Boxes

Most of the time I'm glad I get to work in a library. It brings stability and structure to an artist's life. Library work is a little anchor dug in, that helps me manage the rest of my life. I'm not any better organized, but I can separate out logic and illogic from each other. Even the touch of books is interesting: the covers, papers, and other people's great illustrations! And of course all those words. Maybe it's like sending the adult to work and then the kid can play with a camera or pencil or idea. Sometimes I play at snapping interesting photos before we open or sketching intriguing people or poses on scraps of paper at the desk. It's fun to describe someone as they walk through the lobby, noting things like clanky chains, exotic hair: all the ways people are interesting.

But the work can drain the heart out too. Some job I didn't do well enough (for me) or maybe good intentions that vanished into office politics. The structure of organizations like mine puzzles me sometimes. "Policy" can drain all the color and liveliness from a job, and regulate the creative spark so closely folks can barely breathe. People start feeling wingless and rooted to the ground. Today I rushed home to pour several pages of words onto a notebook, and then drew these two sketches. I tried to show my abstract feelings with the bird drawing, but then the other one, the figure in the box came. She probably comes closer to the truth.

Dreaming Peace

Lately, life has been getting me down. I seldom remember that expressing something...anything...visually can be a way to clear out the mental clutter. Sometimes creating a visually chaotic piece helps, or expressing a state of mind. Last night I found myself doodling an ideal world in which peace pours down on us like the wings of a dove - or in this case an arctic tern. Far below, velvet folds of earth flow into an unreal river. Tall spires of evergreen surround the bottom. Everything in this world is stable and at peace. Even the square format reinforces this. Haven't you ever wished that time could stand perfectly still for just a bit so you could rest and collect yourself? I remember in one of the Chronicles of Narnia books, there is a pool where people stop and sleep beside the water. While they sleep, time has stopped and any worries or consequences are suspended in time for them. At least this is how I remember the story...

Morose

This sullen figure sort of drew herself. Maybe she's out of my subconscious, because I started out to draw someone merely tired after a long day at work. Instead I get this. Hmmm. She can only be described as morose. If her eyes were downcast, she could perhaps be merely thinking.

Two Looking Up

It's very hard for me to "get over it" and post work in progress. Doing so makes me feel vulnerable because the finished idea is not yet in sight. The drawings here are part of an idea I've had for a while: someone looking up and shading their eyes, or the shadow of an airplane falling across various things (including someone's upward turned face.) I drive back and forth under the flight path of our airport, and love watching the underbellies of jetliners slip overhead with their mighty roar. I AM that person looking up, even though in reality I must keep both hands on the wheel and most of my eyes on the road. Sometimes I pull off the freeway and drive along side streets where I can pull over and get out of the car. I know eventually all these goofy sketches will enable me to nail the exact feel I am searching for. In the meanwhile, I trust you with less than my best art.

Lighting the Torch

I found it impossible not to respond to the Olympics images on TV last night!I especially liked the torch lighting sequence. Something about that dreamlike runner treading air around the rim of the stadium appealed to me. I liked the blending of the surreal and impossible with those images from history rolling out behind him. It did feel like the person who conceived it was telling about a dream; perhaps a national dream or a dream the human race as a whole is dreaming. Even though the first day was marred by tragic events and international conflict, I will remember the torch lighting. Actually, I was sitting in the same spot on my sofa where I first watched the World Trade Center attacks and that coincidence crossed my mind. Looking at the sketch here, I realize it reminds me a little of aboriginal rock art I've recently seen in the BBC production of "How Art Changed the World." That's a wonderful series by the way and I recommend it.

Also, here is a link to a video recording of the part of the ceremony I used for this drawing.

More Square Stories

I was thinking the other day of heated discussions I have with my Life Partner about doing art and whether I am mistaken in wanting to sell the work in order to feel successful.

These little windows or stories-in-a-box may not mean anything, but they are satisfying to make. You take one particular feeling and just express it simply. I think the urge is to be understood, and selling somehow implies that someone somewhere does understand. At any rate the buyer has seen something in your work that struck a chord.

The girl read the book and became engrossed in the writer's words. His story has grabbed her imagination.

The other figure is filled with the frustration of not being heard or understood. The feeling of speaking one's piece alone in the wilderness is a scary one: like the un-heard fallen tree.

Working in a library, I see how much reading means to people. As an escape, as inspiration, for insight into one's circumstances or life path. I don't think people go to art in this way, expecting instant gratification. It's easy for people to talk about books, hard to talk about art.

Hot Summertime Blues

I was out today in the heat and hating my hot car, the errands I had and the constraints I was feeling in my life. I turned on the car stereo to "Beautiful Day." Thought then how this current life I'm in and this exact routine I was so hating would seem a thing of beauty tinged with nostalgia if - in some future I can't see - I had no sight, was injured, had lost family, job or any of the simple freedoms I was enjoying today by driving to the store and paying for things. There are so many things to complain about in the physical world if you let yourself.

The fact is, I have let myself drift away from daily art again. All last week though, each night after work I made myself draw a square and put something in it. These drawings have accumulated, and here are a few of them.

My intent was just to express one simple concept about life or work or change. It's so different than drawing from life or direct observation. You know it's right when it feels right rather than looks right. The top one is based on a view of Jericho from a video I love, "How Art Made the World". The figures are thoughts about power. I've never focused on blue before, but it was the pencil that came to hand, and it is sort of interesting. These hot summertime blues.