I found myself heading out to draw when I got some sad news from a client. Its not like the world doesn't suck enough right now, its not like other people I know aren't going through shit, some of which I can't even imagine. But the ridge calls me and has been on my mind. It was the last forecasted nice day, hasn't been remotely pleasant since. Chipmunk Ridge is one of my favorite places on earth, a good place to be as the world swirls.
This winter I have been slowly cleaning out my childhood home, which for multiple reasons has been hard. My family has lived in the same neighborhood for over a hundred years. Its confusing and lonely to carry on your shoulders that family history when you feel like you are the last gasp. My Grandparents lived in my house and more than helped raise me. I was brought up by people that lived through the great depression and grew up with Babe Ruth and literally Les Paul. Perhaps I am one of those old souls because I was so heavily influenced by older people. There is a lot to sort out in my heart as I peel back the layers of time, dysfunction and most importantly love.
This year is uncertain for me, I miss everyone. I want so badly to do something positive. Don't get me wrong, I aint no saint, but as I am dealing with family, my past, and a very unhappy country, I think more and more of my Mom. My Grandparents. I think of the old neighborhood and the people that I love. The river. The things that bring me the deepest joy.
So I carry that all as I head up on the ridge to draw. Drawing gets me going. There isn't the pressure to make a product, drawing is thinking, exploring, poking. It wasn't a remarkable day, but I was locked in. I don't have to go far and everything just snowballs. When one is dialed in one starts to notice things, little things become big things. Everything becomes alive and the events of the last thousand years flow together and you feel it all. For my last drawing I sit by a 19th century farm and I swear I am there and its a hundred years ago. The craft and the divine order just overwhelm me. The light always knocks me out. The mature trees. Its so powerful and I try my best to just get it out onto the paper. When this happens everything just seems beyond you. You are the stereotypical vehicle and everything seems possible
Our country can be so inspiring if we wanted it. Those people long ago wanted it more. We are such a poor nation and its sad. Poor in our heart. I don't feel sad when I am in places like this. I don't feel sad when I am trying to do something beautiful. I don't know if what I did was any good at all, but I felt good. I felt my Mom and that made me happy. I hear kids voices playing, there is something in the wind. The twisting limbs on the trees seem to contort my body. When I am done with the drawing it is near dark and the sensation is so intense it runs down my arms into my wrists and tingles. Everywhere I looked I saw beauty and a painting. Its like living in a dream. I think the world used to be like this more. People were more exposed to this. They may have been much happier. I don't know. The world largely doesn't look or feel like this anymore. I reject the way it is now.
In these hard times, I encourage everyone to try and do something beautiful. Not a painting, but in how you conduct yourself, how you talk to people, what you think about, how you spend your money, be giving, be good. Don't go along with the ugliness that surrounds us and you will feel much better. If it feels gross don't do it. I am wrought with the emotions of mourning as I move forward with my childhood home, and I don't have the energy to reinvent myself. I just want to paint something beautiful for my Mom, and that is what I promise to do, to the best of my ability this year. Not sure if I will do less shows or just the same amount but with less work. Now is the time to do what is in my heart, I hope you all do too.
