It’s been a busy summer, but I have the brush in my hand on occasion still so I wanted to post a brief update. 😊
This is a WORK IN PROGRESS. It is quite large, which is noteworthy as I’ve been mostly working on smaller, more affordable pieces for the last 8 months.
Festival & farmers market season is upon us is here in sunny Florida. I’ve been working on creating stock! Last year, I was able to sell a few pieces to the wonderful folks of Crescent City during the Art Walk event. This year, I am hoping to produce enough art to get involved in the farmers market and the art walk.
It isn’t confirmed, but I am seriously hoping another art walk event is put together this year 🤞
Here’s some more of my smaller works:
Highly textured and sad, just like me some days. I hope you’ve been doing well! 🙂
P.S. I am SO proud of my sister for sharing her journey through addiction over at death-becomes-her. Please give her story a read if you have the time/desire. It is chilling, dramatic, and intense. It will make you cry and have you feeling like a vulnerable human again in a world which demands we all remain stoic and firm at all times. Live a little, cry a little, and please support her on this difficult journey.
It has been more than five years since I last experienced heavy rainfall like the one Putnam County received this morning. The feeling of soggy ground beneath my feet is a gift. A treasured gift from Earth that I haven’t felt since my time in Idaho. The nostalgic smell of southern rain and the pitter-patter slapping my roof and touching my body is nothing short of refreshing.
Just a few weeks ago, on March 23rd, I took part in the very first local Art Walk in Crescent City, Florida. The event took place under the shade of live oak trees that have been around longer than I can ever hope to be.
My art was on display, offering a colorful and psychedelic escape from the endless booths of paintings of manatees and fish, wind chimes, and jewelry. It was something weird and unexpected, but in the best possible way.
For four hours, I sat there with my art display and had many beautiful little interactions with people in my small town of around 1,654 residents. Some younger individuals simply stopped and stared, taking in the colors and details of my art.
I had a shy guy on a bicycle who looked at one of my paintings for a brief moment. As we made eye contact, he gave me a thumbs up with a slight head nod before continuing on his way.
These simple gestures of appreciation reminded me of the power of art to connect people in even the smallest ways.
But my favorite interactions had to be with the older crowd.
Delivering Delight to the elders
While at the park with my display, I noticed that many elders stopped to talk and were beaming with smiles. Some commented on the colors, saying things like “So trippy! That’s wild,” while others complimented my creativity, asking questions like “That’s very creative! How do you come up with this stuff? “. These interactions filled me with a sense of gushing pride.
My favorite moments were when a few ladies and gentlemen shared their personal stories, telling me how my art reminded them of the 1960s and 1970s or of the good times they had on mushrooms or acid “back in the day.”
One man that stopped and spoke with me turned out to be a pastor. The pastor surprised me by engaging me in a discussion about psilocybin. “I’m a pastor now,” he proclaimed. To which I responded, “For some people, mushrooms help them meet God.”
My quip earned me a laugh and a memory that may never fade. The pastor smiled, and I believe he knew, perhaps intimately, what I meant.
I have personally made connections to God under the effects of psychedelics, especially in my youth when I danced more often and paid closer attention to the details of our world. As the old saying goes, “The devil is in the details,” but I learned that God lives there too.
These experiences have inspired my art and my passion for creativity.
A gentleman in Idaho bought this painting from me 4 years ago, back in 2019. I couldn’t tell you his name, but I remember that he was very fast paced with curly dark hair, and he had a car dealership. He told me I should focus on bigger paintings. “They would be easier to sell.”, He said. Ever since this interaction, I’ve focused more on larger canvases.
I also committed to more detail and less low time investment / stress paintings.
Sometimes I think about paintings I have sold to people and fully recognize their obvious incompletion. I daydream about being able to have them back to finally finish and then return to whatever wall or Goodwill had them.
I feel like I’ve produced a bunch of ghosts.
This is my current thought process, and it is the reason you may have noticed I completely swept up the art that I have kept on this website. Now the website itself feels so empty and pointless.
I suppose I am going through some sort of a conflict about it. Someone was willing to spend money on this painting, no matter how many years ago. Just because I’ve suddenly become so moody and hyper critical, does that really mean that another person’s enjoyment is invalid?
Only a few short years later and looks so obviously incomplete to me now. It looks like I don’t care. I guess this is what it means to grow old, to desire more intent and focus to be evident in the things that come from my hands.
I don’t feel proud enough of my art, and that’s become a problem.
If you are reading this, and you have and /or purchased a painting from me please email me a photo of it. Let me look at it, I have such a huge army of ghosts out there. I woke up today wanting nothing more than to chase them.
