The Road to Art Basel #4

Here's a glimpse of my typical day this week showing my art in Basel, Switzerland with a preview of the new artwork I brought to show.  I also roam the city, complete with random Basel stories about the Rolling Stones, swimming with bags, and Herzl.

The Road to Art Basel #3

Everything has been packed and delivered.  I tied up some loose ends this week including delivering some new work that was purchased for a lobby in a new club in Los Angeles.  I also remembered a conversation I had with an artist on a flight to Europe years ago.  It kind of stopped me in my tracks.  I never would've guessed then, I'd be doing this today.

The Road to Art Basel #2

I'm getting closer to shipping all of my new work to Art Basel.  So many logistics to work out.   Plus, I always find it tricky to navigate my expectations in making new work.  What I had in mind and what comes out.  They are not always the same.  In fact, they rarely are.  Each work is a journey.  The reality is, if everything came out exactly how I imagined it, there would be little reason to make it at all.  That's part of the fun of being an artist.  Surprises.
I discuss all of this in the video, plus, I give you a glimpse at a brand new piece of work called "Miles Away" that I'll be showing in Basel for the first time.

The Road to Art Basel #1

I got invited to show at Art Basel.  Great.  Then the pieces sold I was planning to send, and I didn't have anything else in my studio the scale I wanted to send that would ship easily.  So I decided to make new work.
I was stressing out about getting everything finished by the deadline, and decided to use an old school time management technique.  It's working out pretty well.  This is what I discovered. 

Fantasy vs. Reality

Fantasy vs. Reality

The Magic of Objectivity

The F\fantasy. Light shining through the trees in Big Sur

Fantasy vs. Reality. Life changing moment at the Saint Michel station in Paris

Robert Rauschenberg - The Express at the Thyssen Museum in Madrid

Fantasy vs. reality.  Always battling for real estate in my head.  It’s a classic duel.  Formidable opponents locked in an eternal dogfight.
Have you ever gone on vacation, and when it was time to come home, you thought, “Ugh…back to reality?”
Or thought about finding that perfect mate and living in eternal romantic deliciousness?  And then you come home the next day to her bra soaking in the sink, or his dirty socks by the bed?
Sometimes the gap between my hopes and expectations, and reality can be light years apart.
Usually at first glance, I get disappointed. Reality feels like a let down.  I obsess over the fantasy and roll my eyes at the reality.  Turn on the lights at 2am in any bar, and things can look quite different.  All of a sudden there’s gum stuck to the wall and duct tape on that vibey booth I was just sitting in.  Eek!
When I first imagined becoming a visual artist, I pictured myself wandering the aisles of the art store, looking for just the right brush.  Taking afternoon naps and long walks to contemplate life.  I thought about watching how a tree moves in the wind, zeroing in on life’s magic.  Trying to isolate it, and recreate it somehow in the physical world.
I do still see that as part of my job, but the reality is, I spend more time at Home Depot than I do the art store.  I’m buried in more power tools and sawdust than pencil shavings.  I scramble to meet deadlines.  I create sometimes under quite a bit of pressure.  Granted, most of that is due to my ambition as an artist and I’m not shy about that.  I’m not a hobbyist.  I knew that the first time I plugged in a bass guitar with my first band.  Creativity is not a casual encounter for me.  Never has been.
The point is, as much as I love what I do, it’s not what I imagined.
When I was a kid, I thought being an “artist” meant I needed to have one intense experience after the next to pierce the veil of life and see the secret world (yes, there is a secret world).  And I chased that through my music career, into my art career for many years.  Big moments can change your life in an instant.
If you saw my TEDx talk, you know I shared my experience about walking up the stairs the first time at Saint Michel station in Paris.
And standing in front of “The Express” by Robert Rauschenberg the first time in Madrid.
I bet you’ve had a few moments of your own along the way.  And I bet you don’t have to think too hard to remember them.  They tend to stand out.  Not always in a good way.  Sometimes the highs are so high, the inevitable fall is excruciating.
Is the fall inevitable?  Yes.
Why?  Biology.
If you’re saying right now that you disagree and life can be all ecstasy and awesomeness, then good for you.  But I would pose the possibility that you’re simply delusional.  I’m not saying everybody’s life sucks.  I’m saying I’ve never met anyone, rich or poor, alone or in love, who lived in a 24 hour a day orgasmic ecstatic state and who didn’t have challenges.  We can’t swing from spike to spike like monkeys in trees for any period of time.  Eventually the ground will find you.

Why can’t my life be one long Lifegasm?

1. Well, quite frankly, it would be exhausting. And…

2. We’re actually hardwired NOT to have that experience.  Our psyche is constantly assessing, measuring, adjusting and recalibrating itself.

Any sustained heightened experience becomes my new reality.  My expectations adjust to accept that as the new norm, and the ecstatic spikes diminish. We’re literally hard wired for normal “reality.”  We all have our baseline.  And that can rise or fall depending on how we feel the majority of the time.  So even if your baseline is relatively pleasant, and you feel generally satisfied, you are physiologically programmed to return to your baseline.  We all are.

The Fantasy Problem

Fantasy vs. Reality. Contemplation on the pier on Sanibel Island, Florida

Don’t get me wrong.  Fantasy has its place.  It can be inspiring.  Idyllic futures planned out in my mind can serve as a beacon in the fog calling me toward the shore.  It’s fun.  It’s creative.  Who doesn’t like to dream?
Much like my little artist fantasy.  The problem is, that once you get there, you may look around and think, “Hmmm…not what I expected.”  With every problem solved, there are new problems waiting in the wings.
Fantasy can also interfere in relationships.  I can fantasize about what you were thinking when you snapped at me.  Which could keep me from actually asking you.
I can make up reasons for my failures instead of investigating.
I can stare out the window and imagine a better life instead of getting off my butt to make one.
We also have a tendency to use fantasy to fill in glaring gaps of knowledge.  For thousands of years, we thought the world was flat.  Even after multiple Greek scientists and philosophers had said otherwise, people still made up stories with religious and philosophical context about how demons and monsters would eat and torture us at the end of the world if we floated a boat off the edge.  Then one day Columbus sailed west and those people started to say, “Oh ok…maybe there are no monsters at the end of the world.”

The Reality Problem

Let’s get real.
Bummer, right?  Buzzkill.
Somewhere along the line I got this idea that “reality” was a purely logical left brain, boring existence.  It’s a letdown.  Devoid of magic.  I thought all the excitement in life came from fantasy dreamland.  And that was a key ingredient in making art.
As it turned out, I was wrong.
In order to see things as they truly are (aka “reality”), I need to see more objectively.  And I’m finding that objectivity is where the real secret world is.  When someone turns on the lights in the club, stark reality can be sobering.  Once I get over the sting however, I can see what’s actually going on.  Where did those people come from in the corner?  What’s that door?  There’s a back room here?  I didn’t see that.  New worlds are revealed.  This is the secret I wasn’t told about.
Reality is a full frontal, both side brain experience.
The trick is to stay sensitive enough…to pay close attention.  It’s like zooming in super close to a flower.  A whole other universe is revealed.  I can stand back and just say…”yeah, nice flowers.”  Or I can zoom in and take a better look.  Did you ever see Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears a Who?
I still love ecstatic moments that light up my soul and spark my imagination.  I want as many as I can find, as often as I can find them.  They are the breadcrumbs I follow that let me know I’m on the right path, and send me the best direction forward.  But today I’m also challenging myself to embrace the mundane.  My little Humdrumtopia.  Because I see both as necessary.  It’s like Yin and Yang.  The magic and the banal have to coexist.  We need reference.  We need time to work things out and allow them to soak in.  I have to understand myself and my life from my own emotional and intuitive place.
I’m really embracing this balance and interplay in my work right now.  Sometimes it’s a grind.  Most days are.  And then, there are those moments.  When everything in the world is totally transformed.  Even for a second.
So I’m not sure I’d trade my Home Depot runs for more trips to the art store.  I like the art I make.  I like most of the choices I’ve made.  Sure, I keep aiming higher, but where I am isn’t bad either.
I don’t see my life as romantically as I did when I was younger.  I used to feel sad about that loss.  I thought my art would suffer.  After all, I’m an artist.  If I can’t see the magic in life, how can I share it?
The thing is, there will always be plenty of magic in life.  Plenty of mystery.  Our most advanced technologies today only scratch the surface of what is truly going on. So any scrap of objectivity I can find, I'll take.  It makes for a deeper understanding of myself and the truth.  And art is ultimately about truth.  And truth comes from objectivity.  It creates an increasingly more accurate context to live in.
And that makes for better art.
By shattering one world, another is revealed.
Magic.


All photographs ©Rob Grad

A Day In My Personal Art Studio

Thought I'd share a peak at a somewhat typical day in my personal art studio. While every day is different depending on which part of a project or series I'm working on, I get asked a lot about my process and what goes into making my wall sculptures.  This will give you a glimpse.
If you'd like to see these completed works, they are in my With Open Eyes series here: http://www.robgrad.com/with-open-eyes.

The Virtues of Boredom and Living the Good Life.

contemporary wall sculpture

I wish this moment could last forever
Right now
Floating
Carefree
And dare I say it...…happy
Maybe my flight home will get cancelled
And my lottery numbers will come up
You never know…
Ahhhhh…the good life
Far away
Where chaos
And that cloud of incessant noise
Become just a background murmur
Almost indistinguishable
From the sound of waves
Crashing below me
No obligations
No one to report to
No due dates
Or bills
No awkward conversations
Or solutions to find
To the imperfect puzzles
Of my every day
Simple
Perfect
So far away
Not even my memories
Can find me
So far away that if I look back and squint
I only see an abstract flow
Of shapes and colors
I mean…It’s just time and money, right?
Or is it?
How would it feel
To feel like this forever?
After I was all lunched out
Shopped upSlept in
And ratcheted down?
Would I get restless
With nothing to do?
And nowhere to go?
With no mark to make
And nothing to show?
If I tell myself the truth
Which I don't always do
The answer is “yes.”
It’s true
I’d get restless
Relief is beautiful
And necessary
But it’s not a lifestyle
It’s a plateau
A rest
Before the next push
Into something better
Deeper
More exciting
And more interesting
Don’t get me wrong
Having nothing to do has its merits
As a kid, most of my best ideas
Were born of boredom
I had to call on my imagination
To keep me from pulling my hair out
I’m not bored enough as an adult
I want nothing to do
At least for awhile
But eventually I'll want
To get moving
Because I’m old enough to know
I won’t be alive all that long
And there's so much to do
That’s not morose
It’s reality
Time passes fast
This will all be over soon
Whether I want it to or not
And there’s enough good here
That I want to be here
As long as I can
I don’t want to waste it
So if I tell myself the truth
Which I don’t always do
I guess I don’t want this minute
To last forever
This moment of respite is enough
Funny thing about moments
I want some to come
And stay forever
Others don’t seem to pass fast enough
The funnier thing is
When it comes to time
I’m irrelevant
It doesn’t care what I want
Every moment goes away
In exactly the same amount of time
No matter how I treat it

Finding the Creative Flow - 7 Tried and True Artist Techniques

Getting back into the creative flow

Have you ever had one of those days when everything just worked?  You were in the creative flow, ideas came easy and conversations were effortless?
And then somehow you woke up the next morning and it was like the entire Universe spent the night plotting against you?

The past few days were like that in my studio.

Getting into the creative flow always feels like a magical vortex opens and sucks me into a beautiful, totally focused alternate reality.
It’s one of the greatest feelings being an artist, but it can also happen doing anything, anywhere.
So why is it so finicky?

Here It Comes

A couple days ago the magic turned on and I fell into that creative flow.
I was working on new artwork for my upcoming mini book and everything magically synced up. I felt like I couldn’t do wrong.
Ideas were flowing.
Each one seemed better than the next.
I pushed myself into uncomfortable dark corners only to find the light.
I didn't try.
It just happened.

It was all came so easy, I actually thought to myself that maybe I’d broken through and it was going to be like this from now on.

Right.

There It Goes

Of course you know where I’m going with this.
I got to my studio last night, and couldn’t get there.
Everything felt forced.
It was a grind.
Every idea seemed worse than the last.
That sweet flow from the previous days disappeared over night.
The well went dry.

I know that many artists, no matter how brilliant or famous they are, even Picasso, have all struggled with this.

“Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.”-Pablo Picasso

The Impressionists considered themselves craftsmen.
More like brick layers than how we commonly view artists these days, living eccentric lives waiting for lightning to strike.
Inspired or not, they kept painting.

So the big questions are, how can so much change over night?
And is there a way to stay in the creative flow and not have this happen at all?

Seducing the Muse - Myths, Legends and Techniques

Once again, I’m reminded that the lessons I learn in my creative life are exactly the same and perfectly applicable to the rest of my life.
This whole dance is about desire and flow.

After 30+ years as a creative, as well as being a person who generally tries to be conscious of myself and the world around me, I’ve developed a list of myths and techniques I try to remind myself when I get frustrated and can’t find that creative flow.
And I’ve found these apply to anything and everything I really want in life.

This is the box of tools I pulled out this week to navigate me through.

Myths - What I Tell Myself vs. The Reality

Myth #1 - It’s My Fault
There is no reason why things shouldn’t flow all the time.  There is nothing different about today than yesterday.  If it’s not flowing, I’m doing something wrong.  It’s my fault.  Maybe I’m not as talented or smart as I thought I was.

There are two elements to my response:

1. Today IS different.
   Every day is different.
   I am different.
   The entire Universe is different. 

2. What if there is a reason the creative flow pulls back sometimes?
   What if it is by design and actually part of the life process?
   When it comes to creativity or problem solving, I believe the subconscious needs time to work on things behind the scenes.
   It needs to know the boundaries and sticking points of any given situation.
   This narrows and focuses its scope.
   Then seemingly like magic, a solution appears while we’re in the shower one day or out for a walk.
   And the flow turns back on.
   That’s not an accident.
   There are numerous studies of the brain which support this idea.

Myth #2 - I’m the Only One
It seems easy for everyone else.  Why not me?  If I’m struggling, there must be some shortcoming, void or lack of something that is causing it.

Simply not true.
Some of the greatest geniuses in recorded history struggled with problems.
Isaac Newton.
Albert Einstein.
Pablo Picasso.
Read their bios.
They pulled their hair out for months before the breakthroughs came.

Myth #3 - Gone Forever
The juice will never turn back on.  That was it.  The good days are over, never to return.

This is ridiculous and hilarious.
Neurotic gibberish.
Sometimes the things I tell myself sound credible and real in my head until I say them out loud.
Someone suggested to me once to write down everything I said to myself in a notebook for one day.
It completely blew my mind.
The voice in my head is crazy. Literally.

Myths Dispelled, Getting Back Into the Creative Flow

Phew
Ok, now with those myths out of the way, the door opens for me to apply any or all of the following 7 techniques to get me back on track as soon as possible.

#1 - Keep Going
Stay with it.No matter what.
Take a step away if needed, then come back.
Consistency is key.
This goes so much further and deeper than the artistic process.
Anything I want in my life requires consistent application of pressure.
I need to make time every day to work in my studio.
I need to make space everyday for something good to happen.
Picasso’s advice is perfect here.

I’m not an old man (yet), but I’ve been alive long enough to see patterns in myself and life.
The number one thing required to get back into a creative flow is forward movement.
Keep going. No matter what. Personally, emotionally, physically.
When I do this, the flow always returns

#2 - Don’t Overthink It
This isn’t always so easy.
My logical left brain thinks it’s the resident genius in my head and can figure anything out.
In reality, it’s just an order taker.
A worker bee.
It’s great at lining up tasks in a logical order and completing them.
Higher level solutions, real connections with people, and any truly revolutionary idea I’ve ever had has come like a bolt of lightning.
That’s all right brain.
So I don’t need to lay out a series of logical, rational things to do.
Can’t be done.
If things get sticky, I try approaching from a different angle.
Or I work on something else to cleanse my mental and emotional palettes.

#3 - Intention
I need to let my subconscious know what I want it to work on.
If I feed it too many problems at the same time, it will bounce from one to the other. The subconscious works deep. In my experience I’ve found it works best on one thing at a time.
Whether I’m looking for a breakthrough in a career goal, a piece of art, a song, or even a health issue, I check in with myself from time to time during the day to consciously to see if anything bubbles up.

A great way to help with this is to write it down and read it out loud every day.
I know. Cliche. But it works because it keeps my subconscious fresh on the problem so it can wrestle with solutions and opportunities behind the scenes.
I believe that’s part of the reason my first band Kik Tracee got signed to RCA Records.
Our manager had us write down our goal of getting a record deal on a piece of paper, put it next to our beds, and read it every morning.

This week I am keeping my mind on the specific problems I’m addressing in the book I’m writing.
What do the visuals need to communicate coupled with those specific words?
I keep reminding myself to think about it during the day.
Solutions will come.

#4 - Start Small. Break It Down.
Sometimes it’s best to break a bigger situation down to a smaller one.
What is the next step?
Since my goal this week is to finish these images, I’m just working on the next one.
What does this particular page need to say?
Then I will move to the next.
Sometimes bigger solutions require many mini solutions along the way.

#5 - Be Simple. Raw. Primal.
When Apple was at the top of their game, every device or program they built was easy to use.
The code behind it was complicated, but the user experience was not.

If my situation feels too complicated, it probably is.
The best ideas tend to be simple.
And even amidst complicated systems and formulas, more often than not the idea that cracks the code, is a simple one at its base.
This doesn't mean execution is simple. But the concept usually is.

#6 - Don’t Want It Too Much
Ever wanted to be with someone so bad you couldn’t stand it?
And then when you were finally face to face, you were so nervous you could barely speak?
Or you wanted a job so badly you clammed up in the interview and didn’t get it?

Be reckless with ideas.
This is particularly important in the hunt for fresh ones.
Some situations need meticulous attention in the execution stage, but the idea stage needs to be wide open for maximum possibilities.
Revolutionary ideas only come from being bold.

When the dam breaks, life happens.
Stop trying to control it.
I know what I’m doing.
Trust it.
This is how I got caught up this week.
Once I made some work I felt was a breakthrough, my attention shifted and I started trying to make something “as good as that one” rather than something else radical.
I went from trusting the process to being afraid.

There is a spiritual lesson here as well.
If I want something THAT bad, then I am acknowledging subconsciously that I am not complete without it.
It’s hard not to come up with airy fairy metaphors here, but basically we are each like a musical note vibrating in the universe meant to harmonize with each other, rather than a bunch of gaping holes running around looking for corks to plug our leaks.
I have to remember that.
Just as wanting someone so bad is surely the kiss of death, wanting an idea or outcome that bad is a total creative flow killer.

#7 - Get Angry. Burn the Kingdom. Start an Internal Revolution.
Sometimes I just have to say f#$k it.
Anger can be positive here.
I have to get angry at the voices in my head telling me who I am or am not.
And what I can or can’t do.
I have to rebel against what I’ve done before or who I “think” I am.
Literally say “f#$k you” to that part of myself.
I know it sounds intense and harsh, but our protective walls are strong.
Sometimes they are so strong, only an act of aggression can bring them down.

Because who’s to say what I can or can’t do?
Or who I am or am not?
And where my creative or personal limits or boundaries are?
Have you ever surprised yourself?
Why cut that possibility off?
This is how I became a singer years ago.
And a songwriter.
And an artist.
And pretty much every other creative or personal breakthrough I’ve ever had, like the one this week?
Why can’t I put a giant rectangle on a page to illustrate someone’s head?

It Worked. Again.

The day after I wrote the bulk of this post, the faucet came back on and I made some real progress.
Sometimes I stumble into the creative flow and other times I have to fight for it.
But pointed perseverance always wins.
It doesn’t necessarily make broken days like yesterday much easier, but it does help to remember..
The downs are an important part of the process.
The ups can’t happen without them.
And ups feel good.
Really good.
They’re worth waiting for.

A Whirlwind of Hmmm...

The Waitress, Florence - UV cured ink, acrylic on bi-level plexiglass

I’ve always got a thousand things to think about
Each pushing the next one out of the way
Posturing to get to the front of the line
Surging
Waving
Holding up signs
Like a mob
Me
No, ME
Now
NOW
Every one seems so important
Until I think a little more
Then I’m not so sure
Urgency is overrated
If you sound an alarm day and night
Eventually the brain will decide it’s background noise
And stop paying attention
This isn’t an excuse
It’s biology
Always so much coming at me
So little going with me
Even when everything is simple
It’s complicated
In spite of myself
I’ve always been the optimistic type
Launching myself at tomorrow
Like a circus performer
Shot from a cannon
Pointed
Determined
With purpose
And direction
Unfortunately
Determination alone
Doesn’t build nets
And yet still…
Here I am
Don’t mind the bloody face and the bruised ribs
They’re just collateral damage
From a series of ill advised landings
A few belly flops on the pavement will do that to you
I’m otherwise the same
Same body
Same life
Same spirit
I do have to say though
That something is different
Hard to put my finger on
It’s like I’m in the same game
But the rules have changed
They are now only suggestions
That aren’t always right
Maybe I’m wiser
Maybe
Hopefully
At least a little
I hear people talk
About how they wish they could be young again
I think they’re crazy
I wouldn’t trade a few pains, aches and wrinkles
For what I have now
Age matters
If you use it

I didn’t ask enough questions in school
I didn’t like the attention
I was shy and thought I’d be tipping my hand
At how little I knew
That’s why I wanted to be famous
Shooting myself at the starsI saw myself at the bottom
And I wanted a shortcut to the top
The problem was
Climbing that ladder
I could never tell
How far I had to fall
And how much higher I’d have to climb
The day I hopped off
Was one of the best of my life
I’m not so shy anymore
I ask the Universe a million questions every day
Now what?
Where to next?
How am I going to do this?
Is this it?
What if this is it?
Best I usually get back is
A giant cosmic shrug
A whirlwind of hmmm…..
But what if that’s it?
Sure, I get a lightning bolt from time to time
Where I can cry at the sight of a cloud
Or a voice climbs up from somewhere inside
And says “you’re going to be alright”
And I know it’s the truth
But the other 99.9% of the time
Is spent in between the revelations
Left to my own devices
Fending for myself
In that whirlwind of hmmm…..
The thing is, I see it now
That’s the magic
Anything is possible
At any moment
And the stakes are high
Any decision could cost me my life
But that same decision
Could MAKE me my life
I mean, C’mon
It’s horrible
And fantastic
Right?

The Future's So Bright, I Can't See

Leave It Alone / rear view mirror / spray paint / barbed wire

Art = Life

It always amazes me how much my art process is a direct reflection of the rest of my life. The same principles that move my art forward, move my life forward.  And vice versa.  I still believe my best work is in front of me, and I still believe my best life is in front of me.
The funny thing is, it doesn’t even matter if I’m right or wrong.  It’s survival because the day I stop believing it, my days as an artist are over.
Sure, I could keep making stuff, but it wouldn’t be the same.  
I’d just be endlessly recycling what I’ve already done, or floating in the abyss with no direction. The purpose and meaning behind it all would be gone. Even if I wasn’t consciously aware of it, I would feel it. Which means you would feel it too.
The magic of creativity is in the process of what’s going on right now…today…and what’s coming next. Because that’s the fun. That’s the excitement. That’s the best time. It’s jumping into the unknown and seeing what comes out.
Have you ever bought a new car and your old one immediately looked ancient? And you couldn’t believe you drove it for so long? Or you got a new hairstyle and suddenly the picture your friend took yesterday looked like it was from two years ago? Or how about when smartphones came out? Didn’t flip phones look like they came from the dark ages over night?
New ideas are ruthless. They eat their parents.

Running on Empty

After my first art show, I sold a bunch of my best work. I was really excited until I got back to my studio and realized I only had B level work left.
At that moment, I had two options:
1) Try to make more work that was like the stuff everyone liked and responded to
or
2) Let it all go, follow the muse, and see what’s next.
I worked hard getting ready for that show. I had stretched myself to my absolute creative limit. I wasn’t sure what else I had in me. It was kind of scary. After twenty years as a professional musician, I’d suddenly decided to shift my focus to visual work. How was I going to build a life around this? How was I going to beat or even match what I’d done? That was a lot of eggs in a new basket.
I knew I had to find a way. There was no going back.
I had always fantasized about being a visual artist and I knew this was a turning point in my life. I loved museums and galleries growing up and was obsessed with the Impressionists. But I had no talent, and my path as a musician was working out. So I always figured music was my lot. Maybe in another life.
Now I was going against the tides of life.
Or was I going with them?

Get Uncomfortable. Push Forward.

I allowed myself my mini freak out, and I got to work.
I knew I had to make new works that were even better. I had to outdo what I had done.
I started experimenting with new ideas. What else could I do? What else could I try?
Many of my ideas seemed revolutionary and looked great in my head, but when I tried to translate them into the real world, they were light, amateurish and awful.
I tried relying more on the painting and less on photography. I went into uncomfortable spaces. I glued cigarette butts and candy wrappers to free standing doors. I crumpled paper in boxes and laid printed plexiglass over the top. Some worked, some didn’t.
Ideas almost never come out exactly like I envision. But I’m glad they don’t. If the idea was the best expression and the end-all, I could just sit and think all day. Every idea deserves its chance. And the best ideas need to be brought into the physical world. This is how we communicate, share ourselves, connect and ultimately move life into the future.
Pushing forward isn’t easy. And things can go horribly wrong. In fact, for me they usually do. But I always try to remember…if it’s terrible, it’s just a path to the next thing.

Lessons from Tech

Entrepreneurs and tech giants talk a lot about failing and how valuable it is. It’s where they learn what not to do, and lose the fear of failing. This makes them more bold in decision making.
It’s the same in art or any creative endeavor. In fact most artists will tell you that there are hundreds of failed ideas, brush strokes, words or notes buried in every piece of finished art. My work is no different. My life is no different. They are burial grounds for mistakes and experiments covered by new ideas that stemmed from the mental carnage.
I don’t like to be romantic about the past. When I get nostalgic, I’m not necessarily remembering accurately. It’s dangerous for an artist. It’s dangerous for everyone, and our society as a whole. I’m inspired by people who keep going no matter what. Even when there is apparently no hope or good reason to do so.

Time Will Tell

Quality does not always equal sales. Quality does not always equal acceptance.
Vincent Van Gogh gave a painting to his doctor for payment, who used it to patch his chicken coop.
Elizabeth Gilbert wrote her book Eat, Pray, Love which sold millions. In her TED talk, she says she had to come to realization that her most commercially successful work was probably behind her. But it didn’t mean her best work was. She found a way to keep going. She loves to write.
Then there’s Bob Dylan. Sure, we could say his best work was decades ago. But he presses on. He still makes new albums. He reinterprets the hits live to the point that people get upset.
He doesn’t look back. And love him or hate him, I respect him for it.
He’s an artist.
And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.
I like to look forward. And I’m not afraid to make yesterday look old and outdated, because that’s what happens. As soon as a new idea comes, the best from yesterday doesn’t look so great anymore. It’s one of the most satisfying things about being an artist…making old ideas look old. 

Delicate Badass (lessons from a flower)

Delicate Badass / 27" x 27" / Photomontage and acrylic on saw blade

I keep thinking if I keep thinking
I’ll figure it out
If I think long enough
Hard enough
Deep enough
I’ll get the answer
But no matter how many thoughts I think
It keeps changing
Until I don’t even know what “it” is anymore
My life is unfigureable
Earth ain't for the faint of heart
You gotta flow with it
Or it’ll fight you to the death
And it's not a fair fight
Think about it
Who's gonna lose?
I’ll give you a hint…Not life
The most delicate flower is still a badass
It sucks food from roots
Stares at the sun
And basks in it
It wrestles the wind
And drinks rain
It even looks good old
And dies without apologizing
There’s a lot to learn from a flower.
You can’t not be beautiful
It’s what you are

The Tao of Motley Crue

I Can Almost Remember / 16" x 9" / Wood blocks

Going Back to Re-Find the Way

This past summer was the most difficult time I can remember in the past two decades. My family, my wife and my work all needed my extra attention during extenuating circumstances, and I hit my breaking point. So last night when I had to drive across town for an appointment, the idea of sitting in LA traffic on the freeway alone for an hour was actually kind of appealing. A quiet respite from the chaos.
I decided to put on some music and let my mind drift. What to listen to? Hmmm….how about some old 80’s rock? I hadn’t listened to any of that in years. The elixir of my youth! Perfect.
The first band to cross my mind was Dokken. Then Ratt. If you don’t remember them, they both sold millions at the time, but have faded over the years. The music sounded pretty dated, but I smiled. So many memories growing up on the Sunset Strip seeing these bands before they became global superstars.
Then I put on Motley Crue. The first album. Too Fast for Love.
And it happened.

From the opening riff of of the first track, “Live Wire,” I was instantaneously transported back to 1982. It sounded just as fresh and raw as I remembered.
That specific and electric combination of angst and freedom only accessible to maladjusted 14 year olds shot through my veins. I remembered how it felt to say "f*@k it all." I was done playing by my parents’ rules. School’s rules. Everybody’s rules. Music was everything to me. My savior. Friend. Confidant. Hero.
Listening to that album last night not only reconnected me to that old sense of teenage discomfort, but my desires. My dreams. My ambition. I remembered that sense of having something to say that was so important to me, my life hinged on it. I knew there was something I had to do. I had a purpose.
That crazy "f*@k it all" energy came right back to me. It can be destructive, but there is also cosmic wisdom in it. Sometimes the best way to take a wall down is to blow it to smithereens (I know...the subject of walls is big in the news these days. Sometimes it's best to blow up a wall before it's even built).

It's good to get old.

Being an adult is great. I am bascially free. If I want to go somewhere, I go. I wouldn’t want to go back to childhood even if I could. But if we’re not careful, obligations and responsibilities can suffocate that soul fire. It has to be tended and looked after. It needs oxygen.
I fanned a few flames last night and it felt good. Really good. If there are any flames you can fan, I highly recommend it. 

Leonardo DaVinci and H.B. Reese - A Recipe for Genius

art genius - leonardo da vinci's house at Château du Clos Lucé

What do Leonardo Da Vinci and H.B. Reese, inventor of the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, have in common?
They both took existing objects, technologies and ideas and used them in new ways.
Original. Genius.
I went to Amboise, France some years ago and visited Clos Lucé where Leonardo Da Vinci passed away. I was so moved by the experience, I took my wife back there a few years later to show her the place.
The entire garden and basement of the house are dedicated to his inventions, including models and drawings. There is one idea after the next, all decades or centuries before their time. Everything was forward thinking. Cars, airplanes, helicopters. Steam boats.
What struck me that day at DaVinci’s house though, over and above his genius foresight, was the means by which he proposed to create many of his machines. He mostly used technology and processes which already existed at the time.
He made diagrams of pulleys and wheels with belts to generate leverage for movement in his car. In his pursuit of human flight, he designed wings modeled after birds. And he proposed using manpower to propel his precursor to the military tank.|
All of these foundational elements of his ideas already existed. DaVinci gave them new purpose.
The genius was in his vision. His application of the ideas. Not necessarily the execution.

Enter the peanut butter cup.

If you’re old enough to remember the 1970’s, you may remember the TV commercials which introduced the world to Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. One person is walking with a chocolate bar, while another is going the opposite direction holding an open jar of peanut butter. One inevitably trips over something and the chocolate bar lands in the peanut butter.
After a furious exchange, for some inexplicable reason they each decide to take a bite. Delicious!
Today peanut butter cups are at almost every checkout counter of every market. Millions of people eat them every day. And love them.
Peanut butter and chocolate both existed. H.B. Reese had to the idea put them together.
How can I compare the impact of peanut butter cups to the precursor of airplanes and cars?
Exactly my point.
The idea of repurposing what already exists affects us at every level in every facet of our lives…from simple pleasures, to philosophy, to art and technology.
No matter how revolutionary an idea is or not, every breakthrough in some way is built upon ideas that came before. Who invented the wheel that DaVinci used as a pulley to mechanize his machines? Who was the first person to crush peanuts into a saucy paste?
What about other simple inventions like the paper plate? The paper clip?Or more complex breakthroughs…the personal computer. Satellites. Smartphones.
Or in art. Warhol. Van Gogh.
Music. Frank Ocean. The Beatles.
There is a difference between simply polishing and rehashing what came before, and a truly new idea that lasts over time.
We hear it. We feel it. We know it. But what is it?

I think about this stuff a lot.

It’s HOW they are put together, and WHO put them together.
It’s the process of ingesting something, being affected by it, and then responding to it. By injecting ourselves into the process, it alters the output.
DaVinci thought about the future. He thought about why things were the way they were and where they might be going. It was part of his art. How could he make a great painting which accurately reflected his subjects in the world if he didn’t understand the context of his own life?
I read once that DaVinci expressed regret before he passed away that he didn’t spend more time painting. He felt like he wasted his gift spending too much time on philosophy and inventions. Even if he wasn’t fully conscious of it at the time, I get it. He couldn’t have put that kind of soul into his paintings without all of the thinking.
I don’t know about H.B. Reese’s motivation. I do know he was a candy maker before he invented the peanut butter cup. He had a workshop in his basement where he experimented with new combinations of candies. His biography reads like a poor Willie Wonka. He had the passion. He was an inventor. And he had sixteen children to feed (yes, he had sixteen children!).
As an artist, I know when I ingest an idea...allow it to affect me, and mix it with my own personal subconscious mind...my unique experience on this planet, it comes out different.
It doesn’t guarantee greatness or that it’ll resonate, but it does guarantee that its fresh.
That’s the magic sauce. Our personal filter. Our interpretation.
We are all originals. No two minds or bodies are the same. Even identical twins have differences.
No one has our particular life experience. Our particular perspective. There is no exact equivalent to any one person on this planet. So as soon as we bring a unique combination of ideas together, and insert something of ourselves into it, it’s going to be new. Original. It can’t miss.
Sometimes ideas are so far ahead of their time they make people uncomfortable and don’t get traction. Most of DaVinci’s inventions never saw the light of day until hundreds of years later when technology caught up to him.
H.B. Reese had multiple setbacks and years inventing candy before the peanut butter cup.
I bet right now you can think of multiple success stories you’ve heard where peoples' ideas were continually mocked or rejected…until one day, a door opened.
The best ideas…the ones that really change the world on some level, are not always the money makers. At least at first. But we still need them. Without new ideas, we can’t move forward. Our civilization won’t make it.It’s that important.

New problems require new solutions.

We have to keep creating. We have to keep pushing limits. We have to try to see things from different perspectives. We have to continually challenge our own beliefs, accepted ideas and the functionality of things.
The great news is, when we insert an element of ourselves into the process, it feels good.
It’s not easy. It can be uncomfortable. And it certainly isn’t the safe route.
But when did playing it safe get us anywhere? It’s bold leaders who inspire us. It’s bold products, stories and artistic endeavors that excite us and make us feel alive.
Have you ever had a decision to make, chosen the safe route and felt electrified by life afterward?
I haven’t.
I think it’s the Universe’s way of telling us to go there.

How To Be Smart

contemporary digital collage with horseshoe

I thought I knew.
I had a friend of a friend once who worked with President Bill Clinton.
He said, “the President was usually the smartest person in the room. And if he wasn’t, he always knew who was.”
That still sticks with me.
Smart is a loaded word.
She gets good grades. She must be smart. He runs a successful business. He must be smart.
Both are technically true. It seems so simple…
But there are all kinds of smart.
Street smart.
Book smart.
Emotional smart.
Intuitive smart.
Political smart.
Evil smart.
Cunning smart.
Motivational smart.
Clever smart.
Someone can be smart at one thing and totally clueless in another. In fact some of the “smartest" people I know, are oblivious in other areas of their life.
I’m no exception.
I was desperate and needed work.
I couldn’t stand my job so I quit. It wasn’t so much the job. My life was going nowhere, I felt like a failure, and I was afraid I’d never be anything else. Nothing in my life was working.
But instead of facing all that, because really...who would want to? I blamed the job. It was easier. I thought maybe if I shook things up, I’d sprout wings and fly.
Next time I leap to grow wings, I’m bringing blueprints. Just in case.
It was the mid-90’s and computers were just coming on the scene. I bought some books and tried to learn Photoshop and HTML code thinking I could make websites for money. Over the next few months, I got moderately proficient at both, but I couldn’t find any work.
Things got messy at home. My bank account balance dwindled and my girlfriend started paying the rent.  We didn’t get along all that well to begin with, which is a whole other story, but she was a good sport and tried to be supportive.
Unfortunately, for a slew of reasons, most of which are well documented in University Psychology Department textbooks all over the world, the situation at home continued to deteriorate.
I interviewed at Starbucks just hoping to find some work. My options were limited, but I needed to relieve the tension at home.
Then one night I met my good friend Jeff for dinner. I think he took pity on me. He said he owned a computer consulting company and asked if I’d want to stop by his office to see if there was anything I could do. I had a second interview scheduled at Starbucks the next day, but I postponed it to go check it out. What did I have to lose?
It was a nice little building in Santa Monica with no art on the walls and a couple empty offices. I don’t know how long the company had been there, but it was the office equivalent of a bachelor pad. It looked like someone just moved in. Computers on desks and a hallway.
It easily could’ve been the most depressing place on earth. Most corporate offices I’d been in were exactly that…hellish cubicle-ridden boxes of slow death. But in Jeff’s office everyone was smiling. They all seemed relaxed and genuinely happy to be there. And so was I.
They asked me to fix a network printer and I miraculously got it to work. To this day I still have no idea how I did it. I didn’t even know what a network was. I turned the printer on and off, clicked around in the control panel for a few minutes and then it magically started printing.It was either dumb luck or divine intervention. Both explanations are equally plausible.In spite of my utter ignorance of networking computers and how they functioned, Jeff asked me to come back. Then he offered me a job. Jeff and his partners were the kind of people who believed in people and took chances. A rare breed. That quality is even more rare today. I’m grateful they took a chance on me.
Before long they trained me as a programmer. Then the guy who trained me left, and I became Senior Programmer. As Y2K approached, the company expanded and hired new people. That’s when I met Doug.
Doug was brought in to work on the software interface we were installing at client sites. He was always quitting coffee. He’d swear it off for a couple weeks, then inevitably one day I’d come in and he’d have a Venti from Starbucks sitting on his desk with bloodshot eyes. He had been up half the night working. Again.
I’d say something like “Off the wagon again?
”He’d glance over, “Yeah, it didn’t work out too well.”
Doug could figure out anything. No matter what strange request came from a client, he was always working miracles from the server room. He was a genius.
I’d ask him questions about his solutions, and he’d explain them. Most of his explanations were over my head. How does he figure all this stuff out? Doug didn't have a high degree from a school or anything. He just loved it.
Whenever I hit a wall with a project I was working on, I’d go ask Doug for help. He always had a lighthearted, calm response, and would either give me a suggestion or flat out tell me what to do.
Finally one day I asked him…”how do you know all this?”
His answer?“
I don’t.”
“Huh?”
I sat down and he proceeded to show me all of the books he had in the office, as well as a whole series of websites, forums and previously written code by other people he regularly consulted.
When Doug didn’t know the answer. He knew where to look. He knew who the smartest people in the room were.
I realized in that moment that I didn’t have to have the answers at work or in my life. I didn’t have to know what to do. I just had to know where to look. It was the only skill I’d ever need.
Was I "smart" to quit my job? By most definitions of the word, no. And yet, somehow in sitting home teaching myself some basic computer skills, it was JUST enough to completely alter the trajectory of my life.
I try not to confuse “smart” with “wisdom” anymore. Our lives are some sort of bizarre balancing dance between free will and incomprehensible cosmic forces. The alchemy of which baffles me.
I’d rather be wise than smart. Wisdom wins in the long run every time.
As I get older and my bucket of experiences is filling up, I see things from a bigger perspective. I’m learning more about that dance.
Do I consider myself smart?
If smart means knowing all the answers, then, no. I don't consider myself particularly smart at most things.
But I think knowing where to look is a smarter play. Because then there is always a path up and forward.
I try to say open. Be aware…and be willing to be wrong. Because sometimes wrong turns out alright.
I think it’s smart to remember that.

My Clamshell Addidas: RIP 2009 - 2016

Inspiration to embrace the past and move forward

You will be missed.
The Sneaker Eulogy

My black clamshell Adidas, made in Indonesia and purchased during one of the greatest summers of my life, passed into the great unknown on October 16th. They had a good life and I will be forever grateful for their friendship and service.
They began their life tied to my feet in Western Europe during a once in a lifetime adventure I will never forget. Later, they became my “go to” sneakers while living in Northern California.
As they aged, they persevered. Even after the bottoms had worn off and I could no longer wade through a puddle without getting my socks wet, they soldiered on and graduated into my studio work shoes.
I loved them. And I truly believe they loved me. Comfortable and sturdy. I will miss them dearly. I cannot imagine another pair of sneakers ever taking their place.
We first met not longer after I put all my belongings in storage and moved to Madrid for the summer in 2009. My leather Jack Purcells could not make the trip and expired within days upon my arrival.
Then, in trying to impress a Spanish girl I met, I made an ill advised purchase of some patent leather sneakers at a funky mall. The hipster shoes were a debacle. In a matter of days, I had blisters all over my feet and was limping around town.
All I wanted to do was walk. Experience. Explore. I couldn’t stop.In a desperate plea, I scoured touristy Calle Mayor for a new pair. I was no longer concerned about style or looking cool. I just needed SOMETHING I could walk in. I found a random shoe store, basically a Spanish version of Foot Locker but smaller, and took a look around. Options were limited.Nothing jumped off the shelf, but one pair did quietly catch my eye. Adidas. Clamshell toe. I’m not normally an Adidas guy and the classic clams didn’t sit right with me. I'm not a rapper and, right or wrong, that's how I always associated them.
But these were a little different. White toe. Black bodies. And instead of  three big white stripes, they had clear plastic stripes. They were understated in a way, and I liked that. I didn’t need to make a statement. I just wanted to walk without falling over. I managed to mumble “diez?” And with some wild hand motions was able to communicate to the clerk that I wanted to try on a pair. Size 10.
I’m used to wearing Converse with less support. These hugged my foot. They had big arches. They weren’t uncomfortable, but different. I kept staring at the clamshell toe. Could I pull this off? My feet were pretty raw, but I felt like I could probably walk in them. I figured I’d give it a shot. I put the patent leather clunkers in the box and wore these right out of the store. My feet immediately relaxed and the healing process began. In a matter of days, I didn’t have to think about my blisters anymore and was able to focus on my surroundings.
I rented a flat in Madrid. I did mile upon mile of walking for months, experiencing ancient beautiful sites for the first time. I made awful paintings in my room (I was new to painting.)
I met new friends. I had a magical experience at Leonardo da Vinci’s house in Amboise, France. There were train rides. Airports. A life changing epiphany in Nice. All with these shoes on my feet.I got dehydrated during the Spanish summer and began having heart palpitations. I was scared and alone in the south of France. My shoes were there.I visited Renoir’s house. Then there was the night I had a few drinks and got lost in the streets of Barcelona…with these shoes on my feet.
After I got back to the US, I took long walks in the woods in Nevada City, CA. I went on a first date with the woman who is now my wife. I made most of the art for my first solo show in 2010, and pretty much all my art since. It’s been six years of massive changes in my life…and my clamshell Adidas were with me the whole way.
I tried to give them a good life. I don’t miss most shoes when their days are done. I don’t get weepy every time I buy a new shirt and donate an older one.
But in rare cases, there are memories. Adventures. Epiphanies. And these shoes represent my connection to those moments. Not so easy to let go.
I feel a little empty. And sad. Perhaps I’m caught up in an overly romantic tale I’m telling myself. But I don’t care.
I’m losing romance in my life. I feel the pull to become less excitable. Less interested. To be more numb. Because it really is all too much.
I don't want to lose the magic thought just because I have more shit to do and the news sucks. Or because things haven’t turned out how I imagined they would when I was 25.
“Reality" is overrated. As much as realism is important in life, I’m learning more and more as I get older that “real" is just truth. And truth can fly in the face of reason. It doesn’t have to be logical. Or rational. It doesn’t have to make sense. It doesn’t have to be practical. Real truth is emotional. It hits at the core. It's the absolute magic of life. That which makes everything else worth doing and living for.
For me, these shoes are a physical connection to past moments when the veil was lifted and I felt alive. Really alive.I read recently that happiness is an act of defiance in this world.
Then I saw this:
“I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell, but just coming to the end of his triumph.” - Jack Gilbert
I want more triumphs in my life.
I will have more triumphs in my life.
And some have come to an end.