this is the drawing bored

I suppose my totems are guiding me toward creation, not only symbols of my current state of mind but also inspiration for the new paintings that I'll start today.  One is elated, the other introverted.  And perhaps that's the balance I'm trying to achieve in my life and work right now.

                

The left totem will--in my head but of course most paintings end up being different from the way one envisioned them in the beginning--end up being the sister painting to The Rise of Lazarus.  She will stand in for Elijah.  And ever since I stumbled upon this religious theme, peeking inside the head of The Great and Powerful Sherry, I discovered that she has entrapped the whale this time.  My favorite person is supposed to tell me the Jonah story in greater detail since I am not Christian and focused on crafts instead of paying attention to Bible studies in Sunday school.  I want The Great and Powerful Sherry to be huge, maybe two or three canvasses...not really sure yet.  The drawing bored, which is really the walls in my studio, not so boring.  But boarding can often times be tedious.

these are the many faces of sherry

About a month ago I arrived at sculpture studio to find our new model, Sherry.  I began forming my armature to her pose but during that process one of the legs fell off.  Of the armature, not Sherry.  I couldn't fix it, and since I like the idea of using the same armature in all the sculptures of my current process, I balled the metal figure up and began forming Sherry's portrait around it

Now, Sherry's story.

When I first began I thought she was angry at me for looking at her, or she didn't want me there, or hated men . . . something like that.  I became extremely self-conscious and anxious.  But when she came out of her pose, she was polite and cheerful.  A sign of a good model!  She captured a state of mind as she went into the pose, becoming a new person experiencing something profound.  Capturing this emotional side was quite intriguing.  One minute she was angry, the next sad, regretful, then consumed, resigned, peaceful.  Repeat.  This slippery slope of change found its way into the sculpture without me realizing it. You can imagine that I look forward to creating the painting from one of these images, all offering a different level of emotion really.

Thank you Sherry for an amazing energy.  My creation is for you.

this is another view of fire island

            

I've never been great at socializing.  My parents didn't really do much of it, so perhaps it's something innate, my introversion.  Large groups intimidate me, and one of my best friends, who hosted me this weekend at his house on Fire Island, is just the opposite.  He loves having parties and going to parties and meeting tons of new people.  I've actually stayed at his house before and left the party because I just couldn't do it--social anxiety at its best--and walked around the island until it was over.

This weekend though, I brought an accessory.  I don't think that suffices in describing him.  Perhaps life line might be better.  When he was around, I did the larger parties and spoke more easily to new people and it felt good to socialize.  I could be myself because he likes me for myself.  Myself being a extremely weirder character than my appearance might suggest.  That's me.  Nerdy, strange, shy, but when you get to know me, kind and loyal. 

And it was nice to be able to stay at my best friend's party and share it with not only him but also my new favorite person.  We sat in the sun one afternoon and I made a fast pastel.  I also drew him while he napped.  We were both sunburned later that day.

this is full fool fuel

Ever have your tarot cards read? The Fool card is a good one. When you get it, it means a new beginning. It's like starting over again. You get a do-over. Sort of like exiting Plato's cave and being astounded at the remarkable world and its possibilities. Most people these days are concered about age and time. But perhaps neither really exist. And if that's the case, then you can really start something at any age. And if you want to do it, you better do it because if you don't you'll end up being bitter, which makes you hunched over, and frail, and weak.

Pretend that was a moderately long April-Fools-Day-themed essay that inspires you.

Below you'll find my totem for April. I think I've moved on to Phase III, whatever that is, as I float higher and become closer to my creator, or whereever my creator intended me to be. I'll turn these twisted sculpture photos into their own story . . . still working on how. For now, this is my inspiration for my new painting.

this is a loner

Not him. Me. I was seeing this guy for three months. He was kind, sexy, and creative. Unfortunately, something was missing for me. Perhaps he was too young, too ingenuous, but I think it had something more to do with his role in my life.

Get out your throw up buckets: Everyone comes into your life for a reason.

(What about that asshole who cut you off, blocked a doorway, gave you gonorrhea, spit on you, etc?...he was present to build your humanity, your tolerance.)

So many times in my life, I've pushed relationships just because I thought they were what I needed, someone to complete me, someone to make me happy. Jasson came into my life when I needed that little extra push to start practicing my art. He was in school. I wanted to be in school. He was working toward "becoming" something creative. I wanted that. It was as if he was there so that I could show him what I could do. Jasson's role wasn't to be my boyfriend, but to remind me of that someone I could have become, someone full of youth and passion and courage.

We broke up today. It was difficult. He was so good to cuddle with. And we'd create things together. But it wasn't fair to him.

So I'm a loner. My brother in law called me that when I was a kid, and it's stuck with me. Ever since hearing it, I've wanted to fight against that label, and so I've forced myself to go out when I didn't want to. To be the nice guy and shake hands and smile and hold conversations that went nowhere. I'm not good around a bunch of strangers. While the solitude can become overwhelming, being the loner will help me practice my art more. And I have a lot of catching up to do.

But thank you Jasson...for getting me back on track.

this is a disguise

Yesterday I had my first collage studio with Mariano Del Rosario. He was super busy preparing for the yearly class exhibition, but he sat down with me for a couple of moments. First he flattered me when he said, "It looks like you've done this before." Then he walked though a couple of things with me. "More next week," he told me. I appreciated this. Baby steps.

I like working with collage but wonder if it's challenging enough for me, or how I could bring something new to the medium, much like Arturo Herrera brought up in one of the interviews I read or saw from him (he actually just recently set some of his work to a symphony). I know I'm jumping the gun a little, so I'll revert back to what I just previously said, baby steps, and calm down.

What I love about collage is the layering process. It becomes like a diguise. A rip can become a seam can become a face can become a hole. The piece I began centers around a group of Indian reservation politicians. They assume the dress of the European, the ones who ousted them from their homes. They want to assimilate and be better because they have been defeated. They want to become much like the people who defeated them, to wear the chic clothes that the women seem to swoon over. Is it a fairy tale they thought would come true, instead of the reality they would eventually face?

I too disguise myself every weekday.

I work for an investment bank, where I am not myself completely. I wonder if people notice the small imperfections or the invisible wall I've built around myself so that I don't fall prey to being stuck here for life. And once I emerge from the basement bathroom stall at my art school in my casual clothes, do the artists wonder if this too is just a disguise?

this is the first post

How does one start a blog about nothing?

I should have videotaped all my conquests, or at least wrote about them...or maybe taken photographs of my penis at different stages? Now I'm wondering, is it getting wrinkled? Have I pulled on it too much?

About six years ago a friend and colleague of mine told me that perhaps I had relied on my good looks for too long and that I should start a blog. Now everyone has a blog.

At least I've started now? Or better never?

Perhaps my looks haven't escaped me just yet. But this is a start to escaping my role as a sexy stuffed animal.