On being yourself

It seems like today the world is scrambling frantically to survive. Countries, monies, systems in general are upsidedown. That goes for people too. Just look around anywhere and there are more lies that exist today about what is going on than probably any other times in history. As one small person, what can you do? I think your choices are small but that doesn’t mean you should forget about who you are in the big picture.
I was born an artist, from a creative and survivalist family of movers and shakers. Well, kind of. They survived a hell of a lot and tomorrow will be l23 years ago my mom was born. One good thing I realize is that even though her life was extremely difficult she accomplished a lot and left an amazing legacy. Too bad my children never knew any of it but I take a lot of responsibility on that one. I was young and stupid and asleep at the wheel in that territory. I was only trying to survive myself. For her time, she lucked out and died at 65, not having seen any of her kids expire before her.
What this has to do with being yourself is that I’ve learned you really can’t change who you are. You can modify it, you can adapt it to the rules of society so that often means what shape you are in. Physical, mental and emotional states are all reflections of how you are doing. I learned something yesterday and even though I’ve learned it over and over and over again, I still manage to plod on and it often still escapes me. I was born with a mind and body that followed my heritage, my lineage, my general attitude.

I always drew since childhood, pencil in hand and I’ve tried to change who I am through every stage of life. It doesn’t work and it never worked to try to change. The bottom line for me is that I remember mom saying of all her 12 children, I always woke up happy and smiling. The world always looked rosy to me. Every day was a new world with fun things to look forward to. I think of her and respect what she said. I am finally respecting who I am. I have always struggled to be like everybody else and it has never worked. So hopefully as I get older, I will realize that there is a lot of worth of what mom said about me….in one simple sentence.
I am learning the difference between trying to be like everybody and fit in, or trying to follow my own unique path. Looking around the insanity of behaviors I see around me, my sensible side says I don’t give a damn what they are doing, I’m staying on my path. So I’m playing with simple art, fun and cheerful stuff. I like it and believe enough in myself to just offer it up. Here you go world, it is what it is.

storytelling art

I’ll be back….new year 2023

Hey Arnold, yes, I’ll be back. The 4th turning is happening. I never believed in reincarnation until recently. It’s time. All reality aside, I get to see the craziness grow and grow, change and come back as what we are supposed to be. I believe I’ll come back as a sweet, innocent kid because that’s my true nature. I don’t fear the unknown. I welcome it.

storytelling art, Tablet Drawing

Iriel Draws

Here is a wonderful guest for a few days from Durango. She is an artist and has been drawing since she was 3. Her parents save all her drawings. She has a very tiny sketchbook that she always carries with her. It is about 3″x2″ has a cover and a clip to hold a tiny pen. Her drawings tell stories and she even uses words in her art. Today we spent time together and I showed her PS2023 on the Cintique. She caught on quickly and so she drew the girl in steps. The styllus was a little difficult because it’s much bigger than a pencil and she did try the pressure sensitive strokes. difficult. She learned layers and I showed her the bucket tool. So she quickly learned what a closed form is. She decided on the blue background and added some flower shapes with different colors. She is a joy and I hope we can communicate via the internet in the near future. Luv you Iriel.

abstract imagination, Odd Little Stories, patterns

Missing– Found wires from days past

Two years ago or so I gave away a precious collection I had worked hard to acquire. What is so hard about giving away a bunch of old smashed wires you say? When you live in Mexico and walk on cobblestones that are five hundred years old, you have to look down as you carefully put one foot in front of the other. If you don’t, you can fall down. For many of us retired folk, falling can be dangerous, dibilitating and down right dangerous.
I used to do a lot more walking when I first arrived here five years ago. Times have changed. The point is in Mexico people are constantly building. There is construction going on everywhere. Building with concrete, steel, brick and mortar and adobe are a different animal than what I’ve been used to. There is constant pulvo or fine dust that accumulates heavily…everywhere. When did a lot of walking, the combination of looking down yielded a new sort of vocation. I began to collect pieces of wire that had been crushed, run over, rusted and every other transformation. They spoke to me with their weird shapes, sometimes very recognizeable as everyday icons. My little bag accumulated amazing things that became a gateway for my imagination. It made the walking more fun. Sometimes people would stare????
I figured I would do something with them one day. The one day never came. I was too busy to play. What was interesting was that friends would leave me treasures that they found on the streets and alleyways. Thank you. My front table was getting full of weird things people would leave me. I met an artist who was a pretty creative guy. He was struggling to make a buck, get seen and respected. As is my usual life path habit, I sacrificed my treasures to friends. I gave him my collection.
He said thanks and I knew immediately it meant nothing to him. I could see it in the blank look on his face. I had imagined him being very appreciative and creating great additions with these bits of wire to embellish his works. It was my personal opinion and only in my head. I never said it to him directly. Somehow I thought he would jump for joy over this stuff….To me these treasures would give more texture and contrast to his pieces. Mistake. Apparently he didn’t see it.
Now I am missing these silly things. To me they are a symbol of dreams lost. They represent my achievement in bringing myself here, leaving my past behind and trying to build another life. The area that I live in is changing so fast that sometimes I have to pinch myself to realize it really is happening. There is a huge new population of Americans and Canadians living here permanently now. Gentrification isn’t a word strong enough. Since I’ve come here, there is a whole new hospital, pharmacy and health clinics of many kinds. There are now quite a few beautiful modern homes in gated communities as well and beautiful upscale shops and stores. I can’t say if it’s right or wrong, good or bad. As long as it doesn’t destroy this wonderful friendly mixed community, I’m good with it and it’s a good thing. All I know is life is not the same. Some things are easier, some things are harder. I guess it depends on who you are, where you live and what you do. So I’m here now and moving on. All the letting go of my life in the U.S. is done. All the tears have been shed. The goodbyes have all been said. It’s time to ease on the throttle and coast a little in future days. Enjoy every day I tell myself.