Apartfromthedirt is a vehicle to explore an artist's perceptions of his role in society, the various environments within society, and society as a whole. The Issues that I confront through my work stem from personal experiences and observations.
Monday, 19 April 2010
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Wednesday, 3 February 2010
We shall see...
Alright, tonight I will be experiencing a local art opening; set in Manchester, NH. This is my first show since coming back to the US, and I really do hope it will live up to what I'm use to from the growing art scene in Glasgow, Scotland. The show's called, "Material Juxtaposition;" which if we take at face value means the media will be side by side. Hopefully playing off each other, allowing for a growing interaction between the pieces and the viewer. We shall See...
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
Treading Water
Since moving back to the states, I've experienced a multitude of lows, even lower lows, a glimmer of alright days. I feel like I'm walking around fumbling, waving my arms wildly, reaching out for anything that resembled my previous lifestyle in Scotland. I've lived in small towns before and survived, but I can't help but feel that so much is missing.
I've discovered that hope is a blessing and a curse; to have hope might allow you to survive the most horrific of circumstances. Giving you an unknown source of strength to venture further and further. Yet, hope can be a destructive force, able to crush any spirit left within yourself. And this doesn't happen just once, it is a re-occurring blow that takes hold of you and twists any feeling you have left until it's black and rotted. This emotional hand grenade not only explodes and destroys any ability to move forward, it tears at you with jagged shrapnel until you are nothing but an empty husk. Funny how this one emotional occurrence can have such an impact on your life. To hold out for the smallest chance that you could regain that which you lost, only to have that glimmer of light burn so cold that you find yourself waking up in the fetal position covered in sweat, gasping for air. During our youngest years, we're told to have faith, and everything will work itself out. And with age, we do buy into that theory; just to survive the monotony of our unsatisfied lives, only to realize that you are the one and only person tormenting yourself. But how do we cease this desire to self harm on an emotional level. Where was the guidance when we first learnt about life and loss to combat the reflection in the mirror. We're just left treading water in a bottomless, black body of water; with no light to guide us to the horizon. Alone. With only yourself to keep you company as you submerge...
I've discovered that hope is a blessing and a curse; to have hope might allow you to survive the most horrific of circumstances. Giving you an unknown source of strength to venture further and further. Yet, hope can be a destructive force, able to crush any spirit left within yourself. And this doesn't happen just once, it is a re-occurring blow that takes hold of you and twists any feeling you have left until it's black and rotted. This emotional hand grenade not only explodes and destroys any ability to move forward, it tears at you with jagged shrapnel until you are nothing but an empty husk. Funny how this one emotional occurrence can have such an impact on your life. To hold out for the smallest chance that you could regain that which you lost, only to have that glimmer of light burn so cold that you find yourself waking up in the fetal position covered in sweat, gasping for air. During our youngest years, we're told to have faith, and everything will work itself out. And with age, we do buy into that theory; just to survive the monotony of our unsatisfied lives, only to realize that you are the one and only person tormenting yourself. But how do we cease this desire to self harm on an emotional level. Where was the guidance when we first learnt about life and loss to combat the reflection in the mirror. We're just left treading water in a bottomless, black body of water; with no light to guide us to the horizon. Alone. With only yourself to keep you company as you submerge...
Monday, 25 January 2010
Saturday, 23 January 2010
Avoidance
I'm sitting here listening to Johnny Cash's American IV, a brilliant album that suits the new persona that I've found myself living. Who is this sad, pitifully sorrowful individual staring back from me in the mirror. How did I travel so far away from home on my own to study at a foreign school, surrounded by strangers. Only to befriend and cherish as close personal friends; trustworthy of my faith and love. I find myself in the same situation, only in reverse. This time I have my family to support me in my time of need but there is this desire to leave again. No longer do I wish to remain. For these days of trying to support myself through my art, only to struggle more and more with myself. Where has the strength gone to search out those who I could one day call friend.
I wasn't always like this, at one time I would never openly complain or moan about the smallest pain to the mightiest burden. I was the one to count on to bear the weight of those around me, taking on board their problems and most of the time, find a rational solution. To think outside the box. Always chin up! Back straight! Don't let them see you as weak. Some might say this is a foolish life, to better the lives of those around me before my own. Strange what one finds to be happiness.
But I sit here, the man in black filling the air like a thick syrup, smooth in a sense; if you have ever sampled a really fine oak cast whiskey, that flavor that finds itself waiting to the last second before you shallow, is how his music warms my ears. Funny how a voice can produce such emotions. Yet, here I sit a stranger to myself. I want to produce amazing art, capturing a sense of the different dynamics that fill our lives. And I know I am very much capable of producing this art, yet each time I start working on a piece my mind wanders and my hand ceases to function. Some might call this a block, or a untamed mind that hasn't truly been taught how to concentrate. Both might be true. I haven't been myself in nearly half a year now; consumed, tormented, isolated by my own doing. It has gotten to the point, and this is absurd even to me, that I can no longer sign-in to my normal social site that I use to keep in touch with friends and family. Each time I look at the screen, all I can see are the smiling faces enjoying the life I once lead. A very smart, truly amazing friend of mine who lives on a wee island in the north, told me something remarkable about photos. That each photo is a snapshot of moment in time, this I already knew, yet even when you're out and not really enjoying yourself, you smile for the camera. So the picture gains this sense of happiness and good times. When viewed later, you associate a memory with this photo; a fond memory is formed from that time forward. I had never thought of it that way. If you think about it, you never really see any photos of unhappy times. Even those you keep to yourself, you do smile almost every time the camera is present. Smart beyond her years, my friend is.
One day I'll be okay, nowhere near normal; but then again, I never really was...
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