Artist's Process Part Twenty

I read, only to reflect, not philosophize. All conflict is inner conflict.

But then I can cry, but the clarity endures, been exhausted,

But I know and trust the outcome.  This is reliable. An anchor I can rely on.

This is all I have.

This I know for me.

This is about the artist who made these paintings.

This is not instruction or presuming position to know or lecture.

At the same time, I know I am part of a collective existence.

I am describing my return, from that daily necessities space to here,

In terms of sought sense and purpose.

A recording of my ongoing mediation in this room alone.

Open to, but not about to do anything or paint. I need me first.

I face why I go here, what is the point?.. is everything..? questions, conflicts.

Just turbulence. I cannot see or think.

I am repeating a song in my head I used to entertain myself,

Omg, I can stop that too now. Would it ever stop if I did not see that.

It did before. There was no one before.

The spinning created enough of an ongoing movement

In front of the screen that subconsciously I felt alive.

I screamed. This is what came out.

The artwork itself is the imprint of my doing.

In it in retrospect I see immediacy. Vibrancy.

Anchors or representation. Utterly unique composition.

My training is at least good at judging after the fact.

Something training never served me to otherwise actually produce before.

This work is entertaining, direct. It transports me

Acts as a bridge home. As does poetry, it washes over me,

Letting myself wander in its scape. Seeing shifting occurrence.

In negation, there is no:

combining representational symbols into a new juxtapositions, or

playing with proportion, irony, or paradox.

Breaking a convention so that the work is entirely in reference to convention,

Or art movements.

It is for me utterly real that I will say it.

Painted when I am me. Feeling, listening, acting simply, allowing this,

Not a grand ideal. There are no ideals in this work.

There is a journey, and it led to having, not asking.

It was not wanting when it was made.

I was speaking my language visually. There was music, interaction.

I was okay that it is big or small, colour or black and white,

Such is language. It was produced of feeling,

There is no hope or promise. I can come back here, my images

Reinforce and soothe, resonate the way back for me.

I feel there is interconnection between people.

I cannot be the only one, so I release this work.

I see lightness, levity, independent identity, a subtle quality,

I am making new works. These are presented for you,

It is more humble for me to show these, invite your perception.

I would also love to meet a few people with common interests.

For those who are receptive, adventurous, sincere,

Share your insight, of you, your way.

Two resonate more strongly.

I resolve to stay open either way, together or alone,

But the inner is a metaphor of the outer. I welcome inspiration, expansion.

The mind of some would love it to be a closed door

call it ‘paradox’, end the search, justify the enclosure, the erupting action.

Ideas of paradoxes. A situation where inner and outer relationships

Contents are not visible, perceptible.

From a linear perspective, seen as half clippings of branches of truth,

sticking out of the lagoon. To contents outside, the ones below the surface,

although in different ecosystems, do exist.

They do not arise out of emptiness. To the linear perspective, it ceases to

Exist, as a toy vanishes for a baby when the object is placed behind the back.

On the inside, there is awareness of the total content and interconnection,

But the act of being linear is a defence. It relegates all to the subconscious.

It does not fit. It was segregated. The situation created externally.

For this reason, I touch on representation to start from where I begin at my mat.

To move together. I anchor my work in the recognizable nature based marks.

These marks are my language. It runs through every piece in every collection.

I love nature, but reflecting on why I did that. I feel the grounding energy,

It is refreshing when there is energy and it holds adventure, mystery.

It is Primal. Primal is a space before such subdivision of mind occurred.

This is the whole work of Tibetan breathing rituals.

Along with cold exposure, the body and the mind that it is part of,

Returns through physical cues and necessity to cope with stress,

To emotional spaces prior to investigation by social roles and norms.

People remember themselves; they release things they can now see in this contrast,

Things held onto, attitudes, pain, holding onto resolution.

There is singing, crying, laughter, and becoming impervious to cold.

For me I wanted to bridge the need to return here,

And wanting to aid this process consciously.

Jumping into my nature, my tendencies.

Is it a gift, having a bridge. Everyone has this, and everyone can cross them.

There is someone dying to express, be, feel, connect, help, contribute.

You there, me here.

If I be me, have something recorded, in this case on watercolor paper..

Well we read books and are transported, just stopping into a library

I feel lighter coming out from whatever was a concern when walking in.

I know there are bridges, potential ways there. I didn’t go searching for stories.

I went searching for realities to enter.

The image is painted in the mind as we read, imagine the unfolding.

Now what if what I am feeling, I can write about a way of entering,

But no one has ever described the space itself, of having.

What if I let the space describe itself.

I don’t want to freeze myself, I recognize the glory of the process,

What other processes are there. Likely infinite.

It is said no two beings have ever enlightened the same way.

Not interested in pursuing enlightenment. Because that is the block.

And giving up, or being utterly consumed, complete surrender,

Dissolution of personality. That is not my way.

I want to approach this consciously.

Because it will be forced on me in death, so it is not a toy.

I do not toy with the idea of being alone.

Needing sanctuary, a little levity, moving with sanity, coping.

Then moving with abstraction, is a what I describe as

The waterfall way. Art is seeing, and I see the more I am.

The process of sincerely liking or not being drawn to.

Then responding, by relaxing with, accepting what we like,

Not consuming what we love, moving together instead.

For those searching for such a journey, this is good.

It is not intended to be used through academic research, discourse,

Art history or curation.. To force it on those it cannot serve.

It will serve those who are taking responsibility for emotional and mental states,

And wish to find their way, and who resonate with this work.

The work is not me. The work is innocent and has no owner.

I am sitting here, the work is there on paper or as photographs on the monitor.

You have the privacy to hold up, allow if she speaks to you.

This is not niche work.

I did not predefine some category and subtly insult those I show this body of work to.

There is no diving into this lagoon.

Every day, beginning again.

I invite you dissolve, discover, feel.

I describe my physical process, mental dialogue, approach to

Returning, dissolving kindly gently.

I am setting up this room, bringing with me the burdens of the day,

I can bear this much setup on a tiny sense remaining from before.

I can even feel what it might be like to return in small flashes,

But hard to retain this way.

All tensions accumulated are all the same.

What gets me closer to feeling alive, loved, beautiful, whole, joyful.

How much effort I expended, what bruises sustained,

How much time used, left, needed, remaining, where should be.

Except the entire pattern is observed. Both the loss and gain.

Placing a limit of my actions, the indulgence in the outcomes.

I arrive on this mat, wanting to cry but it is drama, it is identity,

But it is to be respected, guided gently, as I learn who I am.

Balance and gradual progress, but with this deep sense of purpose.

My goodness, why not, how exciting to my mind also.

So I find my dissolving fascinating, and accept that joy is not by my mind.

I exist to know me, then what happens to I, I am not ready for.

Nothing is going to force this, there is love there in consciousness.

I am guided home. I can let that mental game of worry for that which

Is not here, way beyond my station, or current experience go.

I am here to remember myself. In real visceral terms, to feel have,

Do by. Get to know only through my intent. To become intent,

To accept that I am intent.

This is my intent, emanating from that twinkling candle.

I listen, I am technique, I am skill, I am capable. I am mind. I am powerful.

But not alone. I am not what makes me whole. I can guide myself,

Learn to trust myself, maybe one day for a needed jump.

Right now I am my own friend. My big brother, my warm kind goddess guidance.

And my knowledge, experience and search has brought me to this mat.

This is the way. I got to say it and relished it. Thank you for receiving.