'Featured Artist'

Brought out 'the collection' to the public for the first time since only child was born.  Most of it had been rolled up in bubble wrap not unlike an unfinished puzzle, until I finally brought them out to look at again after years tucked away.  I was grateful they had remained intact.  There were many opportunities for them to have become lost; they surfaced at the right time.  I felt like asking for forgiveness for not taking better care as to their whereabouts and keeping them closer.  My child was and still is more important. 


They were and have been comfort objects in the absence of a childhood that took place in part elsewhere.  I was forgiven; they looked no different than when they were stored originally, even though at times I couldn't say exactly where they were during too many transitions and traumas.


Some were sold for amounts I didn't want to know about, at charitable events where I couldn't dictate their value or what they went for.  There were no photos taken.  Each was unique and could not be duplicated.  Sturdy, and assembled to withstand the test of time, the artistic appeal and uniqueness went to new owners that I can only hope will continue to cherish them.  Each was special, when they were made, and when they were passed on to 'the greater good'.


The first showing was a holiday event.  There was much appreciation in ways that could not have been anticipated.  They are priced as low as could be competitive in similar markets for popular items that have not been made by hand, with components that have no copies.  I was happy for the exposure and reception of the concept, though holiday shoppers went for lower prices and more novelty, which left the day not as productive as had been hoped at the time.


That day paved the way for a more mature artists only event, to which I was invited personally.  I didn't respond at first, caught up in more immediate concerns.  After a few days and being reminded of the event, it felt more appropriate than not to follow up and actually commit to at least an inquiry as to if participation was still an option.  I was quite welcome was the response, not knowing what happened between the time of the agreement and the event itself.


I was affectionately 'scolded' for not identifying as a 'real' artist, having shown up sans business cards. All inquiries for custom commissions were entered into phones or scribbled on paper.  There was a purchaser, for more than the previous event, for which one sold also for its asking price.  I was again pleased for the positive recognition as much as the appreciative patron, and for those that expressed interest in becoming patrons.


What I didn't know was that the curator had declined other artists who produced anything similar to what I was doing.  For this medium or genre, it was me only, a 'winner' in a category I only found out during the event had been represented by a single artist, with others representing other mediums of one or two each.  I'm so non competitive I may not have committed had I known there were others in the running, and that my work was favored and selected by the curators.


Even with a fine arts degree, it's still considered 'outsider art', as the actual medium was self taught and developed apart from the discipline of performance art for which I had been in a formal curriculum.  The common theme is simply knowing what art is supposed to be, following the constructs that turn feelings and expressions into different forms to be seen and observed by others for their separate interpretations.


In what is by comparison a very short journey in the world of visual art from personal perspective, I've been objective enough to recognize what I produce is actually art, and that what is termed art by others is comparable, even by 'established' artists whose work fetches much higher value in the 'more sophisticated' art world.  Sometimes it's simply a matter of exposure and strategy, or connections, not only in terms of people.  In series of events.


So I've been donned with a certain identity in a certain environment.  I've been through too much to have any arrogance whatsoever about what I seem to be merely an instrument for, having been informed some 'artists' are more 'challenging' to work with.


Those who have become 'first patrons' did so as much as from liking me as much as what was produced that only I could do, or 'finish'.  Other artists have said in the same space their art sometimes if not always creates itself; they are only the ones who make parts into a whole form, as if guided by a separate inspiration not of themselves.  I can't disagree. 


I've never really gone to any great lengths to be liked by a particular 'audience', and once of a certain age some find authenticity attracts it's own followers.  I don't even like the term 'followers', unless most of them have accomplished what I still look forward to being able to do at some point in the future, not far away.  Many follow as what they see appears we are equal, or complimentary of each other.  I can only hope to fulfill that expectation more often.

Sandy and family secrets III

The previous generation of family secrets lies waiting following the continuing hurricane recovery. We now know even more firsthand how it feels when the rest of the world has forgotten and what remains to be rebuilt will take years for those directly affected. I remember Katrina, and how some places have yet to recover completely. For many here a similar story exists, with impacts that are physical or visible, and wounds festered on an emotional level that may not ever go away entirely.

Helping others has taken some of the sting away. Many of us are grateful not as much was taken from us this time, so that ideally we may assist others in greater need. The only difference in those serving or being served is a zip code.

There are other secrets this generation as well, indirectly related, though no less painful. I will not betray a trust or what exists with something so priceless and valuable. There will be another way for what is essential to surface; it will not come from a disclosure in confidence from who specified it go no further. It's not the kind of harm others readily recognize. Perhaps only those it has also happened to can really understand. It wasn't the same as the generation before, and for that I must remain grateful at this time. The impact, however, is just as lasting and deep, only in a much different way.

Now is the time identity is formed; I will never forget being ridiculed by my own elders. It hurts no less remembering it now, because it affected my potential for moving on in an ideal way. Things like that I can understand may have happened for a reason. For other things, it simply isn't possible to comprehend. There's no good reason for some things to have turned out the way they have, especially when steps were taken specifically to prevent what is happening now and continues from too long to endure the thought of.

There was no protection, only profit from lack of it for others. Preventing protection apparently is a business under the appearance of something else. It appears to be another form of trafficking for monetary gain. The casualties are in the tens of thousands across this country, and those in the north as well. The children are those who suffer most; adults die or become ill from the toll alone. How it affects the entire family is not a consideration. How it affects children lasts a lifetime, becoming other people than who they may have been if safety had been preserved, if someone had put humanity before short term gain or other agendas.

Like a lost home from a natural disaster or otherwise, we can only salvage what's possible in the moment, taking one day at a time, one breath at a time, one step at a time. It almost discounts or dismisses what I was not able to resolve as a child myself in a way I can live with. This is bigger, or that's the way it feels. It's not just us, though there's no consolation that the spectrum contains even more severe circumstances and stories that have also not been told.

This has to stop, or the country will no longer be great. It isn't all about humans for profit in systemic settings as an American 'dirty secret'. There's no one to blame but those here, not outside terrorists. Looking the other way or turning a blind eye is participation, direct engagement is a crime. The gap is narrowing; accountability is on the horizon. The practices cannot continue.

We must know darkness to shine a light, even when the darkness is our own. We have borrowed the planet from our children, as our parents did from us. It was given to us in a state of extreme disrepair with many parts broken. All of the technology we have now cannot artificially reproduce what it takes to adequately repair the damages, especially when they continue. We will not continue screaming in the wind. Our country standing for something is not a given unless we take care of our own. All credibility is lost otherwise, and on the world stage it simply becomes entertainment or cause to further estrange us from moving forward in any way at all.

It's a new year tomorrow, I've been the same age for three years now, and for as long as I can get away with it, maybe a few more. The truth is useful in being closer to another version of retirement, when work becomes for you instead of someone else. My funniest uncle said he wanted to go back to work so that he could have weekends off of his retirement. Being with family, no matter how much work, is not to be given up on. And it will not.