Thursday, March 10, 2011

Inspiration in the queerest of places.

There is so much I could write in this posting about my journey back West, the things I saw, the emotions that I felt. I made it a point to explore the obscurities that the desert had to offer on the twenty-four hour road trip. One stop we made in our tiny box truck packed with two people and two dogs was quite a curious destination. Just outside of the Petrified Forest National Park in Arizona, was a stop that promised us petrified wood, and dinosaurs. Did someone say "DINOSAURS?!??!!" If you didn't know... I LOVE dinosaurs. Why? That's a whole 'nother blog post.
When we exited the highway, we climbed a windy dirt road up to an outlook over the freeway. I begin to look around and can't quite manage to take it all in. There are large dinosaurs made of what looks to be a weatherproof version of paper-mâché, large stumps of wood almost everywhere, and gorgeous two foot tall chunks of what looked to be glass. A beautiful array of things littered everywhere next to a run down white building and an enclosure that housed about 60 or more ostriches.
Before we entered the building that promised us unique fossils, I started to notice a detail more bizarre than even the modern day dinosaurs in the pen, mannequins. I know what you're thinking, and yes... I felt like I was about to volunteer myself to partake in the true life version of The Hills Have Eyes.
Why not, right?!?!

We entered the small building, which was once a house, with caution and were greeted by a tall, very polite, very well spoken man in his late thirties/early forties. The space was filled with dinosaur fossils and petrified wood cutaways that had been diamond cut and polished, as he had informed us. He had done all the excavation himself. As I start to think that this man has high-powered cutting tools nearby and a place to conveniently bury our bodies, I realize a certain tone in his voice. Passion. He loved all of these things in this room. He spent so much time doing this, and took so much care with them, and wanted to share them with people by selling them in a place that people didn't frequent, but would stop through and have this memory and be fascinated by the things he cared so much about. This man probably gave up everything he had to do something he loved.
He spoke scientifically and informatively about the objects that were neatly scattered all over the floorboards and wooden shelves. I could see a sparkle in his eye as he talked about the properties of ironwood, and asked us to try to lift the abnormally heavy meteorites that he had found, and when he pointed out the mosasaur teeth and fossilized crocodile skulls. I bought some jewelry and thanked the gentleman for sharing with us. 
I will never forget this, and I will always remind myself to do what I love, and to be passionate about my artwork. You will find inspiration in the strangest of places.

If you are ever traveling down I-40, don't forget to stop here and check out all of the cool stuff. Don't forget to feed the ostriches!

Don't look behind the shower curtain in the bathroom.
Dinosaur legs, they have pads like dogs.
Mannequin-eating dinosaurs


She watches over the place, and rides terradactyls.

Continuity's Relevance to Success

The last few weeks have been indescribable. In what sense of the word, I still don't know.
I've had to make some huge decisions to come out of a rough spot. By huge decisions, I mean moving 1500 miles west from Dallas, back to good ol' Los Angeles within a few days notice. Spontaneous, I am. Prepared? Maybe. Either way, it had to be done. Times like these I realize my dreams are as close as I want them to be, and that anything is possible with the right ambitions and people by your side. I have set out on a new journey in seek of an end that might change as many times as it has in the past...but I'm cool with it. Life is always changing and if you are a stickler for consistency, sorry to break it to you, but you will get no where.

I used to be a control freak of sorts, manic in the sense that I always had to know everything. What would happen at 2:00 pm, what would happen a week from now, what I would wear when I would go to that certain place at that certain time. For the sake of my own sanity, I abandoned that way of life the first time I spontaneously moved to California. Unwillingly it left me, reminders hang around when others make plans for me, but I've learned to "just go with it." Life is more enjoyable that way, and it's the only way I've found progress to take hold.

You might find a way to progress forward as quickly as possible without losing control; but remember to breath, and always stop to appreciate the beauty around you.
There will be a story from my little road trip in my next blog post. In the meantime, here's a drawing I did right before I left Dallas. He represents both life and death, and the grotesque beauty found in both, which is a common archetype in my works.