Slowing Down & Being Present
On my morning run, I came across an empty lot where a church once stood - it was torn down recently, like many other old buildings in Charleston and Mount Pleasant, to make way for the future. So it's an empty lot with three crosses standing out front, representing Calvary. About 30 strides later, there was a chain link fence gate, wide open, with a sign that said 'Enter Here.' This made me laugh, it seemed like a visual pun from God - which made me think about poetry and the importance of slowing down. Normally on a run like this, I'd be counting under my breath, checking my average pace on the Garmin, and straining to do more mileage, faster. But I slowed down on Saturday because I am starting back with running and had begun to develop shin splints - so my cadence was leisurely and I was open to the world around me.
I continued the run, still thinking about that open gate, when I saw an elderly woman walking toward me on the side walk. As she drew closer, we said hello to one another and I saw that her white t-shirt had an ironed-on photograph of a little boy, above his face were the words 'Rest in Peace.' This made me think about juxtaposition and irony, age and mortality.
Less than a half mile later, I ran past a little gas station that was yawning to life in those dawn hours. Music was blaring from outdoor speakers. The song playing was, 'All I Need is a Miracle.'
Walls and blinders are omnipresent in modern life - iPhones, cubicle walls, gated communities, headphones, and passwords. The day is a process of constant blocking to avoid the steady hum and whir of the outside world. But what if we chose moments to let the universe communicate with us?
Restarting the Art Engine
Solarisation, 1931 - Man Ray
Emerging from a long winter’s nap, feeling groggy and then realizing - ‘Ruh roh, I’ve gotten fat and lazy.’ That’s where I am at.
In retrospect, things were humming along (2011—2013). My artwork had been published in several magazines, shown at a few galleries, and was gaining traction online and with influential art bloggers. Separate from that, the work was strong - I was challenging myself in the studio on a weekly basis, having breakthroughs and pleasant surprises. At the time, I was only looking up the mountain. NOW it is easy to see that I was doing quite well. If that had been maintained, well then who knows what heights I would have reached, professionally or artistically. But that’s also an opportune time to take a great big detour and gum up the works, right when things are starting to pick up speed and momentum. Just like Odysseus, the adverse winds were unleashed. And just like Odysseus, I could have avoided the situation altogether.
You might think, ‘Whoa, adverse winds, that sounds dramatic - were you in a major car accident? did you go bankrupt? were you homeless? did illness strike?’ And the answer to all of those questions is ‘No, I had a kid.’ Now at this point it’s easy to think that’s a valid excuse - ‘Full time job, new baby - how are you supposed to maintain a painting practice?’ And it’s that excuse that allowed my art career to unravel. In addition, I am 20 pounds over my normal, healthy weight and frequently fall asleep on the couch watching TV. WTF.
The reason I am writing this blog is to illuminate my journey back out of the hole (fingers crossed) - I’ve realized that the podcasts, blogs, books, and articles that are the most meaningful to me are the ones where the writer drops the bullshit and just tells the true story. So… here goes.
Maze - Gris Galerie, King St Charleston - 2013
Photos by Mark Borrelli