Bow&The Arrow. It Canby. Peeling Lightening/Titan Struggle

My Dad is a bow hunter, a traditional hunter his bow and his arrow are of the olden times. He has several bows they hang beautifully in the room just down the way from me. He practices in the backyard. I love the bow and arrow. When talking about artwork and the effect I want it to have on my target audience I explain and see it in my head as a arrows tip. The farthest reaching point of the arrows tip is only a small percentage of the entirety of the arrow. I don't know if my comparison stands true when thinking of the arrow penetrating wild game. I am trying to say that art and the impact of art is as a arrows head, the farthest reaching results of the blade in also the smallest percentage. It is a very hard thing to strike your audience in the heart, and the weapon is fashioned so that few feel the edges cut.

I wrote a journal entry at the begin of this month about my trip back to Canby. Canby, Oregon just outside Portland, Oregon home to my heart because it first loved me. It had been seven months since I had seen Canby, since I had seen its people who I love so very much. I am not sure how to describe my trip, other than that in my journal I wrote, ' it was a God appointed trip'. On the side note of not wanting to leave anyone void of understanding, I described it as a God appointed trip because large influential things occurred inside of my family and in my friends. The entire atmosphere of the weekend felt as though there was a large and powerful wave of water wanting to crash down upon everyone. It was my joy in that moment to be so close to my Grandparents as they received calls about their Daughter in law and my aunt going into a coma. It was in these moments as a wave of emotion wanted to crash upon everyone to pull us up from our sure ground and undertow us to a place in life where all surety is lost. Instead, I was able to take the hand of my Grandfather and Grandmother and along with my friend Mahlory my Grandfather prayed for Penny my aunt. Life is made up of appointed times, where the answers come to us by Grace and our praise is delivered out of thankfulness. Penny is in recovery and no longer in the coma. In years to come, I will think about grabbing onto and holding my Grandfather's hand as the wave came to threaten our footing from surety. 

A dinosaur fighting a bear with lightening bolts peeling off and away from their clashing titan struggle. My goal in writing all this was to tell you that I am still terribly fascinated by dinosaurs right now, so that is what I want to paint.

" How are you?" Art in all Forms. His, Hers, Divines.

I am attempting to write my thoughts, but I fear that I have not written in so long that each sentence and and each thought is over drawn on what really needs to be said and expressed. Much like the greeting we give a long time absent acquaintance or social friend. Our voice is louder in saying their name, our smile held out wider in a pause to emphasis our emotion. We announce the question, “ How are you?” as though the received answer to this mystery could be the key to life and death itself. That is how I felt when I began to write again.

I have become a restaurant server. My only history in restaurants before was a dishwasher in a sushi restaurant and a line cook in a Italian kitchen. Serving is a different world. I am not writing this now so that you can feel isolated by me telling you that its a different world and so therefore you cannot understand me. I am writing to make you interested in it. It is my opinion that to watch and to see any person who is good at their job is a amazing view of love, tension, tolerance, art and drive. I have had the privilege over the years of being recognized as a artist. When serving I feel all the same pride, hurt, frustration, trapped emotion, and joyful pleasure that I do when creating. Still the art of serving can be done without the need of the art. For each art field, there is a audience field, I pray that you yourself are a artist to your pain, struggle, love and joy, but also that you are a audience member loving a art expression the same. Its our love of the art that keeps the arts as unconquerable goals.

I am twenty eight now. I never thought that I would be here. I never thought that it would still feel so young. I never thought that all my insecurity would still be here as well. It was kind words that once told me that our life issues never really go away. That being said I should think that this habit of life that I have formed for myself should become very boring. Still people express quite often that they have changed, the people who are saying this kind of thing are from every age of life. I must admit that I myself look back upon my previous life as a metamorphosis out of not knowing ones self, to knowing ones self. To this be said I am still quite confused how people can comfortably take spouses into their lives at young ages. I cannot so much as live comfortable with most of my memories of my former self, how can I live comfortably with a person who would also have such thoughts? To all this I must ask Heaven to guide me, because it is not my knowing of the establishment of Man and Woman together, but His.