The headline read ELON MUSK ACTUALLY SENT HIS CAR INTO SPACE.

This, for me, is a case of life imitating art, and I love it!

Eighteen years ago, I had this very idea, and I apologize for my rudimentary photoshop skills. I was just learning to use the software, back in 2000.

Last night a friend asked me what it would look like if Flash Meridian designed a car to go into space.

Well, I can tell you, it would look A LOT like the 1961 Chrysler turboflite concept. It would have retractable wheels (landing gear). This model (it was not a working vehicle) is probably my favorite car design I have ever seen. I wish design had followed more closely our late fifties/early sixties vision of retro futurism.

I attended an art school in Detroit that was known for its Automotive Design department.

Things got pretty boring in the world of automobile design, but I get it. Economy wins out over glitz.

Back in those days, cars quickly became obsolete. You knew at a glance that Mr. Jones was driving a three year old Rambler. Tsk tsk!

That very obsolescence is what makes those classic cars so special.

On the subject of car design, how wonderful was it when Ford brought retro styling into the 1999 t-birds, or in 1998 when Volkswagen reintroduced the bug?!

I kept waiting for someone to make a new car with tail fins. I AM STILL WAITING!!! Come on, people, THEY WILL SELL!

My second choice for favorite car design is the 1961 Dodge flitewing.

My inspiration for painting comes from everything I see. Sometimes that is a landscape or an object, but in the case of my abstract paintings, what I see is the paint I have already applied.

I like to play with paint. I play with contrast, shape and color, not striving to create a specific likeness.

I think of it the way I imagine it would be to arrange music. Music can paint pictures in your brain even though it is a non visual medium.

Paint, while visual, can create a mood or impression without showing you anything from the natural, tangible world. In other words it doesn’t always spell it out for you.

I might be listening to music in my studio, and that might influence the painting in progress.

A color invites or beckons another color to come lay beside it on the canvas.

After a while, I put the brush down and hang the painting on a wall. I look at it without a brush in my hand. This is key. I’m looking in order to see, not to add to or alter.

I often then see unintentional figures or objects. These can later be enhanced, left alone or obliterated. It might become obvious what I need to do to improve it.

My paternal grandfather was an artist and art teacher. My mother’s sister was an artist, and so is her daughter, my cousin.

I didn’t grow up near any of my relatives, so they were not much of an influence on me artistically. I don’t remember ever discussing art with any of them.

My father has painted from time to time. He creates small painted wooden blocks.

I asked him why he made them and he said, “to have blocks.”

My parents encouraged my art. They were supportive, but I’m not sure they knew how to teach me about art. In school, and I’m talking about early elementary school, they devoted time to art. I remember standing in front of an easel in a smock, painting in Mrs. Barnes’ kindergarten class.

I think school not only made me more interested in art, it made art possible. I don’t remember anyone instructing me early on, but they made the materials and time available.

As time went by, art class became more structured. It was one of the more enjoyable subjects I studied, if not the only one.

By the time I was in Art School in the early 1980’s, I was fascinated by art history. We’d sit in a darkened classroom early in the morning looking at slides and listening to the teacher talk about ancient civilizations. I had my notebook and a thermos of coffee, and I absorbed the information with a sense of wonder while other students put their heads on their desks and slept. Sometimes snoring.

Like those ancient Egyptians, Minoans and Etruscans, I like to think that future generations will be looking at art by people like me.

Art from all eras is important, because we are informed by what came before us. We don’t have to invent things like perspective, foreshortening or color theory. Our predecessors have figured that out for us. Art history gives us a huge head start. Also, art is subjective. Can we really say that da Vinci is better than an ancient cave painter, or that Van Gogh is better than Rothko? It’s not a contest. Not a competition. Certain artists are remembered, and represent their time period for us today. Then I see mosaics by unknown artists from places like Pompeii. Beautiful images from another time. From a lost world. A few are remembered by name. Were they the best? Maybe. Maybe not.

They were people. People like you and me, creating art. They passionately expressed their creativity from their own perspective in their own time and culture.

It’s worthwhile to teach young people about traditional ways of creating artworks. I hate to use the word rules, but you have to know the rules before you can break them.

The dictionary defines painting as “The process, art, or occupation of coating surfaces with paint for a utilitarian or artistic effect.”

I must say, I hate to paint walls. I really do. I’ve had to do far too much of that lately. I find it frustrating and boring. Yet, I love being in a freshly painted room in my house.

When we talk about painting in an artistic way, the actual, physical application of the paint to the surface is a means to an end. It is communication. Visual language.

I do the obvious, necessary things that must be done before starting a painting. I put a canvas on my easel, open my paint, choose a brush.

Other than that, I guess I live my life, think thoughts, feel all of the emotions that life brings. Yeah, they make their way right into the creative expression.

There is no switch in my studio, or my brain that turns on my artistic mode. I’m an artist every day, in every other activity I participate in.

So that simple act of dipping a brush into a color is really all that is needed to start a painting.

There are other preparation type things I might benefit from… like changing out of clothes that I don’t want to get paint on!

The brush has a habit of flying out of my hand from time to time.

There is always a future for painters. Always has been, always will be. The earliest known paintings by humans date back about 30,000 years. We’re still painting.

For many of us, there is a need… an intense craving to interpret our experiences through art. That includes, but is certainly not limited to painting.

If I were to be reborn on earth, I would definitely want to come back as an artist. It’s the only way I can imagine me being me. It’s what I know. If I came back as a gifted musician, but without the ability or desire to paint, I’m sure I’d be happy expressing myself through music. But this is the current artistic version of me talking.

There are people who don’t appreciate paintings. The average time a person spends looking at any given painting in a museum or gallery is only a few seconds.

There are also a lot of people who love and appreciate art. Not that every piece of art speaks to them.

It’s ok. Sincere and genuine expression is valid. It’s important. If you feel something deeply enough to share it visually, I can guarantee that someone else has felt that, too. It will find an audience. A receiver. A connection. We’re made of the same stuff.

Regardless of your culture, spoken language, gender, age, beliefs, or any other distinguishing factor, we’re humans who perceive and interpret the world around us.

That is why, after 30,000 years, I recognize and appreciate the beautiful paintings in the Chauvet cave.

When the cracks of prejudice, greed and fear seem inescapable, how do you as a writer, sculptor, Potter, woodworker, glassworker, painter encounter the chaos? How does your creative process invite the light in? Where do you see muddle and magnificence in the natural world? On the North Shore? How does the natural world create new models for you? Do you seek to soothe or expose, clarify or challenge?

Spirit of the wilderness ( call to artists)

Prejudice shows itself when I least expect it, and sometimes from what I thought was an unlikely source. Racist comments from a friend recently took me by surprise. When confronted, the friend said “maybe I shouldn’t be so racist.”

MAYBE I shouldn’t be so racist???

Prejudice, greed and fear seem inescapable, because they are inescapable. Our instinct to provide for and protect ourselves triggers reactions that, if not recognized, can turn very ugly in our treatment of and attitude toward others.

What is our autonomic nervous system telling us? How can we recognize the perceived threats and respond in an appropriate and kind way?

Painting gives my mind an opportunity to process these questions, encountering the chaos in the safety of my studio. Sometimes the paintings speak directly to what I’m pondering, sometimes not. The very act of painting helps to straighten out some of the jumble in my head.

The light is there. Sometimes you just have to turn it on.

Muddle and magnificence coexist everywhere. Sometimes I’m hiking, and have to keep my eyes on the path. There are tree roots, rocks and mud that I need to be aware of for my safety. So I trudge on, head down, seeing the muddle. Then I stop and look around me at grand tree trunks soaring up from the forest floor, and the brilliant blue sky above. I just had to look.

The north shore is a perfect place to experience the natural world. It hasn’t been paved over, flooded with artificial light and sound. All you have to do is step off the highway, and you will see it.

You will see it, and you will be it. We are part of this creation. The natural models always have more to tell us. Nature is a dynamic place. Just watch. It doesn’t stay the same. The light shifts. Shadows creep along surfaces. Leaves and rain fall, the river stampedes by.

Mountain ranges rise, tectonic plates shift. How much time do you have?

Art is a language we can use to soothe or expose, to clarify or to challenge. The message is up to us. Art is the conduit.

There is a big difference between being childish and being childlike. We were all children at one time, but many of us have grown into adults. This process has taken place one day… one moment at a time. It wasn’t a sudden transition.

Life’s events change us. Sometimes when we are hurt, we begin to close ourselves off from things in order to avoid being hurt again. From one day to the next, we may not see a change. Especially after our bodies have grown to their full height. Difficult things come our way, and we react.

There is nothing wrong with children. And there is nothing wrong with keeping that childlike sense of wonder and fun alive throughout your life. Sometimes good things also get lost along the way. We don’t always nurture the child that we were… the child that we still are inside.

Age doesn’t make you a different person! You are still the child that you were, even though those minutes and days have ticked by and you’ve grown as tall as you will ever be.

I tell people that I am at time traveler. Sometimes they don’t believe me. But I have traveled almost 30 million minutes so far. That is a lot of minutes! I’m trying to see how far I can get.

I usually start with a plan in my head. I don’t sketch, except in that those first brushstrokes are a sketch.

I have an idea… a reasonable vision of the finished product. But I play along the way. My hand gives me surprises that I like to follow.

At other times, I just paint with no finished product in my mind. That is also how I write most of the time. I trust my brain and my hand to cooperate in expressing something authentic to my neurons and striated muscle cells… my stream of consciousness, manifested by my physical body.

I’ve said this many times before, but the main thing I need to do is pick up a paintbrush, and dip it in some paint. I don’t believe in some magical state of mind that takes an ordinary human and turns them into an artist. Clark Kent just has to take off that business suit. He’s already Superman.

When I’m writing, too, I just keep a grip on the moving pen.

Different pieces have different messages, but I definitely feel that art is a language.

Some of the messages in my paintings are that you are special. There is nothing wrong with you, and you are only limited by self imposed restrictions.

People love their rules! I don’t.

Have I ever been unable to express my creativity to the fullest? Always! I think the well of creativity is so deep we could never express it to the fullest. We express what we know, or what we think right now, but you know that critical eye we use when we look at the work? That eye tells us there is always more to say. Or it tells us what to fix.

Sometimes, my eye tells me I did alright! That is a good feeling. But doing alright is far from expressing to the fullest.

I think you can have passion and reasonable expectations.

Speaking of which, one thing that inhibits me is expectation. Maybe someone else’s expectation, for example when I’m doing a commission. Or my own expectation. The moment I think I’m going to create something great, you can bet it’s going to be junk.

I didn’t choose my passion any more than I chose my foot size or my eye color. I guess you could say I chose to work at it. You’re good at what you practice. That’s true of skills like painting, writing, photography as well as your attitude or outlook. If you practice complaining, you’re going to get really good at it and have a negative outlook. If you practice being awesome, you can be good at that, too.

I feel most creative in the bathtub. That is no joke. I think some of the reasons are that the bathtub is a private, quiet place. This was especially true when I had kids in the house. I was rarely interrupted or disturbed in the tub. Now I live alone, and bathe with the door open. My cat likes to visit me when I’m bathing. Also, in the bathtub, I am warm and comfortable. I’ve always enjoyed soaking. I do most of my writing in the tub. Now, after all these years, the tub is kind of a trigger for the creative thoughts to swim out from under the rocks in my head, like a gong can be a trigger for meditation.