Jesse

My brother and sister-in-law weren't incredibly pleased with their wedding photos (Plus, it rained that day, so they weren't able to do outdoor photos as originally planned.) So, they asked Jesse to take some for them. And as always, the man does good work. These are a few of my favorites so far as I am editing.




I think this last one might be my favorite favorite.

Art and Animals

Can my two loves mesh any better? I don't know where this is, but I would gladly fly across the world to watch.

Charcoal Should Be Reserved for Grilling.

Top Reasons I Don't Like Doing Charcoal Drawings:

-You can't get a clean line because it smears all over the place.

-It gets all over my clothes and hands.

-Even when you spray it with fixative, it still smears some.

-It drys out my skin.

-It gives me black boogers (from breathing in the dust).

BAH!

My First Fondant

Picasso

Oh Picasso, thank you for making me feel like maybe somehow, someway, I could actually do something more than "make the world pretty" with art.

“What do you think an artist is? An imbecile who has only eyes, if he is a painter, or ears if he is a musician or a lyre in every chamber of his heart if he is a poet, or even, if he is a boxer, just his muscles? Far from it: at the same time, he is also a political being, constantly aware of the heartbreaking, passionate, or delightful things that happen in the world, shaping himself completely in their image. How could it be possible to feel no interest in other people, and with a cool indifference to detach yourself from the very life which they bring to you so abundantly? No, painting is not done to decorate apartments. It is an instrument of war." - Pablo Picasso

Next Year

When next year starts, and I am actually making art again, maybe this blog will get back to actually being "studio studies".

Art is powerful.

I'd love for you to check out this website. These are drawings done by children in Darfur while Human Rights Watch researchers talked with their parents. Unprompted. Clicking on each drawing will bring up quotes from the child who drew the picture, describing what they drew. This is happening now. What am I doing? What are we doing? We look back at the Holocaust and say "never again", but Lord what are we doing? I just can't believe this is happening now, as I type, sitting in my home.

The Sign

So we have this big thermostat in our kitchen in a really bad spot on the wall. I debated about what to do as far as decorating around it. Jesse even offered to move it, but that would involve more holes in the wall, patching up stuff and painting over it again. And frankly, most patch jobs don't look all that great. So, I finally decided that the best thing to do would be to incorporate it into our decoration. We had planned to do a "Farmer's Market" theme in the kitchen, with stuff like old road side fruit stand signs and things like that. Well, it sort of evolved into a French farmer's market, and now all the old signs are in French. Anyway, so a week ago, Jesse and I began working on the big sign that will go with the thermostat. We got it all ready to go, but were waiting to hang it until we got our new thermostat, (which Jesse explained on his blog). Anyway, so we got the new thermostat yesterday and today was sign hanging day. This sign is made of MDF, so it's pretty heavy. In the photo below, it looks like Jesse is putting it up with ease. But, if you would have seen the spectacle going on about five minutes before I took this photo, you would have gotten some good laughs. We probably looked like a slap stick comedy routine. Jesse and I were both hanging on to it, to the tune of Jesse cursing in the background while we tried to get at least one or two screws in before we dropped it or ripped the thermostat off the wall since the sign goes all around it. In the course of all this, I dropped the drill onto the kitchen table and made a big mark in the middle of it, Jesse dropped the level on my head and made a good bump on it, and the level also dropped onto the chair rail and made a good mark into it. I guess the whole "distressed farmer's market" now continues through more than anticipated. Oh well, we finally got it hung up, and the thermostat blends in pretty well. If anyone knows French, please do not make fun of my poor translation. Actually, there is also a bit of Hawaiian on there as well, so it really probably makes no sense at all when translated. I am just banking on the fact that we have very few bilingual acquaintances.

The Meaning of Art

So Jesse and I had a discussion about the meaning of art. After reading my last entry, he asked me "What's God doing in Africa?" and numerous other questions about what I meant by my last post and how it relates to the song. Basically, "How can you say that's about a certain subject when it really doesn't look like it has anything to do with that?" Some art, like many photographs, especially Jesse's, are literal. You can take one look at them and know exactly what they are about. Other art, like the collage, is conceptual. You can take one look at it and not have a clue what it's about. I guess the best I can explain it, is that for me, when faced with overwhelming issues, whether personal, or something huge like the AIDS epidemic, I don't know how to talk with God about it. I don't know what to ask Him, what to tell him. The only way I feel like I can make a dent or change in the issue is to physically move my hands and create something. The collage is about asking God to move there, to sing the song over Africa, to make those words truth for that nation. That's how I can say "this is about Africa", but also why I can't really elaborate on it, because in the movement, in the creating, I don't even know what I was saying to God. It's like when people speak in tongues. I doubt they really know what they are saying sometimes, but they know they are having some deep conversation with God about something important. Anyway, here's a short paragraph I had written in my journal earlier this summer as I was struggling through being an artist. (I was pretty ticked that God gave me that gift instead of something more practical and "useful", like medicine or teaching.) In any case, when I pelted God with "why did you make me like this instead of like this?", these are the words that I believe he put into my mouth and is asking me to believe (which I'm still working on):

My painting is a prayer. It hangs on a wall and never stops beckoning to God. It delights and worships and never ceases to adore the Father. It intercedes on behalf of its viewers. It is beautiful.

Roses

In my life, there have been a small number of things that I have really wanted to do, deep desires within my heart. Some small and seemingly shallow, some large and seemingly deep. They are different than goals in that I never set out to make any of them happen. I never had a purpose or a plan or some big ambition to achieve those desires. Somehow though, despite even myself, I have been able to live the majority of them. And the others, while I really desire them, I don't desire them now in my life. They are desires for my future. One of these desires, kind of a silly and small one, was to redo my mom's house. I don't know why I wanted to so badly, but it was just one of those things. Whenever I would have sleepless nights during our escapades in Texas, my thoughts would center around how to arrange the furniture, what colors to use, what flooring to use. It seems random, and not what I would normally label as a "deep desire in my heart", but yet, it was. Anyway, this past summer, I got that desire. We put in new hardwood floors, painted all the walls, got new furniture and window treatments, the works. The final thing was a large but empty space on the wall that needed a piece of art. We went out and bought a new canvas, but I really had no idea what to put on it. Then I saw this drawing that I had done once when Jesse bought me roses. That gave me the idea for the painting and it is now hanging in my mom's living room. Although it is scheduled to be replaced with another piece of art more fitting to my mom, for now it hangs out on the wall and I like to look at it and see the things in it that I didn't intentionally put there. For example, there is a particular brush stroke that to me, looks just like a person with their hands in the air, praising God. I have even done similar drawings of that very same figure before. Like I said, I didn't put it there on purpose, but now when I look at the painting, it's the first thing my eye goes to. To me, it's an ironic reminder that God is there, even when I don't see Him at the time, and that He really does have a plan and purpose for my life, even when I feel like my actions in life are sometimes aimless and lost. This painting was never meant to be anything deep to me, like some other pieces. It was just something to hang on a wall because we needed some decoration. Aimless, in a sense, no real use. But, much to my surprise, even in my aimless wondering, God shows up.

Two Perfectionists in a Pod

Jesse and I ran out today to run some errands and ended up making an unexpected pit stop at the Nelson-Atkins. They had a photography exhibit going on that Jesse had been wanting to see. Although the total collection they have acquired is roughly 6,500 pieces, they only had a few on exhibit and it ended up being kind of lame compared to what we had expected. But the trip wasn't lost, as we strolled through the exhibit as well as their usual galleries. Looking at many of the paintings, I had to ask myself "If I had done this, would I be satisfied?" There are many pieces that I still stand in awe of each time I see them (this trip included), but I came to a new realization today as I asked myself this question, and surprisingly enough, many pieces I looked at made me spew out an emphatic "no" in my head. For the first time in my life, instead of standing intimidated by other peoples art, crappy or not, I picked apart each piece with the same standards that I pick apart my own. Only a few survived. Not that these artists on display didn't have talent, but I wonder if they were happy with their pieces and would want them displayed. Like how we all study and reproduce Da Vinci's drawings and sketches in his journal. To him, were those really worth displaying, or were they unfinished works, pieces that he would never deem worthy of display? As we strolled through, I whispered some of my thoughts to Jesse. (Those curators standing in each room make me feel like I need to keep my voice in the "library zone".) As we then looked at the photographs, Jesse was having the same thoughts. If that were his photograph, would he say it was good? Would he be proud of it? I think we both realized today that we hold ourselves to near impossible standards with our work. Perfectionists in that way if there ever were ones. Not too sure what either of us will do with this new realization, but it's something to think about nonetheless.

After we looked inside, we walked around outside and took some photos. (Like I knew what I was doing...my photos were all crappy and poorly lit and Jesse's were all sharp and well lit.) Anyway, the photo above is a peek at our afternoon.

Jesse

I really like this one. (It's Jesse.) This was done shortly after we moved into our new house in CO. This sprung a series of new paintings because I liked the brushstrokes so much, which is unusual for me. After playing around with it a bit though, I realized these strokes only work on a few subjects. But at least it got me excited enough to do some more things. I actually think this has become one of my favorite techniques. It reminds me of a palette that isn't totally mixed yet, but still makes sense to the eye. Maybe I also just like the subject of this one. =) Speaking of that subject, I have just been informed that there needs to be a "Jesse is brilliant award" made. He has been down the the garage working on wiring some lights, which he got to work first try. I'll snap a photo and blog that about that in a minute.

Music from Lifehouse and lots of painting

This was the summer of 2001. I painted my all time favorite painting that summer and wanted to post it, but it's packed away in who knows what box from our move. This one has similar coloring though, and was done around the same time, so it will have to do for now. That summer was probably the most profound for both my art life and spiritual life. I had a lot going on, and really questioned the very existence of God. It ended up being that art was the only way I felt any connection with God, and in a desperate attempt to not lose all contact, I would stay up until 2 or 3 in the morning painting. Ironically, I never felt disappointed in the artwork, even if it was awful. Just to be able to do it was enough. And, even more ironic, although at the time I felt dead and extremely distant from God, I sometimes wish I could go back to that place. Looking back, I now see how very close God was to me, an intimacy that I miss terribly, although I didn't even know I had it at the time. I raged against Him and pelted Him with questions. He never defended Himself, and although I thought perhaps He had left me for good, turns out He was there all along. My Lifehouse cd brings me back to that place. It was the theme of my life at the time and seemed to perfectly echo my thoughts. Below are the lyrics to one of the songs on the cd:

I'm finding my way back to sanity again
Though I don't really know what
I'm going to do when I get there
Take a breath and hold on tight
Spin around one more time
And gracefully fall back to the arms of Grace

I am hanging on every word you say
And even if you don't want to speak tonight
That's alright, alright with me
'Cause I want nothing more than to sit
Outside heaven's door and listen to you breathing
Is where I want to be

I'm looking past the shadows
Of my mind into the truth and
I'm trying to identify
The voices in my head
God which one's you?
Let me feel one more time
What it feels like to feel
And break these calluses off me
One more time

'Cause I am hanging on every word you say
And even if you don't want to speak tonight
That's alright, alright with me
'Cause I want nothing more than to sit
Outside your door and listen to you breathing
Is where I want to be

I don't want a thing from you
Bet you're tired of me waiting
For the straps to fall
Off your table to the ground
I just want to be here now

'Cause I am hanging on every word you say
And even if you don't want to speak tonight
That's alright, alright with me
'Cause I want nothing more than to sit
Outside heaven's door and listen to you breathing
Is where I want to be

I am hanging on every word you say
And even if you don't want to speak tonight
That's alright, alright with me
'Cause I want nothing more than to sit
Outside heaven's door and listen to you breathing
Is where I want to be