I feel like I have had a block both with writing and painting the last few months, maybe I shouldn’t complain because previously I had an amazing run of both paintings and writing so a block should probably have had been expected. Well a vacation can bring about the creative impetus an artist needs to rekindle that creative spark.
I will be painting a series of twelve paintings of the intercoastal sunsets and storms. I am excited because the images are all larger and a bit dramatic. I am experiencing a clarity and focus because the images that I am envisioning are very moody and include large skies and lots of light and shadow that have so recently been observed. I will be buying large canvases for the process and the images are so fresh in my mind, I don’t believe I will have any problem just showing up and letting God have the brush.
I will want the viewer to have that moment of hushed silence, the feeling of watching terns hover in the sky and the silence of the wind blowing across crystal clear swells. Again the idea isn’t to capture happy moments, but not sad or somber moments either-just the intensity and drama that brings beauty to darkness, mystery to the whisper of wind across the horizon and that haunted moment when we realize there is something larger than us moving the waves and controlling the magic behind a sun descending in a late afternoon sky.
Here we are again-this time on the ocean or I should say the bay. We went to Cape San Blas in the Florida panhandle-it was the best and worst time on the kayak. The first time was amazing-from the moment we left the shore, it was beautiful crystal clear water where you could see stingrays, bait fish, and needle fish swimming in and out of the sand and fauna of the bottom. The sky was a bit intimidating but we still paddled cautiously. We found the sand bottom surrounded by the grass beds with bait fish disrupting the surface and running just beneath the surface.
Immediately the water came alive with trout breaking the surface and we were on to fish. I enjoyed the peace of being out on the water, the sun shined through the surface and the coloration of the water was like Champlain, I was so in my element, several fish were on and it seemed we could just fish along the weed beds and find fish breaking-it was an absolutely wonderful day that seemed to end a bit too abruptly as we had to go back for lunch.
After that perfect few hours of fishing, the weather finally made good on its threats. The next day we got out early and the thunder and lightning hung on our shoulders the whole time. We decided to fish from shore. We were lucky enough to see a saw fish running through the bait fish and my son caught a flounder on a spoon. I got to enjoy walking in the surf until slipping on a rock made me more like a shark attractor and decided it was time to fish from shore. A bit of stress and aggravation but still wonderful. Just seeing the saw fish was worth an early morning of fishing.
The final day and opportunity to fish was where the wonder and beauty became exhausting and overwhelmingly aggravating. We spent hours in the rain, the cold drenching rain and a wind that made us completely forget the humidity that we complained about earlier that week. Finally after hours of walking in the flats and casting to what seemed like empty waves we finally got our kayaks down and were ready to give it another try.
From the moment we left the shore, the wind would move you quite a distance so I should have known at that point it would be a bumpy ride. I had lost count on how many times I was pushed one hundred yards or so out to sea and had to paddle back to everyone else. I felt that it would be appropriate for the one out there braving the waves would catch all the fish but I was skunked just like the others in my party who decided to fish from shore. I just got an amazing workout and casted again and again to bait fish that seemed to have nothing beneath them but weed grass.
We had all returned to shore and were about to give up on the day when we saw fish breaking close to shore, we decided to give it one more shot. My son ended up with a four pound trout and immediately following a missed hit I started my journey much like atlas moving his rock up the mountain only to watch it roll back down and start the process all over again. I would throw my lure out to the school and after realizing my lure was tangled, I would attempt to untangle it and by the time I was untangled I had drifted back out a hundred yards or so, paddle in and start the whole process again. My son had “borrowed” my pliers and I was left with line that I couldn’t cut and a set of treble hooks stuck in my life vest, the more tired I would get, the more stupid mistakes I would make. I continued the process, sharing colorful language with all of the bait fish that seemed to just be teasing me at this point. I am very surprised that all of the rods came back in one piece and not sunk to the bottom of the bay. I did stop my tantrum short of throwing myself over the edge of the kayak.
Two very exciting things that my son and I got to witness during the whole process was an extremely large ray jumping out of the water and a life conch the size of a small dog on the bottom feeding along the sea grass. All in all-an amazing trip and my sons wonderful trout that I was able to capture on my phone camera. All I will remember was the amazing water, the incredible scenes and watching my son bring in the trout all the frustration will have evaporated much like the storm clouds that eventually dispersed. After leaving the water I looked back and the calm bay seemed like it was mocking me but it was an amazing trip none of us will soon forget.
I just got back from a vacation from Florida, something my family and I have done every year for the last six years or so. We had an amazing vacation and yet the feeling you get immediately after said vacation is of exhaustion, stress and should haves and would haves. I think the first couple of times we were all just happy to be in Florida without any specific expectations-the experience is amazing because it created itself without expectation and became the vacation that it was.
The simple act of vacationing becomes an endless loop with something missing but your not sure what, it just doesn’t seem to fulfill what you were expecting. I believe what is missing is that initial wonder of seeing and experiencing things for the first time-I am going to digress a bit but I hope with clarity.
So here is my digression-a long standing vacation becomes like the marriage that seems to stale-your not sure what is missing but something just doesn’t seem to offer the same contentment anymore. I believe in a marriage it is just the fact that a single ingredient in the relationship is missing, something either of the spouses felt was insignificant but it meant everything to the relationship. So back to the vacation-something we lose in the translation, something that made the first and second time so special seems to be overlooked or left out, it is finding this illusive ingredient that brings back the magic and wonder in a vacation the same as the relationship.
I hope that made sense, so this time we went somewhere new to resurrect the new and exciting elements of the that first vacation. My son and I have been fighting back and forth between the pros and cons of familiarity vs new and excitement. The great thing about familiarity as it relates to fishing, camping and dining-you know what to expect and aren’t disappointed. The great thing about the new and exciting is just that-it’s new and exciting.
After all the time and effort and expense we tend to be disappointed because the vacation just didn’t meet our expectations but when you return to the same vacation in our fond memory all we remember are those special things we did, this is why I consider a vacation like the movie we have to see again-we are too thick into the vacation and too deep in the trench of expectations that we don’t realize that we are actually enjoying the day and relaxing. When you go back through our pictures and memories we will realize we had the vacation we needed we just couldn’t see through the distractions of stress, exhaustion and aggravation that is often the family vacation.
I am not a mortalist, I state that now and I’ll explain it further as most of you have never heard of a mortalist. It all started five years ago or so, although I’m not sure of the first time or date where I heard the news. A woman was disinterred because they were trying to prove her death was caused by a diet drug called Thin-2WIN-of course every one insists that we are all the same and it doesn’t matter what size or shape we come in-everyone had flocked to this diet drug that insisted that it took the pounds off and it no one could argue it did the job.
The lawyers and doctors had almost collapsed in shock as the woman sat up and asked, does this coffin make my hips look too thin or maybe it was can I get a cheeseburger? There were lots of rumors and hearsay but they all took a backseat to the fact that a woman had literally come back from the dead. I know you are asking but what about the embalming fluid-she complained of its discomfort and there are drug manufacterers insisting they can fix that. The culprit diet drug was soon taken off the market and coffins were being disinterred even faster than they were being put in the ground.
First thing that happened in result of the mass of new bodies and social security numbers that were being brought back was a new career choice-the mortal lawyer was born. There were many insurance payments in limbo and lawsuits for wrongful death were being overturned. The government stopped all their customary lawmaking and went into a new role of laws for hypermortals- a new term that was just getting included in the webster dictionary. The guinness book of world records now had to have a new division of its record books because the rules were different as a new species of mortals were born.
One law that was enacted was a law that stated all deceased people were not to be burried but put in a small box, large enough not to make them uncomfortable but small enough not be an eyesore to the public, also there were mandatory releases inside because it was cruel to burry a zombie and for those that weren’t quite ready to come back to life, there were books and movies that had to be included during the burial. Cremation became an ugly word and their was the discussion where did life truelly end, words like grays and hybermortals became passe. No one dared to use the word coffin or casket, the term to use was secondary dwelling or cryb- kind of a cross between a crib and crypt. There were new businesses being spawned, making new homes for the undead, burrial plots were being resold again and again. The diet drug of course was taken off the market being replaced with a new improved drug called Thin-2-reallyWIN- it was the same drug but it really took the pounds off. The whole scope of the human appearance was changing-certain advertising like gray is beautiful, not just mortal hypermortal-beauty is only flesh deep. Not all hypermortals ate brains as in the old stereotypical undead image but some did. It became a crime to talk against them, after all they had already died and they needed to be respected instead of maligned.
This brings me to today-my daughter brings a zombie-oh I’m sorry, a hypermortal home. I must admit again not a prejudice thing but I never liked them. They really smell bad and it’s hard to talk with someone whose jaw falls into your mashed potatoes at the dinner table, awkward takes a whole new meaning. My daughter insists he’s got the bluest eyes she’s ever seen, I told her it was the fading of the cornea post mortem but she insists they’re beautiful. She said they are the windows to the soul, I just told her that he needed to stop sharing the remnants of his soul at my dinner table. Of course I was seen by the whole family as rude and judgemental.
After a piece of his jaw fell into the mashed potatoes, I tried desperately to change the subject, I asked what he used to do when he was……ok there was this long pause and more awkardness. My daughter interjected that he was a contractor before his accident, she insisted I feel what was left of his bicep-I called it rigormortis, she called it a lean toned arm. He said he was unemployed at the moment because grays just don’t get the good jobs these days. I wondered of his prospects but he seemed a bit close mouthed, well as close mouthed as he could be having lost the bottom of his jaw. I will also comment on the fact that he stared a lot-kind of zombie like-but again I was seen as rude and judgemental. You can understand how I ended the dinner when he mentioned that he loved the fact that my daughter really had great brains-I know what he meant but I just couldn’t take it anymore and that was the end of our cordial dinner.
Since than we have never completely recovered as a family, they tend to stay at their crypt-I’m sorry cryb-it’s a small place that they say they are happy living in but I just thought my daughter deserved more. He has since got a job at a carnival as the living dead guy but since the anti-prejudice ordinances went into effect-he lost his job. So I ask you-how would you feel if your daughter brought home a hypermortalist-I don’t care what you call them, they are a bit creepy and I don’t see any future for him and my daughter-he’s a cold hearted bastard and if that makes me an antimortalist than guilty as charge-signed a concerned father-I’ve wondered where we will have the wedding at a church or a cemetery and what do you bring as far as gifts? so many new intricacies in this brave new world-what’s a dad to do?
Creativity is a strange process and sometimes the simplest process seems to have intricacies we wouldn’t realize if it weren’t for having a lifetime of studying it first hand. I have a theory about inspiration and its fleeting presence it usually affords. I will usually have titles of pieces of writing and words that are scattered, this will be the first sign that words of some sort will be assembled for a poem or a story. I have often tried to save just the bits of words so as to save the feeling if I don’t have time to get to writing at that moment and there is a problem with that sort of jotting down thoughts.
I believe that the words come in streams that are stored in memory- this process is in the subconscious state and the words suspend, not even necessarily connecting or forming specific thoughts or ideas but creating a backdrop of texture for upcoming words and ideas. When I write the words and ideas down it seems to me that it takes the words from the subconscious state and collects the thought in the conscious state. The conscious state being more pragmatic insists on responding to the process but never develops the words the way the subconscious does easily. I know it almost seems like two entities speaking simultaneously and before you go get the nice people in white coats-it is the process of creativity where two hemispheres of the brain decipher and create what will be a poem, essay or bit of writing. I think as soon as the words go into the conscious the thought and reason ignores the connection of things that don’t connect and the rational mind will not relate the words in the same process.
A different form of the same process is when words stream for a week or so without being written down, this also occurs in the painting process of images as well but now I will relate it just to writing. The words of experiences and snapshots of life float in the subconscious until one day with just enough time in introspection and availability of clarity, words from all the different snapshots form together with little effort than quick fingers usually on the computer. I this process I will often have up to fifteen or so poems written in the span of thirty minutes, I don’t remember what I wrote in that time and the words all flow together easily without having to over edit-to me this is the most natural form of the creative process.
Has anyone else experienced this form of stream of consciousness and what breaks your stream of creativity? Would love to hear comments on the subject as it is a strange and magical process creativity.
In the most recent series, the paintings have varied from realism/impressionism to the edge of surrealism. Maybe not surreal in the traditional sense but maybe a precursor to images to come where realism takes less importance than the atmosphere or the texture. I have started images dealing with perspectives-the viewer is forced to see a moon scene looking up a tree instead of a realistic night sky. I want the viewer to feel a bit on the edge of reality and the thought of place and circumstance.
In the terns, I wanted the viewer to get the idea of place by the terns and see the ocean breakers in a different way. Another image that is included in this grouping is a pastel which I haven’t recently included in the recent series-an evening in a park with the hyper lighting of lamp posts. Again the idea is more the feeling and texture of the scene, I want the viewer to find themselves in a place they have seen before but to see it in a different way.
Back to the idea of surreal, I have always wanted to paint what was somewhat haunted, a pastoral scene that didn’t seem all that comfortable but the viewer has a problem putting their finger on why.
I see figures in the future images that might not have their place or perhaps give the viewer pause to explain why the figure exists in the scene whether it be a ghost or just an image that doesn’t fit in the scene.
The Lamp Posts
I am excited about new paintings because I have never felt so clear on the final mechanics than I have in recent paintings. The painting called Moon flower shows the moon from the bottom of a tree looking up-the detail in the flowers were very clear, what was left with less detail made itself clear immediately. Another good aspect of the final product being so clear is the fact that the recent paintings have taken a month as opposed to years as previously.
My question to artists, photographers and just creatives in general-when did you finally feel like you had discovered your style, where mechanics of your images become clear and concise?
I have recently had a ridiculously busy time of painting where I ended up with upwards of forty new paintings, pet cartoons, tshirts and UNvalentines greeting cards-after this great manic production period I am left with the interim of creativity. After a few weeks of not knowing what to do with myself mixed with a bit of paintings being debuted, I have decided to reboot my processes. To be successful in a business that stems from a manic stream of creativity, we creative types must find a bit of order. Creativity without some sort of discipline is scattered paintings and madness with nothing being sold and needing instead to hire a person to handle marketing procedures.
I don’t believe each can be done together as effectively as one professional handling the marketing and the artist handling the creative work, I do believe there needs to be and can be a happy medium. My first step was to cull an email account from 10,000+ emails down to less than 500, an amazing and daunting task in itself. I have gone through old files and paperwork and literally dug myself out of a mound of paperwork. I believe that once I am not under a mountain of confusion and disorder the discipline and order of marketing will be able to coincide with the manic state of creativity.
I am excited about the prospect of getting to read emails, assess multiple galleries where I have my work and plan for the next step of marketing when the creativity is reignited. So how do you find organization? How do you maintain a balance between creativity and production and the principles and objectives of marketing your work. Would love to hear your input and comments on rebooting for organization and balancing art with marketing.
For years I’ve been painting subject matter that inspire me, most often glorifying the natural world. In the last four or five years I have come to specialize in two particular subject matters, water as a regular staple-its’ clarity and reflective quality and more recently the silence and mystery of the night sky.
I think both venues are mysterious in their own way and I think that is the aspect of nature that inspires me. I aim to capture the quiet, peaceful moments that are haunted by some intangible presence, those less than comfortable shadows where we are intrigued as much as we are unnerved. I aim at capturing the silence that speaks louder than words and the awe of a sunset where we watch in a silent pause.
The night sky is both complex as it is deep and mysterious. There is a temptation to go too dark or too bright-I have strayed between the two junctions in painting this subject matter. The night sky has just as much, if not more than the landscape in daylight. I started with exaggerating the light and darkness and have recently found my happy medium.
I’ve noticed from a recent camping trip that the depth of the sky iscomposed of barely discernable blue stars, a mid range of mildly bright stars and then the foreground stars that set off the entire sky with light. I have noticed how the eye moves through the scene and the stars twinkle as stars become visible and other stars fade into the darkness. The next step is how the light reflects on the landscape and the water. I want the viewer to watch the sky and get lost in the silence of stars-the title of my latest painting.
I intend of mixing the two venues in the near future by adding water to the darkness-some new paintings on the sketch pad is the ocean peir at night, the ocean surf at night and a fountain that is lit up by the light of natural and manmade processes. I will continue to bend the movement of water and the light and dark, creating a statement about nature, it’s mystery and the secrets of the evening sky.
To artists and collectors-how have you found your subject matter and how did it develop over the years? For the collector-what paintings or pictures capture your interest and why do you think it captures you interest?
Rememberance: A moment of realization of life and the fragility of the human spirit.
My son and I went fishing at our neighborhood park, we were both agitated from a day of work, school and just all around daily stresses. We both snapped at each other and carried the stresses of the day with us but we were trying to unwind with an evening of fishing. We ended up being spectators at a rememberance for a young girl that had recently committed suicide. What we both gained through the experience was perspective on the way we carry through our daily stress and the fleeting fragility of life.
I didn’t know any of the details, I just heard the music and could barely discern what seemed to be a eulogy. The amazing thing about the evening was that everything stopped for a moment, the birds stopped singing, the water was still and the clouds parted to allow a great warm light on the water. You could call all of this imagination or coincidence but it was the presence we both could feel. It was sad but it almost seemed hopeful, the light shined on the water and made an incredible display on the lake. We both thought of the way we treat each other and how much we appreciate the people around us that we call friends and family.
As the blue and red balloons left the ground and rose into the sky, it was as dramatic as it was symbolic. I could see the people hugging each other and the pain of loss and the shock was something you could feel like the start of a storm-the static feeling in the air. I’ve always said one of the saddest things when someone you love dies is the fact that nothing stops. One of the strongest memories I have of my dad dying was the fact that I had to bring the garbage in, the mundane feeling of bringing in the garbage,
the stubborn weight of the chore that seemed indifferent to my situation. I can honestly say though at this moment the world stopped, even just for a few seconds-I watched their candles reflecting in the lake as the glow grew larger and the balloons disappeared into the darkening sky,
My son and I had a talk about mortality, the sadness of the situation and how we should appreciated every day and those around us. We both left the park with a sadness but a feeling of hope, the outpouring of love and concern from the mourners and the idea that we need to tell the people we know that we care before they leave us. Sadly, she wasn’t there to see the love and the concern but with the beauty of the sunrise and the presence we both felt, I almost feel she was looking down and she had found some peace.
Artbygordon: Original oils on canvas, Original pastels on paper celebrating the beauty and mystery of nature. Water and night skies are my specialties.
