I sometimes feel like what I'm doing
is not important at all.
That it's stupid to fill my days
with art and writing
when there is a crisis in Syria,
and drowned children
and parents who are so desperate
for a new life - a safe life -
that they will risk everything
for the chance of a new beginning.
All of a sudden,
my little paintings
seem pretty senseless.
And so not important.
But I make art anyway.
Because I need to.
Because it's the only way
I know how to process
the chaos out there.
And then when I see things like this
popping up all over the internet......or this
I realize that I'm not the only one
who needs art to make sense of the world.
Art is a powerful thing.
It's how we face our own pain.
It is powerful for the artist
and powerful for those who see it.
It makes us think...
and sometimes, it makes us feel
like everything's gonna be ok.
Like we're no different
than anyone else.
Like we all have the same fears.
Who hasn't felt like this
at one time or another?
Like you were on the wrong path,
or things were just taking
too damn long to finally become REAL?
There are changes happening around here lately...
I am gently closing the door to some things,
and slowly opening the door to others.
They may not be permanent doors
and they may not be profitable doors,
but they are exciting doors
and interesting doors
and doors that look like
they could be filled with balloons
So fuck it.
I'm going in. :)
Sometimes, we just need to give space
for something else to have room to grow.
I painted this (above) a few nights ago
in about 10 minutes flat.
I was surprised by how much
i liked it when it was done.
I used oil pastels for the black & white,
and acrylic paint (on paper) for the rest.
It captures the energy I was feeling
at the time.
Then a few fun doodles
in my little Moleskine book...
blue Sharpie pen on paper.
and a tiny Buddha illustration. :)
I had coffee this week
with a wonderful person
who I consider a friend,
despite only seeing her in person a few times.
The lovely Stéphanie Guimond
at Creative Living Experiment
who I'm sure many of you have met on-line.
She's taking a bit of a break these days...
but still has loads of inspiration on her blog.
She's a fabulous artist
and an even more fabulous person.
We talked about all things & art,
and the dry spells we all encounter as artists.
The walls we hit.
I don't know of any artist
who hasn't questioned why they make art
at one point or another in their lives.
My days can flow into one another
with doodles & paintings & creativity
and everything is right with the world.
And then, something happens
somewhere in a far away land -
like a drowned little boy,
and I question my whole reason for doing what I do.
That's usually when I pick up this book:
and see things like this...
And I remember that the reason I do what I do
is because it's who I am
and I don't know how to be
anything or anyone else in this world.
When I look at the work
of Maira Kalman,
I know she doesn't know
how to be anyone else either.
And that makes everything ok, somehow.