Today I sent a piece of my art out into the world to compete, for the first time. The piece is a card design for a DC volunteer organization's contest to design their 2009 Thank You card. The reward if the design wins is simply that it will be used as the organization's card for the year, to thank people for their contributions. I am very excited to see what will happen. Although I don't expect to win, it's fun to have a piece in the running and to know that people will be looking at my work. The judging will happen on Saturday at a fund-raising event and I will know if my design is chosen on Sunday. I'm keeping my fingers crossed and hoping for the best for my little card!

I've begun work on my first "series" and oddly, it's a mixed media homage to Joan Miro. The series overall is loosely based on Miro's "Compositions" paintings.
Having said that, I have to admit that I don't actually know a great deal about Miro or his "Compositions" series, at least, not technically. I'm not overly, well read on the subject, but something about the aesthetic appeals to me visually. Perhaps it's the seemingly random placement of elements in his work that I connect with? I don't really know, but I can say that I like the use of color very much.
Being that I have not steeped myself in the story or history of Miro or this body of his work, I cannot say that I'm basing my own series on anything more than my emotional response to his aesthetic. For me, that's good enough.
As for my approach, I am not sketching my own compositions out in advance. Instead, I'm taking a more "organic" approach, choosing a very limited, basic color palette and letting each stroke, line or shape inform what and where the next will be. In esscence, letting the final composition reveal itself as it needs to, without imposing my own, preconceived structure onto it.
Thus far, as I am nearing completion of the first piece of this series, I am very happy with the result. Although I'm sure that from a technical perspective, one could probably find a hundred different flaws in the composition as a whole, but that's alright. I'm pleased with the work that I am doing. The only problem I have is deciding which way it should be oriented!

Over the last few weeks, I have spent a considerable amount of time thinking about my art and the impending approach of the last year of my thirties. Looking back at the first thirty-eight years and my creative journey through them, I have drawn some new conclusions.
First, I have allowed fear, anger, doubt and insecurity to overpower my creative self. Again and again, I've talked myself out of following or believing what my instinct has steered me toward. The result being that countless ideas have been lost, countless opportunities squandered.
Second, everything that I have ever set my mind to accomplishing and been willing to work for, I have accomplished. From traveling abroad to being on an Emmy winning team and a bunch of stuff in between. Therefore, I see no reason why I shouldn't be able to make a living with my art.
I have the key ingredients... talent, ambition, creativity, desire and passion. I edit film, paint, draw, write, sculpt and have a decent eye for photography. I work in a broad range of medium, style and technique. I push myself constantly to explore, take risks and challenge myself creatively.
Furthermore, I recognize that while I may be "a Jack of all trades, master of none"... I don't need to be. Art is purely subjective. Therefore, it doesn't need to be "perfect" and seldom is. At best, "good" art is aesthetically pleasing or otherwise interesting, maybe even both... but is rarely perfect. Generally speaking, most art that is technically "perfect" is little more than advertising, and that's a road I have no need to travel.
So it is with all of this in mind that I look ahead, to the end of my thirties, the rebirth of my creative self and the uncertain future before me. It's all just a blank canvas for me to explore and express, however imperfectly I might.

I began working on this piece, "be still, my heart of rage", about a year ago after the death of my brother. My intention at the time was to express all of the emotional chaos that I was feeling. I arrived at the idea of a heart, shattered to pieces... yet, still visible and discernible amid the chaos. The more I worked on it, the more it became a self-portrait. Each plane grew progressively more difficult to face or address. I struggled with it for quite some time before finally shelving it and moving on to something else. As I sit here tonight, working on it once again, I can feel his presence around me. Tonight, each plane carries new discoveries, new unexpected surprises. I am excited and energized by this painting. It feels as though we are just hanging out, catching up and watching the piece evolve, like a conversation between brothers.