Processing

Every time I move and shake up my immediate surroundings there's an adjustment period. My self-expression (visual art (mostly), writing (recently), and complaining (always)). Are put on hold as my brain pieces my new environmental stimuli back into something understandable. It's like when you watch a video on your computer and you skip ahead. Sometimes what first appears when it begins to play at the new location is jumbled, pixilated mess that slowly pulls itself into shape to reveal the scene hidden and distorted within.

Even when I moved only a few blocks the shift and subsequent restart took some time. I am essentially a reactionary. I react. And I turn those reactions into some kind of art. When the input changes the output changes, but it takes sometime to figure out what the new reaction is. Going to university and working in a shared studio was a big change but eventually was the main influence on what I was doing, from either commenting directly on other students work, using other students discarded work as a starting point for my own, or, equally reactionary, doing something as unconnected as possible from what my peers were doing. When I moved into my studio after graduating all that input disappeared and six months or more passed before I could do anything new. My job at a furniture store and associating with more fashion conscious people began to be an important influence on my paintings. Of course, this was probably so chewed up and neurotically strained and filtered by my brain as to be far less than obvious to anyone but myself. Nonetheless…

Moving to Japan was like waking up in an unfamiliar place, staring up at the unrecognizable ceiling. A few seconds of absolute panic before you slowly recall where you slept the night and that all is fine. Like that. Everyday. So the adjustment period was long and painful. I drew a bit when I arrived but everything seemed wrong. I was on a beautiful tropical beach but I was still wearing my long underwear and toque. I had to change. It took over a year and really it wasn't until I came back to Canada that I could really focus my mind. Those of you reading who have been to Nagasaki will agree that it is a visual mess. A jumble of buildings, power lines, and mountains that doesn't lend itself to a quick reckoning.

All this to say that in some ways things have not become that much clearer and writing the last installment of my Battle Hymn series is turning out to be tougher than I thought. Hang on, it's coming…..

The Boot Is Dead

Long Live The Boot

Buying new footwear is a big event in my life. Like the passing of an emperor, it marks the end and the beginning of an era. I used to own one pair of shoes at a time. As well as one pair of boots. I would wear both until they were unwearable, buy new ones and repeat the process. So I really had to like them because I would see them everytime I looked down for at least a year. In the case of boots, two or three winters.

Now that I am rich beyond my wildest dreams (which says a lot about the wildness of my dreams) I have a lavish six pair shoe collection. I still had only one pair of boots, though, and I somehow manage to make these ones last 9 years! Must be the unwintery winters over here in Japan. Granted they've looked like crap for the last three or four years but they've just become uncomfortable this year.

I picked up a new pair this week thus ushering in a new era. So far they are stiff and have cut up my ankles pretty bad, but I have high hopes for this new regime. Peace, prosperity and shiny leather.