What was suppose to be a day of practicing portraiture turned into re-arranging my micro-studio. Normally, I’d carry guilt around like a rucksack when I make plans and actively don’t follow through but the cleansing and moving felt necessary half way through the first Peroni.
My last real entry was over 3 years ago. Posted a very personal creation. This is the latest completed piece — also quite personal. The former from a perspective of an outer body experience. The latter is definitely more first person perspective. The answer to the question is slooooooowly being unraveled. Hope it’s one I can live with.
Final piece for 2018. Final piece for my current residence also. Creatively, this year has not been one I take pride in. Self-deprecation would have me believe it was laziness and procrastination that prevented my ideal creative output from happening. May be some truth to that. But so many shifts outside art took place that if I step back and *Raekwon voice* analyze da whole shit, one person can only do so much, and beating myself up would be unfair.
This piece is definitely a representation of my mental and emotional state for majority of the year. Let’s title it Porosity for now. New feelings, ideas, concepts and truths found their way in. Growth is so uncomfortable and awkward and disorientating at times. When I hear the phrase “I lost (parts of)myself in the process”, it no longer sounds like some dramatic excuse for not being focused. I one hundred percent get that shit now.
Haven’t made an entry in a minute. I’ve been hand journaling. It’s more satisfying — incorporating typography into the process of spilling my thoughts with some doodles here and there. It probably looks scatter-brained to everyone but me. Various ink colors signifying my emotional reaction to the initial thought. It works, helps put me back into whatever mental and emotional state I was in at the time. Sometimes, issues need re-addressing.
I illustrated a kids book. It released in April. Two weeks ago, the author of the book and myself set up for a 3 day book festival here in Baltimore. The overall experience was cool, and encouraging. I shared conversations with a wide variety of authors, educators and creative minds. I was inspired, motivated and further receptive to the fact/truth that I’m on the path that I always wanted to be on — professional artist. Now for the sour moment. We shared a tent with 3 other authors — all experienced in navigating the book festival world. Two guys and a lady. On the 2nd day (I believe), it’s mid-afternoon and one of the guys just asks out the blue “so I looked your guys stuff up on amazon and I noticed it doesn’t have the illustrator’s name on there. Why is that?” I don’t remember the response we gave him. In that moment, half my energy was dedicated to suppressing a “man go the fuck head somewhere with that instigatin’ ass shit!”. I was in autopilot mode. His response was “ahh.. I just wanted to give you guys a hard time about something.”
I’ve been seriously neglecting this outlet. Diving deeper into my art focuses my attention away from the talks with myself that would lead to these journal entries. My thoughts don’t wander as much. And when they do, my body isn’t idle. So sitting down to type things out obviously doesn’t happen as often. I feel like I have to make up for lost time. Well, wasted time to be truthful. Guilt can be fuel for something positive, right? That obviously affects the purity of the act. I wonder if people can feel that tainted-ness in the results of the work. And does it turn them off, I wonder. Anyway, for anyone who reads this and wants to see what I’m up to, I post a lot on Instagram and Twitter. I’ll also be adding more work to my portfolio section on here, and get back to being a little more consistent with these entries. Or at least try.
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