Back to mine...

Spring’s on the horizon, and slowly but surely I’ve come to see that I’m lacking; in major ways… it’s not that I’ve been drifting along, unaware - I’m  very much aware – it’s just that in actual fact, I’ve been ignoring that gnawing urge to start creating again. See, Harlow has absorbed all of my energy and since, my entire focus has shifted to accommodate it. I need to start painting again. I miss it more than I’ve ever allowed myself to realize. You see, I used to have a house; a house with a detached garage which I swiftly claimed as my studio space. I miss that space – so many nights when I’d rush home to head out there, close the rolling door, place a new piece atop my gifted antique architect’s drawing table, turn the music up and go. I had about 4 rows of shelving lining 3 of the 4 walls; cathedral ceilings and row upon row of paint: hundreds of cans of spraypaint, sorted by hue; timeworn silver coffee cans filled with caps (pink dots, gray dots), cans of interior and exterior paint, acrylics, latex, oils, watercolors; bottles and jars filled with colored pencils, brushes, knives (used to manipulate paint) charcoals and my favorite tool for illustration: my treasured collection of mechanical pencils. It was heaven. Reclaimed wood boards as canvas; acetate, tile.

I’d let go. Before I knew it, the sun would rise and I’d be covered in my precious cherry reds, custom-mixed teals, permanent marker – my hands and arms laced with precious cuts from using my straight razor for stencil work, proudly wearing the bruises I’d unknowingly accumulated on my arms from leaning at some impossible angle to get the perfectly imperfect shape. I loved it. I’ve never had a relationship with anything in this life that compares to the one I have with myself, my ‘art’. Whether a piece was ‘good’ wasn’t of consequence, as most creative types know that we’re our own worst enemies… it was the love affair I was having with my creative flow. Something about bringing form and color to life was addictive and I’d become transfixed.

I need to get ‘back to mine’.  Painting, writing, music, design and creation in general – not limiting myself to Harlow. I used multiple mediums – yes, the paint work which was a tad ritualistic/therapeutic but also the graphic work, composition; I suppose my mindset was almost a kind of meditative state. Letting go, expressing whatever latent issues I had bumping around within, but then again this had always been my escape. Ever since I was old enough to hold anything – brush and pencil followed crayon closely.

I guess this could count as step #1; climbing the ladder in the upward direction of my happy and well-adjusted self. It’s my goal to start working again; not for the shows, the sales or the notoriety, but for me.