What if...

What if there was a creator god who existed outside of his creation of time and space and matter, the whole universe, including this one planet we call earth.  What if this god, who I will call "Artist," designed creatures to inhabit this earth and put a unique pattern of himself in them, giving them the desire and satisfaction in making things as well? And the little artists could see and respond to clues and evidences of Artists's handiwork all around them? What if some of them were compelled to adore Artist, whom they had never seen or spoken to but somehow knew him by the evidence of the beauty and order of all the created things around them?

What if he really loved his little artists and wanted to communicate his love and desires to them directly? Being outside his creation of time and space and matter and they just tiny finite beings, he sent them tools to use, tools perfectly designed to help them better understand their creator and their fellow beings as well as to make beautiful things? But what if some of the little artists, selfish and greedy for more creative power than Artist, became destructive instead of creative?  Even though the tools were perfect, they misused them or in frustration just tossed them aside, preferring their own tools and methods?

But what if Artist, in his great love, began to send messages to them through special individual artists who could translate and communicate his intentions? Through these messengers, he critiqued their work, giving praise and correction. What if some artists received the messages with gladness but others rejected them outright, their works becoming dark and destructive and disturbing?

What if, in due time, Artist make an appearance among his creatures, limiting his power and becoming, for a short time, a little artist?  What if, while he was among them, he demonstrated perfectly how to use his tools to create beauty and harmony and order and peace? Would you think the little artists would be thrilled to have, as their very own teacher, THE teacher, the ARTIST, to help them make sense of their design, the Creator of all creators? Some fell in love with him and practiced his techniques and methods, using his tools  and sharing the good news all around. Others, however, did not! They resented his instructions and didn't believe he was the Artist come among them no matter how great were the works he demonstrated.

What if these disbelieving artists started talking about Artist to the established art schools and universities, saying that he was teaching improper or contrary methods, even claiming to be the creator of all creators, the Artist of all artists? What if these schools started to talk among themselves, seeking how they could censure him, silence him, forbid him to teach?  What if Artist disregarded their admonishments, knowing that their motives were only to preserve their institutions and self importance?

What if the established artists and institutions became furious at Artist and sought how they might have him arrested?  What if they paid people to swear falsely about him?  Little artists who had never even tried to make one good thing swore that he was doing it all wrong, leading them astray, teaching them to use the wrong tools! What if they did arrest him? In fear, his friends and followers ran away, leaving only the angry mob to testify. Somehow the trial got out of hand and Artist was sentenced to death,  And they killed him.

What if  Artist had known all along that this would happen? What if he loved his little artists so much that he was willing to go through it all with them so that they could know him and understand him and his techniques?  But, what if, being the Artist Creator who created time and space and matter and earth and all the little artists, couldn't stay dead, but came back to life? What if he did just that, and walked around, talked to his friends and followers, ate with them and taught them again for many days until it was time for him to go back to wherever it was that he existed outside of time and space and matter?  What if he told them that he was going away, but that he would come back again sometime in the unknowable future? And that he would send another messenger to help them remember his tools and teachings, to create many more good things and to share them with everyone they know?  What if this messenger was not like the earlier ones, who were only little artists, but actually another part of Artist that he would send in his place to always be there with them?

What if the rest of the story hasn't been written yet?  What if the believing artists are still creating good things, trying to use the tools well with the help of the Messenger? What if the disbelieving artists are still selfish and greedy and still trying to make up their own tools and techniques and only creating disharmony and destruction?  What if the Creator Artist is planning on that day when he returns to earth to make everything beautiful again, to make his artists great and to restore his creation to its original perfection and beauty?

What if this were all absolutely true, what kind of artist should you be?

Measure of Success

I often wonder what film stars experience when they encounter images of themselves in the movies they have made.  I feel a sort of pity when I see them as they appear today compared to their younger selves, frozen in perpetual beauty or virility.  Some become recluses, refusing to be seen in their decrepitude. Others spend fortunes on plastic surgery, refusing to accept the inevitable.  Their lives are lived in reverse.

You don't have to be a famous beauty to get depressed when you look at old photos of yourself. Anyone can feel a sense of loss for their own youth, well spent or otherwise. I feel a definite sort of pity for my younger sister, nine years my junior.  She has this continual reminder before her (me) of how she will be looking in about a decade!  Poor dear!!!  Those of us with Scotch-Irish complexions that have spent years in the sun do NOT age gracefully!!!

Painters have reminders of their past everywhere in their works hanging on the wall. Are the paintings which I did in my younger years better than what I am doing now?  Certainly if I use the ruler of financial success, I see myself as failing.  I used to sell a lot more than I do now.  If I rate my growth through the mastery of draftsmanship or technical skills, it might be a draw.  But, if I measure my success as an artist by the ability to paint from life, instead of photography, I think I'm miles ahead.  If I count the ability to paint a la prima, directly, without elaborate under painting, I am pleased with that. If I take into consideration my increasing ability to capture life-like skin tones, that is also progress.

I am not certain if I am a better painter but I am pleased with little steps of success.  Being a self-taught artist,  I haven't gone through the exercises that most artists have been schooled in.  So when I diverge from painting people to paint a landscape or a still life, I am thrilled!  Because I learned to paint people first and apples later, that is progress to me.

Now I'm doing "genre" paintings.  My brother has been bugging me for years to combine his expertise in western horsemanship, tack and lifestyle with my love of horses into creating some authentic Western Art. I have painted my first ever cow portrait!  Actually, it's a young bull (see earlier blog.)  I am just thrilled with the way it turned out.  The piece I am working on right now is three riders in an Arizona landscape.  I've done a careful under-painting so that I could get all the legs in perspective, looking believable.  As I model the forms in paint, my knowledge of horses come slowly rising out of the deep recesses of my brain, like a remembered language, long unused.  

Artists have it all out there, exposed and laid bare for people to see, much like movie stars.  How will you judge me?  Do you see me pushing against formula?  Am I gaining or just treading in place?  Can you see my struggles with personal expression and artistic integrity? Is my work relevant or passe'?

I consider this lovely little study (above) a success... Alie posed in costume as the Girl with a Pearl Earring.  I started it in the live session Tuesday night and finished it from a photo in a few hours Wednesday. It's not my "best" but it really works for me.  Hope I'm living my life forward, not in reverse!

Bags of Wind

The plastic bag is still tangled in the branches of the plum tree outside the kitchen window. It just flaps all day long, stuck on a bare, winter twig. A bit of man-made detritus skewered on a dead tree tip. It reminds me of the film shown at the art center last year. It consisted solely of a similar bag stuck in a similar tree top. Nothing happened. It just flapped in the wind endlessly, the film looping continuously. No beginning or ending. Futile. Barren. Ugly.

My bag will never be able to untangle itself. I'll have to get the ladder and clip it off. It affronts my sensibilities. I can't leave it there until it dries and tatters and eventually becomes concealed by the leaves.

Makes me wonder why I care. "What does it matter?" Is this a metaphor for the ugliness that has a tangle-hold on the world, that will never free itself, but must be cut out? Who defines what is beautiful or ugly? Or does it just offend my sense of orderliness and control over my immediate environment?

Maybe it is just my way of trying to bring order into the chaos of the cosmos, something I strive to do everyday with my art. I don't think bags blowing in the wind is art, nor do I think bags of wind can define what is art. (Yes, I do mean the double entendre.)

I'll get out there pretty soon and cut it down.