“Free Me” art mailing aka expeiment in sociology

So a coule weeks ago I came up with the brilliant idea to offer up to my twitter friends a art giveaway. It was really an idea for me to have a studio clearout and a brain clear out, in an effort to kick my creative spirit in the butt. Th premis was that i wanted to give away 8 to 47 pieces of my OLD ART to make way for new art. I am so easily influenced by what i have already done that it really sometimes stiffles me. i got 9 good addresses to work with, 7 in the U.S. and two in Europe. It was very scary and also a very exciting idea. I have often randomly given art away over the years, it is rarely regretted. I endend up spending days going thru older sketches and inks and drawings and paintings. They could only be on paper though because shipping anything else is too much for my budget. In the process of sorting though i was moved to paint. I am broke so it had to be on pages from a cheap water color tablet with acrylics. I ended up painting about 12 new small paper paintings. Not earth shaking valuables but not awful either. I paint so fast often that it is a tornado experience. In the past on canvas when it begins like this I will then “see” things hidden in the fast paint, unplanned figures and faces that i will spend alot of time filling, in bringing them into the focus, detailing ect.. all of these new paintings have some of that going on although i did not spend days bringing them forward. Eventually I got to the point of mailing out the nine sacred packets to the nine twitter friends. These are all people I enjoy talking to, or watching what they have to say. however it was the perfect situaton for me because the are not near by. not in my real life at all. The mailing done i was suddenly unsure. I couldnt take any of it back. i couldnt stop it. The small quick works of my feeblest attempts at art had been gifted to perfect strangers. I am not ALLWAYS impulsive, I gave alot of thought to what was being sent to whom and based my decisions on how well i knew them on twitter and their projected personality there. It might have been an impulsive idea though, well ok it was impulsive but I had very loving intention for the basis of the idea. I want nothing in return for the meager art. I got what I was seeking out of the challenge, I painted freely, mindlessly, joyously. I got a small bandaid and a scab for some of the tears in my life heart. And a couple of other things that the experiment didn’t factor in.
The world of twitter is amazing a generous in spirit for the most part. I can not express enough how warm the reciepients have made me feel about sending the art out. A few even mentioned that they had framed and hung the art in their office or living space. What a huge compliment to me and what I do as an artist. Espcecially since these paintings were quickly done and not intended to be held as valuable. I am stunned by that act. I have no idea at this time in my life what direction I am headed,I spend a great deal of time trying to figure out where my personal focus should be. Some days I hate my art so much that I want to never paint again but of course that is just crazy. I really have no choice I will always do art no matter how ugly it makes me feel sometimes, it is a huge part of who I have always been, or will be. I just have to decide if i can make it a bigger focus in my life that will lead me into the future that i want for myself. Time has all the answers and I waste too much of it thinking and not doing. I only get a small amout of “me ” time now as it is being the chief,cook and bottlewasher of my little family. Oh what a life it is.

JULY 23 2009 i am my art,i think…………………..

So my little life is full of ups and downs, just like everyine else. There are bills to pay and things you dont want to clean but it’s a life. Recently i decided to do something to try to jump start my art/painting. I have been passionate about my art for a long time…or so i thought. The past several years have been difficult on me emotionally to say the least and I have had to do way too much soul searching and evaluation of self. I am in a dull stagnant place for so many reasons. To many for me to feel up to the task of mentioning all of them right now. I am in a complete stall spiritually to some degree, i am in a stall about me and my life. i am not passionate about much these days except for whinning about how awful I feel about me and alot of junk cluttering up me, my house, my kids and my whole identity. Very soon, on August 13th I will turn 47 years old. perspective is everything, it is not a MILESTONE birthday. But at 47 if i strip away alot of junk what really is there left that represents me or the life i am trying to continue create (and recreate) for myself and those around me that I love.????? I am not thrilled with the life reflection i see. So I need to be honest with myself to move back into the future ahead and not be stuck right here there are many things to consider. I never had any delusions that i was ever going to be a world famous or money making talent. I do have some talent to be proud of because for the most part (95%) I am a self taught artist. I am the biggest work in progress that I will ever paint. I might not be world class or world respected aka bankable, but I always had passion and enthusiam for what I was doing. i used to try to work at some art at least 4-6 hours a night. I have soooo lost the drive and passion to accomplish that. It was never a chore. I miss that loss of time magical feeling. i miss being inspired by ME, I miss looking at a painting a day or two after completion and saying aloud to my self,”oh my gosh, did I actually do that? I dont believe it wow!”
So to honor the loss and reclaim some direction I have decided to give away 8-47 pieces of my work on paper. i am not a total free spirit because I will not give any of my canvas paintings away, i will turn them so they are not influencing and “looking at me”, but on the off chance one of my kids needs to have a life retrospective of my work someday, any that never sell(none have to date) I will be holding onto. I have given a great deal of my work away happily over the past 40 years. There is hardly ever regret, and It is scary fun to know that strangers somewhere lost on this big blue marble, and family and friends have a piece of my heart in their posession. I need to do this for me as much as for any other reason. I need to feel good about this work in stead of critical or wishful or haunted or oh so influenced to repeat the same kind of work right now because of a stall in my life. I am only doing the mailing thru my twitter world though. I am not even including any one i know in my ordinary world. my sister photographed the majority of my work in novenber of 2008 so there is a disc record of it. When she did so It make me feel contempt and loathing for my work. Made me see it as a waste of money and a feeble unskilled attempt at a fatasy ideal. It made me feel diss=satisfied with who i was as an artist. We are our own worst critics and to be honest I was “not right in the head” most of november, All of december, and well you see the theme, if not go read all my posts tagged “the book of wanting” I have got to throw the self loathing out and replace it with how good it really is to be able to say “I am an artist, I am a painter.” even if i am only talking to myself!

today 7/22/09

today i had to call off work because of moms heath, and my adult sons stupidity. Wow. How not to dwell on the anger and make this day work for me is going to be a challenge. I hope something good happens as soon as possible! Please universe help me out. i am asking as nice as I know how.

the book of wanting part 9 july20th 2009

james

Actual date 21st September, 2008
I ran into Clair today. After nine months or so. I wish I knew her better, she is so interesting. She is from England. I was glad to find out her health is on the mend. She had threen sugeries in all to straighten her stomach out. She is up to 109 pounds so it seems to be working. Her husband is in Iraq so hopefully at christmad when he comes home they will begin their life. One together with out fear and pain. They got married June 5th. She told me while she was in hospital he would hold her all day long. Then at night he would go home and hold Clairs daughter Brittiany. Over and over and over again. Right about the same time as James died.

Dear Sir,
I am writing to inform you that flights of fancy are harder to ground than a real issue. There is a ease of restraint because ther is no real action or activity going on out side the movies in our own heads. So we see them as harmless little breaks from our own real lives. Everyone will dydream from time to time. The places that I can go to in my head are far more interesting than the places I actually am.
I know though if i am imagining about you, that I am really imagining about someone who is not you. A person who really does not exist. Still I can not stop myself from imagining about you. It is a catch 22 or something else.
So i imagine. I imagine you of course out of my league for so many reasons. Number one being the fact that my poverty will prevent me from ever being in the same state or country as you. Which leads to number two being the fact that you are more worldly than i will ever be allowed to be. Which leads me to number three which is in a crowd of people I would either blend in like wallpaper or act inappropriately junir. The last out of fear of not being noticed at all. Not to mention that my appearance on it’s own is very average middleclassamerican :average. Not one feature cries out with beauty in my face. My style is non exhistant and would probably seem somewhat shabby. Even in the “little black dress” that even we who do not walk among gods, know enough to own, it would not be a spectacular sight.
When I am imagining anything really fun i usually don’t see myself at all. I see it ad if I am looking out on something from my own eyes. That is kind of funny when you picture it. But easy because in day to day interactions you don’t “see” yourself at all.
Then items from number four to a million are the endless ones like I’m not intelligent enough in a variety of area. I am not glam, not classy, not tall, not thin,not,notnot….It always comes down to self doubt and self belief. The belief that I am not good enough.
This book has really become all about that. Oh well such is the life of a restless dreamer. Trapped in a life of your own making. It’s a nice little life but you find yourself wishing it were a bit more…. more something. When does contentment end and complacency begin? That is a too well blended color. I think life is a struggle. A life of struggle when your soul is starved for some deeper richness more is a sadder lot to live indeed. We all do it on a lot of secret levels i bet. Therefore i bet a lot of people never realize what that constant longing inside them is. i call it a restless spirit, starving soul, the soft spoken dream catcher with in me. Never really silent though. Not when i sleep, or work, or parent, or bath, or any time I can think of. Some days it’s a whisper and alot of times it’s a never ending scream. Good thing i am alone in being able to feel it because it would probably disrupt everyone i am in contact with. I’ve spent a good number of years trying my best to ignore it. Squash it down deeper inside. Now I find it has bounced back higher, stronger, and particulary louder than before. I find I am sighing alot more for no particular reason. At least not to any one who can hear me. Any one who isn’t me.
Journals are really journeys of self absorbtion aren’t they. WE all can wallow in SELF. Secretly here in a blank book. There were a couple of weird events today but no random acts of kindness. A couple of near misses though because I tried. Some people don’t like random acts of kindness, makes it harder to give them out.

july 19th 2009 nada

I havent been in here writing in a couple of weeks. i have gotten down and out and very lazy in keeping up appearances on anything that i am doing. i am in the mist of resolving issues that are all on the interior of me like my mind and money and stress and well just my overall life. i keep thinking while i am at work that i need to return to putting the book in here and then when i get home i can not come here and do it.
I need to get my habits re instated and come back to keep slaying my dragons. probably not to day however because there is a sunday funeral to attend and that will take most of my strength, if not most of the day. I am trying to find all my passion for life. i am finding that there is not one thing that i am passionate about in my life. i believe that a life with out a passion or two is unbearable. makes you loose interest in yourself and the sights and sceens around you become unseen and unsung. it becomes the worst kind of desert. not the beautiful kind of desert place. the hottest driest ungly blinded sightless kind. And as always i am like georgia o’keeffe in the desert and i’m starving and i’m not talking about food…..usually that thought rallies me and brings all my scattered parts back together, maybe it will work its magic on me today if i give it some time to take up roots. we shall see.

thank you Aaron

it is awful how ordinary life can lure us into a false sense of security. while we all barbequed and watched fireworks americans are still risking their lives and DYING all over the world!

the book of wanting part8 7/02/09

remember i wrote this last year, it was how ifelt at a particular time and mind space. may not reflect todays thinking.

From 15th September 2008
it sounds absurd even when I say it to myself. I have not really cried about loosing you to death. Tears are weak. That is a lesson I learned early, often and well. So i don’t cry. Much. Which is not healthy they say (experts and my sister Julia)but I wasn’t allowed to cry; so now I don’t ALLOW myself to cry.
Here is an odd thought after almost eight months in an icey dessert. Do I miss you or the HOPE of what you represented to me? I am no longer sure. There is only the certianty that I long for something to nourish me from the inside. A longing I haven’t felt in so long a time that my world seems to have driven full circle back upon itself again.
So let me ramble in ways we never did together. For your world was so black and white; and mine was/is so full of mists and cloudy imaginings suddenly again. Impractical and actually full of stupidity for someone my age.
Do you ever just want to fade away? To totally disappeare, reinvent yourself, become somethingnew? Something unlike you. That is me all of the time now, but that is dissallowed. I am not going anywhere.
I don’t need anyone to help me feel bad about myself. ive got that covered. Years of study, years of training kneeling at the alters of the Mary’s taught me well. Taught me all that I ill ever need to know.
()
V.P.M. I somehow get the feeling I have known you before. In a past life or experience. Insane crazy idea i know,(i’ve been called much worse) but that is the physical heart stopping reaction I get. I don’t necessarily mean that on an attraction level either. Yes it is obvious to the world that you are a charming and pretty man. The personal feelings that I am expressing are of a completly different and complex nature. Here is the best bit. It all has to do with the hands and forearms. (yeah creeping myself out a bit too!)Maybe I just knew THEM in a past life. HaHa. Seriously there is something that calls to me from your hand and forearms. The man I most recently loved, love, whatever is dead and burried gone. I can’t sense his presence anywhere around me in my life. But i can feel you. Weird. He evaporated and you whom I’ve never met exhist like an electric shock. Very weird.

The book of wanting :part7 7/1/09

James

remember this was written during last year and reflect how i felt at a particular time on a specific subject. It does not neccesarily reflect my life now.

Even though we both came from Christian based backgrounds I’m not convinced of everything like you were. I am not convinced that I will ever see you again. I know you are supposedly waiting somewhere to greet all of us when we arrive. I’m not sure I’m even going to be released there.
I’ve got a feeling that I’ve been here before; and I’ve got a feeling that although taking this walk with you was pre ordained somewhere in the universe-and important for me to do-I’m probably not done. Not done helping others or learning from others about me. Who really knows.
What if the real cost to me was never loving again? It is possible (and remember I can’t “why” this so don’t expect me to)what if this has been my last chance to be loved in this lifetime? What if I can never let go enough to have a loving experience with a man again. What if this is all I get? Time factors into this. Will it be enough? I am certianly not young but I am not pushing elderly either. What if this is it? What if? Would I feel like I was cheating on you? Betraying you? I don’t know. I’m not ready to know. There is no one I want to know with.
Will I be bitter prund ninety year old crone. Languishing away with a house full of cats somewhere? All from being unable to be loved or loving again.
Okay weird because I’m not even sure I’m deserving of love most of the time. The thought that I’ve used up all my chances of being loved is a bit daunting.
Whew!
Where do I go from here? It is a good thing my life and exhistance here hasn’t ever been relationship driven or I’d be in real trouble. Okay lets face it my record isn’t that great to begin with.
Here are some thoughts I scrawled on my arm arms with a sharpie when I went back to work. A self help book for me’s.
Live srong support them all along.
I wish there were a pan-can can-can victory dance. Sadly they don’t survive it very well.
If you are lucky you have three to six months.
If you are blessed you’ll have sixteen.

I wish desperatly that I had photographed you every day. I wish I had recorded your voice.
When preparing for this journey remember: it is not a just and fair universe.
Remember to breathe.
There is no time for us to just be. Psyche and intellect will battle on until I die. How much time alone together is enough? Is there ever enough time together?

There is a giant invisable gaping hole inside my cheast. My soul is weeping incessantly. A thousand days of grieving will not quench the thirst your death has left in me.
Learn how to just be. To just be. To just sit quietly together and just be centered.
If you can’t be totally selfless you need to just step back or even walk away. We are talking about quality of life here not quantity. And we are not talking about your own life at all.
I am still bleeding from a million little sores. The medicine would be to be with you, but you aren’t coming back.

Love is a dangerous balancing act.
(I’ve always loved the circus)

We used to be such passionate rabbits! Eating Clementie’s at 4 a.m. is pretty intoxicating for us.
I’m so afraid of letting go bit by bit. It feels like forgetting.

the book of wanting part 6. 6/29/09

James

Remember as you are reading this: it was written over a year ago and is how I felt during a particular time frame, about a specific part of my life. It may not be how I think and feel today.

(written aprox sept. 2008)
WHERE DO I GO FROM HERE.
I don’t know. One moment I feel like I am going to burst into a million shattered pieces out into the universe. The next I’m afraid I am turning to stone. I’m pretty sure I am mastering the ability to seem pretty normal to the world at large. I’ve really learned to be quiet in my person. I feel more than I show which is something my parents tried to teach me for years. Oh and I certianly have mastered the act of verbal restraint throughout all of this. I rarely say the million and one things bursting to get out anymore.
I am contained.
I haven’t really gotten back to painting. I’ve dabbled with some different projects. I am creatively busy 24/7…the brain never shuts up. Painting may have been the price of this adventure with you. I’ve been away so long and now that there is nothing else to do passionately with gusto and vigor. I can’t seem to tap into that place and find it. So we will see down the road what becomes of the artist in me.
It has left me floundering.
I’ve always adapted some way or other.
It might just be that I am just really still too nUmb from this last bit. Fourty-six years of tragic events,joy ,pain, fear and don’t forget shame and guilt. You would think i would have quite a bit to paint about. I just end up dissatisfied and numb. To quote myself,”like Georgia O’Keefe in the dessert I’m starving and I don’t mean for food.” I am dissmantled, overwhelmed and perhaps just a little bit dumb.
I have no idea where the road leads to now. You promised that you would talk to us.
I don’t hear you.
When you died everything just stoppered up.

I don’t feel you anywhere. I don’t feel you at the cemetary. I think you are just gone. Gone to a place I will never know. That you are just gone to me. Like you are stuck in a sacred stone ring of old, inside the second set. Somewhere in the mist..; and I can’t get in any more. I’ve lost my way.
yeah, I know you would have no idea what i am talking about with the stone rings. But hey I’M WRITING TO A DEAD MAN !!!!! Who i love. Who can’t read this or hear me. So…………………

today 6/24/09 feeling?

james

Today i saw a black BMW just like yours. they allways look like yours. yours is gone forever, sold to your parents neighbor right before you died. I always know a split sceond later that it is not you, my ache reminds me. For a moment though i always serch the drivers face expecting it to be you.
As i returned to the post office later, on the way back from delivering my route this is what happened. A man the right age, height, form, coloring was comming out from between two buildings, he had your walk, almost. He was almost you. It wasnt you of course. This is what i thought after.

it was the silver tips of hair
visable
peeking from a backwards baseball cap
fault the cap and hair color
they tricked me
tripped me up
it was brutal
i could feel you
he even walked like you
in only a moment
a breaths space
i was lost all over again
in blinding loss
crippled by my grief
all over again.
wanting to dig out my eyes
remove them from their
traitor sockets
sever this minds ability
to keep seeing you
where you never are.