Passion/Desire

It's the passion that makes the art, it's the desire that makes the artist.

Yo, Andy!

"I would say it's in your best interest to pack up and go," the former United Nations ambassador, Atlanta mayor and confidant of Martin Luther King Jr. said to the protestors. Young told protestors he supports them, but he said they would be more effective if they focus their message. "You have to be very clear in what you're saying, and you have to have a consensus about the changes you want in the American economy and what does it take to make those changes," Young said. 

Andy, did you change your name to Dick? WTF? You know me. As recently as ten years ago, you looked me in the eye, said "Hi, Laura." and then you said something else about the importance of civil disobedience but that suing a judge was a really dumbass idea and then I just wanted to punch your lights out so I didn't hear the rest. Right, Anj. Like marching on Selma was rocket science. You have to wear them down, Andy, one day at a time. I think you said that once. Maybe Yoki's Daddy said it. Could have been her momma. Coretta had more than a few things to say. I sure wish I could hear what she would say to you today.

Oh, wait! I can hear it. "Struggle is a never ending process. Freedom is never really won, you earn it and win it in every generation." How about this one: "If you don't like something, young lady, get you get up off your fanny and you do something about. You just take that first step and all the universe will come along to help you." That's one that isn't in the books. She said that to me. You were there, so don't deny it.

When the system became so broken, and so wrong and there were so many homeless and hopeless and without any resources, this protest was born. Your argument that the protestors need a clearer statement is the equivalent of someone in the 60s saying "what do you want Dr. King? Voting rights or to eat lunch?" We want it all. We wanting voting rights, not further unconstitutional restrictions that make it difficult for the poor and downtrodden to vote. We want a job. We want health care.

We don't want it all. We just want enough to pay the bills, have a barbecue on Sunday, go to the mall once in a while, watch a little internet porn, whatever. Whatever it is we do, we just want that. We want a cozy bed, tv, dinner and a movie once in a while, a couple a kids, a car that doesn't self destruct or cost as much as a house. We want a fair game, a level playing field, the same rights and privileges that corporations get. In other words, Andy, we want the same thing you wanted when you marched on Selma. We want them now and we want them for EVERYBODY. We want them for young, old, christian, muslim, buddhist, and gay. We want help now. We want rich people to stop acting like dicks and we want the government to stop kissing their butts. We want a little honesty, integrity and sanity in our goverment. And we want it now.

You, Andy, are not helping. You could. But you aren't.  Here's another good one from Coretta: “You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.” Right now, Andy, I hate you. Lead, follow or get the fuck out of the way.

Living Wood

I prefer to work on dead wood. A tree just felled, that's still alive, makes me wonder if it hurts. I know, strange thoughts for a non-vegetarian, but I do agree we could all go a lot further to consider the pain someone or something else might feel. Trees are alive. Vegetables are alive. Plants are alive. Animals aren't the only thing we kill for food. I don't discriminate on what I'll kill for food. But, I do worry if a piece of wood is dead enough to be carved. I know. I've been this way my whole life. I'm used to it. This wood is beautiful. I first noticed it when I moved here. 4 years ago. It was deep in the side of a hill that was very slowly eroding. I did help loosen the dirt sometimes. Whenever Webs and I went for a walk. Just a little. That's probably really environmentally treacherous, but I just live on the edge. I had to have it. It really called to me. So, this is the wood I mentioned yesterday. It still has sap. Today, the sap had been bleeding out of the right shoulder. So cool. It's almost like amber in other places. Proper polishing and it will shine like gold. I just really feel an intense connection to this wood.

I'm also examining other artists and works that exhibit great passion. And I mean passion - not the Hollywood over used kind (I have a PASSION for Facebooking) - no the real, deep down, impossible to ignore, c'mon baby light my fire passion. Like Georgia O'Keefe kind of passion. Sexual kind of passion. I mean, isn't that really the only kind of passion? There has to be a better word for all those other things. Flitting through these thoughts and feelings, it occurs to me now that I have been missing a huge part of creating art. Sensuality is expressed so often and in such depth. Where the hell have I been? Really, I knew it was there, appreciated it, even sought it out. For some reason, now that I have actually achieved it, witnessed it, art lives and breathes on a whole new level.

Question for Artists

This could be considered a touchy topic. Very touchy. O.K. I'll just ask. Artists out there: does your art ever turn you on? Do you find yourself feeling perhaps a little too passionate about your work sometimes? Has the color of your paint turning at just that point leave you breathless? Does the curve of that wood, or the silken feel of its polishedness just send you over the top? What about paper - does it ever whisper to you? Canvas could, too, you know. I had never fully experienced that until recently. I'm working on this piece of wood that threatens to be an enormous compilation of several other large and small pieces of wood. Recently, I ran my hand down an area I'd just polished and I plotzed. OMG. That wood felt good. Gave new meaning to a woody! For a woman, that's quite an achievement. But, seriously. You know that point in the relationship, when your shoulders touch and you don't pull away, you just slightly lean into each other and it feels nice. It feels almost electric. It feels real and right and warm. It feels like laughter. This wood speaks to me on levels I'm just now finding. Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to be a guest on that weird show about people who are in love with inanimate objects. It just surprised me to be able to feel so much life from a piece of wood that was dead and felled so very long ago. It's really added a new level to the physical and mental aspects of creating art.