Caught within a thought...

Sleep eludes me once again, the time barks at me from a blinking pale glow that fills my concrete quarters, piercing the stillness that is all around; three a.m., three a.m., three a.m. Each time I close my eyes, images of times of happiness, moments caught that seem to be so far away now. Why are these haunting images that I know will never be more than fleeting phantoms; so difficult to bury like memories of lost times surrounded by moments no longer important to the dealings of today? Photo albums strewed across my unkept bed, pages filled with images of friends, loved ones, a different life across the Atlantic; bittersweet memories. Caught within a thought that spirals like a vortex consuming me from within my very skull, thoughts no longer of why but of when will they fade... when will I sleep and not dwell on the very things I can no longer have. Tortured by my very mind, subject to the whims of a sad soul; only to find my fingers covered in charcoal from etched drawings of beautiful eyes that burnt my very being and no eraser to correct the scribbling of endless attempts to capture the sparkle, the glint of magic in them. To sleep, to not dream, just to fall through endless hours of darkness to wake one morning; to wake and walk away...  To sleep.  

First Painting on US Soil- 2009

Work nae more

It's funny how things work out, when I first ventured over to Scotland, I was unemployed and single; just an artist trying to make his way through this world. Ten years later, and I leave Scotland (my home), unemployed and single; just an artist (a little bit older and maybe a bit wiser) trying to make his way through this world again. The difference between the boy I was and the man I am today are clearly visible to all. When I first started making my way around Glasgow, I was mesmerized by all the sights and sounds that were so alien to me. Be it that I had to leave after my first year to only return fours years later, fresh from the meat grinder of the armed forces to attend my second year of art school, an oddity even to my peers who pride themselves on being not of the norm. But those memories of what attracted me to Glasgow in the first place where still buzzing around in my head, and seeing them again pulled me in deeper to the murky, isolated, dark heart of this city and the people contained within.

Fast forward six years, a little bit more facial hair, my first grey hair and the luxury of having my heart ripped outta me; in some artistic circles this is seen as a rite of passage, to experience life (the good and all the bad) without safeguards. To be able to produce any artwork with merit, one must have lived first to properly infuse the work with meaning from the artist's own lifetime of experiences. Which sounds reasonable to all of us, until we experience those horrors that will scar us for life and no matter how much we draw on paper, slash paint across a canvas; we still harbor the pain within and to tear at the scabs of these wounds manifest an almost uncanny desire to self-hurt on an emotional level. This masochistic, almost sadist approach to living seems mandatory to survive in the art community. To be an artist, do we really have to live with such pain and misery to showcase these private horrors for the world to see in some white space. Am I bound to relive each painful experience over and over again. Will I be able to only experience the good times for a small segment of time; then have it ripped away so I can convey some personal experience to the world around.

Untitled

Oil on Canvas, 2008
* Private Collection, Scotland

Unexpected, Uncertain Future

I had decided to start this blog, to underline the progression of thoughts that influenced my artwork, to bear witness to the creative thoughts and ideas that swam through my head like some great predator lurking in the shallow end of the pool. I have never been any good at truly letting people see who I am, that it was better to perform my actions in the background and let my artwork speak for themselves. The life that I had envisioned myself living, has taken an unexpected turn of events. For longer than I care to admit, I have been asleep; failing to live up to the expectations of myself and those that we're around me. For those closest to me, knew of this slumber and had consistently tried to shake me awake. It took the loss of the one person that I held closest, my beautiful, beautiful R; to end this dreamless coma that had become my life. I shall never be able to really thank this person for all that she has done for me. She will always be with me; even if it is only in my dreams of the past. I mourn the loss of what was (in my head) the fairy tale life that seemed to take place in a world of pain and suffering, a world of melancholy and mundane existence, the world of nine to five jobs that never seemed to fulfill; what happens to a man who has held his dream girl in his arms for so long?

Was I falling farther and farther into the rabbit hole, my life passing before my eyes; ignorant to the loss of time, blind due to the cataracts of complacency. The light of day has pierced through this misguided attempt at living, only to stand alone. The hunger to achieve has reared its ugly head again, and this time, I'm ready to charge ahead and see what awaits me. I only wish you were here to challenge the world with me...

I don't know what this unexpected, uncertain future will hold for me, but I shall put one foot in front of another and walk into the sunset knowing that you're out there and what we had shared was true love.

...I MISS YOU!