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I decided that before I got too frustrated with things, I'd change my technique, draw in a way that I'm more comfortable these days, approach things in a more linear fashion...kind of my comic book style, the way I doodle during staff meetings when my mind just kind of goes in screen saver mode. The end result is the picture on the left, which I'm extremely happy with. I'd already gotten stuck in a rut, feeling like I had to draw a certain way, and just by changing things up a bit, not putting any restraints on my style, I ended up with a drawing that I'm really proud of. Many times in the art world, people expect all you to market yourself, that is, have a distinct style that everybody looks at and can associate with you. "Oh, that's a Gary Meulemans!" It's much easier to sell your work, if people can make that association. I guess I'm just not interested in doing that. I'd rather have my work speak for itself, than sell itself. In this art class, I'm learning that I still place a lot of preconceived expectations on myself and my talent, who I should be and what my work should look like, instead of just allowing my work and my talent to speak to me, and be free. I have to start doing a little less thinking when I draw, and a lot more feeling. I have to start learning how to channel my muse again. Then last night at class, I decided to approach my drawing in that linear fashion again. Hey, it worked the time before. I think it was a combination of the lighting, the model, and every other excuse that I can come with, but things just weren't working out. I hit another road block and was beginning to get frustrated again. The model had this really long, curly hair (I kept calling her Alanis Morisette in my mind), and approaching the piece in with lines and cross-hatching probably wasn't the best choice. Mara, one of the students in my class, understood my frustration, and told me that I should just keep pushing on, let my frustration fuel the piece, let it guide me. So, I pushed on.
After class (over a couple of margaritas again!), we were talking about our techniques and teories on art. Somehow, as it always seems to, things got more philosophical, and I realized that my struggles with that drawing, and how I resolved it, very much reflect my philosophies on life. To me, the meaning of life is the meaning you give it. It's the means to the end, not the end itself that's important. As with my drawing, it should sometimes be about the process, not the outcome. It should be about the moment, the action. Life should be about the little nuances, the tiny moments, not necessarily an ultimate goal. I realized that once I got lost in the moment of drawing, the art for art's sake, versus the goal of actually finishing the piece, that that's when the piece started to shine. Those are the moments I want to live for. G |
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Well, this morning, shortly after I got into work, I got an email from the big boss man. The email was short and to the point. It said: "This is absolutely perfect. Thank you." Wow. The difference a few small words can make. The acknowledgement alone would have been more than enough, but that compliment...saying it was perfect...well that was pretty frickin' huge. That simple little sentence made my day. I had to laugh at myself, as I was driving home from work tonight, listening to the song "Sacrifice" by Elton John (getting stoked for the concert on Friday), the lyrics in the chorus go something like "It's no sacrifice, just a simple word...." I know the song is about love, but those two lines stood out to me. It's amazing, how something as small as a thank you, which is absolutely no skin off of anybody's back, can make all the difference in the world. This incident today got me to thinking. Why do I need the constant acknowledgement? Isn't my paycheck enough? Isn't the self-gratification enough? It's a lot more than most people have. Why am I constantly searching for approval, whether it's from my boss, my friends, or my dad? Why can't I just be; let my work and my actions speak for themselves? There are many times that I feel like I'm chasing some imaginary unobtainable goal, not for my own happiness, but to prove something to those around me. It's like at times, I can't escape that scrawny, shy, picked-on teenager that I once was, so many lives ago...It's as if I'm still trying to just go through the day and gain some type of acceptance from the popular kids at school, who I despise with such a passion and yet, so desperately want to be part of. It's incredible how certain scars in life never really heal but only change who we are..make us strive for something better. So with this morning's email, I gained some of that acceptance, got the positive affirmation that I needed to get past this frustrating time. Now I need to start working on giving myself that affirmation. That's going to be the hard part. G |
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Music
And Me My mom was in a band that played both kinds of music, country and western, first with her sister Jean, but then eventually with my grandpa and grandma, my uncles Jeff and Terry, and my aunts Lynn and Sharon - "The Vander Heiden Family Band." I remember mom being gone a lot on the weekends in the summer, playing weddings and church picnics. I remember how awesome it was, when I'd hang out with them in Grandma and Grandpa's basement and listen to them practice...all country music back then, my favorites included Alabama and the Oak Ridge Boys. I remember going along to a few talent shows with them, and always thinking that the judges had it against them. I think that's why I'm so into American Idol these days, part of me understands and can relate to Clay Aiken's defeat (it was rigged I tell ya!). I remember getting my first radio for Christmas in 6th grade. I think it was my uncle Mike who made a point of setting it to a rock station, 'cuz that country music had to go. I got a portable tape recorder that year as well, and I would tape music by putting the radio next to the radio. If anybody would walk into the room and talk, the recording would be ruined! I had tapes and tapes of songs, that was all I listened to back then. The early days of Napster?? The first song I taped was "Cum On Feel The Noize." Boy, have my tastes changed. When I had the chicken pox that year, Mom bought me my first tape, "Thriller." I think I got "Purple Rain" for Christmas the following year. Some of my tastes haven't changed a bit. Fast forward 20-some years to now, where I've been quite busy the past week or so, slowly converting my CD collection (which is just under 700, at my last count...not counting many of the CDs I've copied from people), to mp3 format, getting it ready for my iPod mp3 player which I plan on buying sometime this summer. Nowadays, the digital revolution has changed music access tremendously. It's changed how easy it is to get music that I'd never hear before or have access to. I currently have over 12 days of music on my computer. I probably own 2/3 of it, and have "borrowed" the rest by downloading it for free. By the time I'm done with the music conversion, I think I'll have well over 3 weeks of music, if you played every song back-to-back, on my computer, and hopefully on the mp3 player, soon, which is about the size of a pack of smokes. As I'm doing this, hearing so much great music, it just amazes me how important music is to me, how great a force it is in my life. I've gone to countless concerts, spent countless hours listening to music, reading lyrics, analyzing the meanings. Music has been there during the good times, all the fun nights dancing when I was in high school and college. It's been there during the hard times. I honesly think that many times it's what's given me the strength to get through those hard times. It's been a way I've connected with people. Some of my closest friends are into music like I am. It's been a soundtrack to my life. Talking about it here, it almost feels as it's a religion to me. Being able to connect with an artist like Bono or John Lennon, or perhaps gain new meaning or understanding in my life, brought about because of these songs...well, it's such an incredible thing to me. I only hope I could somehow share just a splinter of that type of power through my art. As music formats change, as we go from album to mp3, 8-track to CD, and as the artists change, from Disco Duck to Coldplay, my love for music will never die. G |
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A Quick
Email To Say What's Up I celebrated my 32nd birthday last week, although it the first birthday I remember since college that I did nothing special for the day, didn't go out with friends or anything...it was just one of those days, I guess, where everybody tends to go on with their own lives. It shouldn't have bother me like it did, but I've always tried to do something special for that day. I'd say it's a sign that I'm getting older, but the fact that I let it bum me out like it did tells me otherwise. I ended up going over to my sister's to watch American Idol and 24, and got to spend some time with Brett and Derick. Even though I was depressed about the day, those two are the best gift I can ask for. It's so awesome every time I see them, how I can see the relationship forming between them, as well as their relationship with me. Brett's the little one, he's about 16 months right now, and I slowly can see him recognizing me, wanting to be near me. Derick, who's almost 3 1/2 is quickly turning from a baby into a little boy, and it's amazing for me to how he changing right before my eyes from week to week. It's amazing how my love for them grows each time I see them. I finally got Elton John tickets. He performs in Green Bay on the 30th. I was pretty pissed that I didn't get tickets when they went on sale. it's the first time that I've tried for concert tickets that I didn't get them. I got a letter last week from a girl that I met at Vicki's divorce party, the same party that I got that aura reading at, which was really the catalyst for this web site and me taking the drawing classes. She's lives in Madison and her family's from Green Bay, so I'm definitely going to pursue it. I have to say, it makes me fell pretty good that women are actually interested in me, it's been a ego boost this year. My friend Splash said that 2003 was going to be the year of the "G." The drawing classes are going well. I'm enjoying them so much. They're so intense, but I feel so complete when I'm doing it. Unfortunately, I've been going about every-other week, because I've had other things going on those nights. There's been two people in the class, Mark and Mara, who I've gone out with for margaritas after class a few times. They seem like really cool people, really passionate about art. It's great being around people like that again. This is odd...I feel like tonight I'm writing a letter or an email to a friend that I'm trying to catch up with, rather than a journal entry, but whatever works I guess. That's all for now. There'll be a sketch next time, I promise. G |
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So tonight, I end my first month's worth of entries with a sketch that contradicts a previous sketch...but as other entries have stated, I definitely have my hypocritical side(s). I might add, that tonight's sketch was inspired by the Matrix and digitally enhanced for the widescreen format. Even better than the real thing baby. Wake up Neo. G |
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The sketch to the right is the very first sketch in my first book. It was the real first non-physical self-portrait that I've ever done. The character in the sketch evolved into the more super hero type character that you see on the home page of the site. The element of my artistic talent coming from an inner light was there way back then. The text on the drawing is the last line of one of my favorite songs, "Waiting (Reprise)" by George Michael. That phrase speaks to me even today..over 10 years later. It's funny, at the time, I know the sketch was simply about my talent and where it comes from, but now, the text on the drawing seems more important that the drawing itself....at least more relevant to my life now. There's a verse on the new Madonna CD that I bought last week that goes as follows: "I've had so
many lives Those words strike a chord with me, just like the ones in the drawing. I feel like over and over again, I'm starting my life over...But does it feel like over and over again I've died? Not really...not noticeably, anyway. When I look back at the past few years of my life, I could sense that the artist in me was dying, but I never wanted to admit that to myself or those around me. It's hard for me to accept that I've been given a gift in the first place, because it raises all kinds of questions about spirituality, divinity...our souls....and God. It's like opening Pandora's box to me. But then for me to realize that I've been ignoring that talent..ignoring that gift...well, it's not something I'm very proud of. I think back to the relationships I've had with the friends I no longer talk to, the one's who I always say I divorced myself of. At the end of those relationships, I knew that a death of sorts was happening...a long dragged out, cancerous death. That time around, the rebirth was something I was much less aware of. The group of friends I have around me now is very different that that of the old millennium, but it wasn't something that happened in a flash. It was more like a garden, with seeds that were planted that all had to be cultivated over time. But I digress... Tonight I'm here to talk about rebirths. More specifically my artistic rebirth of late. The creative phoenix. Perhaps for a phoenix to rise from the ashes, there has to be ashes in the first place. I've always believed that my best art comes out of pain and suffering. It's much more difficult for me to get inspired by happiness than it is grief. Or at least it used to be that way in the past. Now I have so many ideas, so much creativity bubbling up from inside, and I have to wonder what this phase, this chapter that seems to be starting on very happy terms, will bring. Could this reacquaintance with my art be the fuel to keep that phoenix aflame? Will the happiness fuel the art, and the art fuel the happiness? Could I be so lucky? Each time I start over, it seems a little more difficult than the time before, but also a little more rewarding. Are these the building blocks of life, slowly constructing and deconstructing who we are, what we believe? Are we ever complete, or always evolving? I hope that I never stop evolving; this only seems like the beginning. Is it too late to start again? Here I am. G |
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The past few weeks since I started this site, this journal, my sketches, and the drawing class, I've found a genuine peace within me, that is spreading to all the aspects in my life. Last weekend I hung out with my friends, and just had fun...no drama, nothing too serious, just a lot of good-natured fun - the pleasure of just being around those people...the feeling of accomplishment of having such good friends. I've been experiencing that same feeling with my friends at work, as well as a real contentment with my job. I feel the ability to sink my teeth into a project, accomplish what I set out to do, and the days just fly by. It's like I realize what my talents and skills are, and take real pride in what I do and the small difference I make. I'm not saying things in my life are anywhere near perfect, but these days, things just feel a little less heavy...less of a burden. Life is pleasant. I feel blessed with the people in my life, the loves and passions in my life, and content with the choices that I've made. By recapturing my art, waking up that part of me that I've been neglecting for so long, the world seems like such a beautiful place. It's as if the poet inside is finally awake, and he sees life for the beauty it has to offer. I can sleep at night without sharing my bed with the weight of the world. Somehow, I've been able to stare this storm we call life in the eye, and find that amazing lightning storm. Sweet dreams. G
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The other students and the instructor did portraiture last night, but I didn't really have the materials to do so, nor the patience. I didn't want to create something so controlled, so precise. I just wanted the art to create itself. In the end, I created a drawing that I'm pretty happy with, considering it's my first in 10 years. I can pick the flaws out quite easily if I allow myself...the neck is too long, the head is too big, the fingers on the one hand are all jumbled up, the one leg is off, etc...But I realize that last night the outcome of my drawing wasn't as important as just my actually going to the studio, and picking up those art supplies again. I know I'll get better again as time goes on. Practice will make all the difference in the world. My artistic muscle needs to slowly get back into shape. When class was over, and all day today as well, I felt as if I had recaptured a part of myself again...part of my youth, perhaps, but I think more specifically, that artist part of me. I feel this overwhelming sense of creativity this week; I called it a creative phoenix to a coworker today. I've recaptured that adrenaline rush of drawing, and that total burn out feeling of my artistic energies consuming me. As I was driving home last night, I felt a genuine sense of contentment, a happiness that I haven't felt for quite some time (with the exception of the births of Derick and Brett). In many ways, I feel whole tonight.
G P.S. On a side note, the sketch for this entry is actually a digital photograph that was shot with my new Canon ZR65 mini-DV cam. Switched on, baby! Also worth noting, I ended up going out for margaritas with the 2 other artists in the class. They both seemed like really nice people, both really passionate about art. It was so great being around people like that again! |
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Hope Well today seems like it's going to end up being quite a historic day in this war against Iraq. I've seen image after image of that statue of Sadamm Hussein being brought down...and many Iraqi people cheering at the American soldiers. I've seen many photographs of the soldiers being hugged and kissed by the people of Baghdad. In all of these images of war and strife, a city crumbled to pieces, I see Iraqi people with smiles on their faces...hope in their eyes. I went for a walk tonight, and heard that Lee Greenwood song again. Today, it means something different than in did at that wedding, but still equally powerful. Today I'm feeling pride for my country...a genuine sense of patriotism. Many of my feelings about this war are still blurred - it's obviously not a black or white issue for me - but today I take a feeling of hope from the events of today. A sense that maybe things are going to be alright. The most powerful image I saw today was of two or three Iraqi children flying a kite. It felt so pure, so innocent, so natural. That photo gave me a little bit of hope for this world and the future. G
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Well, now we're at war. Some say this war is a direct correlation to those events of 9-11, others are more skeptical. I'm hesitant to voice any strong opinions about what's going on. It's just way too complicated. In these days of war, I've been thinking of John Lennon once again...his life, his music, his peace efforts. His songs permeate my brain: "Give Peace A Chance," "All You Need Is Love," "Love," and of course, "Imagine" and "Happy X-Mas (War Is Over)." I drew this sketch the day the war broke out. For some odd reason, I kept thinking of John Lennon. "Give Peace A Chance" kept ringing in my head...but it felt shattered. I kept wondering what John would have thought. Would he have been able to live by something as idealistic? Does "All You Need Is Love" even have a shred of a chance these days? Has it ever? Is humanity capable of such an ideal? Will peace make a madman stop slaughtering his own people? Will love make the crimes of humanity go away? Look at the animal kingdom...animals kill each other every day...survival of the fittest. Are we capable of anything better? I'm torn between being a dreamer and being a realist. With so much hate in the world, it's hard to keep your head in the clouds. These days, so little makes sense...I hear phrases like "friendly-fire" and wonder if I'm the only one who sees the oxymorons. I see a foreign country being pulverized to bits, for their liberation. So much death...all in the name of peace. This comes back, I guess, to the age-old question about the means justifying the end. It's obvious to me that somebody needs to do something. Are we doing this for the greater good of the planet? Is this all in the name of love? Is it a case of tough love? If Mother Earth had a voice, what would she say? So tonight, I conclude this by saying I don't have any solid answers, only a handful of solid thoughts, actually, and as many questions as there are stars in the sky. As I become more aware of this world, it just seems to get more and more complex...suddenly making me question my ideals, my values, and our time here on earth. I so want to say that all you need is love, I want to tell the world to give peace a chance, but I no longer know if that's anything more than a dream. In my disillusionment, I feel less and less sure of the world around me, of humanity, and why we are here. The only thing I know for sure is the love I have for my friends and my family...most strongly for my two nephews. I know that I want them to grow up with love...believing in love, believing that love can conquer all. Perhaps I have to hold on to those ideals...hold on to the dream, and pass it on. Perhaps that's how we can change the future...and carry on with hope. G
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Sometime during this initial period of renewed self-awareness, I bumped into some old friends, that I more or less divorced myself of a few years ago, for many reasons that may or may be expressed in this journal. Also at that time, a few encounters happen at work; whether it was something that somebody said or thought, or something I actually did or said, is beside the point, but I felt these encounters put my personality in a negative light. The end result with bumping into the old group of friends as well as the instances at work, is that I felt pretty crappy about myself, about who I think am vs. who people see. One of the many things I do at my job is create technical illustrations. Many times they are basic black and white line arts with text pointing to certain areas of the illustration that we need to callout. Well, being in this state of self-analysis, and feeling pretty shitty about certain elements of my personality, I decided to do a technical illustration of myself and point out all of my personality traits. As I started out the sketch, I realized for each negative thing I called out, I had a positive one to counter it. Many of the things I pointed out were possibly ways that I see myself, but many others were ways that others see me. That got me to thinking, which is the real me? Who is the real person that I see in the mirror each morning? Is that guy the same guy that everybody else sees? I'm beginning to realize that many times, people see you for who they want you to be...they project their own hopes and fears, dreams and baggage on you....their expectations never quite match who were are...who we think we are...who we want to be. Nobody's personality is cut and dry. We all have immense dichotomies that we present to the world each day, that we live each day. I think everybody's hypocritical to a certain extent. I think we also live life and try to put a certain personality out there for people to see, judge, like or dislike. But I wonder how true that outer image is to who we are when we're alone at night. Is there a certain type of behavior one must take, one must conform to, just to get by in life? And why is it that at times, our personality traits seem as interchangeable as our wardrobe...I'll put on my good shoes since I'm going to that wedding...I'll put on my happy face since I'm going out for the night? It's all so very interesting. G
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But once the weekend was over, the whole aura thing really had me rattled. I have an aura, dammit! I, mean, don't I? For as much as I wanted to say that his reading of me was complete bunk, I did have to admit that there was a lot of truth in it. That Sunday night of that weekend, I got my sketchbook out for the first time in something like 5 or 6 years, and drew my retaliation sketch: me standing there with a huge-ass grin with this kick-ass aura around me. It got me to thinking though, is the artist in me getting side railed by the techie in me? Can one be too plugged in? I've got high speed internet, digital cable, a bazillion CDs and DVDs, a cell phone, Palm Pilot, etc....so many gadgets...so many ways to stay organized, stay on top of things, stay connected. But am I connected? Am I connected with my inner self, who I am, my soul? What about nature? Or God, for that matter? All of these gadgets have allowed me to stay in touch with an abundance of information...so much of it completely useless, trivial information. All of this technology can cloud things at times....cloud one's vision..cloud reality...cloud life. It's easy to get so wrapped up in things. Just today I purchased a new DVD player, a new scanner, and am waiting for that video camera (the tax refund showed up this week!)....I've never been more "connected" but yet at times, I feel like I've never been more disconnect from the things in life that really count. This little web site that I've been building is my way of trying to balance out both sides...reconnect with my thoughts, and expand them to the www. G P.S. On a related note, tomorrow night I'm planning on taking a figure drawing class at UWGB. It's just an open studio..for people who want to draw or paint. God, was it a rush buying a bunch of art supplies tonight. I can't wait for the charcoal to turn my figures a deep shade of black.
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Document For some reason, though, I feel compelled to keep record of some of the things going on in my life around me. The other day I actually glanced at an old journal from college, and couldn't believe all the memories it evoked. The sites, the sounds...the time it brought back. (The one neat thing I did in my earlier journals was mention the music that I was listening to at the time...Trust me, Vanilla Ice and M.C. Hammer seemed like the music to listen to back then. Currently, "In Da Club" by 50 Cent is on in the background. Things really haven't changed all that much since "Ice Ice Baby," have they?) But I digress.... So, the only thing really worth noting today is that I ordered my first video camera. I hope to start making movies, videos, documentaries, etc. Something else to keep record, I suppose, of the world going on around me. This time not with words or hieroglyphics, but with actual sound and moving pictures. What a concept, huh? The reality, though, will still be skewed in my vision, I imagine. But I somehow feel the need to document the things around me. Perhaps by doing this, I'm giving the insignificant daily things a little bit of significance....giving meaning to life instead of waiting for that meaning to happen. G
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If you any questions, comments, or requests, you can contact me at: |
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Lose Yourself
As
I let my pencil explore the piece, the model went from looking
like Harrison Ford to Daryll Hannah, before I aborted the linear
approach on it all together, and just let myself really connect
with the model. I used her long hair as my inspiration, and in
about he last 20 minutes of so of the session, I feel like things
really came together. Her hair lent itself to a much more expressive
form of drawing...a much more graphic approach. It reminds me
of those drawing your see from the 60s, like the Yellow Submarine
cartoon. Her hair's my favorite part of the drawing. After struggling
with face for over an hour, somehow, the 20 mintues I spent on
the hair resolved the entire piece for me.
No Sacrifice
May 25, 2003 (sketch
date: 1/05/91)
Enter The Matrix
The Phoenix
Electrical Storm
A Beginning Of Sorts
So
maybe, that dude who did my aura reading wasn't so far off. Maybe
I rejuvenated the artist that was slowly decaying inside. There's
nothing more exciting than a rebirth.
WWJLD?
Disection
Digital
Domain