
Kalat

18 years ago, I illustrated a book for a friend of mine. It was a book of poetry he wrote after his son died. He wanted the themes of pumpkins, moons, crows, but he did not want it to look like Halloween. I pulled it off the shelf this morning and looked through it. There are about 35 drawings inside, plus the cover painting.
Here’s an abstract still life from a few years ago. I posted a detail of it 6-29-21. I was looking through paintings this morning and came across it again. “A Bottle Of Red.”
Years ago, a lot of random people started saying “Thank you, Sheldon” to me. I didn’t think much about it. I figured it was a new slang word, and I always have to look those up. When my daughter said it to me, I asked her.
Apparently, I reminded people of Dr. Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory.
When I started watching the show, I was a little bit offended.
My friends still insist that I’m “just like him.”
I recently started watching Young Sheldon. I didn’t like the previews, and had no interest in seeing the series. I was wrong about it.
The kid that plays the lead is so cute, and it touches on a lot of triggers for me (in a good way).
If my friends see adult Sheldon in me, I see young Sheldon in myself. Not his intelligence, although I now believe that I am and was smart.
My brother told me it wasn’t that I was stupid, it was that my small minded school couldn’t force me to assimilate. I like that.
Sometimes people say “My five year old could do that!” like it’s a put down. I welcome it, and take it as a huge compliment. If that’s your idea of a criticism, my advice is to go home and hug your five year old. Tell them how special they are. Do you think you’ve evolved beyond them? They have a lot to teach you. What I wish for you and for myself, is that we’re not too arrogant to receive it.
My daily routine of creating quick abstract paintings has taken on new meaning for me lately. I remember coloring with crayons in the basement in Ferndale, even before I started kindergarten. My current practice feels kind of like that.
I try not to think about composition. Even if I unintentionally create with composition in mind, I’m going to dissect the piece eventually anyway. It frees me from taking the process too seriously, and it leaves me with surprises at the end. The process is not precious, but sometimes the result is.
The unbridled approach honors the young version of me, and reminds me that he’s still here. An adult approves of him 100%, and loves him exactly as he is. While I treasure him, he enriches me.
I’ve said that this “automatic painting” style results in something that feels like it was painted by someone else. I can look at it later as an onlooker. Now I know who the someone else is.
Here’s a song for my inner child.
LOKAKUU PROJEKTI: JOS VOISIN:
If I could, I would always tell the truth
I would always love you from the heart
If I could, I would take you in my arms
Take you inside, into my heart
If I could, I would be the place you turn
When you’re feeling lonely or afraid
I would shine like a lantern in the dark
Take you inside, into my heart
When you feel as if you don’t know who you are
I’ll remind you with my love
If I could, I would always keep you safe
Take you inside, into my heart
When you feel as if you simply can’t go on
I’ll remind you that you’re strong
If I could, I would love you as you are
Take you inside, into my heart
Into my arms, into my life