Yesterday

Up at 7am after going to bed six hours earlier, feeling good. Proof of God for me is found in a coffee pot. Simple revelation but nonetheless true.

Cold morning walk thought the streets of PGH on my way to a PHOTO WALK. I love these gray skies of Pittsburgh; this city becomes more alive to me everyday. Autumn in this city is brilliant. The colors of fall backlight this town with a glow that is noticeable by walking across the bridges, tree lined hillsides, reflections on the rivers and the urban jungle energy that's all-encompassing to this place.

Started reading a book by a local author, Sherrie Flick “Reconsidering Happiness”, enjoying it…it has a female Kerouac feel to it. This book has description, emotion and a journey to it; it leaves me wanting to travel and to experience small town dinners and tuna fish on wheat bread.

Murakami Tribute (of sorts)

Sunday afternoon, finished reading “Norwegian Wood” by Murakami. This was the last novel of his that I had yet to read. I enjoyed it. Four years ago I was handed “Kafka on the Shore” from a friend of mine that suggested I read this strange piece of fiction. I liked it too. I read the novel over the Christmas holiday, which, at the same time, I happened to be sick. Sitting alone when the rest of the world was celebrating the holiday I read Murakami. I became a fan.

Nowadays I wait for the next work of his to be published. I feel like a Murakami character myself, longing in a quiet existence for the new work to be released.

Prepared a pot of black tea, ate almonds and apple slices waiting for my daughter to wake up. Felt like listening to some music…turned on the ipod, Miles Davis “Kind of Blue”, the phone rang.

Becoming “Indifferent To”

Becoming “indifferent to” without the labor of study - In a life of limitless choices becoming “indifferent to” is a daunting task to avoid without the passion of practice and study. What I love about being a working artist is the work, not the end product.

The function, flow and wakening energy of creating something new is an addiction for most artists. When your art/skill/practice becomes your mistress, a culture of generosity can coexist with the ethics of profit (a.k.a. – making money by doing something you love.) It’s a point of ecstasy and a different reality when you enter this creative point of fulfillment.

Society values consumerism as a substitute for the creative process. It is easy to become “indifferent to” the whatnots that make up our lives. Understanding art, food, education, health and exercise has lost the resonance that drove our culture forward.

To Know My Space

Bold dark coffee, re-mixed acoustic music, a fresh fire-roasted tomato and egg sandwich served on a whole wheat pita and my day begins.

Standing to my left working behind the counter are fiercely artistic independent employees of this local bistro. Like the type of employees that Starbucks used to hire before they became the McDee’s of coffee. Remember them? People with piercing tattoos, cultures of style, their own genre of music and demarcated values, which would shape the next generation of autonomous thought. I sit alone, sip my coffee, and write in my journal, take a bite of my breakfast. I feel inspired from this atmosphere.

This environment in which I sit is what life needs more of. Life, a simple concept, local economy set within local environment. In the truest definition of the word economy: management of one’s household. That is what this bistro represents. A connection to the life that is local to our own humanity.

This blog is read by a global audience (which I ‘m thankful for) but I often wonder how many people in a ten mile radius of where I write will read this rant?

To live a life which a person gets to experience the space of their own, not living a virtual hyper-linking existence. Economy of household, food from local soil, community of culture…this is what I want to become familiar with. To live within the ten mile radius from which I write this. To no longer just transport myself from edge to edge of this city, but to be within society of these ten miles.

To know my space, a simple concept – wisdom is bliss, ignorance is suffering.

Music, Mind & Mosquito Food

Sat outside today at lunch reading a book about how music and the mind work. It is most likely the last time this year that I will get to sit outside and read. I love Indian Summer in Pittsburgh. This is probably the tenth book I have read about music and mind connection. It’s a topic that I wonder why I even read about? Music is a beautiful mystery within itself. Why pursue the answer? The world has already lost enough mystery.

Why do humans create art? Because we cannot stop it from happening. This is what separates us from the rest of earth’s inhabitants. All life can do what we do, which is to survive. Gary Snyder wrote something to the extent that said, “humans were created to entertain the rest of nature”. Speaking solely as mosquito food: that seems to make sense.

Classical photography of autumn

Autumn for photographers is akin to playoffs in football. The energy level is high and expectations are immense. Fly fishing is a truer analogy; the process can be much more rewarding than the catch of the day.

For the past couple of years I have not placed much effort into autumn photography. I have an enthusiasm for nature photography but haven’t placed focus into it because it has been typical/traditional photography that I have been purposely shying away from.

Ambient and city night photography have fulfilled my project catalog for the last two years. This autumn I am going back to basics; classical photography of autumn. The hurdle is time, October is booked up. Hopefully I will get my butt out of bed early a couple of mornings and make my way into the wilderness. In November time frees up and I am thinking about doing some deep forest photography of autumn.

Inevitably, you find a stream or mountaintop combined with colorful tree tops and shoot. My perspective is going to be “deep forest stillness within the light”. That will be the working title going into this new project.

Ebb and flow, maybe I’ll shoot in black and white? That’s classical.

ON GOD AND FINE ART

Check out the podcast over at POLYSEMY

Dan Allison and Matthew Dallman discuss how “God” relates to making works of art.

Here is my perspective:

That is easy to answer. It gave me a place to steal a whole bunch of ideas from, plus no copyright infringements to worry about. The only quandary I had was in breaking commandment number eight; thou shalt not steal, but is pilfering ideas from sacred text really stealing?

The book of Genesis and the book of Revelations from the King James Bible are single handily the two most influential works I have ever read, re-read, and contemplated some more. The importance of their teachings and morals were lost on me for the most part in my youth. These two books were akin to Star Wars and the Beatles for inspiration. I recognized how current cultures (movies, TV, music) were right out of these books. These books are the pillars of western composition.

The study of God is the study of the ancient and the future at the same time. The artist in me needs these works for purpose in what I am doing.

Coffee to Insourcing

Coffee, I love coffee, I love coffee shops and I love the cultures of the coffee shop. Coffee shops represent the art of learning how to slow down while waiting for the caffeine to kick in. Life happens when coffee percolates and permeates into the clientele, in coffee shops the patrons are lovingly referred to as the “regulars”. Coffee shops are conscious of the importance of their ambiance. Wall color, lighting scheme, music, furniture all encompasses the flow and function of how the customer’s time in the coffee shop will be spent. Oh the smell, the aroma of aesthetics that coffee symbolizes.

My personal favorite coffee shop has a minimalist feel to it which is set in a large retail space. Coffee shops are typically smaller establishments, giving the patron the feel of comfort. This coffee shop places chalkboards on the walls so the customers, the “regulars”, can have impromptu meetings. The coffee shop owner has probably just come up with some marketing genius move of in-sourcing your in-crowd.

Something Great

Been feeling uninspired lately: Historically that means I am about to do something great. “Great”, meaning that I dig the new work and new direction. Now I sit and wait for the brilliance. Writer’s block, photographer’s block, guitar player’s block are things that I do not experience too often. I practice everything-everyday a lot. It’s my creative spring. I figure if I play guitar everyday, write a page a day, and complete two to three photo sessions a week, I will generate something pleasant to look at, listen to or read.

As of writing this, the greatness of something new hasn’t happened. I hope for all of us that this piece of writing isn’t the great stuff. If it is thanks for reading… it’s been nice having the company. Hopefully this is just a fluffy nonsensical piece to get me to the good stuff. Played some funky guitar music for my daughter yesterday morning, hope I can remember it next time I pick up the guitar. She danced to it, must’ve been ok. I want a Lute, that instrument that Sting made trendy. Trendy to those who are currently uninspired and are easily influenced by Sting, that would be me. In times of creative drought I like to buy things, actually I just like to internet shop and never purchase the item. The idea that you have to buy something to get that photo, sound or creative impulse is an abomination of all I hold sacred.

Ate lunch outside today, sat under an oak tree. That seems to be creative nature in itself. Wrote in my journal, listened to the birds of Pittsburgh flutter in the trees and daydream about….

Thinks I just got my inspiration… gotta go….

Solitude

During conception, in the womb, and through the first years of life we are always accompanied with companionship. Even in dreams we are guided by some force or narrative. It is not our nature to be alone. Why do I crave solitude? The economy of space and silence within my own understanding is the immersion of liberation that haunts me. Caustic pain of seclusion, it’s my lure, it’s my mistress. A palette of time, observation and study of myself, my environment is considered necessary. People are noise, I need quiet to grow.

11:02pm: rice timer beeps, lunch for tomorrow. Last hint of headache lingers in my temples; my tongue is dry, rice smells sweet. My wife and daughter sleep. Is this solitude?