came out and thank you to all those who heard about "52 in 52" tonight.
Lately, life has become hectic and I feel as if I am constantly on the go, or heading somewhere to do something. Whether it be with my job, my art, or personal life I am constantly moving. Summer is about movement and "going on vacation" or "I'm going to do this". During this time of year I get stir crazy. For me the autumn weather make me think of respite, a quiet calm. As soon as the first snow falls and silences the world in the physical, I find rest. This week's work is a representation of my life and how the movement is waiting for the silence to come. Maybe I am preparing to hibernate for the winter. So with my work I wanted to show not just a touch of the forthcoming season, but show a whisper of winter and rest.
Growing up on army bases, for me, there are a few things that I will always remember. In the morning hours I would hear the soldiers running by our window during PT, early morning trumpet calls, and I would hear taps being played while the flag was being retired at 5:00 PM everyday. The sound of the mournful trumpet being played while the sun dipped below the skyline was something that always moved, and at the same time, haunted me.
As I sit here painting, the day before September 11th, a day that changed this country forever, I sit and think about all those who we lost on that fateful day; and the countless men and women we have lost fighting across the ocean. I must always remember those who have come before me, those men and women whom make it possible for me to create freely.
Dusk lies between the dark and light, between the day and night. It lies where reality ends and dreams begin, when the sun sets on one life into the next. It is in these moments where peace comes, and for that brief moment, the world and all the destruction and wars, are silent.
I must state that I am a supporter of the men and women that serve this country, in protecting us from attacks such as that of September 11th, but I am not a supporter of the war. So this September 11th, while I cannot play the taps to all those whom have fallen, I paint dusk in remembrance of them.
One of life's simplest gestures. It's complex and can mean many things. Whether it be between man and woman, man and man, woman and woman, a kiss is never just black and white. A kiss, depending on its intent, can be harsh and sharp, or can be soft and smooth. The one thing I have found is a kiss never leaves all the answers filled in, it expects the two doing the kissing to do that. Between spouses, loved ones, new friends or a perfect stranger, a simplistic action survives on its complexity. Is a kiss just a kiss...?
In life we have a need to feel like we are part of something. A need to be connected to something greater than ourselves, but at what cost? Is giving up your individuality to be part of a group worth the comfort of being accepted? There is a sense of security in a group for those on the inside. This work for me is a question to my readers. Within your groups and circles you gather in, do you ever stand up or show your individuality in your group, and invite someone from the outside?
In life I have felt that I was always trying to fit into whatever group that would take me for those few brief moments. I would change the way I act, dress, and how I treated others. As I become more aware of what I want in my life, I find that I become part of a larger group then I ever thought would be possible. The truth for me is that the more I know about who I am, what I want and express my individuality the more I become part of a true group of loving caring friends. And with that I find an an amazing freedom and security. After years of trying to be part of the gathering and failing, I become part of the group because I know who I am alone.
In my life I have had several moments where I come the proverbial precipice. It's either I hang on and struggle for dear life or take a deep breath and jump.
My fear of the unknown kept me frozen for many years and I fought with all my might to stay on solid ground. It was my fear of loosing control of my out of control life that kept me clawing for the safety. Taking that first step is all based on faith. For me faith is not just a religious idea, but a universal one. I have to have faith in myself that I can make it through whatever life hands me. I have to remind myself that life is not being lived if you don't take a risk. Yet the biggest lesson from taking that first step is that I cannot grow unless I walk to the edge and take it.
Human's are creatures of habit. We as a society don't have a problem with external change, but do have issues changing ourselves. Like myself, to change the internal psyche, I have to rip the "band aide off" to let it breathe. But when I take that jump into something that is a drastic change, I find myself not jumping with both feet together. My normal tendency is to take one step out while leaving one foot planted on the ground "just in case", yet is that truly turning myself completely over to faith. Do I leap fully into change or take a protected step.
A Winner has been chosen for the Create the Story Behind This Work for Week 32: "Comfort Level". The winner will have his work posted here with the art and will be published in the book and has won the painting for free.
Contest Winner: Craig Bomberger
"Untitled"
The intensity of the sparkle in your eyes
Feeling the passion come out in your voice
I mistook these cues from you, as interest in me
Laughing more, I began to let myself go
Finding your attention comforting and warm
Soothing like hand cream in the numbing cold of winter
Before parting ways, you asked for my number
Giving it to you; exchanging our numbers and glances
Once you had it, my feet left the floor and hovered
Running as free-flowing as a faucet left open
Gushing and squirming, I fell, free-falling for you
Closing my eyes and I can see you amidst the dark
Sleep would not prove to be a challenge that eve
After your eyes lock shut and your body stills
When the house lights dim and the curtain opens
Subconscious dreams I have take over center stage
The players are you and I, acting out our future
Such grandeur and awe could not be set to script
Piercing like opening the refrigerator in a dark Kitchen
Rays of the sun’s light tear and break my eyelids
Shock and disbelief force me to start rubbing my eyes
Fuzzy shapes crisp into my bedroom surroundings
Left alone, abandoned, from my beautiful fantasy
My dreams have vaporized, only memories will remain
Slowly, I force myself to lumber through my routines
Inside my head, I still think on what I’d dreamt of
Impossible to wash away; a grease stain on cashmere
Hiding it only makes everyone aware of its existence
Picking up my phone, I place a call to your number
No response, I leave a message; knowing I must wait
Waiting for your response was painful and pleasure
Wondering if this new pain would be worth the joy
Comparable to virginal sex all over again, that’s how it felt
Praying it would soon be over and then start once more
Too much to take; I call you a second time and then text
What’s my fate? Waiting and then more waiting
Just as my mind tells my heart to give up the fantasies
Text message bing; you send me, “Who are you?”
Tears well in my eyes and my brain starts to ponder
Would hearing nothing from you be more painful?
Damages are done instantaneous, like a Richter 6 quake
Crumbled, broken, and damaged; I’m stunned
Building me up and collapsing me in less than a day
Realizing you connived me like the Trojan Horse
Thankful to the standards I’d set long in the past
No chance your horse wrapped in a Trojan could trick me
Hurting as I am, I stop to embrace that thought
Loathing you for how your three words sliced me
Scorn, it must have been my scornful discontent
Expectant of another three word combination
Slightly more sweet, gentle, and enduring language
Much more like the words you’d spoke to me in dream
Therein lies my problem you see, I’d dreamt you
Figures of the imagination never inhabit the Earth
Try as I may to curse and blame you, I fault myself
Telephone numbers exchanged like fortune cookies
Shreds of hope in the bottom of your carry-out meal
Difficult as this reality is the face, it could be worse
You could have leaked in me, like the Soy Sauce
Ruining and staining my new seats as I drive home
Disgraceful a situation as it is, I stop to relish
Behind every work of art has a story. It is also said that every person has a story to tell, and the eyes are the window to soul. Have I thrown enough cliche' lines yet? Even though I these lines have been used forever, I find them to be true. So this week after trying to come up with my own story for this work, decided to let everyone come with their own story.
Contest: Come up with a back story to the work. What is it's story?
Deadline: Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Winner: The winner will have their story published here on the blog with the work, and will have the story published in the book at the end of the year. And will also win the painting!
Submit To: theartofdavidk@live.com
Subject Line: Week 32 - Comfort Level Contest
Let your creative thoughts flow, uncensored!
"Never conform...Define yourself. The world worships the original."
Like seeing your shadow bouncing off a puddle or pool of water, the reflection of ourselves is always distorted. No matter what direction you look the reflection constantly changes. It morphs sometimes into something that you don't recognize, or if you're lucky you get to see just brief glimmers of what is truly there.
As the water ripples underneath, it's ever changing. We are never left with the same water reflecting back. As each ripple of life comes through us, whether it be big or small, it changes us and never leaves us with the same person that started. We as humans seem to have this thought that if there is going to be change it needs to big all at once, and "all or nothing" attitude. If we were to just let the waves of change slowly ripple across us wave by wave and at slower pace, we would see more of our true selves. We would finally see exactly what the world sees. Sometimes the most beautiful thing in nature or in our world is the smallest and most understated subtlety of change.
Over the last week I have had an obsession of flesh. The smell, the taste, the vulnerability entices me and confuses me. People say that we have to build a tough skin to protect ourselves from the harshness of the world and from the bile that others spew at us. My thoughts are drawn to the question of how something so tough can be so fragile, that with the slightest prick can expose the core of our weakness. The skin is our shield, but it is not made of steel. The sharpest blade can rip through the layers and layers of mass that makes up the physical, but the sharpness of a persons' tongue can leave permanent gashes in our self worth .
The world loves the mantra "sticks and stones..., but names will never hurt me". To be blunt, that is utter bull shit in my mind. The arrows of verbal attacks, even with good intention, can pierce. I maybe of outer flesh, but my heart and core is of utter-flesh. As an artist I find I have to leave myself vulnerable at times to feel the emotional gunfire of others to use later as inspiration. I found that when I begin to close myself off, or grow a "thicker skin" the inspiration begins to dry because I feel no pain.
Instead of leaving you with a my normal conclusion of my thoughts, I have decided to leave you some expressive verse to sum the meaning behind this week's work.
"Bruise"
By David K.
Visceral knuckles pound the curves
Verbal nails begin to till the soil
The pulse, the gasp, pumps its weakness through
I place my shield up in battle while you prepare the psychological and spiritual lobotomy
My body stands there ready for combat, but the beating inside screams for what it wants
It craves more self destruction, it starves for more violence.
The pulse, the gasp, pumps it's addiction to feeling through
I love the purple that raises to the internal and external surface
Because where there is a bruise, there is creativity, there is validation, there is emotional vandalism,
So this week is a special week for the Central Pennsylvania LGBT community and myself, PRIDE FEST.
For most of my life I have felt as if I have had to fight for everything I ever wanted or dreamed, whether it be a better job, freedom to love who I want or battle my own insecurities to love myself. Most of the time I feel like I have to fight over the chaos of the world to have my voice heard. Yet when I finally get loud enough, is there anyone listening?
There are those in the world that try to deny me of my right to be free. Free to express my emotions, to kiss another man or to hold his hand in front of the world and to declare him my husband. I feel that as a society we need to realize there are still people that are longing to be free and not be treated as second class citizens. Yet for me the true enemy that I have had to battle is myself and my own insecurities.
Like so many others in the LGBT Community I had a self hatred for many years due to my sexuality, because of people in this world who said it was a sin or it was not "normal". I was in a constant battle within myself for my worth and self-love. Though being out for many years I still tried to cover up the fact that I hated being gay. Then over the last several years I began to bring the secret out of the dark and into the sun. I began to realize that I was brought into this world for a reason, and that every battle internal or external is what writes the chapters of my life. I learned to love myself and be proud of who I am, and not let myself being gay define me. In turn this made me finally love that part about me.
It was there and then that I adorned myself in my war paint, and let out a mighty cry and stated to myself, "My blood runs many colors. I am a Warrior! I will not back down until I am Free!"
In my travels, there is one medium that has always caught my eye - graffiti. When I begin to look at the intense accenting, savage beauty, and the raw emotional power behind it, in my mind, it becomes some of the most important visual art.
I have found that this style of work not only imitates, but is a perfect parallel to life and art. Usually I find that when spread wide across a wall, the "artist or artists" are not only creating a statement of territory, but truly expressing their inner psyche. There is also a beauty to the intense shading verses the extreme highlights. Graffiti in my mind mirrors that inner dark verses light, yin and yang that our minds go through everyday. In this week's work I wanted to depict a softer side of graffiti that expressed the contemplative side of emotions.
Yet while working on this week's piece I did find out one thing about myself. Even when I have many raw emotions flowing, ready to force their way to the surface, I still try to to smooth out emotions in my head so that they are hidden.
Call it "street art" or "destruction of property", graffiti imitates life which can create beauty or destroy it.
Special Note: This painting is not a self portrait, this work was modeled by this
week's inspiration.
This week's work was inspired by someone else's story, someone else's life. Yet listening to him talk about what he has been going through made me realize that I too have gone through it as well. It's a constant human struggle to define what we really want in our lives and what we really need.
For me this battle rages on many times on a daily basis. I have found that when I try to make heads of tales of it in my own life, my vision of myself becomes unfocused. Many times the things that I thought were "what I needed" were actually what I "wanted", and once I had them I realized they were not what I wanted at all.
I found when my judgment becomes muddy and unable to define clear lines of my needs and desires, I have to take time and be still. Of course this age old question has been plaguing mankind since the dawn of time. The only way I find the answer to this question in specific moments or situations in my life, is to sit back and let myself be motionless, and let myself begin to find the edges. I have to give myself time to clear the lines until I can move slowly out of self focus and begin to see the full picture.
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