I originally published this in January, 2015. Judgment can be harsh, mean, hurtful and hateful. But when exposed and understood it can lead to revelation and redemption. This is a story about that.
Prologue
Beatrice was raised by a very judgmental mother who didn’t like her much.
Chapter One
Beatrice saw the mother and daughter on the street outside of gallery as she went up the steps. As she juggled her keys and coffee to unlock the door she hoped they would move along soon.
It wasn’t that cold out but it had been cold overnight and they were both barefoot. Their shoes had been stolen at the homeless shelter the night before. The mother, named Emily, was hoping the shelter would have extra shoes, but they did not. She had come downtown hoping the church caring center would have some and was waiting for it to open. She stopped in front of the gallery because there was a ledge just the right height for her daughter to sit on with her doll. Her daughter, named Cerise, had to go to the bathroom very badly. The mother was hoping she could wait until the caring center was open but it looked like she might not be able to. She finally decided she had to go into the gallery to see if they had a bathroom.
Beatrice heard the door open while she was in the back turning on the computer in the office. When she went out and saw it was the mother and daughter she rolled her eyes, sighed heavily and went up front to confront them. “Yes, may I help you?” She asked.
Emily said, “We are waiting for the church caring center to open down the street but my daughter really has to go to the bathroom. Would you mind if she used yours, please?”
Beatrice said, “Yes, she may, but make it quick.” She walked towards the back, sweeping her arm behind her indicating for them to follow. She pointed to a small door and said, “There, please be quick and clean up after.”
Cerise was quick and did clean up after. Emily thanked Beatrice and started to walk back to the front to go out. Beatrice stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and said, “Hold on a minute. I really have to say I am bothered by you allowing your daughter being barefoot in the city like that, not to mention yourself. It’s dangerous on the sidewalks with trash and glass and all sorts of things. Why are you barefoot?”
Emily explained about the shoes being stolen. Beatrice said, “But why did you allow them to be stolen? Why weren’t they on your feet? Why were you at a homeless shelter in the first place? Your child is very young, you should take better care of her.”
Emily by this time was holding Cerise close. Cerise in turn was holding her doll even closer. Emily said, “Yes, you are right. I wish I had taken better care of her. Thank you for letting us use the bathroom. We won’t bother you again.”
Beatrice said, “I hope you don’t and I hope you get your act together. It’s not good for her.”
Chapter Two
Emily and Cerise went outside and down the street to the Church Caring Center. It had opened and it turned out they did have shoes they could have, along with socks and sweaters for both of them. Cerise had been crying about the lady in the gallery. She asked her mom, “Why was that lady so mean? She really scared me. You should have told her the whole story, then maybe she wouldn’t have been so mean.”
Emily responded, “You know Cerise, sometimes it really doesn’t matter if someone knows the whole story. They need to judge and so they will judge, no matter what. You and I know the story and we both know why we were at the homeless shelter. We know what we are doing and why. That is what matters.”
Beatrice told the story of the homeless mother and daughter to five different friends over the course of the day. Four of the friends agreed that the homeless mother was bad and that the daughter should be taken from her and put in protective custody. The fifth friend, a wealthy gallery patron named Jill, told Beatrice she thought she had treated them badly. She said what they needed was kindness, not judgment.
Beatrice was rather taken aback by this and asked why she was making such a big deal about it. Jill said, “I once was homeless when I was quite young and people treated me the same way. I already knew all the negative things about myself and how I had ended up homeless, I didn’t need other people telling me the same thing. What I needed was help and understanding. Luckily for me I got that help, and ironically it was actually from a gallery dealer in Los Angeles. Without his understanding and help I never would have gotten out of the jam I was in.”
Chapter Three
A few weeks later Emily and Cerise were in the same gallery neighborhood again. This time they had shoes on. Emily had gotten a part-time job at a coffee shop about a block from the gallery. The coffee shop owner had said Cerise could stay there as long as she didn’t bother her mother too much while she was on duty. It would only be for a few more weeks then school would start again for the fall and Cerise wouldn’t have to be there during the day. Cerise sat at a little table near the window and drew in the sketchbook they had given her at the Church Caring Center a few weeks before.
Beatrice usually came to the coffee shop around 9:30 am, right before she went to open the gallery. This day she saw a little girl through the window as she approached. As she walked past she bent down, pointed at the drawing and said, “You are a very good artist. Keep at it and one day you might be famous, who knows!” Cerise looked up and recognized the woman as the mean person from a few weeks prior, but Beatrice did not recognize Cerise. But when she came to the counter she most definitely did recognize Cerise’s mother, Emily. She remembered the green eyes, the strong eyeliner and the red hair up in a bun. Emily recognized Beatrice as well. They stared at each other for a moment. Beatrice could feel her cheeks flushing with blood.
Emily asked, “Hello, what may I get for you today?”
Beatrice answered, “Um…I will have…um….I will have a large Cafe Mocha please.”
Emily said, “Will that be all?”
Beatrice answered, “Yes. Um….you were in my gallery last week, right?”
Emily responded, “Yes. My daughter used the bathroom. Thank you for allowing that.”
Beatrice said, “Um….yes. No problem. Anytime.” She felt particularly stupid after saying that.
Emily said. “Your drink will be ready over to the left. It should be just a minute.”
Beatrice moved over to the counter at the left. She picked up her drink and was on her way out when she returned to Emily. She said, “I am sorry for the attitude I had that day. It was mean and judgmental and I regret it.”
Beatrice looked up from ringing something up in the cash register. “I appreciate that. We are used to that attitude, you aren’t alone. But you are the only person who’s ever apologized to me for it. That means a lot. Thank you.”
Beatrice asked, “Where is your daughter?”
Emily pointed to the front and said, “You already talked to her, she is the little girl at the window over there.”
Beatrice Asked Emily her name and the name of her daughter. She shook Emily’s hand, said her apology again and walked over the Cerise. She kneeled down to Cerise’s level, forgetting that her skirt was short and was probably exposing too much, and said, “Cerise, my name is Beatrice. I own the gallery that you came into last week to go to the bathroom. I remember being mean to your mother and you and I should not have been like that. I wanted to come over and apologize to you. Will you forgive me?”
Cerise said, “Yes, I will. Mom says when someone treats us mean it usually means something is hurting inside them and that we should hope that hurt goes away for them instead of us feeling hurt about what they said.”
Beatrice stared at Cerise. She couldn’t talk for a moment. Finally, as tears started to gather in her eyes, said, “Yes, your mother is a very wise woman. She is right. It is much more about my hurt than anything about you. Once again, I am sorry and I hope you won’t hold it against me.”
Cerise said, “I won’t, I promise. By the way, thank you for saying you liked my drawing when you came in. That made me happy. I am not very good yet but I like drawing so I do it anyway.”
Beatrice said, “You are better than you think you are, I can tell you that much.”
Beatrice left, crying.
Chapter Four
Two days later Beatrice went back in the coffee shop and saw Cerise and Emily again. She asked Emily if it would be ok if some days Cerise spent her time at the gallery instead of the coffee shop. Emily said it was ok with her if it was ok with Cerise. Beatrice went over to Cerise and asked, “Cerise, I had an idea last night. Would you be willing to spend a bit of your time during the day at my gallery instead of here? You can still draw of course. But you can do other things there too, maybe even help me with some stuff. And we do have a cool cat that needs some company.”
Cerise looked over at her mother who nodded her ok. Cerise smiled and said, “Yes, that might be fun.”
Cerise spent an hour or so each day at the gallery for the remainder of the summer. She drew a lot, often drawing the cat sleeping in the sun. She also learned how to hammer a nail, cut a mat, wire a frame and paint pedestals. As the end of summer approached Beatrice’s assistant announced she was pregnant and going to be moving the the suburbs with her husband, who was taking a job in Greenwich.
Beatrice offered the assistant job to Emily, who accepted.
Epilogue
That was five years ago. Beatrice has since opened a second gallery uptown. Emily is in charge of the downtown gallery and is making quite a name for herself as an astute judge of talent and an excellent curator. Cerise is just entering high school and has decided to major in art when she goes to college.
Beatrice keeps in contact with her friend Jill, who is also great friends with Emily and Cerise. Beatrice has no idea what ever happened to her other four friends.
I drew and published this in 2012, 7 years ago today. I like rereading these after so many years. It’s as if I get a lesson about life from myself that I didn’t know I had coming.
Are you under a pessimism cloud?
You know those beautiful days in late fall and early spring when it feels warm and wonderful when you are in the sun but have a cloud come over and all the wintery chill lays over you like a blanket? That is how I feel when I am with certain people. Pessimists tend to be that cloud. Some are consciously trying to diminish joy or happiness, but most aren’t. Most are doing nothing more than what they would consider to be normal and even prudent things. They might be bringing up possible dangers for a course of action. They might be pointing out the negative characteristics of someone in order to warn you of them. In their mind, it is helpful to be a pessimist because bad things constantly happen and we should be prepared for it.
But the pessimist usually does not accomplish his or her goal of being safer or happier by being negative. Whatever their conscious intent and reasons, the effect is to suppress joy and enthusiasm. That is what they actually accomplish.
If you happen to be with one of those people, you will also suppress your joy and enthusiasm because those are feelings you naturally want to share and you are with someone who can’t or won’t contribute in the sharing. It’s like being a fun and joyous child who is with a stern parent constantly telling them no. It’s depressing and debilitating.
The way out, it seems to me, is easy enough in one situation. You have a somewhat casual friend who is this person and you make a pretty simple and easy decision to no longer be their friend. But most situations are not that easy. It might be a closer friend, one who relies on you and you are committed to over many years. It might be a boss or a co-worker you can’t get out from under without risking too much, or it might be a spouse/partner with whom you are hopelessly entangled financially, emotionally, materially and more.
In those harder cases you will only be able to retain your joy and enthusiasm for life by either getting above the cloud, being the brighter, hotter sun that evaporates it, or by finding ways to get out from under the cloud for moments at a time. Whether it is by delving into your creative spirit, moving out into the world and connecting to others in group activities, or by choosing a non-reactive response to the pessimism.
None of those are easy choices, but staying under the cloud is much harder for your soul and will eventually destroy it.
I posted this 10 years ago today and the drawing was from 17 years ago. I drew it twice, one went in my daughter Connie’s lunch, the other in Chelsea’s, for them to take to school.
Nothing has changed in the past decade. The song and the sentiment are both still true. Just look for it all around you.
My favorite line is,
“I see friends shaking hands saying ‘how do you do’ and they’re really saying ‘I love you’.” Ever since I heard this I make a point to think it every time I shake someone’s hand, give them a hug or a pat on the back.
here is a link to Armstrong himself singing it – https://youtu.be/ZqzvqQoxZGE
My wife and I have our song and it is ‘Wonderful World’ as sung by Louis Armstrong. I love driving in the car on a puffy cloud day and having that on. It is filled with simple gratitude for love, beauty, friendship and growth.
What day passes where we can not find at least one of those things to admire and cherish? Every day, in other words, has ‘wonderful’ in it, if we are paying attention.
This drawing and commentary were from 5 years ago today. Ironic I choose to republish this drawing about a VERY cold day in 2014 on the warmest day of winter 2019 (so far)
Teenagers are Dumb, Adults are Dumber
As most of the US knows and feels, it’s been brutal cold all over the eastern 2/3rds of the country. We are lucky here in Oklahoma, the cold is not nearly as bad as north and east of us. Still, it’s cold enough (12 degrees this AM) that parents are fighting with their teenage kids about how to dress to go outdoors.
I went to Wal-Mart yesterday. In cold weather it’s fun to make a game of finding the most inappropriately dressed person. Yesterday, when it was all of 14 degrees with a strong wind that person was a teenage girl walking out of the store in a simple long sleeve t-shirt and shorts. Her shoes were Tom’s type slip-on canvas shoes. No socks. She was the winner UNTIL a second later I spotted her father walking behind her. He was in a t-shirt and shorts. It wasn’t hard to figure out where she got her common sense and attitude of preparedness. Did they make it home ok? Probably so. His poor decision for himself and his daughter (yes, he was responsible for how she dressed) probably did not end poorly. But would they have made it home ok if they had gotten into a wreck on the icy streets, going off into a culvert and disappearing from the road? Maybe not. In which case, that poor decision could have ended badly.
Another Sort of Poor Decision
Being underdressed in the cold is dumb, but there are much worse decisions people make. Decisions with HUGE life altering consequences. But even those don’t have to end poorly. For example, you have unprotected sex with someone and get pregnant, or get them pregnant. That was a poor decision. But that poor decision doesn’t mean the child’s life is doomed. That life (and your life) can be a great one. Your relationship with the father or mother can be good, even if you don’t stay together. You can arrange your lifestyle so the child is raised safe and happy. You can build a life for your family that is positive and good. It might take more work than it would have otherwise, but it can be done.
The Kid at the Bus Stop
If I see someone at the top of a cliff, about to go over, I am going to yell and scream and do whatever I can to stop them. But if they have already fallen off the cliff and are at the bottom, I am not going to yell and scream. I am not going to tell them they shouldn’t have been so close to the edge. I am going to help them up, tend to their wounds and help them recover. Then, and only then, we might have a discussion on how to avoid that cliff in the future.
If you have made poor decisions, resolve to not have them end poorly. If you are a witness to poor decisions others make, do what you can to help them have the end be rich, not poor.
_____________________
Drawing by Marty Coleman
Quote by my cool Son-in-Law and father of my granddaughter, Patrick Evans
I did this drawing and wrote the commentary 5 years ago today. Still one of my favorite quotes. I think the drawing is totally cool too.
Falling Apart
Have you ever had every expectation of what your life is going to be destroyed? I have, twice. It was my injury and burns from a boat explosion the first time and my divorce the second time. In the scheme of things they weren’t nearly as brutal as truly terrible events; a tsunami, a terrorist attack, genocide, maiming, killing, destruction of your physical world. Those are cataclysms that it’s hard to recover from.
I remember being in the hospital in September of 1973 and having someone say something about January, 74 coming up. I remember how impossible it was for me to imagine January. It wasn’t just far away in terms of time, it was psychologically far away. I didn’t believe it would ever come because every day was the same painful day, again and again. The pain was never going to leave and if the pain didn’t leave then time really wasn’t moving forward at all. January was just another word, like bandage or blood, it wasn’t a moment in the future.
In it’s own way, less physically painful than the burns, but emotionally much more devastating, my divorce destroyed a lot of what I was expecting from the future. I hadn’t verbally formulated much of what I expected to happen in the future while I was still married; my ideas were assumptions about how it would go. But once the divorce was in the works those ideas were obliterated. I wouldn’t have a 50 wedding anniversary for example. That was tough to take. I couldn’t allow myself to imagine a new relationship with a new family structure.
Falling Into Place
What happens next? Well, if you are the one whose life has been blown up, then what you can do is have an open and brave heart. That is not an easy thing to do, but it can be done. Not all at once, but over time, you can take a brave step into the future and see where it leads.
My experience of the explosion, recovery and my still existing scars ended up being one of the single most important events of my life, changing me into an artist, friend, husband and father I never would have been otherwise. Everything fell into place in large part because of that event.
My divorce, while unfortunate, led to me dating Linda, marrying her and inheriting a fourth daughter, Caitlin. Both have been blessings beyond what I could have imagined. Everything fell into place in large part because of that divorce.
Time
Of course, you can’t necessarily explain that this obliteration of life is actually an essential part of future happiness to someone who’s just gone through such a trauma; they really don’t want to hear it since it sounds like just so much patronizing crap. And it probably is patronizing crap at the time. But it’s also true. The future can be better than what you allow yourself to imagine.
This is a napkin drawing and commentary from 9 years ago today. Trump had only appeared on the political scene with some birther tirades at this point, and all the dark natured imbeciles who encouraged him were still seen as fringe whackos instead of main stream talking heads that they are now. So, while I wish I could say things have gotten better, they really haven’t.
This is dedicated to some knuckleheads I had the honor of conversing with first thing this morning. They happened to be of the conspiratorial type, sure that the US is in the grips of a secret communist cabal.
But the danger isn’t really about those people, the danger is with people of any stripes, left, right, up down, Christian, Muslim, atheist, etc. who aren’t paying attention to evidence, proof and history.
They instead are purposely bending the little bits they do know (not much) to match their anger, their prejudices and their self-serving agendas.
Whether it be UFO true believers, anti-Obama birthers, anti-Bush anarchists or any number of groups, the test is whether they are truly interested in finding truth, figuring out solutions (including compromises) or if they are interested in just building on their wobbly prejudices with more true believers.
Here are two more monsters in my series, Dracula and The Wolfman
My favorite of all the monsters from my youth was The Wolfman. He was hairy, scary and primal. I liked that The Wolfman was a normal guy until the full moon came out, then he became a super powerful animal-man. Who wouldn’t want to be that!? He was hip and cool, even if he did rip a couple people to shreds now and then.
Dracula was my least favorite because he was a pale, stuck-up wimp. Also, Dracula was stuck always being Dracula. Even when he changed, it was into something gross, like a bat. Who wants to be a bat? He also didn’t get to go out in the sun and had to sleep in a coffin. No thanks.
This drawing and commentary was posted 10 years ago but the drawing is from 17 years ago. Man, I’ve been drawing these a long time!
I love the simplicity and purity of this statement.
The Christian commandment that we do for others as we would like them to do for us does not include the caveat that we only have to do that if they return the favor. In other words, you can’t really know why ‘others’ are here, only yourself. So, pay attention to what you are called to do. That will be the best way to lean the arc of the universe towards good.
“We are here to do good to others. What the others are here for, I don’t know.” – W. H. Auden
I drew the napkin and wrote the commentary way back in 2012 but it is an evergreen post that is always appropriate to revisit at the beginning of any year. Let me know your thoughts.
Think of all that has happened in the last year (2011). I started speaking at conferences for the first time, three of them to be exact. Over a year ago I submitted a proposal for an exhibition of my photo-collages but hadn’t heard back anything by 1/1/11. Now I am 4 days away from the exhibition’s opening night (Living Arts of Tulsa, Friday, January 6th, 6-9pm). I had one daughter living in Tulsa and one in Seattle. Now I have one in parts unknown and one in Berkeley, CA. Those are just a few things among many. Two of those events I made happen by putting myself out there. My daughter’s life events I had very little control over, watching mainly from the sidelines.
What about you? What happened this year? What happen that you had some control over? What happened you had very little control over?
Stuff is going to happen to you in the next year. Stuff you can’t control and have no say in. But there will be plenty of things that will happen ONLY if you decide to make them happen. Are you going to push to make things happen, believing they can happen if you set your mind to it or are you going to let opportunities pass by, believing you are not able or being fearful of possible bad outcomes?
Will you look back on 1/1/13 and feel you did what you could?
This is a napkin drawing and commentary from the last day of 2010. I am republishing it on the first day of 2019 as the first in a year long series of looking back at the evolution of The Napkin and myself. I hope you enjoy!
Make your resolve in 2011 (and 2019) to be about what YOU can control. Don’t make a resolution for your husband or wife, your child away at college, your boss, your neighbor or your friend. Resolve to be, change, move, defeat, create, win over, help, build, enlighten and grow yourself. If in that process you save the world, great. If in that process you are just a better mother or father to your baby, then guess what? You have just saved the world as well.
Drawing and commentary @2019 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com
When I was a young boy I was big into model building. My dad was an aviator so I made a lot of airplane models. But what I really loved making was monster models. I had them all, from Frankenstein and Dracula to the Creature From the Black Lagoon. I spent hours gluing, filing the edges, and painting them. I had them on display in my bedroom and was very proud of them.
A few years ago I got the bug to read some of the original monster novels. I read Dracula, Frankenstein and Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde among others. They were all over the top in emotion and language, and they were a hard slog to get through. But I did it and it gave me a new appreciation for the subtlety of these characters as originally invented in the mind of the authors.
In 2018 I decided I would draw some of these characters. Not as they had been imagined in the books or in the movies, but just as I saw them in my own imagination.
Here are the first two in the series, Mr. and Mrs. Frankenstein. The first, Frankenstein’s Monster, was done on my iPad mini using the Sketchbook app. Bride of Frankenstein was done in my sketchbook then reworked digitally in Photoshop.
The Elegantly Dressed Beautiful Woman | Ink on Paper | 2004-2018
‘The elegantly dressed beautiful woman with the cat as her carry-on wearing black and an orange scarf and visiting her parents in San Diego who can’t have pets and thinks her nose is bigger than I drew it but was flattered and thinks I am lucky.’
I created the line drawing portion of this drawing in December of 2004 while at the airport waiting to go to San Diego. The woman and I kept in touch and I sent her a photo of the drawing. 14 years later I decided to finish it with color.
Susan seldom saw herself in this space. But between bouts of binge watching and bra burning she brought herself before the bastion of beauty. With wonder and wisdom she willingly wept at the way in which the wayward artist had winnowed down the wasteful and worthless and wicked and woeful and was left with only the worthy and wonderful and winsome. She decided to dutifully display the divine art in her dining room where her dependents would, no doubt, demand she defend her decision to ditch the dog do drivel that had been displayed before the divorce. Susan sat sassily at the Sunday soiree surrounded by so many sons and smiled and said see I shall show something satisfying to myself and you shall simply sit and suffer. The brothers busted out a big bah ha ha and then, being boys, blabbed about the ballgame.
I have been going through old sketchbooks recently and one in particular has stood out for having some amazing drawings. Not because of technical skill but because of the bizarre content. I have always drawn some pretty odd scenes but this one sketchbook seems to be filled with them. I am not sure why. The only thing I can think of is the size of the book. It’s bigger (7″x10″) than the average sketchbook I carry around with me. I think perhaps that allows me more space to create a scene and when I create a scene out of my imagination I tend to get pretty out there.
Once upon a time there were six sextuplet sisters. The were named Wendy, Sally, Debra, Fiona, Angela and Gail. They all looked exactly the same when they were born. But as they grew they started to look different, one from the other. How they looked ended up being how others saw them, even if they weren’t really like that.
WENDY
Wendy had high, arched eyebrows so people thought she was always wondering. But she was not. She was wonderful and winsome and woeful and wicked and wired and wonky. But she was not wondering.
SALLY
Sally always looked like she was trying poop so people thought she was stressed. But she was not. She was scary and soulful and silly and sacred and sturdy and scandalous. But she was not stressed.
DEBRA
Debra had blue hair and green skin and so people thought she was depressed. But she was not. She was doubtful and dangerous and dorky and definitive and debatable and dramatic. But she was not depressed.
FIONA
Fiona had a head shaped like a football so people thought she was a football fan. But she was not. She was fastidious and fearless and fabulous and farty and forgetful and forebearing. But she wasn’t a football fan.
ANGELA
Angela didn’t smile much so people thought she was always angry. But she was not. She was angular and ambitious and absolute and ambulatory and arboreal and agnostic. But she wasn’t angry.
GAIL
Gail liked dark makeup so people thought she was goth. But she was not. She was garrulous and grand and gifted and goofy and gleeful and gorgeous. But she wasn’t goth.
The six sextuplet sisters loved sailing and shuffleboard and star gazing and sharing souffles and sauntering together. But they didn’t like being judged only by their looks. Their parents taught them to pass by people who did that and instead just go forward being who they wanted to be, always believing in each other and being best buddies. They had a fabulous family and faithful friends because of that.
I saw a new person in the orchestra this week. I liked the wave of her hair and the shape of her face. I couldn’t see her once we sat down so that was all I had in my head as I started the drawing. From there she gradually turned into a bust of a Goddess or Queen or whatever you think she might be.
I drew this a number of weeks ago when I was playing around with profiles and symmetry/assymetry. I enjoyed making everything about them color opposites while their sentiments were exactly the same.
This style harkens back to when I first started coloring my napkin drawings, way back in 2008 and 2009 when I would just follow the lines I had drawn with colors.
Have you ever seen ‘The Big Lebowski’? It’s a great movie. I mention it because in it a friend, Walter (played by John Goodman), is trying to help Lebowski (also known as ‘the dude’, played by Jeff Bridges) get reimbursed for a ruined carpet (Someone peed on it). Lebowski is a very mellow dude and is trying to go about it in his own slacker way. But Walter is a hot head and is always overreacting to events. He escalates situations into some pretty extreme violence when it is utterly unnecessary. He uses a hatchet when a flyswatter was the right tool.
I recently saw a live video stream of the musician Jewel performing. She was talking about when she was down and out, homeless and broke, not sure where she was going to go and what she was going to do. She said she realized at one point that she wasn’t just thinking something, she was observing herself thinking it. And that made a huge difference in her life Because she realized, if you are the observer of your thoughts then you can change those thoughts. You can evaluate if those thoughts are good for you and those around you. You can take steps to change those thoughts to be more positive, more helpful, more loving. You are not an unconscious being just existing, you are able to change who you are because you are able to see yourself and take action. So do it already.
The woman was so anxious to finally tell the other woman about what was going on in her life because the other woman was a good friend. They were able to go have coffee one fall morning and have time to talk. The woman spilled her guts to the other woman, telling her all about her husband’s terrible behavior, including verbal abuse and cheating on her with some other woman. The other woman listened intently to everything she said and nodded in what the woman thought was signs of sympathy. But the woman was wrong about the other woman being sympathetic because she was the other woman.
Jack was always tired. He never slept, burning the candle at both ends. That was a problem because it caused wax to drip everywhere and that made the partners in the law firm where he worked very angry. He got fired and spent his October either watching the baseball playoffs or sitting on the stoop outside his walkup wondering what to do. He was depressed and got lit often. It was a very scary time for him.
But eventually he died, became compost, was spread across a garden and helped grow a new batch of happy pumpkins the next year.
One of the most frustrating things for many artists is when someone is so sucked in by technical virtuosity that they pay no attention to anything else. They don’t care if it’s a lame, derivative and unimaginative image of a B list celebrity, all they see is that ‘it looks so real, isn’t that amazing!’. It becomes the end all and be all of artistic value.
But for me, it is first off, a technical feat that isn’t as hard as people think it is. It looks impressive but having done photo-realism myself back in graduate school days, I know it can be done with repeated practice and not much else. It doesn’t, in and of itself, take a lot of imagination or creativity, it just takes technical practice. Don’t get me wrong, it can include those things, it’s just that often times it does not.
Secondly, admiring that over all else shows a simplistic understanding of art and what it can be and do in society. If the only art that is great or worthy is art that is a direct copy of a photograph or of a real scene, then it cuts off the value of the creative impulse in art that goes beyond realism, like expressionism, abstraction, impressionism, conceptual art, etc.
Thirdly, we already have the photo. What is the value of making something look like a photo when you already have the photo? It becomes just a way to prove virtuosity, which means it becomes a gimmick. Gimmicks in art fall flat after a while.
Fourth, it creates a group of artists who feel like the only valid work is realistic work, that they have to stay in that realm or they are discarded as being not very good. This is especially damaging to beginning artists in their teenage years where they are often pushed to make things look ‘realistic’. But art doesn’t need to be realistic to be valuable and good. But these teens, frustrated with their inability to make something look real, which might be being taught by their teacher and expected from their parents, give up on art never knowing they were perfectly ok just working in whatever vein they were working in.
My teaching philosophy is to teach creativity development and imagination building alongside technical expertise. If one does that then the artist will be able to create technical masterpieces but will have something unique and original within them that make them more than just dead copies of something else.
Medusa Studies for an Exam – The Adventures of Medusa
Medusa needed to read her Greek Mythology book for her Ancient Religion class so she went to a local coffee house to study. She was minding her own business, drinking her cappuccino and eating her gluten-free caramel brownie when a man came up and started to talk to her. She was polite and said hello but then said she needed to study and wasn’t able to talk right then. He didn’t get the hint and kept talking to her as he leaned up against the fireplace. He started to compliment how beautiful she was and what a great body she had. He started asking her questions about her relationship status and if she came there often. She didn’t respond to him, keeping her nose squarely in her book. He got annoyed and called her a cold, snobby bitch. She turned around to look at him. He was stone cold silent from then on.
She finished reading, took the test and passed with flying colors.
