black friday; a rant

“…and unto us a saviour is born, and he shall be named Black Friday… and at the sound of his name every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Black Friday is lord…”  -The Book Of Consumerism

Black Friday. Apparently (according to Wikipedia) first named in 1961 by police in Philadelphia for the irksome traffic jams caused by the two busy shopping days following American Thanksgiving. Later, after unsuccessfully trying to change the name, it was accepted that the term would refer to that critical time when businesses turned the most significant profit of the year, going from being ‘in the red’ to being, ‘in the black’. Malarky.

I think it is aptly named, bold in the unabashed self-admission of its dark nature.

Black Friday; a mass Pavlovian trigger that sends the population into a seething mass of gate-crashers, desperate for a lower price than last year.

Ok, I have a beef to air out. I understand marketing, and I can see the effectiveness of the campaign, seemingly driving spending appetites to new heights. It’s business. I’m also not judging; hey, if you’re standing in line for hours to secure your share of limited supply only gadgetry, I get it. If the deal is there, go for it.

What angers me is that the concept of ‘Black Friday’ seems to be the manifestation of the new religion that Christmas has become: Consumerism. I remember when the big stores first began to open on Sundays. It was a huge controversy, rife with debate: (Sunday should be a day of rest… family day… why do we need to shop on Sunday anyways? What about church?..) It was a big news story. I also remember when Boxing Day was Boxing Day, not Boxing Week. I think I even saw one advertisement touting Boxing Month last year. This year, the Christmas decorations were out before Remembrance Day was even here. One store had to stop playing Christmas carols because customers complained that it was disrespectful to our veterans. I think so too. How much is fucking enough, I ask?

The irony is that this new false idol is a monster which is ultimately consuming itself in its own greed: reports show Black Friday to be a race to the bottom, with businesses cutting prices so low for the sake of competition that nobody makes a profit anyways. (See article: Wall Street Journal- Retailers’ Black Friday Arms Race Backfires)

As such, in protest to this debauchery, I have decided to hereafter refer to said holiday as ‘Xmas’, since all resemblance to the traditional family celebration has been warped into a swirling abyss of consumer bloodlust, corporate greed and last-minute credit manipulation in a red suit.

Will the real Christmas please stand up?

Jingle Bells, baby.

Feel free to leave a comment. It’s free.

artboy68

are there any wrong notes in art?

Yesterday, I saw something that re-ignited an old art school debate in my mind, and one that should still be of public interest. It is a Youtube video called, “Self-Expressive Improvisation Part 1: No Wrong Notes“, featuring a very entertaining and animated cellist examining the creative freedoms possible in music.  So I am revisiting the question: are there any wrong notes in art?

The term “self-expressive improvisation” really is the issue at hand. Where is the line drawn which separates art from fodder? Are we to agree that anything that ends up on a canvas or in a frame is called art? Many years ago I watched a program on television with my kids that featured an artist who set up giant canvases behind jet engines and simply hurled entire cans of paint into the blast of air, causing a crazy splatter pattern. Even my young kids thought it was ridiculous. But thinking back, was this ‘art’ consciously created? Was is directly created by the artist’s hand? Was it an original idea? What went into the conception and execution of such a feat?

What defines art?

In art school, my friend and I were tasked with creating an art project addressing “The Meaning Of Art”. We created a 20 minute long performance piece featuring a soundtrack of post-midnight philosophical debates and art ramblings, along with synthesizer sounds and, to cap it all off, the sound of a flushing toilet. During the performance, my friend and I silently played poker for oreo cookies, and chugged tall cans of O’Keefe’s Hi-Test (We obtained permission to drink beer for the sake of art.) There was a great debate after our performance, and we got an A.

That might sound funny, but I think we were on to something. Is art really about the process?- About the midnight collaborations and ‘thought bombs’ that can get regurgitated onto paper or canvas or become a carefully piled metal scrap heap on a gallery floor? Can an animal carcass nailed to a wall really be called art? Trust me, it’s been done.

Where do we draw the line? Is art defined entirely in the eye of the beholder?

artboy68

personally speaking, the 10 worst habits of unproductive artists…

Artist’s block.

“Blank brain”.

Creative winter…

Whatever you call it, I’m in it.

It started as a brief ‘pause’ after my 100 Portraits project in order to re-assess the direction I’m headed as an artist, because I was feeling a bit aimless and unsatisfied, moving around in tiny circles. I think it’s ok to take a break if you’re experiencing frustration with your work;  wipe the slate clean and take a good objective view at what you’ve done and what you want to accomplish. Am I headed toward that goal? Am I satisfied with the direction that I’m going? Be careful, however, that the intended short self-examination doesn’t stretch into a long-term hiatus.

It’s not that I haven’t done anything at all- in fact I have four unfinished works sitting in my studio at the moment, none of which I will probably ever bring to completion, because in the midst of the process I’ve turned a corner and said, “oh,”.  So I ask myself, am I just making excuses? Am I creating roadblocks for myself subconsciously? Time has dragged on, and it has now been five months since I have actually completed a piece of art, save for one morning sketch I did about 2 weeks ago. That was refreshing. However, in my own defence, during this period I have closed my business and gone back to work full time, I have taken on the position of assistant coach for my daughter’s soccer team, and begun the process of rebuilding a motorcycle…  And hey, I have four kids. That’s the number one excuse that others give to me freely.

So here is an examination of the ten worst habits that I have developed which keep me safe from being productive. Feel free to add to my list if I’ve missed anything.

Number one: Television. Best creativity killer on the planet.

Number two: Go to bed late and get up early. Being tired all the time is really helpful.

Number three: Put all kinds of non art-related junk in your studio space so that you don’t even want to look at it.

Number four: Become obsessed with Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram, and check your iphone every five minutes to see if anybody loves you.

Number five: Don’t bother doing anything small- make sure that all art projects you want to do will take at least 50 to 100 hours.

Number six: If you do feel the urge to make some art, make sure there are tons of distractions around; if there are none, see number four.

Number seven: Decide to completely re-invent yourself as an artist. (Never take small steps in this regard- always good for a personal crisis.)

Number eight: Listen carefully to all the voices in your head telling you to give it up, you’re not a real artist anyways.

Number nine: Completely alienate yourself from all of your artist friends, and secretly creep them on Facebook so nobody asks what you’ve been up to…

Number ten: Busy yourself as much as possible with other things- home renos, rebuilding motorcycles… and faithfully do these during your studio times.

Did I miss anything?

Yours in procrastination,

artboy68

the silence is f*****g deafening

(still from animated GIF- click on the image for playback)

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paradox of ego

self portrait #4, digital photograph

What is a self portrait anyways?

I recently read that you have to have a huge ego in order to even call yourself an artist.  I suppose that would mean self portraits are the work of megalomaniacs?

self portrait #5, digital photograph

Self portraits are a very personal thing.  It’s like digging under your own skin to see what you can find.  The benefit of sharing something so personal is to shuck the ego and get back to that pure place when we were little kids and nobody cared if they were naked and everybody loved to get muddy.

Occasional self-searching is healthy.  It helps to stay balanced, assess progress in set goals, and perhaps make adjustments to life on the fly.  For me, lately as an artist I’ve been struggling to find my voice.  Perhaps its because I’ve only just begun to take myself seriously as an artist after 20+ years of neglect, and I have 20+ years of ideas and concepts to work through.  I think my current interest in examining myself through imagery is an effort to find that voice.

self portrait #6, digital photograph

Other artists go through this all the time.  I remember reading about Canadian artist John Scott’s self-named “Diane Frankenstein” period during a difficult time in his life back in the 80′s.  (See http://www.ccca.ca/c/writing/s/scott-jay/sco001t.html)  The phrase and his impact on me has stuck ever since.  I turn 44 this year;  I’m fighting off feelings of frailty, conjuring images of a chipped & cracked china tea cup for a spine after too many years in construction.  As my own mortality creeps up on me, perhaps my fascination with recording self-images is partly a desire to leave as much of myself behind as possible.

But then, maybe it’s better to never get a complete handle on identity- to keep learning and stretching, always finding something new?  I suppose it makes sense that as each day passes with new experiences, we become a new person over and over again….

With hopefully more to come, here’s to a new day.

Lend me your thoughts,

artboy68

why do we make art- again?

A brief Google search shows me that this is not an uncommon question.

These days I find that I am continuously rediscovering myself as an artist, and today I settled down with my coffee to revisit this very basic query- why do I make art? Rather than posting links to answers others have given or writing my own thesis, I thought I would extend the invitation to any and all who feel the itch to share their thoughts.

Please leave your two bits; whether a single word or an entire paragraph, if you are an artist, is this something you consider once in a while? Why do you make art?

artboy68

Aesthetics and Mr. Hyde

Does art have to be pretty? Can the grotesque become beautiful if made into art?

A significant part of most artists is an insuppressible urge to speak through their art. Sometimes what needs to be said isn’t attractive to everyone; it may even be repulsive. If it gives someone, somewhere, pause for reflection- that is a very real measure with which to weigh the value of an art piece. Look beyond the aesthetic.

I often have the urge to express my feelings about the human condition, society, relationships, people in general. People are bizarre creatures. I get angry at times, disgusted, sorrowful, enlightened, awed, amazed, humbled. I’m not very political; I come more from a spiritual point of view. This side of my work often gets raised eyebrows and “I don’t get it”s or “oh, you’re one of those artists…”  I personally don’t feel that any of my work has ever been offensive, nor is it meant to be. It is always merely a commentary. The beauty of it may depend on the viewpoint of the individual.

I used to be afraid of negative opinion/judgement/rejection when it comes to my art making. The freedom to follow passions and fascinations where they lead is very liberating, and I am finding that as off-the-wall or strange or unattractive as art can be, someone, somewhere, will get it. That’s when art really comes to life.

artboy68

 

keep your eyes forward

Lake Aldar-Kul, Northern Uzbekistan, 1991

1991:  After spending a long day travelling over unbelievably rough roads and seeing wild Karabair horses running free on the northern Uzbek steppe, I found myself in a strange world walking with a strange man who speaks no English toward the shore of Lake Aldar-Kul, nestled between Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.  The lake proved to be only waist deep, covered with reeds as far as the eye can see, but produced fish for this camp as large as sharks.  

The man’s name was affectionately coined as Kutchkar, which we were told means goat, and his eyes were as kind as his soul, which made it uncommonly easy to communicate even though we shared no common language. He was taking me to share a tradition that was as refreshing in body as it was in the fellowship that resulted:  a mudbath on the shore of the lake, followed by some time in the steam hut, after which a self-inflicted flogging with stinging nettles across the back ensued.  ”For good circulation,” was the implied reasoning. 

Seeing me looking down and struggling to walk along the gravel road in my bare feet, Kutchkar touched my arm and pointed to his eyes, then to the horizon ahead.  I understood:  don’t look down.  I straightened up, put my eyes forward and began to walk with confidence.

As unimportant as this little exchange would seem, it has become one of the most memorable moments for me of my time in that place.  Why?  Because that lesson becomes more significant to me as each year passes:  to look straight ahead, and keep your eyes on the destination.  It’s a philosophy I am repeating more and more these days- not to go around the mulberry bush, but go through it.  If you have a specific goal, take the most direct path to it, not wavering to the left or to the right.

Distractions abound; once in a while a potential opportunity might feel golden, only to realize upon closer examination that it’s simply a rabbit trail- a deviation from the ultimate goal or an investment with minimal or no return that will only prolong the journey.  These are moments to consult the map and make sure you’re on the right road.  Not to say that we shouldn’t enjoy the surprises that life can bring;  success in life should certainly include a sense of adventure.  Compromise in the right places, and keep your compass with you.

When setting goals, like so many of us do with each renewal of the passing years, keep it simple.  And remember that nothing is achievable without sacrifice.  I have specific goals for this year, and I know that I won’t reach them without discipline and dedication.  It will take time from other things, and I know there will be times that I will just have to push through doubt, disappointments and multiple failures.  To fail to try is the only sure-fire way to not find your destination.

So when the distractions come, and they will, be firm in your walk.  Don’t stray from the map.  The key is in keeping your eyes forward;  like walking in your bare feet.

artboy68

 

laughter really is the best medicine…

Lying on his deathbed, a loving husband was wavering between life and death when he thought he smelled chocolate chip cookies baking. They were his very favorite, so he dragged himself out of bed, crawled to the kitchen and was just reaching up to take a cookie off the plate when his wife slapped his hand with a spatula.

“Don’t touch!” she commanded. “They’re for the funeral.”

(Contributed to Reader’s Digest Magazine by Colin Taylor)

Above is an excerpt from Laughter Is The Best Medicine: my number one go-to section of Reader’s Digest Magazine… and since I’m confessing, I always leaf through the newspaper to the funnies first.  And I still like watching cartoons, (just the oldies, because there are no good cartoons anymore). Does this make me shallow? Or does it mean my priorities in the right place? I prefer to think the latter…

With so many stresses in life vying for our attention and so much bad news incessantly bombarding us from every direction, a daily dose of  laughter may well be one of the best drugs on the market- and the best part is it’s available with no prescription. Yesterday a small yellow information sheet caught my eye at our local community rec center:

At first, I thought- “oh, yet another yoga fad to follow”, followed with an involuntary mental stereotyping… but I found myself smiling at the words ha ha ha ho ho ho hee hee hee, and thought that just maybe these people might have something here.

So I looked it up.  Laughter Yoga International is the website of Dr. Madan Kataria, who claims on this site to be the founder of the movement he refers to as ‘Social Laughter Clubs’.  The premise is self-triggered laughter, not necessarily involving humor or comedy, combined with yogic breathing (pranayama). The claimed health benefits are vast and varied, including physiological, mental and social well-being.

Now, being the somewhat shy guy that I am, I’m probably not going to go out and sign up- but I do know that laughter is contagious, and it feels damn good when your gut aches and you have tears streaming down your face because of uncontrollable guffaws… and having no long depressing list of side effects, I find myself fully endorsing this idea of laughing as the new drug of the day.

So please excuse me, it’s Sunday morning and I have some Looney Toons to catch up on…

 

 

 

I could use your face…

As I contemplate what I’ve gotten myself into with my current blog project, I come across more and more daily bloggers with blog exhaustion.  ”Ah,” says one, “almost finished! It’s been a long month…”

The realization that I have recklessly committed to 20 weeks (that’s 5 months) hits me with foreboding.  Already, I feel that extra hour (ok sometimes 1/2 hour) weighing in.

However, I am finding that this committment is driving me forward and forcing me to be more disciplined with the rest of my time- I’m actually getting way more done than I was before!

So I think, 17 1/2 weeks from now, when I am putting the final touches on the last, the 100th portrait, I may find myself looking for ways to fill the extra time I’m going to have…

Check out my progress!  artboy68project.  I could use your face.

artboy68