Wednesday, May 21, 2008

I'm learning things about myself

Because I symptom google like a good hypochondriac, I learned that this one thing I have, that I thought was slowly killing me, is not only meaningless, it has an awesome name. I have Exploding Head Syndrome.

From Wiki:
Exploding head syndrome is a condition that causes the sufferer to occasionally experience a tremendously loud noise as if from within his or her own head, usually described as an explosion, roar or a ringing noise. This usually occurs within an hour or two of falling asleep, but is not the result of a dream and can happen during the day as well. Although perceived as tremendously loud, the noise is usually not accompanied by pain. Attacks appear to change in frequency over time, with several attacks occurring in a space of days or weeks followed by months of remission. Sufferers often feel a sense of fear and anxiety after an attack, accompanied by elevated heart rate. Attacks are also often accompanied by perceived flashes of light (when perceived on their own, known as a "visual sleep start") or difficulty in breathing. The condition is also known as "auditory sleep starts." It is not thought to be dangerous, although it is sometimes distressing to experience.

Exploding Head Syndrome. God, that makes me feel so much better. Now I can focus more time on my twitching finger.

Friday, May 16, 2008

What's up scro?

Here's a few unrelated things I've noticed lately.
1. If you drive in a big city with lots of traffic, a good way to get around traffic is to drive through the neighborhoods that white people won't go in. Chances are the neighborhoods aren't as bad as their reps and there is a lot less traffic. One tip: At red lights, don't look too closely at anyone in the car next to you.
2. When you go hear live music, and the drums are really, really loud, so loud that you can feel them beating in your chest and their rythym joins the rythym of your heart... That's a really good feeling.
3. There really isn't anything manmade that can match the pleasure of eating cold, ripe, summer fruit on a hot day.

Monday, May 5, 2008

on sight

Recently, we went to a park and made paintings. This is something that used to be at the center of my artistic process, but over the last five years, has totally disappeared from said process. What happened? The short answer is academia. But, who cares about short answers.

For me academia was a good thing. I am eternally grateful that I went back to school. It forever changed my life for the better. I had to rethink the ways I was used to working and question what mattered to me. This led to new and interesting challenges, which led to changes, which made more people interested in what I'm doing. Communication being the end goal. This being said, there are certain things that are frowned upon in a contempory, academic setting. One of them is making paintings that looked cutting edge fifty years ago. Which mine did. My process used to be, go out and make drawings and paintings of an area. Collect items from that area (mostly rocks and bits of things). Go back into the studio and make finished paintings by combining all these things. Sometimes I would flip the sketches over and tear them up and then reassemble them into collages that I would paint from. Sometimes I would superimpose the rocks and detritus over the landscape. I would be as complicated or as simplified with this process as I felt the piece required. Sometimes I would throw all the stuff on the ground, mix it up and make a painting. I sort of left it up to intuition. Looking back, this turned out to be the real lesson. I learned to hone and trust my intuition, which is invaluable to me now.

But sitting in a place, taking it in, really taking it in, was at one time, the center of joy in my life. I doubt my paintings from this time communicate this. Although I do think they communicated my loneliness and detachment from the world, which people only want to look at, if it mirrors theirs. Mine didn't. I was definitely more interested in staring at the world, than participating in it. Although I now know that this is unhealthy, a very small part of me still remembers the pleasure and freedom of checking out. I guess the reason I equate on site painting with detachment, is because I was a concentrating, solitary figure in a moving world. A part, yet apart. What happened is that there wasn't an exchange beyond my pure reaction to the world. Now that sounds great. Pure is good. Pure is pure. Pure sounds like something good, nay, great art strives for. But ultimately it is a closed system. The dialogue ends where it starts. Never reaching into our shared world. At least for me it didn't. And I stuck with that shit for about eight years, so you can't say I didn't put the time in.

I guess the major change was more me than academia. I grew up, got in touch with my shit etc... Academia helped me through it though. It holds you accountable or more accurately, it makes you hold yourself accountable. Especially, if you pay for it yourself.

I think we are going to make this a regular thing. The "we" componant also being the major difference. No more solitary figure in the landscape. Now there are two figures hunched over concentrating. And better snacks.

So we went and made paintings in the park. I had no ambition, except to savor the moment. We found a great spot. On the lip of a canyon, looking directly at the other lip, with the city peeking out from behind a spikey bush to our right. A red tailed hawk circled above us. A sunny day. I chose to paint nature instead of the city. All those plants, bushes, and grasses merging together. It was formless and uncomplicated in its spirit.