The Ascent

During this time, I felt defeated. Unable to find work and lacking control of my life launched my thoughts into disarray. Unfocused and without direction, I began to wander away from creating. I even stopped drawing in my sketchbooks for some time. Too much thought went into a past I couldn’t change, too much energy spent loathing a present which seemed like a hamster wheel, and too much worries over a future uncertain; art became something that I was once good at. It didn’t dissapear altogether. Not much work came from this period, even less was documented. I regret not keeping better record of the little things that I did make during this time.

As the decline persisted, I slowly realized that creativity was my outlet, my distraction from what couldnt be helped; it was in my training, in my blood. I couldnt help but to return to drawing in my little sketchbook, keeping my wits about me while watching life from the sidelines. Feeling defeated and feeling sorry for myself eventually felt like a chore. I began to expand my eye’s perspective of what I could do with what I had rather than force what I was doing before. I abandoned ceramics for some time and focused on drawing and photography, because sketchbooks were cheap and I already had a camera on my phone. Landscapes became a popular theme for me. I was riding my bike everywhere and ran accross some unique sights in my travels. Things that you could not possibly notice if you were driving places with a purpose.

Not all the photos that came out of this time period survived. The loss of cell phones and data meant that only the ones I shared with my computer made it to be viewed today.

Living in florida, we are spoiled by the colors of the sky after a rain during the low points of the sun in the sky. It’s also free. This became my art, purely captive and totally reliant on natural occurrences. The sky was an ephemeral canvas showing glimpses of beauty to be observed in a fleeting moment. This was where I learned to appreciate my independence from academics. Where no one was telling me that I was “fuckin’ up” and I learned to form my own criticisms and feedback. I was not the artist but rather the documentarian of the beheld.

Rediscovering Process

I played a lot with light and exposure times. My older brother had a nice digital SLR camera that allowed me to put my training in photography to good use. A small body of work emerged that isn’t really a series but rather a confluence of playful shots that utilized long exposures times in low light settings. I borrowed his camera for a few days to familiarize myself with it and the results were very satisfying. The effort being put into capturing the images left a feeling of fulfillment. It forced a thought process that I hadn’t tapped since college. It triggered a desire to make again so that I could have that feeling of satisfaction while looking at the result of process.

Self evaluation was the missing facet. I wallowed in my limitations to the point that I almost dissolved the glue which held me together. I almost let go of the one thing I knew I was good at, and the one thing that I’ve done my entire life: make art. Being able to evaluate myself allowed for the realization that I didn’t have to rely on others for growth and progress. I didn’t need approval from anyone to be proud of what I was capturing in my sketchbooks and through my chinese made lens. I also learned to understand the meaning of weakness as it related to strength. Understanding that failure is a learning process and only becomes a defeat if you realize the failure and don’t take steps to improve on it the second try, or third.

A Little Miracle

My perspective was improving. Accepting that I could only make do with what I had ultimately allowed me to refocus on getting my shit together. I was creating again. Small scale, limited capacity, but just as rewarding as it once was. The best part was that my brother had landed me some temp work at small place that repaired jet engines. It was supposed to be a two week job.