Since reading isn’t cutting it today, thinking of a far away Spring.
Zion Lodge
April 19 2014
~13:30–17:00
5.5 by 8.5 in
14 x 21.5 cm
Since reading isn’t cutting it today, thinking of a far away Spring.
Zion Lodge
April 19 2014
~13:30–17:00
5.5 by 8.5 in
14 x 21.5 cm
I’ve been talking lately with my friend Jessica Lah about ‘Artistic Fitness’ a term we use to describe the very traditional practicing of the an art practice. And how we both feel we’re not doing enough of it, yet we’re both very much around art. She teaches at a children’s art program and i’ve just finished term one of my MA. I frequently, if not always, have a sketchbook with me yet i don’t fill them with regularity. Too often i turn only to my iPhone camera telling myself i’ll do proper studies later. Which doesn’t happen. I just try and work larger directly from the photos, which admittedly are valuable research, but the results are not the same. The resulting work lacks a richness and it preserves an exclusionary zone in my work—something i’m trying to minimize.
Which, in a bit of a roundabout way, leads me to Andrew Bird’s Gezelligheid show in LA at the Cathedral Sanctuary at Immanuel Presbyterian. Totally entranced by the shadows of the horn speakers flowing across the the Cathedral’s warm red-lit walls, i took some video and a few photos. Still, i knew that the results would really be just a ghost of my reaction to Bird’s eerie folkie yet classical music filling that cavernous space. I wanted to draw but the light was so low and only my near-invisible-in-that-light orange pen felt right. Luckily, i got the self-restraining part of my brain to get the hell out of the way and went with it.
Not quite automatic drawing, but almost.
I don’t think these capture a gezelligheid feeling, but i think only those fortunate enough to be up close the the show’s literally close-knit trio enjoyed that a sensation. For those of us father back the feeling was different, not cozy nor distant, but much more intangible. Not ghosty, but rather expansive and mysterious and dare-i-write-spiritutal? I dunno. But any-which-way here they be. Soldier on. Soldier on.
In November, i spent about a week up on the Colorado Plateau, winding my way up the Grand Staircase and spending not nearly enough time at f i v e ! of the National Parks in Utah’s share of the region. I’ve always been a sucker for red rock country. It probably helps that i was exposed to Lake Mead starting at just 18 months old. I’ve been lucky enough to travel many places, but i have yet to find anywhere else that, pardon my purple prose, alight my being and fill my soul with urgency and meaning. I read somewhere that “the function of music is to release us from the tyranny of conscious thought.” (Sir Thomas Beecham apparently) For me the outdoors, and the National Parks like Zion and Capitol Reef and the Grand Canyon in particular, are like good music on steroids.
Which basically translates to me constantly cursing both under my breath and quite loud:
OH MY, THIS IS F—ING GORGEOUS!
It had been two yeas since i had been to Zion. I had planned on going both those missed Novembers like i had in years previous, but put simply, life got in the way. I love going in the late fall. The weather is wonderfully chilly. The park is quiet, but not deserted (though less quiet than it used to be. This must be what getting old feels like.). And the whole park is dressed in these amazing colors. That and i’m a sucker for the American flags the towns of Springdale and Rockville put out to celebrate Veterans Day.
I love to draw in the park, but tend to take more photographs. My impatience and want to hit all five parks during my limited time were the primary factors in this. Another was the less than dry weather while i was in Zion. I don’t mind being out in the cold. In general i’m with the Scandinavians in the thinking that there’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes. That written, trying to draw in the rain is problematic. Paper + water = mush. Und das ist nicht so gut. So on that rainy Friday, instead of hiking and drawing, i was driving and drawing. Each of these little sketches took me about 20 minutes. 20 minutes also is the time it would take for my warm dry car’s windows to start to steam up. Perfect timing to turn the engine back on and find a new spot. I have photos to supplement these quickies and hope to utilize the resources together to create larger pieces.
And without and any further drivel from me, the Zion, the beautiful:
More on my misadventures in Utah later.
Justice Sandra Day O’Connor talking with Patt Morrison
Pasadena, California, December, 2011