One way to start is to start at the beginning, right? What would be the beginning, anyway? One of my earliest artistic memories is making a pair of sandals out of paper and tape when I was about 4. That was the beginning of my dependence upon Making Stuff.
Another way to start is with the most recent, and then work backward. But I think today I'll start in the middle because I finally feel fully reborn from the The Years I Was a Shitty Asshole (my awkward, late-blooming, prolonged post-adolescence).
It's funny that the act of recording can itself be an act of purging. Today I looked through my old personal sketchbooks, where I had no rules and no qualms and no inhibitions. If I'm gonna start a new one, why not revisit good ol' sketchy memory lane? They remind me that time makes me my own stranger and best partner in commiseration. Not to mention it's always interesting to investigate one's previous approaches to applying things--->paper. Here are some pages I found particularly noteworthy for whatever reason:
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
A recurring theme in my dreams is the tidal wave, or the flood. When I was a kid, these were Armageddon walls of water that always forced me to wake up before they hit. The older I get, the smaller and smaller the waves become, and I become empowered with more speed and endowed with more time to get away from it. Recently, the tsunamis have turned into slow but strong floods. They have developed into more of a spectacle of power and beauty, more visceral and more tactile. I still fear it, but now it doesn't loom over and above me. It pulls me all over with a warm and brutal suction, and I can somehow manage to barely escape it. In my most peaceful dreams, the water is still and everywhere. I swim at night with whales and small fish that glow like stars.
It's probably the Pisces in me. The ocean calls my name with such strong metaphor. "The photic zone, euphotic zone (Greek for "well lit”: εὖ “good” + φῶς “light") is the depth of water in a lake or ocean that is exposed to sufficient sunlight for photosynthesis to occur. The depth of the photic zone can be greatly affected by seasonal turbidity." Thanks, Wikipedia. I feel like a little fishy. But instead of floating aimlessly, I intend to flash my light around.
Navigator vs. Navigator album art, circa 2009?
It goes against my nature to share a lot about myself and to share what I do creatively. My perpetual self-criticism is anti-productive. So that's why I started this project. In the Euphotic Zone I will receive light and grow. I have resolved to keep a sketchbook (something I haven't done in years) and share the good stuff. I will share my ideas, inspirations, musings, projects, and commissions and invite your commentary. Thank you for looking!