Pictures Contain Stories

Poets sometimes shuffle evocative photographs in front of their eyes to stimulate associations and gain new ideas for poems. Pictures contain stories, but it is up to the viewer to supply the text.
I have over thirty thousand photos in my files, so imagine how many poems could be written. Here are a few to talk about:

This photo was taken while I sat in a car on a street in Agra, India, home to the famous Taj Majal. I was waiting for someone and my window was down. A woman spied me and approached, pushing a young girl ahead. They could see I was “western” and supposed that I had money to give them. The child stood in front like a soldier, just as the mother expected her to be, and wore a pitiful expression of fear, despair and blight. The woman reached out her hand and on her face was a mixture of pain and hardness, with a wild look in her eyes, ready to devour—even as she devoured the life of the child.

I have spent endless hours roaming streets with my camera, not knowing what I am looking for, keeping my eyes wide open for an unexpected moment to surprise me. While in Florence, Italy one afternoon, I happened by this black woman leaning on a railing. Behind her was a huge poster of a white woman, some kind of artist. I looked into the woman’s face and saw she had scarification typical of parts of Africa. I enjoy those beauty emblems, and we gazed at each other before I snapped her picture. She is obviously content with herself, and bemused that I would stop to photograph her—and in that moment, she is the real star of the show.

The last picture was taken in the mountains outside of Chiang Mai, Thailand, where I stopped in a village along the way to a sojourn in the jungle to ride an elephant. As I was walking on a narrow trail, I passed a little girl, holding her puppy. The sight was beautiful, and immediately I sought the best view for a picture that had to be taken fast. I dropped to my knees so as to be at eye level with the child. She obliged by standing still and gazing at me with her arms wrapped around the dangling puppy.



Go to my website, Graphixshoot, see more artistic photography.

Passion For Creativity

"Rio Grande River Autumn" oil on linen, 36 x 48 inches

There are countless ways for human beings to be creative, and creativity is not just for artists. Of course, accountants, judges, assembly workers, surgeons, and many other professionals are in situations that require creativity to be minimized, but when these people are off duty, they can choose creative ventures like cooking, writing, photography, landscaping, and many other pursuits that require creative thought.

As an artist, I have a passion for creativity. When I set up a blank, white canvas on an easel in my studio, immediately I am challenged. How will I produce a work of art? My tools are paints, palette knives and brushes, but I must decide how to mix the paints, what colors to produce, what lines and shapes to make, what textures I want to be seen . . . and then I have to work with skill to be able to produce a worthy result.

When I am working on a landscape painting, I often work from nature on location. This has special challenges, i.e. the light constantly changes, the weather can be windy, rainy or cold, and sometimes a location is far away from my studio. I have painted so many pictures outdoors, that now, I know the colors and textures of nature and how to achieve them—even if I choose to work from a photograph in my studio, where the environment is controlled. Usually, when people view my paintings, they cannot tell the difference between ones painted outdoors and those painted from photos. The landscape I am showing above is a recent piece, done in my studio from a photograph.

Being creative means experimenting with whatever modality is at hand. With the advent of digital imaging, photography can be manipulated as easily as painting. Special software, such as Photoshop, allows pixels to be changed and recombined to marvelous advantage. Because of my traveling, and passion for photography, I have tens of thousands of photos in my files. In the next photograph, I have combined two images taken in Venice, Italy, to achieve an unexpected result that goes beyond typical photos. The last image is a similar technique of combining images taken in Paris, France—one, a bronze relief from the Louvre Museum, and the other, a texture found on the wall of a mausoleum in the Père Lachaise Cemetery. This is the fun of creativity—to explore and discover.

Best Of January Writing, 2007-2011

The best of January blogs, 2007-2011:

Eternity
January 28, 2007

The Homestretch

January 20, 2008

 

Standing On The Threshold
January 11, 2009

Bohemian Companions
January 31, 2010




















Infinite Worlds
January 29, 2011

Chamo

Heidi Of The Mountains exclaimed, “We will have a dog for our gallery!” We were visiting a prominent Santa Fe gallery during a Friday night exhibit, and Heidi had spied the gallery dog, a white poodle, sprawled in the office.

The thought stayed with her, and occasionally, I made slight objections. Not long ago, I lived fancy free, traveling extensively, and while I like pets, I had made a choice to regard my freedom first. Now, our main priority is to establish our business, The Steven Boone Gallery.

Pedigree dogs can be expensive, but Heidi Of The Mountains puts energy into achieving her goals, so when I finally agreed to a pet, she set a financial target for holiday sales in order to win her reward of a poodle. We began looking for a breeder with puppies, and I found one in West Texas. When Heidi met her goals, she was elated and we called to ask about the poodle pups. Out of a litter of ten, two boys remained, and we chose one, based upon pictures.

Today, we drove two hours east to Santa Rosa, New Mexico, as the breeder drove two hours west from her home. We met, picked up the puppy and now he is home. A couple days ago, Heidi pondered what we should name him. I suggested naming him after a river, and thought of our local Chama River. Then a young friend of ours mentioned that in her home country of Venezuela, it would be more appropriate to call our dog Chamo, meaning “little boy.”  So there we have it. It all began with an affirmation.

Passion And Enthusiasm

12 x 12 inch square abstract that transformed into a piece of the work below

 Society likes definitions, to better categorize and compartmentalize facts into groups and classes. Professions are built upon specific training that produces skilled workers who are given diplomas in arts and sciences. Usually, a class of professionals, such as physicians, has subclasses, i.e. internist, ophthalmologist, gastroenterologist, etc. In art, the categories are fewer, but there are sculptors, painters, performance artists, installation artists, and more. It is generally accepted that an artist finds his passion, develops his skill and becomes known for his excellence within his class of discipline. When the public becomes accustomed to the pleasure of his work, they eagerly anticipate new productions that recall past accomplishments. The more famous the artist, the more public taste demands a recognizable product.

Creativity and commerce can be a difficult marriage. For instance, Norman Rockwell (February 3, 1894 – November 8, 1978) became a beloved American artist because he so deftly and expertly conveyed in his paintings homespun American values and warmth—and the images were reproduced frequently in magazines and posters. But imagine the outcry if he were suddenly to abandon his former path and take up another, say, abstract expressionism.  For the most part, society is about favor and taste, not creativity. That is why so many artists have endured hardship—pursuing visions that often take years before society accepts.

When the impressionists first produced their remarkable paintings in France, they were snubbed and spent years in poverty, because public taste was for academic realism with a historical narrative bias. By passion and enthusiasm, they persevered, until gradually their work was accepted and praised. In art history, this theme of misunderstood art has been a common one.

Occasionally, an artist becomes famous as much for his creative personality as his art. Pablo Picasso (25 October 1881 – 8 April 1973) for instance, could pursue many different styles and tangents, and the public followed along with his “genius.”

The problem for many artists is that it takes years to develop a mature style, and would take more years to change. I have been restless explorer from the start, and have not been willing to follow the commercial advice to find a personal style and make a niche market. I can’t live in a niche. I try many approaches, knowing that I must investigate the unknown. For the most part, I am known for my landscape paintings, but I also explore photography, mixed media, portraiture, drawing, and abstract art.

This week, I made an abstract painting (seen above at top of page), which then became part of an assemblage of three other paintings and transformed into one 24 x 24 inch artwork. Each piece can stand on its own as an abstract, and together, all the pieces make a whole.

Best December Blogs

Here are a selection of my best blogs from the month of December, since 2006:

Being Fully Grounded

Monday, December 04, 2006   

 

Extraordinary Way

Sunday, December 30, 2007

Time And Space In Dream

Sunday, December 21, 2008 

Bound In The Inscrutable

Saturday, December 12, 2009 

Serendipity

Sunday, December 19, 2010 

Inner Eye

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Breath Of Life

I am quite aware my life is not perfect. Moreover, I am not anxious about imperfection, and I have no fear of death because it is only the death of imperfection. I believe perfection exists and trust it more than I trust imperfection. Perfection exists beyond mortality . . . beyond the reach of decay and death; it must be self-sustaining, infinite and eternal. This is SPIRIT, beyond the comprehension of human thought.

That which is created and has life in physical form I call THE DREAM. This is opposite of many people’s belief that what cannot be physically experienced is but a dream. I say that what is physical is only part of THE DREAM, and not essential. That which is essential can never die or be born, but is the breath of life within everything. This life breath can never be extinguished—only transformed. So why would I fear perishing? I trust the essential BEING will continue forever. Death does not invade Essential Existence of which everything is a part.

Celebrate the Breath Of Life and realize that the hand of death is only revolution. THE DREAM has always been, and always will be.

Inner Eye

All creatures have eyes, to navigate the physical realm, and these eyes are miracles of creation. How is it then that while we humans sleep with our eyes closed, we see fantastic places, and witness events unfold? For this, an inner eye must exist and be open. Many a time, a person has awakened from sleep, and opening their eyes to familiar surroundings, also recalled fantastic visions that remain fresh in the mind and spirit. How often has it come to pass that later, a person has appeared exactly as seen in a dream. This is the clairvoyant power of the inner eye. The word “clairvoyant" has its origin in 17th century French, from clair ‘clear’ + voyant ‘seeing’—clear seeing. Clairvoyance is deemed supernatural, meaning beyond natural law.

The thing is, we struggle for our physical existence, but not our inner life. So the physical needs are much more pressing and seemingly, urgent. Therefore, we elevate the senses to the top, and let our inner eyes languish. Furthermore, people become suspicious of what they cannot physically see and even reject life beyond the senses. The seventeenth century German writer Jacob Boehme, (probably April 24, 1575 – November 17, 1624) wrote, “for he who sees nothing says nothing is there; what he sees, that he knows, and further he knows of nothing but that which is before his eyes.”  The Confessions of Jacob Boehme, by Jacob Boehme.

My belief is that what our senses perceive is infinitesimal, and that our inner eye can perceive far more, if we open them to our conscious mind. Recently, I read in the Baha’i writings:

“Man is in the highest degree of materiality, and at the beginning of spirituality—that is to say, he is the end of imperfection and the beginning of perfection. He is at the last degree of darkness, and at the beginning of light; that is why it has been said that the condition of man is the end of the night and the beginning of day, meaning that he is the sum of all the degrees of imperfection, and that he possesses the degrees of perfection. He has the animal side as well as the angelic side, and the aim of an educator is to so train human souls that their angelic aspect may overcome their animal side. Then if the divine power in man, which is his essential perfection, overcomes the satanic power, which is absolute imperfection, he becomes the most excellent among the creatures; but if the satanic power overcomes the divine power, he becomes the lowest of the creatures. That is why he is the end of imperfection and the beginning of perfection. Not in any other of the species in the world of existence is there such a difference, contrast, contradiction and opposition as in the species of man. Thus the reflection of the Divine Light was in man, as in Christ, and see how loved and honored He is! At the same time we see man worshiping a stone, a clod of earth or a tree. How vile he is, in that his object of worship should be the lowest existence—that is, a stone or clay, without spirit; a mountain, a forest or a tree. What shame is greater for man than to worship the lowest existences? In the same way, knowledge is a quality of man, and so is ignorance; truthfulness is a quality of man; so is falsehood; trustworthiness and treachery, justice and injustice, are qualities of man, and so forth. Briefly, all the perfections and virtues, and all the vices, are qualities of man.” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, (Persian, 23 May 1844 - 28 November 1921) Some Answered Questions

The Sexiest Man Alive

When a spokesperson for People Magazine called me on the phone to tell me I was chosen for the annual, “Sexiest Man Alive” issue and then asked for my consent to appear on the cover, I was flattered, amused, and honestly—embarrassed. Every year when the issue arrives on the newsstands, I scoff and shake my head in disdain. After all, how can one American magazine be qualified to make such a weighty and highly subjective announcement? Does this mean that every woman finds the chosen man the most attractive of all men on earth? Impossible. After all, people have different tastes, and of course, happily married women will always say that their man is sexiest—no matter his looks, or what is in the bank account. It is the special, unique “love” factor that is the biggest turn on, and keeps a partner coming back for more.

Months after the interview, and after the phone call, I had a chance to talk with a couple of the judges who selected among over 150 men. In the end, it was between me, and Bradley Cooper, the latest actor sensation. He has good looks with a chiseled physique, is intelligent, and has a certain charm that attracts the ladies. Yet, People Magazine had something different in mind for this year. They wanted more than the young actor with baby stubble on his face, smelling of expensive cologne. During his interview, Mr. Cooper sat amiably enough in the expensive hotel room, but he crossed his legs and his shirt was unbuttoned down to mid-chest, and he laughed a bit too much. Ho-hum, same old stereotype. What People Magazine told me was that they liked my “tragic depth” and worldly wisdom. Yeah, I am 59 years old and not as quick and strong, but I have walked the mean streets of Rio De Janeiro, and Nairobi, and danced in their nightclubs, slept in the desert beside my camel, walked alone for miles on the streets of Berlin, Paris, New York and Rome, and told would-be robbers to get lost. I smell good just the way I am so do not need cologne. I can wear socks that do not match, wash dishes in my house and make meals too. As for sensitivity, the magazine liked that I massage, hold hands, kiss, write sweet things for my wife, and also, that I am very faithful.

My wife, Heidi Of The Mountains told me to go ahead and accept the award, simply to break the mold that Madison Avenue has established to sell sex. Anyway, all that matters to me is when I hear from her lips, “To me, you are the sexiest man alive.”

Revel In Art

When I first met Heidi Of The Mountains, she stood naked before a small group of artists who were studying her figure and drawing. She is what artists’ call, “Rubenesque”, a term referring to the famous Flemish painter Peter Paul Rubens (28 June 1577 – 30 May 1640), and his delight in painting plump, attractively rounded women. Heidi is well built, but not fat. In the next three hours, I made five quick “gesture” drawings, and three 45-minute drawings of her in various poses. I had returned to Santa Fe from one year of traveling around the world, and she had begun modeling part-time for artists, to engage her creativity and break the stress of her full time job as a parole officer.

Over the next several months, I drew Heidi Of The Mountains again, and we began getting to know each other. I learned she represented artists, and she came to my studio to look at my art, and also the great variety of objects I had imported from abroad. She agreed to sell for me, and soon we began a romance that continued for two years. We married in Hawaii, November 4, 2011, and the romance continues.

Heidi offered to quit modeling nude if I object, since posing without clothes can elicit some sexual feelings. After traveling around the world and experiencing so much, I figured her body is just part of life.

Last week, I went to my figure-drawing group, and Heidi Of The Mountains modeled. Twelve people were there, seated in a semi-circle around a short platform. Heidi took off her clothes and stood on the stand. Most of the group had drawn her many times, and share affection for both Heidi and I, enjoying our new role as newlyweds. But a couple of artists were new to the group, and one of the men sat next to me. When Heidi first took off her robe, I could feel a bit of excitement surge through him, and it panged me a bit that he was enjoying in public what is my private pleasure. I realized that I risked losing a little of the special aspect of our intimacy. Nonetheless, what is even bigger is being an artist, and both Heidi Of The Mountains and I revel in art and rejoice in its creativity and generous flow.

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New! The Steven Boone Gallery

Jumping In

Jumping into married life after being a “free” man for years, is both joyous and daunting. I had been happy, dancing free and blowing with the wind, but now, it will never be the same because in marriage, although two trees grow side by side, their roots entwine in the earth and a symbiosis occurs so that the couple depend on each other for growth. I have to change my language. When I speak of experience, Heidi Of The Mountains expects to be included and so I have to change my thought—to use the term “we”, rather than “I”.

Heidi Of The Mountains is affectionate and full of aspirations, and we both have confidence for our future. We have assets and are combining our lives, step by step. She is pouring her energy into my art gallery and impressing me. She is a good arranger, has an aesthetic eye, is an adept manager and with her enthusiasm, sells my paintings frequently. We are marching together.

On Marriage

By Kahlil Gibran
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.


Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.


Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.