projecting

today I finally finished the long-winded painting align="right" align="left" which I began working at the same time I began this blog. again, the title would include the brackets, or a sideways V, which I cannot type here because the blog interface automatically turns it into its html coded function.

while painting I started to think about a lot of things, as I usually do while getting into the zone.... I recalled the beginning of this painting series, which for me was a huge departure to what I had been doing for the previous decades, medium-wise, but really something I've been wanting to do all along... I wanted to major in painting in college, was encouraged by my teachers, but discouraged by my father...... I considered about my entire artistic career, a quest really..

I thought about all the sacrifices, all the moving around, trying to find a job, trying to get shows, trying to get a green card, trying to find a place where I belong......

and here I am, one week away from my 36th birthday.... looking back, has it been worth it? has it been worth living away from my parents, who each day get older and older, away from my sisters and now nephew and nieces? was it worth leaving my country and culture behind? I also thought about all the relationships that I either gave up or did not even give a try because my career was my priority....

36 years old, and what do I have to show? single, bilingual, Pet Shop Boys always seem a right fit...... have a closet full of art work, which occasionally comes out, but is seldom looked at...... really looked at, except by me...... my last show in Detroit I got some wonderful feedback, a couple people (Linda and Dick come to mind, but there were others) seemed to really have looked at the work, considered, and given me generous feedback...... made the months and long hours worth while.... I was very touched by their interest and care...

this artistic quest or journey is one that is filled with sorrows and turbulence and tribulations, with the occasional sunny spots (or bright spells, as Marchand used to say)..... in a way it is an addicting masochism lifestyle, sans kink.....

my mind then moved to some other areas, I thought about people I know, some very close friends actually, going through a real tough time, and I felt their pain..... I've been to similar circumstances (but not to the same degree), and remembered how immensely overwhelming the "not-knowing" can be some times... I thought about them for a little bit and sent my love their way, a mental email that do not require a reply...

and then I looked at my own work, half way through it... I stepped back, turned on my spot light, and blocked the projector with my body to take a look at what I did...... I thought about Jim Carey's joker costume, and the tentative quality of the brush-stroke.... I was not completely happy with how the paint was adhering to the paper.... it seemed so tentative, and too distorted.... I partially blamed it on the old brush I used, and the even older replacement paint I found in my studio (today is a day of losing things, card-reader still missing, or perhaps today is the day of "finding something else instead")... I turned up the volume of the music, hoping to bring some of the celebration into the work, and to quiet my thoughts....

went back to painting, actually set down on the floor and got close to the surface of the paper.... I smelled the paper and the paint, looked at the graphite smudges on my hand, and dipped the paintbrush in the palette, and began covering another letter..... this time I got closer and really looked at what I was doing, and in this process I began to see how the quality of the brushstroke was a reflection of my state of mind.... all my insecurities and stresses were there, as if in the process of covering the projected text, I was projecting back my mind onto the surface of the paper... this acknowledgement made me love what I was doing, made me see how this piece was becoming a marker of where I am in life right now...

36 years old, and none the wiser.... I am still the same boy who a million years ago made concentric circles on a blank piece of paper with his best friend in kindergarden, the same kid who drew around newspaper comics and collected architectural floor-plans, the same youngster who stayed up all night drawing apples on striped fabric in college only to fall asleep minutes before his critique.... I am still the same uncertain person who, against all fears, takes the plunge and pursues his dreams.... I am the one who still has the callus on his index finger, who does not want to get wiser, but remain innocent, even when faced with failure...

by the time I completed the painting I realized I had succeeded here, because, unknowingly, I had actually found out what I was looking for =-)