The cold has come, once again my bones ache with a longing for short nights and chance breezes. Once more to Winter, once more to the tomb; portal to rebirth and regeneration. There are canvases in stasis awaiting Mars black to breathe life into them before the impending hibernation. The irony of my life to job ratio being that when I have the most time off I am least able to work in the studio because of climate.
The late Autumn winds do not bring bitterness. I've long defeated that monster, despite my daily environment of higher education; a fertile field for such a world view. I no longer plot escape from life, but rather expansion of those aspects of it which give instead of take.
My long weekend has been spent in the indulgence of reading; a luxury, I am sad to say, all too infrequent in the day-to-day rush and push. I've been immersed in Shelley's Frankenstein, a wonderful tale of ambition, consequence and revenge. I look forward to the semester break and unplugging for a sustained period of time and finding extended solace between pages. On December 20th, I go off grid until the new year.
Reflection on the work this past year brings me much satisfaction. The studio discipline is, -for me, the slow grind of work and discovery, work and discovery. Work comes from work; I tend to dismiss the notion of inspiration as some magical lightening bolt. I follow ideas in the studio. I say yes to opportunities as they present themselves, and I've found this to be an equally successful strategy for life. Gone are my worries about big, abstract concepts like success; success is doing the good work, scraped knuckles, paint beneath my fingernails the next morning. Success is the laughter of my daughters in the next room, the stroll down the old church road across the street flanked by forest. Success is the ability to travel to a dozen cities across the world and knowing I have friends to greet me there; perhaps those I haven't even met yet.
The new year will bring a Spring trip to NYC. I will wander the streets and attend gatherings and spend my time surrounded by artists and thinkers, which will offer me profound respite from the daily life I lead. I care not for pettiness and base ambitions and games to which they attend. I pity those who seek only money and follow narrow life maps prescribed to them by others. I've always opted to pull over and get out and wander.
I'll work today, do what I can to continue to smooth the surfaces on the wall. I'll find strength in these tasks, joy in the application of my craft and satisfaction in the realization of my visions. This body of work will be a flare, and my deepest hope is that someone will answer my call in the new year.
