http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QbJd_cck8fo
About one year ago, I chose to pick up a brush again. Not knowing where it would take me, or what creation it would conceive... mind to hand to brush. My medium, this time, is acrylic. I decide to make more Oriental artworks, yet this time as gifts for friends and family. No money being exchanged, nothing wanted. And also another attempt at my very own wall mural for a change. One out of 4 projects I did complete. When will I have time...
See, the last 6 years have been nothing but art for money, nothing but wall murals... and other people's wishes. I lost all passion for my skillful craft. Once it was a gleeful hobby, with a satisfaction of I am the artist and I am the best, and when works were completed they were tremendously appraised. But as soon as money started shifting hands, after about the third go, I lost interest. You could see in my artwork, where I frayed. Well, accordingly no one noticed anything different, but I the perfectionist had.
Recently, off shore, I have been toting a sketchbook around with pencil for spur of the moment rantings of smudge on paper. But this past year in my one completed Oriental artwork and my 1/4 finished wall mural of my own, I noticed that my style had changed completely all together. My colors aren't right and not as fluid. It just seems that my gusto has been lost. Or maybe my prior disgusting ambition has left this residue of an uncharacteristic form and color representation. Plus, over all the years I leaned towards pen and ink anyway. So it is possible that I have lost touch with blending techniques of paint. I am unsure, but time will tell. As any practice, out of practice can have faults. But yet, the other 2 projects hold my special flare and keen eye?
The History:
As one grew up on a sailboat, one had no chance of drawing, coloring, or the like until a later age and date. My true talent was not found until that of second grade, as school drastically pulled me away from the oceans. We all sat around a lab table in the middle of a classroom, where a vase of fresh cut pussy willows stood in the middle. The teacher instructed us to use pastels and draw the vase and plant as we saw it. Did I mention I dislike pastels, yuck, what a mess, and then the hairspray (I have worked with them over the years a few times and still find myself cringing when it comes to pastels). At the end of the session, I had presented a realistic representation of the still life we had been asked to copy. My mother was shocked when I brought home this piece of art, my very first artwork. Still to this day she wishes to have the original, I think I might frame it and give it to her as a gift. With my new found talent, my mother hired a private art teacher. Under this teacher, I used every sort of medium there is known to man for art. Pastels, pencil, silk screen, pen and ink, oils, acrylics, watercolor, stencil, you name it - I at least tried it once. Over the first few years of my young life, I had grown found of pen and ink and acrylic, yet watercolor had its appeal at times as well. I applied to a well to do art high school, which I ended up moving away from (which is just as well - school and art mixed would of totally killed my ambition). But all through out school, I was commissioned to odd jobs, even to the extent of classmates paying me to draw on their skin (haha, I have to laugh at that one, which I gladly accepted their money knowing that they knew it wasn't permanent). Which in turn gave me good practice as I apprenticed at a tattoo parlor later in life. But all through the years one thing has remained the same... I can create any art type from fantasy to surreal, cartoon to real life, whether it is my own creation or that of a direct copy from sight to hand. I am the best at what I do, open to constructive criticism, and am egotistically so about my art. I am that good and I'm not conceded, just convinced.
My time here for this season is short, so I will only be able to share a little of what I have created.
So stay tuned...
About one year ago, I chose to pick up a brush again. Not knowing where it would take me, or what creation it would conceive... mind to hand to brush. My medium, this time, is acrylic. I decide to make more Oriental artworks, yet this time as gifts for friends and family. No money being exchanged, nothing wanted. And also another attempt at my very own wall mural for a change. One out of 4 projects I did complete. When will I have time...
See, the last 6 years have been nothing but art for money, nothing but wall murals... and other people's wishes. I lost all passion for my skillful craft. Once it was a gleeful hobby, with a satisfaction of I am the artist and I am the best, and when works were completed they were tremendously appraised. But as soon as money started shifting hands, after about the third go, I lost interest. You could see in my artwork, where I frayed. Well, accordingly no one noticed anything different, but I the perfectionist had.
Recently, off shore, I have been toting a sketchbook around with pencil for spur of the moment rantings of smudge on paper. But this past year in my one completed Oriental artwork and my 1/4 finished wall mural of my own, I noticed that my style had changed completely all together. My colors aren't right and not as fluid. It just seems that my gusto has been lost. Or maybe my prior disgusting ambition has left this residue of an uncharacteristic form and color representation. Plus, over all the years I leaned towards pen and ink anyway. So it is possible that I have lost touch with blending techniques of paint. I am unsure, but time will tell. As any practice, out of practice can have faults. But yet, the other 2 projects hold my special flare and keen eye?
The History:
As one grew up on a sailboat, one had no chance of drawing, coloring, or the like until a later age and date. My true talent was not found until that of second grade, as school drastically pulled me away from the oceans. We all sat around a lab table in the middle of a classroom, where a vase of fresh cut pussy willows stood in the middle. The teacher instructed us to use pastels and draw the vase and plant as we saw it. Did I mention I dislike pastels, yuck, what a mess, and then the hairspray (I have worked with them over the years a few times and still find myself cringing when it comes to pastels). At the end of the session, I had presented a realistic representation of the still life we had been asked to copy. My mother was shocked when I brought home this piece of art, my very first artwork. Still to this day she wishes to have the original, I think I might frame it and give it to her as a gift. With my new found talent, my mother hired a private art teacher. Under this teacher, I used every sort of medium there is known to man for art. Pastels, pencil, silk screen, pen and ink, oils, acrylics, watercolor, stencil, you name it - I at least tried it once. Over the first few years of my young life, I had grown found of pen and ink and acrylic, yet watercolor had its appeal at times as well. I applied to a well to do art high school, which I ended up moving away from (which is just as well - school and art mixed would of totally killed my ambition). But all through out school, I was commissioned to odd jobs, even to the extent of classmates paying me to draw on their skin (haha, I have to laugh at that one, which I gladly accepted their money knowing that they knew it wasn't permanent). Which in turn gave me good practice as I apprenticed at a tattoo parlor later in life. But all through the years one thing has remained the same... I can create any art type from fantasy to surreal, cartoon to real life, whether it is my own creation or that of a direct copy from sight to hand. I am the best at what I do, open to constructive criticism, and am egotistically so about my art. I am that good and I'm not conceded, just convinced.
My time here for this season is short, so I will only be able to share a little of what I have created.
So stay tuned...
6 comments:
Be confident of your talent and make full use of it, each day that you can ... for living up to your full potential, in whatever big or small way that maybe be is what we have This life for ...
Best Wishes,
adisha
Yes indeed, I have come to that very same conclusion ages ago.
Thankyou for your comment. It's a first draft of a chapter of a novel, based largely on my own experience. It' svery prototype, I really need to plow in and get cracking. Eventually I hope it will transform itself into a novel of imagination rather than experience soley. We will see.
I am gald you have such ambition for your art work, to be the best you can be is a fair aim.
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No, no I am not the flying Cat Lady. Shall I tell you my character, or would you like it to be a mystery -lol.
I've just had my fourth lesson of Tai Chi. I practised Shotokan Karate regularly for two years and walked at least four miles a day up and down hill. Although thats not all that much. My knees are a little done in from bad shoes. I have had to become sensible in my early twenties (nearly 22).
Tai Chi is totally rocking my world. I tried Yoga to begin with, when I came to 'softening down my exercise', but just couldn't twig with it. Tai Chi seems to click regardless of the fact it is a completely different approach to karate.
I may go back to Yoga now that I have more of a understanding of, how can I describe it, energies.
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I am loving this post and the wisdom in the comments. Thank ou for the light. The mermaid is stil alive and will be returning soon. I am wondering whether ou would like to exchange links...follow each others blogs since you are a character in the story? Let me know whether you would like to do this...
The numbering was inspired by, well I am not certain, probably quite a few factors. It suits my purpose, so to speak, though it has the draw back of causing me sometimes to get lost within my blog.
It draws on past expereince of my writing, I can write an awful lot, but not necessarily make a lot of sense, or get anywhere. The writing follows my thought patterns, so rather than me giving a post a title and making my writing conform to that title or expectation, I can achieve fluidity, everything links with everything else, like spokes in a wheel. The aim is in itself.
What influenced me was Margret Atwoods Handmaid's Tale. But I haven't set out to copy her or anything. I must have read that book so many times when I was seventeen it became obscene. She has Day narratives and Night narratives.
I don't do it often but if I go into minus numbers, things can get werid. On other occasions the blog blogs itself.
I am a very holistic thinker. I think.
You have inspired me, suggesting hexidemical.
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