The first picture is a drawing III and IV project. We each got a portion of the painting, "Allegory of Love" by Bronzino, and had to double the size and draw it.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Another sketch book entry
It seems as of lately my "sketch"book has become more of a "thought"book. The latest sketch in it was done today, but not by me. Tim drew a robot shooting itself in the head saying, "Sorry Mom." Its brains, which I assume to be computer chips and wires, are being blown out of its head. Anyways, I think it is okay that I have been writing more than I have been sketching lately. I mean, a big part of this thesis is talking and describing what it is I am trying to say through painting. In class the other day with Paul Parks, who I admire a lot-he is very intelligent and interesting, he was describing art, and what it is. I think he was doing this because it is more of a survey class, there are a lot of non-art majors in it. He said something along the lines of, art is a language. It is another way to say and express what one is thinking. Instead of putting it directly into words, the artist is saying it through a painting, sculpture, etc.
To get back on topic... In class today while I was waiting for Lori to come around to my space I was jotting some thoughts down. This is what I had to say:
Running is ideal, easiest? way to remember them.
So maybe the paintings are not about running per se, it is just the tool for me to remember easier. I can remember those scenes, running, walking, not really driving. But sometimes.
That one drive into Colorado.
I had driven 12 hours the day before, who knows how many that day. I had slept somewhere in Illinois or Indiana the night before, because I remember being in Iowa in the morning. It was just me in the car, I had no one to talk to. The radio was the only source of anything that I had with the outside world. I had finally reached Colorado, but still had some time before reaching Boulder. The landscape was gorgeous. It was sunny, open fields. Nothing. Nothing more miles except cattle. Driving fast, cruise control set at high 80s, maybe even 90. Straight driving.
That was probably the only time I've gotten that feeling from driving.
So what is it? I need to really start to figure it out. I don't know if I can put words on it. They are feelings.They are when I feel most connected to nature. That sounds so lame. Most connected with my surroundings. I think that might be it. When I am numb, unaware with anything else except where I am in that moment of time. Everything around me is affecting me.
That bike ride on the beach.
The air was cool, the sun was setting, the ocean's wave's were crashing down. Not too loud though, not overwhelming. Moving through the space as well. There were people around me, but I wasn't directly involved with them. The people at the edge of the sand, by their houses. Doing their own thing, the kids playing, running around and setting off fire crackers.
It was as if I was an outsider looking in.
I put in bold what I think to be the most important parts of what I wrote down today. Having said that I feel so much more comfortable talking about my paintings. In the past it seemed like I wasn't exactly sure what it was I was trying to say. I had the general idea in my head, but for some reason I wasn't able to put it into the right words.
These are the pictures that I took, describing the drive into Colorado.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Scattered thoughts from my sketchbook
With this post I am going to go through various entries to select and piece together what I think are the important points.
While I was out on my run I really noticed and observed the noises around me, especially the crunching gravel under my feet as they landed. It was like a metronome, like a pulse of the runner and earth, getting faster or slower depending on the terrain. Each step was rhythmic and peaceful, like a tranquil trance. The environment around me too was peaceful, it's starting to look and smell like fall. The bright sun shining through the leaves and trees. The sounds of my breathing, spitting, coughing, birds chirping, cars driving by.
This next entry I wrote when I was a little inebriated.
Retrospectively, I have these feelings that I don't really feel when I am there. Why is that? I feel so damn lonely and depressed. Why am I continuing this? It is as if I'm looking at myself out there on a T.V. screen, hovering over my right shoulder. Why that angle? When I am out there it is a different feeling. Maybe it is because I am so involved in the act (of running) and not thinking about those feelings, but that is where they are manifested.
I am the only soul out there. I am surrounded by nature and its inhabitants, but I do not see them. It is just me out there. Am I projecting myself into the landscapes? Certainly I must be, who else do I have to do that to? Somehow I am a part of those landscapes. Am I trying to feel less lonely? I don't think so. Everything that is churning in my brain and mind is being fed into those fields. I can somehow see my reflection of myself running past. But not really. Am I trying to take refuge in them? Maybe.
I am happy being alone, but at the same time it is killing me. Am I trying to convince myself that I'm okay? I get so damn nostalgic. Yet somehow I don't feel alone. I feel myself surrounded by the spirits? and memories of others. They keep me company. I feel calm in the presence of memories. But it is the memories that make my nostalgic. So what exactly am I doing? I suppose that is the question worth investigating? It's as if I'm recording my life onto a tape, then it's rewound and when being played again, it is getting severely distorted. Maybe that is something I can look into.
I believe the sky to be a little more important than the ground. This is because I tend to see more sky than land when I am out running in those vast landscapes. It also helps me acquire that floating feeling.
One of my favorite times to run is right before a storm. The feeling of being out there on the road all by myself with no cars or houses around, underneath this giant impending doom that is showing and giving off hints of its abilities (wind). It's as if I am entrapped under this giant blanket, but it's not a bad feeling of being trapped. At the same time I feel just as open and free.
On my run today in Filmore Glen I was getting good ideas and thoughts. Running by that one spot in particular. It was an open field that was just gorgeous. I wish I had a tape recorder with me so I could speak of and remember everything I was thinking I will try my best to transcribe what I was thinking.
-The open field with the white marsh mellow hay bales, it seemed like they were placed in a specific location, ordered in a certain way.
-I want to take pictures of these landscapes. Not with a digital camera. Digital is too new and clean, the opposite of running. Running is the simplest sport and human activity, besides walking, that someone can do. There are no thrills to running, no glory or mainstream media attention. If running had to be a camera, it might be a disposable camera. One that has no settings, you just point and shoot. When you are out running, especially by a landscape, you don't have time to check and adjust settings, you can't stop there and focus to get the perfect exposure. No. You're out there going by the scene quickly. If you don't look at it while you're there it will be gone. It's only there for that brief moment of time.
-Why a disposable camera? Maybe because each run is new and different. You're not going to have the same run day in and day out. Sure, you might do the same route but things will be different. The lighting, weather, cars going by, birds chirping, etc.
-The pictures would be small though. How would that look next to my large paintings? How would they be up on the wall?
This is going to be a "gloaming" painting. The time of evening where the sun is below the horizon, and as you look up towards the sky you notice it gets darker and darker.
It's another way for me to show space I suppose. Instead of showing distance horizontally, I want to show it vertically. I love the gradation of the colors. The colors of the sunset bleeding into the darkness of night. As I run during this time it creates a mood that is haunting yet peaceful. Almost the same as the feeling before a storm when I'm out there. I want to get in before I become succumbed by the presence out there. I almost become on edge, anxiously picking up the pace to get back inside. But what is chasing me? It kind of feels like the feeling I assume being chased by a serial killer feels like. That sentence needs work.
I really get that feeling at the beach. Standing in the ocean when it's dark out. The sun just set in the west. And as your looking eastward, you know nothing is there except darkness. The vastness of the ocean is overwhelming. I feel like if I don't get away soon something will reach out and grab me. Such a lonely and depressing feeling. Seeing the lights all the way out in the distance, you feel so far away and helpless. There is openness everywhere, in all directions. The thousands of miles across the ocean, the hundreds of miles below you, the infinite space above you. Just darkness. The same sky gradation I'm talking about goes the same for the ocean's water. Starts out with some light but the deeper you travel down, the more darkness there is.
I am basing them (my paintings) off of my memories and of my feelings while I'm out running. How I remember them to be after a run.
The viewer seems not to be grounded on the land, but rather the point of view suggests to somehow be lifted off the ground, up into the air. When I think back to those runs where my body feels disassociated with the ground, it is as if my body/spirit is floating above the terrain. I am in such a meditative state that my mind seems to be gone.
I like to pretend that my "spirit" is floating across all that distance while my mind is still running on the roads. It is an attempt to be in two places at once.
For some reason what I am painting and talking about is not as strong while I am running, but instead afterwards. So what am I painting? I am attempting to capture the essence of the combination of everything that is going through my head.
It is the culmination of my running experience. At the time of the run and after. But usually not until after is when the feelings are the strongest.
The feelings and memories that arise in my head are not created until after the act of running is completed. Physically being there is the first step in the process. The process of remembering where I was, how I felt, and the act of putting it on canvas. They are brief moments that I remember . I am putting them on canvas in a more abstract/expressionist way. It is the flash of memory. It is a feeling, so it's hard to put into words.
For example...That run with Justin on Salt Road. Making that left turn going up the hill on the dirt road. Seeing the straight empty road ahead leading into the forest. The wide open fields surrounding us. My body was physically tired from running up the hill, my breathing was labored. Yet my soul was happy. I was very excited to be running here in a new place.
The weather severely impacts my memories.
That long run in Filmore, the part with the soft road and pine trees surrounding. The sun was shining through. When I was there actually running I knew I was happy. But the memory I have of it is different that when I was there. That long empty dirt/rocky road. Narrow.
Looking back at photographs or remembering back to certain events. Taking the time to stop and look around. Nothing may be going on now, but in the past a lot has. I can almost see them in front of me. Like a typical flashback in a movie. Where the characters dissipate into thin air.
Back on December 30th I went for a bike ride along the beach. I went a little before sunset, 5:07 P.M. It was just me out there on the bike, I was by myself. I rode past people, but they were in their own worlds. It was as if I was an outsider looking into their worlds, while I was invisible. Looking back at it, now 17 days later, I am getting those feelings of nostalgia. The ones that influence me to paint what I'm feeling after my runs. Maybe alcohol is helping? Probably.
It takes some time for those feelings to develop. Faster after I run? Maybe. I haven't run a serious distance in some time, so those feelings aren't as strong.
While running today I went down Church Street, and I thought of how those memories are really only associated with large, open spaces. Haven't experienced it running lately since I've been injured. Driving by them doesn't or isn't a good substitute. You are so distanced from being out there. There is literally a piece of glass separating you from the field/landscape. But when you are physically out there you are connected with it. Hopefully soon I'll be running enough to experience it again.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Intro
Just created this thing, so it is not exactly how I want it to look right now. Overtime I will tweek some things to make it look better. I will be using this for multiple classes, fibers and painting/Thesis. I hope to get feedback and ideas from anyone that wishes to participate in this.
My goal is to publish something new each day, whether it be a sketch, a photograph of a work in progress, a picture that I took , a random idea, etc.
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