THE DAY I STOPPED PAINTING
It had been years since I painted or had the desire to. My passion for this medium had waned at a most consistent and silent rate. On this particular night, I don't even remember the time of year, depression had taken such a toll, I felt like I was existing in a world of blurry shades of gray.
One night I woke up startled by a dream. Sweating and confused, I tried to make sense of what I dreamt. This dream was so real, so vivid and full of color.
Waking up suddenly me back to reality. I felt like I had left that which was most real, most beautiful and re-entered my very gray, sad world. Sitting up on the bed, my mind raced as I tried to recall what art supplies I had at my disposal. I had it all—canvas, brushes and acrylic paint—unused and sitting in a box for years. By this time, it must have been two or three in the morning and although I hadn’t painted in years, I knew I had to paint this most beautiful thing. Within ten minutes of waking, everything I needed was set up. My frantic desire to capture my dream cancelled out all my years of painting fear, anxiety and timidity. I squeezed some colors onto the palette (surprisingly most of the paint was still usable) and began to mix the paint. Mixing paint to get desired colors was something I was good at and had done regularly and effortlessly in my youth. On this night, however, no matter what colors I mixed to apply, my brushstrokes produced nothing but streaks of “mud” on the canvas. I tried again and again. Fresh paint mixed in the correct proportions. And over and over again, mud. A fear I have never known seized me. Staring at the canvas in horror, I stumbled backwards. Using the tail end of the paintbrush, I stabbed the canvas, filling it with holes, and began to cry with rage. This moment confirmed what I feared all along: I could no longer paint.
(Written in 2010, this account took place sometime between the years 1998-1999)
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BARNES & NOBLE
For many years I was barely able to support myself through my craft. I simply existed. Years of isolation from people came at a high price. Even though I saw constant improvement artistically by using the computer, a lifetime of isolation did not allow me to develop the social skills needed to be an effective business person. This coupled with the constant fogginess of depression; I would become irritated quite easily.
I remember on ne particular week, I received three art commissions only to have each canceled for one reason or another. I remember needing the money so badly. Looking up at the sky for signs of God, I was filled with anger, “God, what is this? What kind of curse is this?”
If this weren’t bad enough, I had a growing urge to learn more. I went to Barnes & Noble two maybe three times a week and devoured stacks of books. Books on graphic design, illustration, cartooning, children’s illustrations, and so on. With an insatiable appetite for learning, an emerging ability and yet no way to profit from it; nothing made sense. I was so angry at God because many days it felt like He had played the cruelest joke on me.
Despite the many times, over the many years that I engaged in this book devouring routine at Barnes & Noble, on rare occasion I could afford a single book. Even if I was able to purchase a book, chances were that I would have to return it the next week to get my money back. God’s mercy was how I survived from week-to-week.
(Written in 2010, this accounted for the years 2006-2010)
I’ve seen the works of some artists that have struggled with depression; these artworks would be dark and morbid even. The way that depression affected my creation of artwork was (for the most part) not the creation of dark images, but rather, not having the desire to create anything at all. And in those rare instances when I did want to create, I would then be paralyzed by fear and anxiety.
About 18 months ago, a Michael’s arts and crafts store was opened a couple of blocks away from where I live. When it did I was so happy I probably did the Carlton dance (from Fresh Prince of Bell Air) lol… ‘God, you’ve sent me a store!” is what I would say. For months, sometimes as many as three times a week, I would go there and just walk around, hold the canvasses, examine the tubes of paint, touch the charcoal pencils etc. and then leave. I did not purchase anything for quite some time; I was not ready for that yet. My visits to the store then went from browsing to purchasing supplies, a couple sketch pads on this day, some charcoal sticks on that day and this pattern too went on for a few months. I was simply stockpiling supplies; still hadn’t built up the courage to use them. Over the summer (summer of 2010) I was now ready to push to the next step, to draw. I AM GOING TO DEFEAT THIS THING!! I was determined. Living half a block from Central Park has also been a blessing. On the days I decided to draw I would take my equipment; a fold out chair, drawing board, pad, and art bin of drawing supplies and set out to find the perfect spot. The artworks below are the ones that survived not being thrown in the trash (after some frustrating days).
The account of their creations are written beneath each piece followed by the writing of “that strangest thing” that happened.
Baseball Game
During my occasional strolls through the park, I discovered a huge opening with several baseball diamonds in it. Off to one end, there was a little hill with shading trees that gave a great panoramic view of the area. The day that I set out to do this drawing, I knew ahead of time that was where I was going to set up. Some guys were playing baseball so I decided to capture that. This drawing is actually my second attempt at this scene. The first on was destroyed by a small dark-staining berry, falling from the sky and splatting unto the paper. I had to thank Mr. Squirrel for that, he frolicked in one of the shading trees, two stories above and decided it would be fun to pelt me with these berries. I started this drawing hoping that he would eventually stop, it was amusing at first, but, the occasional pat…pat..sounds of falling berries around me, soon had me wanting to draw a sling-shot………I can almost assure you that no animals were harmed in the making of this drawing.
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Cutting through the park
This is one of the roads that cut through Central Park. This scene is a view looking down on the 98th street exit from a hill inside the park. There were cars and buses driving by but I chose to leave those out. I battled hard against the cloudy, drowsy and foggy feeling and eventually gave in. I did not finish the upper left-hand corner.
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Feeling Sleepy
Not much of a drawing session took place here; I took way too long to finally settle in an area. I kept drawing "a blank" nothing was coming to me. I started drawing the trunk of a tree and quickly aborted that idea, I then started sketching a stream that was abandoned too, eventually I settled on a profile that expressed how I felt. That took about thirty seconds; a message was then scribbled at the bottom to end the session. I guess I was also too sleepy to correctly spell the word sleepy.
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Lazarus
Another frustrating evening, the name Lazarus came to mind, I drew this quickly probably with the least amount of thought given to any drawing I had previously done. Lazarus summed up my plight. I drew him waking, hoping it would happen to me as well. The drawing is a little odd, but appealing at the same time. I like it.
