Thank you for the handwritten letter. I would "write" back, but my writing is a mix of lower and upper case, cursive and script blended together into a secret code.
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| A handmade book in need of handwriting (edition of two) |
I have a few hand-made books that require handwritten text. To accomplish the deed takes planning and a block of time to act like a monk; a silent period to focus on every letter. Upcoming, I have manuscripts (an edition of five) to accomplish, each with 30 sheets of handmade paper that an intern lightly penciled on so I have straight guidelines. The task will take weeks and I will probably light some incense and start this summer.
My typing -- where hand action captures the contents of my head--is a tricky little road as well. I tend to leave off 't, or change the tense. All this has to do with hearing my voice as I type, chatting away on a tangent. My mind and voice are not in sync; one is always out ahead of the other. That is my dyslexia. It helps to read my letters aloud before I send them.
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| Home grown mushrooms |
Yes, Jack. I too am super busy with both my art projects and my living. With living we are advancing further in our devolution, returning back to simple ways. We are making yogurt, growing mushrooms, reading about home made recipes for household cleaning, and learning how to preserve food. Our diet is changing and we feel healthy, good, and smart.
One task at this moment is scanning old slides. I find it fun to study my own art. Going back is a confirmation of sorts. I understand more and more of my path than was clear to me at the time. The message in my work is important, even though, in the early days, some of my expression is embedded deeply within paint.
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| Screaming in the city 70" x 51" mixed medium on paper |
On the art front I have drive and have taken on much. I put out the warning in 2011 that this would be the case for 2012. I am reaching for the stars so to speak, straightening my spin, and going for it. Don't confuse it with a secular pursuit or a frivolous goal. "It" seems to be two things. One is expressing my concerns more directly. The second is calling attention to the power held in the arts. Being an artist is like having "a license to do anything" and creatives must use this freedom now to contribute to the collective [good.] I wish to shout this from the nearest high wire. I want a megaphone to scream, scream, scream at the top of my lungs. This is a strange longing considering how I love privacy and I don't require attention to grow.
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| Detail of an agitprop work |
As you know, I have been working on an Agitprop series, art with statements. These 75 works on paper are meant to be like a punch. Not violent. More like a KaPow! Powerful and startling. The beauty is in the sheer number of the demands. The fact that they are fine art, handmade rather than computer generated, is intriguing. My supplies are varied too, from charcoal to pastel, college to paint. This is an art that I wish to seep into minds and hearts for dramatic action, all at once, together.
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| My brain: "I really love your art" - an important element to making art |
I have had to study to make certain my statements are strong and without loopholes. I use poetry, but emphasize understanding and impact. Researching was mandatory. Honestly, I can't wait to get these on the scene to be seen! In conjunction with the art, I am collaborating on a hand held book, a workbook. We, a graphic designer and editor, are seeking a growing team of writers. Each will write an essay and submit 3-4 questions for the reader concerning a topic from the art about which they are knowledgeable. I am hopeful that I can get this work into existence.
I think my perspective on things, though somewhat odd due to my upbringing, is valuable. Since childhood, I have had a shattered heart for the state of things. And though I am very happy today, my senses are assaulted by how ugly we have made this once very beautiful planet.
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| Buddha at night 60" x 55" charcoal and collage on paper |
I remember telling my grandmother around the age of 5 that I wanted to be an artist. This was only because I saw plenty of them dressed in black roaming the streets around Rhode Island School of Design. To me they were saint like, knowing about the world problems and thinking deeply about them. What sprang from the complexity of my life is a type of hope that is rooted in naive notions. Today, I can't forget those childhood dreams of paradise on earth and of the artists who officiated over it.
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| Waiting 40"x 55" oil on canvas |
The human capacity for love is at the forefront of my thinking. I do not accepts the claims that humans are selfish or animal like. "Survival of the fittest" is a small part of the animal kingdom that more readily promotes cooperation, not competition. I wish that so many didn't buy into what we are told we are or get caught in the mechanisms of complacency that drowns our true nature. I would never put the current human condition down. It is more in tune with grace to admit and accept this stage that we are all in, without adding any blame. Often we hear that people need to wake up. I think this is happening now. It is not the result of any one thing, but like a season, a cycle on many fronts completes it round. A child grows to youth, a plant goes to seed, a cloud gathers moisture and begins to rain. The human state changes too. The transition is dramatic. Nature tells us so.
It is dawning on more people each day that the world we live in isn't working. It does not make sense to our senses. So it seems this is to be my year of pleas and requests regarding all of this. Years ago I took an oath, several in fact, that where not part of "bargaining” but rather a commitment to the usefulness of my creativity. The time is here for me, the natural rhythm of things is turning my world to include another facet.
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| Thoughts 13" x 19" charcoal on paper |
It is as if I have been running through a series of buildings, searching for a place to empty myself. I start in the Cathedral on a hill, a solemn and mighty place that is dark and light at once. I then moved to the Manse and was well cared for. I kept running downward towards the stables, the grave tender's house, the garden shed, a root cellar. I spent time in each place, never complaining but working to admire all that is good.
Now, there is no building at all. I stand out in a field experiencing all types of weather. I live in the grass and in the soil. When it storms, it gets muddy. The layered sounds of life stir up a racket with buzzing, groans, and wind blown plants that bend towards the earth and back. I feed off things not considered food, yet feel nourished. Here is where much work will get done.
Soon, there will be a new type of Cathedral in view. I wrote to you once that I didn't believe in much and it still holds true. But if I were to believe in one thing it is the ability of humankind to build something new from the rubble and filth. It will require what some will see as a sacrifice, but, last I heard, humans are quite capable of sacrifices and, in fact, feel exultant once they are enacted. Sacrifices are temporary.
My dreams I share with you, Jack. I know you feel some of these things, but perhaps have come to terms with a few added elements that I have yet to allow in. I wish to witness such goodness and I wish to see it in full force soon.
Looking forward to learning what is new with you.
Love to all of you,
warmth, xxlee
