Stage two "new painting"

     This is my second night session painting, and I have to say I am loving every moment of it. It seems silly to value something so insignificant as the subtle yet semi-rough feeling of brush on canvas, the organic mush (similar to mud) of full bodied paint, or the slick viscous inky flow when it is mixed to extend its coverage. In many ways it is incredibly fulfilling, and reassuring that I haven't forgotten my processes. One thing I can compare this reacquainted familiarity to is that of a retired athlete coming back to the game after years away from the sport. 

     My body, like that of the athlete's has a muscle memory of techniques that never really quite left. Now I am not saying I am a veteran painter, but I do have my mannerisms. The intentional holding of multiple brushes in between the fingers of my right hand switching to my left to paint wet on wet paint blending colors, and utilizing varied sizes for areas of detail or quick application of color in large areas. Sometimes I have so many brushes going with varied hues, tones, tints ect... that I even resort to holding one or two under my tongue.

     This evening I decided to challenge myself to begin under-painting the figure and take a break from the "safe" areas of the piece (mainly the building, asphalt, and sidewalk detailing). What an exercise in letting go of control. In many ways I felt like I was fighting myself. That inner voice of fear, and failure that intimidates me into not even trying, kept creeping up in an attempt to convince me that I would ruin the painting by making a mess of the person. "Your too messy for something as delicate as a human figure, stick to landscapes..." Anyway I prevailed and I could not feel anymore accomplished.

     On this second stage painting the details, no matter how painstaking and tough, ended up being the most entertaining part. I especially love the detail of the pooled blood, shadows, and the compound fracture. Later on in stage 3 or 4 I will return, and clean up, as well as add more refined highlights, and gradations as needed.

     Lastly I believe there is the matter of a title. Listening to my iPod music in my earmuff headphones I am able to really cancel out any noise from the outside world. This not only allows me to focus better on my task, but also allow me to hear the lyrics to songs better. I by chance came across the following song on shuffle: "on our way down" - Stabbing Westward - Darkest Days. This song reminds me vividly of the subject matter of the dream and the meaning behind the catharsis of my falling to the ground. I am super excited that it fits my art show theme better now as well.

Lyrics bellow
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/stabbingwestward/onyourwaydown.html

Check out my father-in-law's Blog

http://livelongandstrong.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/4-steps-to-consistent-commitment/

New painting in progress

     I am picking up an old idea that I had for a painting. A long time ago when my life was tumultuous and nothing seemed certain, I used to have vivid dreams of things happening day to day that bothered me. This painting came out of a dream where I was falling from a tall building. This particular dream was of the variety where it was so vivid that I had to wake to realize it wasn't real. In these dreams I could feel myself being pushed off the edge of an enormous skyscraper by force, and I remember not waking even after hitting the ground. The last sensations in the dream were of myself pointing up at my assailant, and life fading. 

     Initially I would be seeing this from an out of body perspective. Then the dream would shift to where The viewpoint was looking through my own eyes as my vision was blurring, ears were ringing, the taste of blood in my mouth, and the cold wet feel of it on the ground beneath me spread slowly. After this slow darkening. I would wake up in a jolt where my body would jerk up from the bed some. Please don't think me crazy as these dreams were many years ago. Looking back I think that the dream was a symbol of my bad self triumphing over the person inside who desired to have a stable normal life. Maybe I was the one pushing myself off of the building. 

     I know that a year or so after being plagued by bad dreams and the chaos in my life I decided I needed to be baptized and saved. Maybe when I was young I did not fully understand what it was to give up the old and be born again. I am by no means close to perfect, but I have gotten to a place where I know I am forgiven and that I am loved by God who sent his son to die for me and other sinners like me. Sorry for the rambling and ranting. I was writing this blog entry as I would a journal entry with the filter off.