But I Know What I Like

It’s Friday night. I’m home and drunk off my ass on self-induced medications. Damn shoulder’s getting worse and I fear I’ll have to break down soon and go in to the doctor’s. With all my previous damage, I know I’ll be told I need to get pins put in it.
Feh.



That was my completely non-relevant lead-in to today’s rant: ART.

I'm a voyeur with art- I like it, I appreciate it, but I have little ability to pull my imagination into a tangible form. I’ve dabbled in various forms of art- poetry, sketching, lamp-making (“UGLIEST FUCKING THING E-V-E-R!!!”), writing, and more. My problem is not so much a lack of talent; it’s a lack of motivation. I think my muse is closely related to Rip Van Winkle and only arises for brief periods between lengthy, extended gaps. Once I do become inspired, I must immediately leap upon my idea before my motivation stagnates and withers.
The cause of my dilemma may lay in that art is about expressing yourself. And I am a very closed person. Even the people who know me well only are allowed in so far. To be able to open your soul so much and let anyone see inside the person you are… that is too… “trusting” isn’t the right word, but it’s good enough.

It wasn't until I moved to Sacramento that I began to surround myself with artistically talented people: Red, Suzy, all the Jessicas, Ryan, Kali, Megan, Matt, Ray- painting, crafts, jewelry, clothing, graphics, writing, singing, sketching, pottery, photography, music, and more.

I am in awe of your talents, and even more of your gift to express yourselves.

Polling For Crocker

Last year, a friend and I went to the Crocker Museum early on a Sunday morning (there's free admittance then). My friend was a very strong-willed, liberal, independent woman (I bet she still is too). I clearly recall her berating me over my socio and political apathy on more than one occasion- particularly about the 2008 election and my views on such films as "Sicko".

Anyways, we wandered around the museum for about 2 hours, checking out all the levels. As our interests in art are not identical, we did not stay together the entire time. I, myself, spent over 20 minutes sitting on a bench in front of a Kaltenbach (the pic). I do this each and every time I go there. It was there that my friend found me and we departed.

As we exited, a rotund man stopped my friend and asked if she would take a poll concerning her experience at the museum. She agreed and answered the man's questions, laughing aloud at her own answer of "it was free" when asked why she came to the Crocker that day. I leaned back against the railing, watching the exchange and observing both my friend and the poll-taker. When he was done with his questions, the man gave my friend a free pass for two to any of the museums in the city.

As we walked back to my vehicle, I asked "so how did that feel".
"Pretty straightforward," she replied.
"No," I said, "being interviewed by such a favorite of yours."
"What are you talking about?"
"You didn't notice?" I smiled, "the man's name tag... you were polled by 'Mike Moore'".

To this day, I still laugh at such an absurd coincidence as my friend being questioned about the arts by a man sharing a name with one of her favorite directors.

Wednesday #2

I had to keep today’s activity something I could start and stop and start again as I had appointments.

I drove downtown yesterday and checked out an art shop. Wandering around the aisles, I decided on sketching- cheap, faster than say- sculpting, and less messy. I purchased a sketch pad (80lb stock), a good eraser, and some pencils & graphite sticks.

So after I returned home from my first appointment this morning, I began.
Or tried to.
I sat there for hours completely blank on anything to draw. Nothing visualized. I ended up wasting several pages on scribbles. I even tried “patterns”- where I close my eyes, randomly drag my pencil on the paper for a minute, and then see if I can find a face within the lines. That’s hit or miss. Frequently I only end up with swirls.
There is one thing, one memory, I thought about trying to sketch but I soon realized that any attempt to capture such a perfect moment would forever stain it.
So I sat there making swirls on 80lb stock.

Kinda disappointing to discover my muse is MIA.

My Drunken View On Artistic Talent

To me, talent has always been something just outside my reach.
I have never been visually artistic. I can't draw or sketch so I refuse to even attempt painting, and my ventures into woodworking have ended up as firewood. I have to admit I've always liked the idea of sculpting with iron or clay but that could be the pyro in me demanding a kiln or blowtorch. Anything to do with intricate handwork like knitting is out due to nerve damage in my fingers. My one attempt at making furniture was, and I quote: "the ugliest fucking thing ever".
My best creations are from combining "found art", which is the same as sampling music. And the best of these was a scrapbook/travel journal I made for a friend with the normal scrapbook stuff in the front and an entire guide to her destination (maps, places to eat/sleep, sites to see) in the last half.

So I have always been in awe of people who can create art. And I've noticed that I tend to be attracted to women with creative ability: pottery, painting, knitting, graphic arts, photography, etc.
I admire these traits and want them around me.