Inspiration

Clarion Alley in San Francisco is a place to be walked with reverance and awe--and a certain amount of defiance when having to step aside for the occasional car driving through. (Don't they know there's art here?) Being a person who struggles with very linear tendencies--both in life and in art--I found inspiration in the murals and graffiti art on this alley. Form and shape first above all else.

Yeeeeeowch! Coyote and the blank canvas.

"Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."

When applying for the Landfill Art project, I had to come up with a basic idea of what I wanted do with an old hubcap. No problem, I thought. After some reflective thinking and meditation I knew what I wanted to do, and that Coyote is the animal teacher for this project (such a hog for the spotlight...). So it should come as no surprise that Coyote's energy is all over the place lately.

Here's something to think about. Overall, there were an estimated 250,851,833 registered passenger vehicles in the United States according to a 2006 study. OK - now think about how many different models and makes that must encompass, how hubcap designs differ, and how many more vehicles--and hubcaps--are in landfills throughout the U.S. from older models. You get some sort of idea of the variety of hubcaps that must be out there.

So. My hubcap was a surprise. And not really what I had in mind.

I can:

1. Cram that square peg into the round hole and try and make my original idea work, godammit, no matter what


2. Complain bitterly and be a whiny diva-wanna-be and ask for another hubcap to fit my detailed specifications ("I just can't work in these conditions!")


3. Sit back, let Coyote take me where he wants me to go, and see what this particular "canvas", and the Universe, have in mind for me and this art piece

I'm voting for number 3. Good luck with that...

Lesser Known Artists and the Kindness of the Muse

When I took a hard right turn from pursuing visual art in college I landed on creative writing and earned a degree from San Francisco State. Memory is a funny thing, so I think my reflections now are very different from what was actually going on then. That being said, creative writing felt safer than art -- partly because I don't think I ever pictured myself as an actual working writer. I'm not sure I really gave fiction writing my full energies, but I did meet some incredibly gifted writers through that program, including my lifelong friend, Becky.

Poetry, on the other hand, was my strong point and there is one particular poem I wrote that, after all these years, I can still remember -- probably because it's very short. A poetry teacher took us all to the old San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (I'm not sure if that's even what it was called back then, but it was in an old building on Van Ness Street. If anyone knows the museum I'm talking about, please let me know) to see an exhibit by Lee Krasner -- an amazing abstract artist who suffered the distinction of being married to Jackson Pollock. In case you're wondering why Krasner's name is hotlinked here and Pollock's is not it's because Krasner spent her artistic career in Pollock's shadow and this is just my small way of paying tribute. If you want to know more about Jackson Pollock, use Google like everyone else...

The intent of the field trip was to use visual art as inspiration for poetry and the written word, but to me it was more about a holistic approach to art in general. Seeing those paintings was both inspiring for me and uncomfortable, but most importantly, left me feeling like I wanted to described that moment when art -- whatever genre you choose -- just works. When the muse is present and inhabits you. When the artist is the process, and the process is the artist, and every cell of your body is immersed, and when you're done it's like regaining consciousness.

Truth

It's time for real life. I've been sharing personal triumphs and artistic revelations in an "ain't I cool, tell me I'm cool" way. But I believe in nothing if not balance and the wholeness of the Universe and Yin and Yang. So here's what's happening.

I am blessed with ideas. I carry around a small notebook, and when I get a vision of a new art piece I write it down, complete with thumbnails, copious notes, and lots of options and ideas. This can be tricky sometimes since I'm usually driving. I'll be careful, I promise. My ideas usually start with a personal issue -- something I'm sorting out in my own life, etc. -- and then the visual concept starts to bubble to the top.

I have a day job. I have a family. I have several four-legged critters. In other words, my time is not always my own. I'm also an expert at finding reasons for not going out to the studio. It's butt-freezing cold and rainy. There is no electricity out there. It's dark.

Also. There are roadblocks. There are technical/mechanical issues with one piece. Things are not going as planned. (Note to self. It's time to mentally remap. If you don't know what that means, read Deep Survival. I'm half way through and starting to get it. The artistic process is not unlike wilderness survival. Perhaps that will be another entry.)

There's more. There's the fact that I am taking on an uncomfortable subject right now. It's a strong powerful vision and I'm excited. It also involves snakes - OK, just one snake - but that's enough. I am not snake-phobic, but I am afraid of venomous snakes. Rattlesnakes in particular. Really afraid. And I know how powerful snakes are. They show up in my dreams whenever I'm going through a particularly difficult transition in my life. So right now I am in the squirming stage of the artistic process. I think that comes somewhere after denial and bargaining, but definitely before acceptance.

Truth.