A garden of eden.

I write no blog today, or at least that is how I was going to start, I continue, my past two days have been revelationary both artistically and spiritually, Friday and Saturday night were spent in as constant a meditative state as extrinsic factors would allow, I have been in a beautiful place and had my future laid out before me, I am still there now as the beauty came back with me, I celebrated this with a painting the final outcome humbled me. I have no other choice other than to retain this from the exhibition sales sheet as it is for sheila, a friend and, a remarkable woman of another time even.


There is a verse that was allegedly found in an old Baltimore church, it was called The Desiderata, essentially a list of .... thoughts to guide an individual, no-one truly knows the actual poet though there have been a few claims, whatever, that matters not to me, the words do however, surprisingly I do not know it off by heart though I ought to the number of times I have had the precise words in my head to chastise me for not heeding the words, anyway, I stray, one paragraph is, ... there will always be lesser and greater people than ourselves, my journal is for those who follow in my footsteps while I continue my journey seeking my guides in life toward an honest enlitenment, my teachings are my learningsTo those who find this of use, welcome to a beautiful world, I know it is a beautiful world because I see it every living and waking moment, tonight I felt a sudden pang of pain for so many of those I see, even those who walk beside me, they have yet to share what I enjoy.



I set out with the intent to escape from the insiration of other painters, to avoid any kind of creative reference to visualise and to paint what I feel and see, my life revolves around other creatives and positive thinking individuals, some are guides for me catering both to my artistic and spiritual journey, without these individuals I would be unable to move forward in either direction, but while I am constantly absorbing the creative force of others I become to easily influenced and that just cant happen, to find the painter within me is to find the person within me, untarnished, my errors are my errors, I may always find after the fact that I have swayed toward the style of another artist but that is hardly surprising, I walk in the footsteps of Giants and geniuses, it has all been done before so I just look for me.


Anyway welcome to my beautiful world a world that I see and breath and feel everyday of my waking moments, not all the time there is always something in the real world that nudges you onto some task, however it was not until tonite that I painted a painting in my truth, now finished i can not help but start to understand that perhaps others dont see this beautiful fantasy land that is my permanant holiday home, some people go to Tuscany, Venice and other beautiful historic places, for me I am in a beautiful historic places, well prayers for those who dont see what I see and, for this is for you.

my version of the pebbles

after mentioning the analogy of pebbles in a glass of water I set out to provide my own pictoral analogy, there is no other reason to publish this blog other than to get this image off canvas and into cyberworld, it is there that it can do the most good rather than sitting on my easel or in some persons home where only they are able to benefit from it; as it turns out it is in total keeping with all of my philosophies regarding art and life itself.



The person seeing and gaining the most from this image has to fully understand its significance, at the least, by one who shares similar and adjacent pathways in life.

unnamed and under construction

(watch this space!)

The piece depicts the framework of a fence on the edges of Lake, slowly over the course of time the waters have advanced their invasion of the land in tune with the ebbs and flow of natural elements, the post is a self portrait, soaking up the waters of life, drying out with the sun, a gradual taking over by plant life which itself dies and regrows in keeping with the water level. the saturation of the post allows both refreshment and drought, each having its own course and altered only by nature itself, that is the art of faith, just to sit still, to absorb and give up the stresses of life while nature itself takes care of the body, eventually, all will fail and dissolve but, they will go with dignity and respect for standing the length of time itself.

It is said by the buddhists that the enlitened have different thought patterns to the unenlightened, I have mastered this, and perhaps now recognise an important lesson in the control of time itself.

Choice

Yesterday............ is history

This blog was intended to be about my artistic journey however it is turning out more like the official biography of the artist known as charles, is that corny or is it just another cliche..... I prefer I suppose that rather than a cliche it is truly the way I see myself, as an artist I have a quest before me to 'find myself', the artist part of my psyche has been locked away for so many years, not so much in a personal denial but as someone who was cast out into the big wide world to just get on with it, with what.... I must have asked myself a hundred times throughout my life, ' what is it that I am supposed to be doing........ life provided many teachers and, by all account I was a good student and just became whatever it was my involuntary, though none the less chosen, teacher portrayed as a life........ how mad is that just to place yourself at the mercy of whatever teachings presented itself and then tried to live that life independant of the teacher... as it turned out time and time again, it doesnt work; we can be whoever we want to be simply by choosing to be the person that we were intended to be on this gods earth.

Tomorrow is a mystery

Choosing, much easier said than done and said by someone who has reached a point in his life where his choices have, for a change, been the right ones, maybe not perfect all the way down the line but at least in the right direction, the path is not an easy one, for an individual to stand alone is under any circumstances difficult but to stand alone and live life blindly on the behest of the little voices is truly scary;

I suppose the first choice I ever had to make was simply to do what it was that ' felt right ', as an artist that meant ensuring that, at any cost, the tools of my trade, paint, canvas, brushes, pens, paper, plaster, even chicken wire, it did not matter what it was that I intended to do, these things had to be purchased or obtained even to the point where hunger would become a natural course of life though only as long as my materials came first.

what makes a person starve himself to pay for paint and tools, a madman perhaps however I am fortunate to have access to several official accounts of my lifes being to suggest that I am in fact quite the opposite, a little strange perhaps but certainly not mad, at least not as mad as I think I used to be, but, to reuse the term I used earlier in my blog, that is another story.

Today is a Gift, thats why they call it the present.

Order from chaos

To make choices is to empower yourself, I am not sure if I gave myself permission to have a life or if it was a suggestion from a trusted member of my support team, perhaps it was something that stuck in my mind from a local Buddhist meditation class, or perhaps it was just one of those little voices, it matters not now as long as my continuing progress through life suffices as thanks I dont need to know, what I do need to know however that it was the best piece of advice, nay, the only piece of advice that is any good for a person such as myself, ' you have permission '.

But what of choices, I quite like the old saying, you are what you eat but for me without interpretation that is simply too literal and does not really tell the entire story, you are not only what you eat, but also what you read, what you see, what you hear, most of all, you are who you associate with, it is impossible to live your own life when there are individuals within your circle of friends who either are not striving for the same as you, or, the worst case scenario, friends who are working directly against you, how can you be a christian if your friends abhor the very foundations of what you believe in; history provides the simple fact that it is always the stronger personalities that lead the weak willed or ill informed, in essence it is little more than bullying, for sure the effects are the same in the long term, sadly, where personalities clash with your path, when visual stimulus, money, in fact anything that goes against the grain and is likely to take you from your direction in life, anything that brings you anything less that happiness simply has to be gone from your life, your mind, your future; with people at the fore of most distractions one has to make a choice, a firm decision to banish that, or those persons until such a time either they make their way back in your direction through their own choices or until, perhaps, you realise they were right after all and it was you in error though you will not know the outcome until you have travelled a little further on.

Can you look back upon a former acquaintance and see that you have indeed moved well forward along your track while they have faltered, success truly is the best revenge. Is this all a bit personal, is it directed at any one person in particular, I think not, it applies to all however, for this to happen, for the weak willed and ill informed to break free a certain inner strength must be forged and nurtured for the fullest understanding.

This blog has gone on long enough now, it is 0615 and it has been a long and fruitful night, I have painted, waffled and bored myself sufficiently as to end this now before I go heading off in another direction of thought, coffee.............

Half Empty Half Full

I went to a retreat in Scotland during which one of the lectures relating to stress provided the analogy of stressful issues in life represented by pebbles in a glass of water, the more pebbles that went in the higher the water level rose to a point of spilling over, or, in the case of stress, an explosion of emotions that by far exceed acceptable behaviour.





How true does that ring home excepting that during normal life the glass is never half full or half empty, for me the water level is in a continual state of change, a constant battle to keep throwing out the pebbles of stress only for them to be replaced by others from sources outside of my control.

The Allotment

When I am painting there is no glass, there are no pebbles, there is no work only a pure enjoyment and celebration of life itself, of places visited, of feelings long dreamed of, my painting is from the deep emotions that dwell within each of us, we all have a place to go for sanctuary from the real world, I am fortunate in as much as I have many places to go where there is much to be enjoyed, my painting is not a physical undertaking it is a spiritual journey.

Liberation

Few could tell of the feeling of freedom and choice in abundance unless some form of Liberation had been experienced in ones life-time, I would suggest to anyone who felt unable to express the simple lack of words to describe the simple joy just, 'to be allowed', it is as envigorating as taking a shower under the falls of some naturally occuring shower after not being clean for some time, it is empowering in as much as all you had ever dreamed of suddenly being placed at your feet, both in full recognition of what you now posess and with the faculty of wisdom, the lessons from a thousand teachers suddenly all clicking into piece, it is that final piece in that 30,000 piece mosaic.

Less of my ramblings of joy, having now moved scarily onwards from the humble and much used paintbrushes towards pallet knives and inanimate objects for mark making I have suddenly found something that fills in the gaps as it were in impasto works, in fact, filling in the gaps is not such an accurate euphimism because it enables quite the opposite in fact, it creates gaps, gaps where the underpainting allows a glimpse through the layers that have been carefully placed atop its neighbouring colours.

this creates such images to show through with such clarity that to attempt to enhance each and every line and shade would, for sure, ruin the creation of something quite spectacular and exciting, why would I want to hide such beauty.

At an earlier time in my life I denied myself this 'liberation' this, sudden realisation that there exists an omnipotent power to which our entire lives do orientate, yin and yang, whatever it has many meanings; to experience a life that is driven entirely upon faith alone is a scary prospect on a day to day basis.

The denial bit was simply my determined nature that, if I was going to take notice of this 'life energy', I was not going to start giving up what I had until such a power had proven to me that it truly existed, in essence I was determined to believe only what I saw and to question everything about my life; I have reached a point now where I feel as though a part of a me is seeking enlitenment through wisdom, hey if I only reach 10% enlitenment that makes me 10% of a buddah and that is not doing bad at all.

I have not been pondering over any particular title for my next exhibition in the firm belief that, when the moment was right a little voice would whisper something in my ear, its arrival came with the completion of my first exhibition piece.



I had decided the moment that the opportunity arose, thankyou Helen you are a little Godsend, that this would be an exhibition that would be a defining mark, despite painting and drawing as a general passtime, that rare moment when there is nothing in the world for you to be thinking about, or in my case a time when there was nothing to do, however, despite those 30 years or more I have rarely, if ever, painted for myself, there was always someone there who had brought about a chance to do something creative, because of, or for someone, this exhibition was going painted for and by me.



Does that all make sense, probably not!



I have now completed my first piece that encompassed the whole of me physically, spiritually and mentaly, I am drained though exhillarated at the same time and has established a technique that I am happy with, that is something that has eluded me for so many years now despite constantly searching around, trying this, that and every other damn thing but, it was never me!



I am proud of my piece, I say that knowing what changes have taken place over the past 9 or ten years both mentally and, with reverent humility, spiritually, both these changes had to take place to move me on from where I was to where I am, born(e) again , is one phrase that springs to mind though I have spelt it with an e at the end because somehow it looks physically more accurate; it matters not in the big picture, what more could I say to the friend who was just about to become homeless again,



walk towards the light my friend,

walk toward the light.

clutter

I have finally cut out all of the odious tasks that take me away from painting, gone are the trips out for banking, docters, shopping, telefone, regional weekly news, all now dealt with on-line, even the television has been replaced by podcasts that now bring me an endless supply of arts programmes.




section of much larger though unfinished work


Some question why I banish my television to the basement, even those of the artistic clique question my elimination of such social research, the answer is simple; the television just brings in the real world, the one that I keep at arms reach as to not influence my work!

The real world is just outside my doorstep, the real world is just a reminder of where I have come from and, that 'where I come from world' did not include me as an artist in it, I do not miss it and have not since it went away, that is not to say that i am infallable to some level of withdrawl so, while keeping that in mind I eased myself away from it, a little at a time.

The sound was the first to go replaced by internet radio, a channel for every mood at either end of the scale, each time I looked at the screen to see what was happening however, all i could see were the silent images of misery, be it the news, the soaps or just your average day to day entertainment. Faces contorted with rage as there seemed a constant flow of agressors pouring out a barrage of anger, the reflection for such events however seemed to provide little respite from the strength of emotional outpouring, the story of the victims, with eyes filled with sorrow, pain or sadness, it is emotions that reach out from the television and not the emotions i am seeking for my current works.




section of much larger unfinished work




I have an exhibition in February, an exhibition where I have given myself the singular theme of 'self''. nothing more. it is not about myself directly, it is about art, uncontaminated, it is about the world that I see away from the normal vistas of life, it is about looking a little deeper into my environment and finding a different world even co-existing alongside apparent reality, a different and paralell world even. the images are borne of the minds abilty to reconstruct, the 'order from chaos', it is these visions unseen except by me as I look and ponder over that which most walk by oblivious.


This is the first time that I have had the physical ability to create in this manner since 1999 with the past 9 years being quite hectic and very much un art orientated, now however having fought long and hard to reestablish good working conditions I can only hope for a good show in February, I dont mean a good show from a viewer point of view, when art becomes something of a spectator sport it loses pretty much loses all of its meaning, neither do I infer the same to the likes of profit, sales or even thoughts of income, for the latter to even rear its ugly head within the same converstion as art is to me quite appalling; someone once said something along the lines that when you start to paint for profit, your painting will suffer, I think it was a poet or playrite, it matters not,

it is true.

A ponderance

Its 0312 and work has pretty much come to a halt, too much work has a detrimental effect and frequent breaks I find now are more of a necessity than anything else; when work finishes, the brain kicks in...... and you have to think not so much for your self but with another part of your brain, in my case I tend toward philosophical matterS regarding both an understanding of things past and toward the future while not excluding the fact that the present alone is instrumental on the future, task finding, forward planning, new initiatives, projects, the list, as I said, for me is endless; the television that has dutifully kept me away from extrinsic thoughts now is not needed and went to its cell in the basement yesterday, my thoughts now in clarity and my faith, not just reaafirmed but increased, research............. research!!

That is something that has started to become very much a part of my working practice, perhaps not in the prescribed manner though a very present thought toward all of my actions. It was probably the biggest dilemma, something so far out of my comfort zone that it has taken till now, some 5 months after leaving college that I am just about getting to grips with the concept.

It was not that I felt there was no need for it in my life, i was just not able to get it down in the way that was expected by the examiners, annotation annotation, your thought process, only now am i even able to understand why i couldn't understand it, the answers were already in my head, do we have any thought processes for remembering what our friends and relatives look like, or even how to draw a map from the front door to the nearest shop, some things we just know and, for some strange reason I expected the examiner to know that I know, was it not plain to see how someone got from A - C without stopping off at B, of course not, it wasn't mentioned because it is just too obvious to mention.

For me, my logic works, I know that when I go off to that special little place where only I and my chosen medium and genre, my canvas or sculpture, i have a helping hand, sometimes i am never quite sure who is sitting on whose shoulder, do i have control of the brush or does god, I come away never knowing the whys or wherefors, i only know the how and for me that is good enough.

it is said that only a poet a writer or an artist could tell you about beauty, I cant yet but I will i am an artist.

Space and my delicate mind.

Someone was once quoted in the Press to have not been able to fathom out why my works were sold so cheaply, that fact that he did not know the answer is simple, he didn't ask!

What he, and many others fail to realise is that my art is about a state of mind, more pronounced are the pieces that, although abstract in appearance, have a story hidden deep within the patternation, a story that only those who had been there could possibly read, the odd exception being the casual critique who has made a lifestyle from trooping around various galleries listening to the, usually far from inspiring banter of that well known figure, the gallery guide.

For a person to see their story within my images leaves me feeling saddened for that someone else who has an understanding of pain, hope, shattered lives and dreams, for a person to have that within them sufficient to want one of my works why should he have to pay through the nose, these works in my eyes can and should be looked upon as hope, in this crazy world where life seems to be a constant struggle I want people to hang my work on their wall and say to themselves, look, hes functioning in the world even after being through lifes mill there is an achievable light at the end of the tunnel.

several such paintings are being created at the moment which fall into that cheap category, one showing the journey between the dark and the light, the stepping out from a dull cold and meaningless existance onto what seems a spinning and racing vertigo inducing world, the dream is blurred but at least you are able to pick up fleeting glimpses of both reality and of the unknown, for some a hasty retreat is quickly made back to the world of the known, your comfort zone.


underpainting



the other peace is more in line with my post on Space, I dont mean the kind of space that exists beyond our planet I mean ones personal space, every person needs a space and that space is representative of a persons aura, the thing that I keep colliding with every moment I am around people, unless that is of course they are people who carry a similar existance as mine where the two spaces, auras, energies even are able to cohabitate in harmony between each other.

every person needs that space of their own, without my having that space I feel hemmed in, suffocated, claustrophobic, there is no greater a joy than being in company where space is ballanced; my main social life is attending artist preview nights, some, I can stay for as long as the ballance and harmony is in existance, sometimes to the end, a bad nite for me is where I go to a preview or gallery opening and that ballance jsut is not there, the artistic is not the primary reason for the event, those are sad nites, though only, I get back to the studio that is, the event, whatever it was a distant memory with only the most important parts engrained in my delicately ballanced mind.

Schizophrenia and Serendipity

It is said that, when you talk to God you are praying, when you hear him, you have schizophrenia, by that assumption I must profess to being schizophrenic, a diagnosis that for sure, some associates over the years is one that they have had of me for many years.

To listen to God is the only way that i am ablet to lead my life, its not so much the words that come into my head and come involuntarily out of my mouth on occasions, it is the sights that he sends me out to wonder and ponder over, each time that I go out 'on a mission' i know that there is something out there waiting for me, an answer to a burning question, affirmation that a prayer has been answered or, most excitingly, a progression in my creative life, a new genre, a new image unseen up until that moment, a small object even, one that is taken home and cherished as a gift; I have found many treasured items, crosses, jewels and beautiful things that act as either inspiration or simply as little rewards for a job well done, on one occasion I was taken up one of the Towns ginnels only to find a beautiful hand carving of an elephant in relief on a solid piece of oak, thrown out along with other pieces in a bin though I knew that the elephant was for me, the remainder there for others and to be left.

It is not only the beautiful that I am fortunate to be showered with, I have the enviable gift of being able to sense, sometimes in the most scary ways, the auras of people and objects, have you ever seen an animal suddenly take fright over some inanimate object, to run scared from a place that they have been unable to avoid and become temporarily trapped in, it is that sort of feeling.

One such occasion was a few years ago, Sheila, my partner, and I walked into a room, the moment I entered something really cold, not so much swept over my body but completely invaded it, turning, I was standing in front of a man that I had never seen before talking to a friend of mine, there was little doubt that this man was someone that I did not want to be around, I felt the sharpest pains, I felt a paralysing fear even, taking Sheila by the hand I guided her away from the building and the man.

It was so difficut to explain why I had taken her out so swiftly as I had less of an understanding then as I have now, more so, I did not really have the words to describe what I had felt without looking absolutely stupid.

The next day Sheila and I passed a Cafe, "Did you see his face?" Sheila exclaimed, I was already looking in the window however, I had already sensed that the same man was sitting in the cafe. Speaking to him his answers were only half the story his aura said much more; the man had been brutally attacked shortly after I had seen him the day before, with no less than 4 cuts on his face that had received stitches, his eyes blackened and swollen, his clothes now dirty and unkempt.

From that moment on I decided to pursue this, ability to feel the aura of others though sometimes wish that it was an ability that i did not have, to walk through the town is to walk through a wave of depression and misery it is rare that I pass individuals with a true and inner joy that is borne of a faith in life and carried by those on a journey of personal discovery or true contentment;

Objects also have a presence, from a distance I am able to feel texture, temperature, weight, I can feel some things drawing me closer,
I can feel some things repelling me, to walk around is to constantly battle against, to bounce

off or simply soak up all that

a person is within.

Last year I entertained a brief introduction to Tai Chi, a marvelous discipline though while soaking up the atmosphere with glee the worst part of the entire session was where a 'pairing up' of individual is necessary to experience this feeling of aura, of energy, of a oneness with and entity even, for me the pairing up is usually a painful experience.

Despite all being in the room for the same person I was unable on one occasion to pair up, announcing that I was having a personal space issue, i detected at least one sneer though it was ignored as they did not have to feel the strange and painful physical intrusion into my space, even from a distance my own aura was just so strong that all I could feel was all these people pushing against me, not with their bodies but with their own electrifying energy setting about spasms of pain, the teacher was the only person able to move toward me and conjoin with my own energy.

Needless to say I avoid crowded and stressful places such as supermarkets, pubs and busy market places, give me the space of the countryside, the seaside, the mountain top or, where energy levels are low, simply time in my studio flat where sculptures, ornaments and painting are in keeping with everything ballanced and warm.

it is around 4am at present, give or take, and work has been productive throughout the night, fortunately really as one of the residents is in a bit of a dark place and sleep would have been impossible.

Coming home around midnight with a friend the sounds were quite cheerful as the night went on, fuelled with alcohol I could hear his gradual decline through the social graces to a point where he now sounds like a madman, trying desperately to escape his confines, away from some demon or other that occupies his space at this nightmarish state of mind.

It is only through watching others and their actions that we are truly able to see ourselves.

It is sad to witness though I am still fortunate to live where I do, I have a beautiful studio flat within a building that is run by a charity for homeless and vulnerable people, a nice bunch by all accounts and it is always sad when i hear one or the other fighting with themselves; But by the grace of God go I........

with around 12 weeks remaining before the next exhibition there is much to do, in addition to the actual work there is all the admin to do, guest invites, posters and their design, liase with the marketing people at stonham, it being a charity do adds a lot of other jobs into the equation aswell not making it any easier though the strange thing is that as the deadline comes closer the stress gets forced into a calm and far more work is done, at the moment i am really just concentrating on the artwork, it is my first independant show, when i say independant i dont mean as a solo artist but independant from having to 'proove' myself, so much self doubt has been banished, this is my first show where I am truly doing the kind of art that I want to do at this moment in time without having to consider if the viewer could see what it was that i was looking at, absolute self doubt that no-one would 'get it', if you like.

this exhibition is about the images that are seen and reported most commonly as 'the face in the clouds', this exhibition is about challenging the order from chaos theory and presenting work that to all intent and purpose, at least to a portion of society, would be deemed as ' crap ' they call it crap because........ they cant see it!

The moral of the story really is simply, "If you cant see it then dont look, you will only get in the way of someone who can".

Roots and Destination

I went to visit my old art college, I say old with reference to the building in its historical sense, it permeates throughout the entire building, a sense of real calm about it despite the hustle and bustle of creatives all running around in with their eyes firmly fixed within another world, it is not hard to see those upon whose shoulders God laid his hand for a little longer giving them that extra piece of creativity as to make it their birthright to be there.

Excepting the sound recording rooms which have definate presence in the building more even than a tang of contemporary about it, for me at that moment, it was a little like going home to a place that I had not seen for some time; I had only left their last July.

We all need roots, not necessarily those laid down by our birthplace or where we grew up, our true roots lie deep within us and can not be satiated until we become ourselves.

When you visit the Developing Countries such as the Far and Middle East, the Africas, you can see where the wealth of the people lie, there are so many calls in the Western World regarding what and how you do it, in these countries where a man is able to erect a workplace he trades in that which he does best, it is not about the money so much as about survival, and the only way to survive is to do what you do best, for me, that is art.

Ofcourse, we can be many things, a course of study gives anyone a certificate, evidence of passing a course of study, a period whereby information is given to you and, if you have the capacity to memory you should do well at examinations and certificates but it may not necessarily be what you should be

And that is what we should all be striving for in our lives for to be what we were destined to be is that which was intended for us to do in order to survive, for me, that means to be a creative.

There is nothing in the world of art that i dont look forward to experimenting with, the longer i live the more i will experience and interprate to some visual form, there is beauty in everything and I want to see everything, get on with it my head says, but no, that is not experiencing;

the journey is as important as the destination

Casting out change

Well that is sufficient reminiscing for me, it is time to get back to the present with the only job that is of any importance that being the Exhibition pieces for Stavely Show.

The past ten days or so have been wasted while my mind mulls over invite cards, posters, and, most importantly, the invite lists; with so much planned for the future with regard to the different charities that I am working with I do not want to over invite as it were, I could combine all of the charities into one invite list but it is not as easy as that, there has to be a balance so that when the exhibition for that particular charity comes along there will still be people to invite, have no preconceptions, just because someone comes to the last exhibition there is no guarantee that they will come to the next.

Well, back to the now, it is 11pk and the foundations for Sheilas Sunflower have been laid down and work tomorrow can be in earnest, the earlier, and first piece is now finished and sits on my wall while I decide where the final touches if any will be.

It is quite strange, you just know when a picture or a sculpture, there is that little window where to go beyond either in medium, shadow, shape, form, what ever changes are made to any part of the painting it is just one step too far and, without realising sooner, irreparable damage will be done to an otherwise finished piece; of course, there is always that little occasion when a single splash of paint, or tiny piece of sculpture, created in total error becomes the making of a piece; it can be that dramatic.

A lot like life really, we can be ticking along nicely, neither watching where we are going and taking nor taking notice of the journey until all of a sudden there is this sudden realisation that we have gone too far off track, to far into the sea, too deep into a hole and only dramatic changes can re-establish a calm in ones life; better to enjoy the journey and know where you are at least then any changes are noticed, accounted for and either rectified or modified to get one back on track, not only back on track, but a step forward as another situation has been addressed and resolved successfully giving vast knowledge, the wisdom even as to recognise a future situation and deviating before it even knows that you were there.

When something happens in our lives that can knock us off course wisdom can arm one with the advantage of forsight, looking into the future, any situation in normal society has warning signs leading up to, and increasing in severity, the final event; only recognising these, sometimes subtle changes in ones environment can one either avoid them where the outcome would be a negative imbalance or, being ever the optimist, embrace them where warning signs indicate positivity; though even in that one must accept the positive outcome with dignity and humility, a lack of merely being a negative being cast out to await your arrival
………………..in the future

(casting I, II acrylic on paper and casting, small sculptural piece- Warehouse Exhibition jan 2008)

That was deep, awake now and back to real world!!!! shame

The beginning

111108
In the Beginning………

In the beginning there was a forest and , on the floor of the forest lived a man………don’t you just hate cliché!

To look back now, it truly was a beginning and an end, the forecast was for the wettest July for something like 50 years, either way it was pretty rough but the general conditions were good for me, I had warm shelter, no visitors, no responsibilities excepting my stomach, and no neighbours, life was good, a little too good perhaps, I was supposed to not to be enjoying myself, God had made sure of that however I took the rains with a constant saying in my head, some curse the rain whilst others take joy from the rainbow.

It works, if you want to convince yourself of something then your create, from whatever is around you and whereever you are, find that little place in your heaven and you can make it happen, when someone asks you why you do it, think of an answer and if you find one, either let me know or fail to accept the existance of such a place where only you exist in the wonder of the and beauty of world; sketchpad, waterproofs, boots and nature, what more could a person want but, as I said, God had not intended that I should enjoy myself.

The night that caused the change in me however was drawing ever near as I just wandered happily around sketching and watching the wildlife, and, though gladly occasionally, the odd 2 or 3 walkers that wanted to stop for a chat, I new the surrounding area so well I was easily able to provide a destination to any natural phenomina that someone was seeking, nesting kingfishers, jumping salmon, mink, rat and green woodpecker, I know where they all were and for sure spent more happy hours watching them all than I did worrying about my situation, homelessness for me was a luxury compared to the city but hey, that’s another story and one I cant be bothered even to ponder over, it was just a simple fact, end of.

The wind had already picked up over previous nights, it made little difference to me in my little shack, it was sturdy but strong, light but watertight, so I just ignored it.
Darkness in a rural coppice reaches town darkness quite quickly, so quickly in fact that it is an unstoppable force and continues to force out the light in totality, by seven pm the rain was coming down landing quite noisily to a point where there was not a single audible sound that could be heard above the tumultuous cascade of water on plastic sheeting, but one sound.

I was aware of the trees movement, not because I could see them but because I could feel them, even the trees that supported my shelter that I had chosen for their size and location, tucked in against a moss covered stone wall that acted as a shelter. The air pressure pushed against me and then released me from its pressure together with that from the other trees near me, then, above the thunder on the roof I heard a terrific boom followed by a massive groan, first one on its own then followed by heavier thumps; it was the trees being bent over by the wind then allowed to crash back in the interlude.

The amount of Fear for my structure ( Video clip ) combined with the adrenaline coursing through my entire body was absolutely electrifying, any tree, at any moment could actually fall upon me, these were not small shrubs, these were 60 foot Pine trees with trunks, not so massive as an oak, an oak would spread and be supported by its branches, these however it was the sheer length and combined weight of trunk plus velocity would have let them have a clear fall of 60 feet.

Still the stubborn one, I remained stoic for a second night before finally reaching the conclusion that I had to do something with myself, I was 50, a passion to be an artist and too insecure to do anything about it, God had told me, get out there and do it, stop dreaming, one day at a time.

Grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and Wisdom, to know the difference

the video of the structure that I was building, the clip was made some weeks after leaving in September 2007, it remains to this day, unfinished....... To be continued.

Knowledge and the Fool

Knowledge

Its true what they say, you know, when you are told you are a fool all your life, you actually do grow up and adopt a self doubt that reliably tells you are in fact a fool!

Who is to say I now ask myself, parents, you are a fool to them when you embarrass them, your teachers maybe, you were told that you are were a fool when you ‘didnt conform’, when things weren’t don in the way prescribed manner, that of course combined with a healthy dose of 1960’s ego, on the whole teachers in my day were simple egotistical control freaks, overseen by someone who was either totally unapproachable due to the omnipotent presence of the so-called Deputy Head, everyone knew in those days that it was the Deputy Head who actually controlled the entire educational establishment, the actual Head was simply an administrator.

Perhaps that is why I still have much of my journey to make while I learn to take compliments more easily, perhaps that I will discover a deeper understanding of why I don’t yet see what it is that I do as an artist, because I am looking but not yet seeing, I have to ask myself, is my art foolish.

Perhaps the blog is how you find out who you truly are, by throwing everything and anything that you want out into the ig wide world web, the real audience of society, the ones that look, search, try to understand the world themselves, perhaps it is an act, this blogging thing, to give people such as myself who are searching for themselves the opportunity to find an audience, to find likeminded people who they themselves have become lost in society in a constant struggle to maintain the simple self while all around you is in turmoil, society, the jungle, individuals simply hunter and prey.

Now having accepted that the meaning of life is simply to be faithful and happy, I no longer wonder , having adopted simple philosophies, if there are no plans it cant go wrong, or simply, If I’m not having fun I am on the wrong track, make a subtle change in direction!

Art is a selfish pastime, endless hours of daydream, constant mental creation, sketch books, cameras, paint time, sculpture time and all the bits between that are so vital to function as an artist, collection of materials, opening nights and oh so importantly the associated ‘get togethers’, there is just so much knowledge one can pick up at these rarely attended and I use that word quite advisedly, opening and preview nights are for friends and family, it is a privilege, you are not there for yourself in any shape or form, they are fonts of knowledge, a place to listen to the people that know, they are my lifes teachers, it is rare one finds a place where the topic of conversation is about art, so few discuss it with passion, peoples lives are full of clutter; not that there is anything wrong with talking but the more talk one makes the less one hears.

It is not enough to hear though, one must listen!

Peace

Although peace in the world is not specifically what I had intended to write today however as soon as my mind set upon something that i claim to need, when in fact compared to others, not even necessarily far even from my own front door, without even venturing into lands of famine and deprivation, peace, by comparrison, I already have and little more than a prayer can be done befoe I selfishly go back to my own thoughts.

Peace....... what a conceptt, fo me it is that place where one goes and the entirety of the world dissapears, a place where their is no famine, war or strife, that moment when you know that to publish, edit and print a world wide newspaper all you could fill it with was a hundred million pages of blank paper, the place where I have to be to create.

i can understand why, when you walk past some residences, the television is blaring through the windows, music thunders from bedroom windows, when you walk past these places you know what the person is going through simply by the genre; for some, you know that someone somewhere is hiding in a dark place, music drowning out the cacophany of worries and extrinsic thoughts that are set on one thing alone, the destruction of that individual, the noise, defence.

While slipping slightly from the drift of my thoughts, peace, that place where the rest of the world ceases to exist, where your own throughts and worries are no more malignant than the stroke of paint that you put on the canvas, that is the feelin that I seek, when the brush or pallet stroke seems not to be of your own control, that is the place where art is made.

With the exception of a few, there have been many works where my thoughts have drifted in and out of my being and onto and off from my works, where concious choices have been made as to colour, texture, shape and have only destroyed the true beauty of gods creative spirit that existed before being destroyed by a conciousness brought back from the beautiful place where I have been for those fleeting instances in that place where true art comes from, to progress as an artist is to increae the time that I am able to remain in that 'safe place', that is my training for the near future.

On Inspirations

They say that the greatest compliment is to inspire someone.
I have never gelled well with compliments, less so where my art is concerned, sometimes I just want to get in the tank with my snails (African Land Snails that is) and chill with them, instead i have to stand and accept compliments with humility, to have someone state quite plainly that my works inspire them to move on in their artistic journey is even more than a compliment, you are responsible for another individuals journey, you are responsible to them, not only in their journey but by standing by your own reputation and moving on yourself.

To stand still as an artist is not only to tie a noose around your own neck and slowly but surely watch the world according to art, move onwards without you but also to not be able to justify any ones reliance upon your work to inspire them, if you go nowhere, how can those who find you inspiring have any thoughts to moving forward themselves if they see their mentor floundering and going nowhere.

It is the latter that I hold most dear to my heart, if I am going to be a mentor to others I must move forward myself. My life has been one where to announce your achievements was seen by others as one who 'braggs', though experience has shown that the belittling of anothers achievements is done purely out of jealousies and an inability for those others to move on themselves, more out of laziness than anything else.

it is these people that hold others back, another form of bullying i suppose, they are not willing to take the plunge, to branch out against the flow, they hold you back in order to keep their lives ticking along in a way that they are able to deal with, some people hate change, some people see others moving forward as a threat to their apparent stability.

to move in those circles necessitates that you become like them and less like your true self, how can you find your true self, to experience all that life has to offer, to find and work for your dreams in life when you allow yourself to linger in the now, yesterday is history, tomorrows a mystery and today is a gift, but not if you make the present a continuation of a static yesterday, and to make tomorrow the same as today, a never ending circle of nothing and nowhere until the time comes when you are unable to see any tomorrow, or, worse still, when the tomorrow you envisage is one to not look forward to.

to move forward is to find yourself and life, sadly that necessitates leaving those others behind, what are they to you if they are the ones that expect you just to remain the same; it is said that old habits die hard, that is just so true, to work and continually move forward as an artist requires sacrifice and hard work, it relies on finding your niche in accordance with your life and destiny, how many are willing to make sacrifices of friends and family.

those that are strong and able can easily find their past if they so wish, that however must be done only with a strong grip on todays reality and achievements, without that strength the past will always seem appealing but will always drag you backwards, the more time on the past is less time for the future.

The Public Eye

It seems kind of strange being in the public eye again, though in an equally strange way it is like the first time.

In the past I have relished in public awareness actively seeking the next editorial, the next photoshoot, the next piece of information that i could chase the media for, notwithstanding when it was the media that were chasing me.

At that time however I was fighting a cause and any and all exposure, even the bad stuff, was all equally accepted as 'furthering the cause', shirt jacket and tie, there was little then to make me stand out in a crowd, in fact, my dress code, for want of another word, was more downbeat than my public image and allowed me a certain amount of anonymity despite the regularity of my appearances on television and in the press, living in London also aided a certain annoying calm that caused, not so much annoyance but sheer frustration that i was not recognised by any outside of my street or local pub, at least outside of the military hub.

now, my appearance is a little different, as an individual who has 'found himself' as it were, my fashion sense is quite individual, so individual in fact that even to walk through the town without publicity i stand out quite obviously as a unique individual.

my recent appearance on television saw me in my natural role, as an artist, even the trousers and jacket that i had on for the News had the tell-tale spatters of paint here and there, an obvious clue to my vocation. to cap it all ( if you will excuse the pun) the hat I wear, for sure, allows all those who have seen me in the town to recognise me the instant that i came on the television screen, such is life in such a small community as Kendal.

I see individuals now who see me, some wondering where they have seen me before, some with red faces as i go about my daily business, bar two people everyone that i have bumped into has allowed me some privacy though carry a strange, 'are you not going to tell us about the tv appearance' look on their faces, those who know me and have seen me are just so easily recognised though give me the privacy of thought that i have nurtured over the past few years.

it was scary to go on television again, moreso than the local newspapers, most scary of all was the fact that the content was just so personal and private that there were 2 or 3 cuts in the filming to allow me to compose myself and to wipe away the tears, tears that, although i thought i had vanquished in the interlude, were still visible in the final cut.

Now, I have broken the ice, I have publicly advertised myself, not only as a veteran but also as a former homeless person and artist of human frailty, of raw emotion, that is me, the man with the tears.

I am glad it is over, it has brought a form of closure now leaving the future wide open for me to become more of an artist than i have allowed myself to be in the past. life, college, future, is there anything else, the demons now distant, the present a gift of survival, the future, unknown though for sure simply a product of all that i put into it, not only as an artist, but as a person of honest and integrity.

there is so much of my past that still remains for me to use, education in marketting, business studies and so many other things, learned though now tucked away in readiness for when i need to move forward, along with a deep rooted faith borne of experience and punishments, i am the master of my own destiny.

Where do I go from here, have I done enough to carry me through to the next stage of my journey without straying from canvas, sculpture and other disciplines that i need to express my view of the world, so much to do and so little time but each step of the journey must be taken with caution as to avoid the pitfalls that delay so many in their lives, notwithstanding my own,
Only time will tell from this point onwards.

"But by the Grace of God Go I"

God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and Wisdom, to know the difference.