The Family Finances

IMG_6674

Internal thoughts have a way of surfacing, lingering, and then diving to the nadar of my existence, only to break through my encephalon, carrying crayons. I must have a window to spend time staring out of. It creates a division of mental gymnastics, pulling thread through my thoughts and gluing glitter across the nature on the other side of the pain.  Continue reading The Family Finances

The Fearless Fish

18301566_10212673537054924_7588537769493360374_n

Every year on our island, we have a festival celebrating shrimp. Our town, Fernandina Beach, Florida, is the birthplace of the industry, in the United States.
I remember the first shrimp boat race that I went to. It’s many years in the past, but I  vividly recall the sun on the water, and the people on the dock. We were spectators to a highly, unusual event. Shrimp boats, decorated with colorful flags were “racing” towards us, on the intercostal waterway.
Every one always cheered for the Dixie Queen. It was the pride of the local fleet. Continue reading The Fearless Fish

Cosmic Infinity

k4Although largely forgotten after departing the New York art scene in the early 1970s, Kusama is now acknowledged as one of the most important living artists to come out of Japan, and an important voice of the avant-garde.

Her current show is Infinity Mirrors and it is breathtaking.

On CBS this morning, after a brief discussion, about the artist and her life, the hosts asked the spokesperson for Yayoi, “is she happy.”

My jaw dropped. I am perpetually surprised at the weird world that I live in.

The Creation Story

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAEverybody has one.

I was going through old journals this morning. Hand written. Obviously, back from the days when I use to draw. A long time ago.

Life has changed. People have changed.

Bocas del Toro is no longer the hidden spot that it once was.

I have been re-born 4908 times, since the day I did the skeletal drawing.

Each day a new beginning.

Each day a new creation.

 

Freedom of Speech

Today is Veteran’s Day. And my heart goes out to all who have lost a loved one to war, and a sincere, feeling of gratitude, to all who have returned home.

Earlier I was watching a movie, about war. It had one split second scene, of a soldier’s blood. Two seconds, at the most, and I felt the impact of what that image conveyed. A U.S. soldier’s blood was spilt on foreign soil.

Art and images are powerful and open to interpretation, as are words. Continue reading Freedom of Speech

Page 6

Impermanence and equanimity, is the goal.

However, in the mean time, I’d like to do some stuff.

I am an artist.

I studied figure painting at UNF and earned a B.F.A. After receiving my degree, I chose to surf and surf and surf some more. I moved to Costa Rica, for the waves, not realizing that painting proved logistically impossible.

I’ve always carried a camera and surf photography just naturally evolved as my primary source of creativity.

Art is communication. We see a visual image and we relate on a common level, because of the human experience. People that have never been to the beach love images of surfing. Look what happened after the movie, The Endless Summer. Once land locked teenagers, rode the wave of surf culture, to California, Hawaii, Austrailia, Africa, Mexico . They’re still riding that wave.

Such is art.

Here are some shots of local Fernandina Beach surfers.

IMG_7566Like this one. Surfing on a boogie board. How cool is that?IMG_9193Cathching a little air on a skim board.

My blog and my Secondhand Surfer Page on Facebook are my art. Continue reading Page 6

A Sprinkle of Love

IMG_3674wp

If I tell what is true for me, how will I be judged? Aren’t we suppose to be forever sucking it up? Aren’t we suppose to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and do the next right thing? YES. The answer is yes. But can’t it be possible that sucking it up and pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps could be telling our truth. Rather than acting out, getting drunk, hiding our feelings, hiding our past and acting like it all never happened.

After having been in recovery for many years, twenty-one, I have known many people to kill themselves. I wonder how great their pain must have been. I have felt suicidal, but I have never attempted to kill myself. I want to live. I want to continue to have the long periods of good days that I now experience. I want to enjoy my life. And I will.IMG_3669wp

I know that I will always be plagued by the past. It will always haunt me. How could it be any other way. But it doesn’t have to destroy me. It can get better. I am sure of it. These are the attitudes that he didn’t have. Or maybe he did have. But he sought his freedom in money, whiskey, women and power. He died at fifty four. He looked seventy.

Some would have said that he was a successful and self made man. Unfortunately, I will never be able to share that viewpoint. I am suppose to stick to my story. I can remember the last beating that he gave me. I was sixteen. A friend was there to witness it. I stood there and stared off and tried to not look at my friend. The belt was not a surprise and I was numb to pain. I don’t think I even flinched. I think that is where my story truly begins.Where does one go from there. My life started out shattered and numb.

At sixteen I already was dependent on alcohol. Maybe not physically but certainly psychologically. I had a love affair with drugs and a habit of running away from all of my problems. And every problem that I had was unsolvable and insurmountable. I would try. I would put my best foot forward. I would ask questions and inevitably be confused and confounded by life. People would tell me to do my best and that would be good enough. Nothing would hang me up intellectually, more, than the thought of what is my best.I had Catholic rules and Catholic guilt emblazoned on my brain like a ranch brand. I had family loyalty. All of the don’t do, don’t say, don’t tell. I had secrets of which I had practiced burials. I was shot-out from the beginning.

 I had the iron attitude of, I am going to do things on my own. I am going to find my way. I wanted my own identity. I already had a my own reputation.IMG_3695wp

* A Sprinkle of Love is an excerpt from an old journal.
*The truth will set you free, but first it will make you very nervous.
*I share this for those that I love and those that I don’t know who want to be free.
*There’s nothing to fear in God’s good world.