Staying the Course

There was a fall tonight that concerned me. Visiting a friend, I walked up the sidewalk and missed a step. I went down hard. A month ago I fell down a flight of steps. A new medication I am taking causes problems with balance and coordination. I undestand the changes are permanent. Since December I have lost forty-five pounds. I am reluctant to stop taking it. My last medication caused me to gain around fifty pounds and eventually I developed diabetes. The medication caused intense sugar cravings. I slept up to fourteen hours a day. It was a nightmare. I was on the medication twelve years. The whole thing started some years ago when I was a victim of a random act of violence. The world became a very frightening place. My medication was supposed to ease these feelings. The medication worked but the price I paid was substantial. The medication cost a thousand dollars for thirty tablets. Some of the symptoms did not disappear. There was always the fear that there would be another attack. There was the fear that people were going to hurt me. This was a frightening kind of world to live in. The medication removed all desire for a normal lifestyle. Everything around me became unimportant. I am not sure why I share all this except as a warning tothose that there is a heavy price to pay for avoiding the world. Perhaps after being  the victim of violence there is a need to distance yourself from danger. I did. But what a price to pay.

New Work

In December my doctor put me on a new medication. My old medication caused me to gain over fifty pounds and eventually I developed diabetes. I was always tired and slept over twelve hours a day. I don't know if my creativity was affected, but found myself often too tired to do any work. So indirectly my creativity was affected. Since I started my new medication I stopped drinking sugared caffeinated soda. I cut 90% of the refined sugar out of my diet and started drinking nothing but water and vegetable juice. So far I have lost over twenty pounds. It hasn't been easy. Somedays I really crave soda. Especially those days when I am irritable and it seems the world just won't cooperate with my expectations. Since December I haven't created one painting. This bugs me but I have found myself doing an art journal every day and it has been consistent. There hasn't been a day that has been missed. In the past there would be small drawings in the margin of my journal and sometimes these would be embellished with colored pencil. Recently every days work is completed with small colored pencil drawings. A journal that began on January 11th was completed yesterday and drawings in the margins were all colored. Doesn't sound like much, but in the past I have never been able to consistently do it.
In January the shop where I sold my work quit selling my art when they went out of business. This a primary reason that I have not been doing my small watercolor drawings. I read somewhere that if a person begins to sell their work there is a reluctance to create unless it is for sale. Sounds kind of untrue, but in my case this seems to be the case. I find myself just doing small things for the sake of creating, but nothing that would find its way into a shop.

The Artists Muse

Sometimes it seems that ideas are just not coming fast enough, other times it seems you can't shut them off. Maya Angelou said that, "You can't use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have." I don't paint very often and I am often at a loss to explain why. There is the desire, but desire is not enough. I do have creative outlets. I journal every day and incorporate little color pencil drawings into the borders. So perhaps this should suffice. But there is always the desire to do more. There is always this thought that if one is not painting, one isn't really creating. I'm not sure why this is. Perhaps it just seems that painters get all the recognition, and draftsmen come in a distant second. I couldn't be an oil painter. Too many allergies. Solvents make me sick. But there has always been this desire to play like the big boys. To be able to create a beautiful piece of art that will stand the test of time. To have one's work in a major museum must be an awesome feeling. Robert Ryman paints white canvases. Blank white canvases. Seriously. So there is the sense that it is not all that it seems to be. Fame must have more to do with something other than absolute talent. I'm not saying that Robert Ryman isn't talented, it just seems that perhaps I am missing something. Robert Ryman's works end up in major museums and it is a puzzle to me as to what makes them a critical success.
All my life I thought draftsmanship was everything. If you couldn't draw, you weren't an artist. But there are a number of artists, good artists, who can't draw. Frank Stella is one. In my mind he is a good artist. Seeing his work for the first time at the Baltimore Museum of Art was inspiring. He works in a large scale, most work is metal, he uses enamel paints I believe, and his shapes are abstract. He is a sculptor. And a good one. His pieces are moving works of art. So how does one create such works and still not be able to draw? Most artists make technical drawings to work out any potential problems that might arise. How does Stella work? Where does he get his ideas? Do they just materialize out of thin air? How does he commit them to memory if he doesn't draw? I think it is clear that being a successful artist is more than just having a preconceived notion as to what art is.

A Brush With Darkness

hello. I haven't written for awhile. There is still creating going on , though perhaps a little slowly. The shop where I sell my work closed last week. Which means looking for new venues. I am a little nervous about approaching new owners. It has been a while since there was the need to sell myself. I have about half a dozen new works. Depression has been a problem. Just not much interest in creating. Spend a lot of time journaling and creating art journals. It is creating but not nearly as draining. Forty three days 'til Spring. It will be nice to see tree buds again.

Spring

I have a habit of counting the days 'til spring. I know, in a way this is kind of weird because I ignore the beauty of the days that I am in the midst of. I am always looking forward, instead of enjoying the present moment. I just love spring. It is wonderful watching the trees come into bloom and watching everything turn green and pink and white. The many shades of green are so beautiful to look at. Fall has its own beauty, the colors of the leaves are so brilliant. But these soon drop off and leave barren tree limbs. And then cold weather sets in and for someone prone to melancholy, the difficult waiting period 'til spring arrives. One would think I would find something to do that helps minimize the effects of the dark winter months. So far I haven't. Though there are times when the chilly weather really is special. There is nothing quite so lovely as a cardinal streaking across a field of snow on a brilliant sunny day. I saw this years ago and I have never forgotten it. I suppose there is a way to get through winter without getting depressed. Perhaps the secret is to fill your days with activity. To find something that requires you to get outdoors. I am fortunate in that I live close to parks and there are many forms of wildlife there. So many varieties of birds and other animals like deer and beaver and foxes and opossums. There are so many forms of life that one can run into them without fail. A trip outdoors is all that is required. Something to be said for that.

Check in

Just haven't had much opportunity to write lately, kind of a low period. I have not been creating much either. I took two works down to the place where I sell my work, this has been the extent of my output for the last several months. My depression keeps me from really creating as much as I like and it frustrates me. I wonder how a professional artist does it. I do have an idea for a still-life and I have done a couple of small watercolor sketches which are pleasing. I just received the most recent "Artist's " magazine and there was a wonderful article about scratchboard in it. This is something that Iwould love to try and I would like to visit an art supply and see what I can find that relates to it. My community is not a great place to find art supplies. There is a Michael's and an A.C. Moore, but they probably don't carry what I am looking for. I will have to travel outside my community to find what I am looking for.

Wrestling With Old Demons

An old character defect of mine is allowing myself to get too isolated. Spending too much time alone is old comfortable behavior. There is an old proverb that goes : In order to be a friend one must be friendly. I guess that maybe it begins with picking up the 1000 lb. phone and calling someone. There are people online to talk to, but that means I can get out of an intimate conversation and opening up to someone. Something that I like to avoid. I can talk to my better half and we can have a nice conversation, but sometimes it is good to touch base with one of the guys. Are all guys like this? Getting older can be part of the problem. It is easy to just kick back on the couch and watch tv. No commitments to get together, no talking about more than the everyday stuff. When you get older some things just don't seem as important. Sometimes it is just too easy to avoid talking guy stuff.
I just bought a bike and I am anxious about getting on it. I need to get some exercise and I love to ride. My last bike I dislocated my kneecap when I was getting off it. I ended up in the E.R. in a lot of pain. Since then, every time I get on the bike there is a little part of me that remembers that injury. I have been on the bike a lot of times since that injury, but there is still the nagging fear that it will happen again. I think that I just need to warm up a little before getting on the bike. The last injury happened because I hadn't ridden for awhile and I was out of shape. Sort of like now. I guess I need to learn from that last injury.
Depression is something that I know well. More than I care to admit. It is a comfortable old friend that fits me like a glove. Kind of like the isolation I wrote about, except moreso. Depression is where you can't bring yourself to leave the house. Where everyday is just like the day before. Depression is my disability. My depression keeps me from moving ahead with my life. One gets used to staying at home and vegetating. Grocery shopping is the only time one leaves for the most part. Maybe a thirty minute outing to the library to get more books. Reading memoirs is a way to see how others are leading their lives. Tiring routine.