09/03/2007: "Yaba-daba-doo! [Here we go again]"

Taking time off in July wasn’t such a good idea, it left the whole of empty August ahead of me. The summer is the season for the Big Art events – Venice, Basel, Kassel, Muenster – and loads of less publicized though not necessarily lesser shows, but it is definitely not the time to schedule a Solo, [In Europe] It’s not the season! It’s not the best of times to hand out your portfolios or wiggle yourself into a group show either, chances are your art-book will be left on the desk only to be more easily wiped aside with the bulk of unsolicited mail that accumulates while the decision-makers were away.

I used to love the seasons, the changing colours, the smells, the shift in the rhythm, the different things to be done. But somehow, strangely, not any more. They bring me back ‘into time’ – to the feeling of time passing – something that I have mentioned here before I try to avoid being dragged into. The cycle has become too noticeable and the compartmentalization too unbearable and senseless. Nature is not at fault in this, its rhythms were faultless and refreshing [until we started messing things up in that department as well], No, it is the inescapable quantity of Human traces that are now associated with them that broke the spell for me.

There is a season for this, a season for that, a season definitely not for this and one definitely not for that. As if the weight of everyday deadlines and happenings weren’t enough, the world of the Arts has come up with heavy schedules of its own. Music, Film, Fine-Arts all have defined their ‘Times’ – increasing moments of glory, in tidy slots, shrewdly spread throughout the appropriate season. That portfolio of yours has to reach the gallery director’s hands within a very tight [but, for the uninitiated, equally blurry] ‘window of opportunity’: Lots of energy is wasted, spontaneity is lost, much Art is left unseen. I do understand the organizational constraints that lead to it being thus, and I am not putting these events down, but somewhere deep in my mind, or is it my heart, a red light is blinking: OVERLOAD!!!!

Overload because many of the names and ‘formulas’ we get to see at these events are the same, over and over again. Certainly I agree that there ought to be ample opportunities for art to be shown and that it is an important aspect of our work as artists to keep in touch with what is happening out there. But overload, especially, because everything is reduced to what is proclaimed at these scheduled events that fill up our calendar and I don’t feel inclined to replicate it or move along those tracks simply to become accepted. Music is becoming indistinguishable; Art has to look the same in Berlin or, say, Osaka; and films… well, those that don’t succumb to main-stream formulas still manage to escape the trend, but for how long?

I miss the timelessness of the tropics. This may sound strange but I miss not having to be in the world-that-rushes-forth [even though this may not have sounded apparent in my first blogs from the enclave]. I have grown unaccustomed to the weight of the calendar and I am growing out of patience to explain or justify why I would rather not fit in to the agenda, why I would rather continue to live and paint beyond the seasons. Artists like Gaugin, Walter Spies or António Blanco help me to focus on other ways of being an artist. Discovering Nicholas Roerich’s work in Kullu was one of those occasions for me where dreamtime and reality merged and pointed me very clearly in a certain direction and in believing that there was Art beyond what we call the Art Market. Fifteen years later, coming across what Spies and Blanco left behind in Bali strengthened that belief and that feeling even more.

Maybe that is where I am aiming to see myself within the next fifteen years – in a remote Himalayan village or in a thatch-roofed open-air studio overlooking the rice-paddies, taking-in the pace of a farmer walking behind his water-buffalo… capturing images from a world that is vanishing too quickly. But for the time-being I’ll be putting those dreams on hold: September is upon us. The season! Another cycle is about to begin.

Replies: 13 Comments

on Friday, September 7th, BradMM said

I understand what your saying Jose'. That's why I take the time to, "Swing Alone," if only once, or twice, annually. While the pressures of life are standing by for my return, every now and then, they must wait while I take a solo breath, by myself, and ponder my station in this free-for-all that's free to none. Sometimes, when I return home, I make some change, in my small world, that has nagged at me for a while. Sometimes, its more like running back quickly - so as to not miss the next, "Train to Clarksville." Either way, I still have my little tradition to look forward to in next 365 days, more or less.

on Friday, September 7th, jose said

Brad, the natural cycle I'm OK dealing with, you can take it one-on-one, it's all the other cycles we've come up with that have become a burden - and they are harder to tackle one-on-one because society, family, friends, etc. join in to cloud the decision and the course you know deep inside you would rather take. It makes it harder to stick to your guns and feel good about it, no one sees or has regard for the visionary in our society anymore [probably never did in other times either and is probably a necessary condition for there to be visionaries]. Those other seasons I was pointing at come across as very artificial, everything happens in conformity with dictates, rhythms and cycles that have no connection with the way we feel at a deep natural level. I don’t want to come across as glum but I somehow sense that falling-in with them leads us astray. The result? Dis-ease, dis-comfort, dis-tance, despair, anger, aggression, war…

on Thursday, September 6th, Brad Michael Moore said

Jose',
The first cold winds of Autumn that begin dropping leaves from the trees that spill on down the lane - that's never gotten old for me. For all the years I lived in a city, the first night of such annual occasions would find me sailing on some playground swing. Perhaps, I have always felt a need to rush through life, or, maybe its that life seems so fleeting - I wish to grasp the sight and sounds of that rustling of leaves and reminisce with those prickly winds upon my backside. The change of the season about to begin is really a cycle that never ends - only changing through time in its tenor.

on Tuesday, September 4th, jose said

Ellen, and I was so much hoping that with age detachment would come much more easily. Funny that you mention a side project for 'your own needs' I also always have a canvas on the side for an 'escape' move. Andrew, I sometimes get torn between the need to focus on what is within and all that is out there and people expect you to be joining. I feel, like you, that the best moments and the best things come when you decide not to heed to the hype... but I've gone and done it again: sent two paintings off to a national bienale, have a collective at the doctors' guild set for october and a string of collectives with my [OD] buddies lined up for 2008 in remote and, sadly, often forgotten parts of the country. I guess it is necessary... Still dream of that thatch-roofed studio though.

on Tuesday, September 4th, Andrew said

You know, Jose, I've never really gotten much out of the seasonal art events, even though I get very excited about them, and participate whenever I can. Art Expos on both coasts were a wash for me, as well as exposure in various big shot galleries. I do well when I don't pay any attention to what's supposed to be the best time and place to expose your work.
But the lure of flashy events still pulls my attention away from the things I'm better at. Something to grow out of, I guess, but I'm afraid I never will.

on Tuesday, September 4th, walt said

Jose, thanks. It's not so bad. But if I'm going to be ready for that next oppurtunity to do the things I really want to do I have to be ready. There are several on the horizon anyone of which could break tomorrow or not at all. But the next one will come whether I'm ready or not. Mostly we have been working on this old house so that when the time comes it will sell well.But I've taken ample time for myself. Visited with the new neighbors across the street yesterday and had my kids and their kids over for a BBQ in the early evening. Today I take students downtown to draw the life of the city. This week I begin a new painting series I've been dreaming about based on a city event where they float fire pots on the river with dance and music. My wife and I spent the evening with old friends for dinner then the fire and water show. It wasn't very interesting in itself...but the visuals of the boat full of people putting logs on the fires floating in front of the city brought to mind Bosch and Breugal. While everyone else was watching the city balet troupe I was making pictures in my mind. It's good to be back.

on Tuesday, September 4th, Ellen said

I think that the pressures definitely intensify with age nipping at your heels. I recently came off a three year stint of round-the-clock work and am trying to stop spinning. Slowely (well not too slowely given the constraints of TIME!!), I'm trying to reorder my priorities. I began a painting project in a totally different style and medium....a new photography project, too. Not for potential buyers, but to satisfy long unmet needs. This is helping me to appreciate the here & now. I also recite "Invictus" a lot!
Jose- You put a lot of what I'm going through into eleoquent words, as always. I think that meanings and feelings become clearer through the continuation on the journey you (and I & so many of us) began long ago. And if they don't, well: at the very least, you are creating: mentally, physically, emmotionally and certainly verbally for us. Thanks!

on Tuesday, September 4th, Mark said

Jose, I understand. That is what I wrote about in my last blog about sewing my wild artistic oats, though I did not equate it to a heavier purse, I believe that may have been an unconcious thought in the back of my mind. Your words have given me pause to think.

on Tuesday, September 4th, jose said

Walt, you’ve just come back from a fabulous journey, if I were in your shoes I wouldn’t rush to catch up with anything. The French call what I just wrote about, ‘La Rentree’ – literally: re-entry. I’m tempted to say it’s like re-entry into orbit for an astronaut who has been out in space, but without the benefit of having watched the whole circus from afar – without the possibility of detachment. You are pulled back mercilessly into the chaos that revolves around you because you believe it’s the only course of action… and the crazy thing is you actually start to fancy it! I’m sure Argentina was far enough for you not to wish to give-in to the pull. Don’t rush it my friend, allow the seeds you’ve brought back with you the time and the space to grow. I was being sarcastic when I said the season was upon us.

Narasimhamurthy, what can I say, I have very strong feelings for India, and I definitely like your metaphor. There is no better place than India to learn to negotiate the ‘traffic jam’ at many levels.

You are absolutely right Mark, we are the ones who let those other seasons take over. I think the reason I came out with this now is because I managed to keep myself away form the pull for a certain time after returning from the east but as the time approaches to leave Portugal [should be happening in 2009] I’m feeling that maybe I should start gearing myself toward a little bit more action outside the studio. My studio partners, especially Fernando, are mostly responsible for that – they’re dragging me out of the cocoon. But I’m letting them do it: the purse yearns for a greater pull from gravity, I’ve tired of looking in and not finding much beyond a few coins for a mid-morning coffee and my studio rent… but if I am to be totally honest, the ego yearns for exposure.

on Monday, September 3rd, Mark said

Jose, you can.

I love the seasons, the autumn, spring, the beginning of winter and the beginning of summer, I do grow tiresome of the long winter (all grey and white and brown) and summer (all green) and can't wait for the fleeting spring or fall. I do not think of seasons in anyother way. If there is an art season, film season or such, well, when is that? Maybe because I do not pay mind to those types of season is why I am not rich off my art. Maybe there are other reasons as well. Point is, the control a season has over one is because we allow it to have control.

on Monday, September 3rd, Narasimhamurthy said

I love the way you wrote your thoughts down. Which means somewhere you are taking in the world at your own pace.
Welcome to India my friend!
You will notice here that time,wait ...time? what's that?
where did That come from!!
Well, so how...wait....
see we are all in a hurry... to type our thoughts down....to read them, to write some more....What do you say?

Anywayz I came up with a metaphor for life in the modern world..maybe seven years ago...and here it goes
"We are all rushing to the Next traffic jam"
ciao.. c u in rush hour....wait, does rush hour seem rather slow to you?!

on Monday, September 3rd, Narasimhamurthy said

on Monday, September 3rd, walt said

Jose, I know, I know. Being back from another country, nearly another time...well catching up is all I can do. But thanks for reminding me of the season. It is that time of year isn't it?

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09/03/2007: "Yaba-daba-doo! [Here we go again]"