ALC Day 7

    This is it, the final day of the ride!! In total, 64 miles. If I thought the 90 miles of the previous day seemed daunting, nothing compared me for the feeling of 64 more miles today. My body is exhausted, my ankles felt as if they are hanging on with their last threads, I'm trying to motivate myself for another 4:30 am start for the day, and it's cold. As I got on bike and started the route I pushed myself through the stiffness in my muscles and forced myself to pedal. 

    The beginning of the route was surprisingly gentle compared to what we had experienced and before I knew if we were 15 miles in and approaching the first rest stop! I really couldn't believe the good time we were making and I drew positive energy from it. All along the route were people cheering us on. "Almost there," they would shout among the cowbells and thank you's, pushing us on onward as we got closer to our goal. Then the second rest stop appeared and then lunch, which we skipped to keep our wonderful momentum going. Finally, we reached Malibu and I knew that we were so, so close to home! This is where the ride began to get hard. 

    Malibu has some large hills. Not as large as what I've already conquered, but at this point in the ride I was so incredibly tired that I could barely make it up to the top. The world around me was beautiful but I could not lift my head to take it in. I just had to pedal, to focus, to put everything I had into my strokes so that my rhythm wouldn't falter. Malibu came with another challenge as well that we hadn't faced before: a dense population. There were pedestrians and motorhomes and, in many cases, no shoulder to ride on for fear of a car door suddenly opening. In fact, there was even a moment when a motor home blocked our shoulder, and right as we were passing into the lane another motorhome jutted out from the other side not even looking to see if there was oncoming traffic. With all of the riders as exhausted as we were this had to be one of the most dangerous routes we had ridden. But I swallowed my nervousness and pedaled onward.

    Finally we crossed out of Malibu and headed through beautiful Brentwood for the final 8 miles to the finish line at the VA Center. To my sadness, the entire length of that last stretch was a steady uphill climb with bursts of steepness scattered throughout. I could feel my ankles trying to break and my neck felt like it was caught in a vice from the strain...and then scariest event of the day occurred. We had skipped lunch earlier in the day because we had decided to make a small detour to a burger joint a mile from the finish line. When we reached that point we had to start and stop a lot to figure out where we were going. Stopping is the hardest part on my joints because I have to land on my foot, which strains my ankle. Well, as we made our way to the restaurant something pulled in my knee and I became unable to put pressure on my right leg. Even to walk. I stumbled over to a table and immediately threw ice on my knee and started massaging my quads while being terrified that I would not be able to make it to the finish line. We sat down and took a good 45 minute break as we ate our burgers (which were freaking delicious!) and then I tentatively got back on my bike to attempt the final mile. My knee definitely hurt, but I was so close that I could not let anything stop me from crossing that line. Not even the short steep hill leading right up to the VA Center! 

    Every pedal stroke at this point hurt, and the hills cause my knee to scream, but as I reached the gates and heard the cowbells and the cheers, and then the balloons and crowds of people...I could barely contain my emotions and somehow found one last ounce of strength to push forward. It wasn't even half a second from my foot hitting the ground that I grabbed Gavin and completely broke down. All of the stress and strain that I had bottled up throughout the ride just flooded out of me and I sobbed. Not the iconic, strong masculine cry either, but a blubbering shaking mess. That didn't matter though; I didn't care that the crowd around me could see me crying, or that there were at least 2 giant cameras pointing at me snapping away, or that I could barely hold my balance; I was surrounded by love and compassion and had successfully completed a 545 mile ride on a bicycle. If you didn't know already, bicycles have always scared me and at January of this I didn't really know how to ride one. If it weren't for all of the encouragement and kind words from my friends online and the unending support of my fellow riders I don't know if I would have been able to make it. No other event I have experienced even comes close to the level of love and compassion that this one contains. We all ride because we want to make the world a better place and because we have all been touched in some way, whether it be friends, family, partners, or personally, by this horrible disease. And so we support each other and when one of us falls there are instantly hands to help us up and push us on. If we could bottle up just a small amount of that kind of love and pass it around the world it would be a much better place. By the end of this ride we have raised a total of over $16.2 million dollars to help in this fight and we have brought joy to every town we passed though. This is why we ride, and thank you, everyone, for helping me to do so.

Crossing the finish line!!!!!!!!!!!

How we all feel.

ALC Day 6

    Today I woke up and said, oh my god, 90 miles. How am I going to do this!? I was so tired at 4:30 in the morning, and while we found out what was messing up my ankles, they're already strained and overstretched and I just couldn't see how I was going to make the distance. We headed out from Lompoc in the chilly morning air and made the slow trek towards the mountains. Just when I thought I couldn't do it anymore, we hit a long downhill that shot us through a canyon and gave a glorious view of the ocean. The first time I've seen it since crossing into the valley. The sight completely revitalized me and gave me a boost to make through to the lunch stop.

    At lunch I made a preemptive visit to the medic tent to get some stabilization wrapping for my legs and they basically turned me into a mummy!  When we reached Santa Barbara (the only town that's lets us direct the traffic...we love them) we were greeted by a wonderful ice cream social that the town has radio ally thrown for the riders. Santa Barbara has been close with the ride for many years, and is definitely one of the favorite stops for all of the riders.  
    
    And so I pedaled on and somehow made it into beautiful Ventura, which is definitely one of my favorite camps on the ride. It's settled on the beach and brushed by the cold ocean air. The sunlight warms you to just the righttemperature, and being sooooo close to home filled the air with positive energy. Tomorrow begins our last 64 miles, so the next time you hear from me I will have crossed the finish line!!

Ice cream at the Santa Barbara Paradise Pit

Today's mummy wrapping for my legs.

Me and fellow Zoic artist Ryan Reeb
rockin' it.

ALC Day 5

    Red dress day! On this day, everyone in the ride wears a ridiculous red outfit and cycles in it as a metaphor for eliminating the stigma against HIV positive people and saying, "we're in this together." When we are all spread out along the route it's almost like a giant red ribbon strung along the highway and it's awesome. Everyone said that this day was easy because it was only 46 miles, but they left out the part where it was 46 steep uphill miles!  Not to mention it was a very wet, drizzly, and super cold day to be wearing skimpy red dress :-p.

    There were some great moments, like the old guy in the Minnie costume playing guitar on the side of the road, and some really difficult and long climbs. The dresses we wore were all crafted by Gavin's mom and his adorable nieces, and we made quite a group pedaling down the road. I loved seeing all the children staring gawk-eyed at us as we traveled through the towns and I can only imagine what the inhabitants of the California State Penitentiary thought as we circled around the compound.

    In the morning I visited the medical tent and they did some crazy tape job on my legs, which in combination with the pedals Gavin put on my bike made a world of difference! I was able to pedal the whole way without injuring my ankles further. Even though it was a short day in mileage (46 miles), it was a very difficult route and I am so glad to be in camp early for some extended rest. Tomorrow we leave Lompoc and head to Ventura on the beach, and we are only 2 days away from the finish line!!!

Awesome tape job to help reduce the swelling in my ankles.

Our wonderful red dresses!

It was so cold at lunch they had to give out Mylar.

This guy was just awesome!

Gavin stopping to watch for riders who need help while
I have a small frustration break.

ALC Day 4

    Day 4 brought many challenges. First were the "Evil Twins:" a two pronged hill making a 6 mile climb up 1800 k. When we got to the top, however, we were greeted with cold ocean air, clouds (hallelujah!), and the halfway point to Los Angeles! I can hardly believe it, but yes, at the end of today we have cycled over 300 miles! There was a nice long downhill on the other side, but PLENTY of ups and downs to challenge our already fatigued legs.

    By lunch there was a setback for me: my ankles decided to swell up pretty bad and the medics very strongly advised me to take the bus to camp and miss out on the 2nd half of today's route. It pained me to do so, but I would rather rest and be able to finish the week than push too hard and be completely out. So, I took the SAGG bus for the last 48 miles and am icing up my ankles. Tomorrow is a short day (only 46 miles in total!) and is also red dress day! That means Gavin, his mom, and I will be cycling in the red dresses his two nieces helped make for the occasion, alongside 2500 other riders also in their own red dresses. It promises to be an exciting day!

All of us at the halfway point.

so excited!

ALC Day 3

    Today was Quad Buster day and boy did it bust me! I had to walk about half of it but the rest of the ride certainly made up for it. There were hills, there was head wind, there was an endless sun and blue sky, and there was a crazy dry heat. I must have gone through 20 bottles of water and my throat was still completely dry. I'm also starting to have a bit of trouble with my ankle but I'm hoping if I focus on my posture I can nip that before it becomes a bad problem. Tomorrow we FINALLY leave the desert and make our way back towards Santa Maria. Please send me your good wishes as we cross over the "Evil Twin" hills and arrive at the halfway point to Los Angeles!

The infamous $100 hamburger club

Today's height map for the Quad Buster

Crossing into the Paso Robles camp...Phew!

ALC Day 2

108 miles!!!

    Today was a landmark day for me. Not only is it the longest distance in one day that I will ride on the ALC, but it is also the furthest I have ever ridden on a bike. And the ride was not easy. In the beginning we faced some rolling hills as we exited Santa Cruz, and then we cut into the Central Valley of California for the majority of the day. As we dropped in altitude, the cold air diminished and left us in a clear ski with a hot sun and wind like you wouldn't believe. When the wind was behind us, I could coast uphill at a comfortable 15 miles an hour! But boy, when we hit a turn around a mountain and that tail wind became a headwind, we had to pedal like our lives depended on it.

    The physical challenges, however, were matched with some amazing ones. One was the artichoke stop that had the most amazing grilled, fried, and steamed artichokes. Even artichoke cupcakes (which were freaking amazing!). And then the water stop where a woman bakes thousands of cookies over an entire year, storing them in her freezer, and then gives them away to the riders for free. It is that kind of love and dedication that makes this ride worth it and fills my heart with gratitude.

    Now I am preparing myself for tomorrow's 62 miles ...uphill... on what has been lovingly named "the quad buster." Wish me luck!

R.J.

Day 2 Camp

The 1st time all of use reached 100 consecutive miles on a bike!

108 miles complete!

The amazing Cookie Lady!

ALC Day 1

     83 miles later and I have successfully arrived at camp in Santa Cruz, CA!!!  We arrived at the Cow Palace at 5:30am this morning, experienced a moving opening ceremony with the presentation of a "riderless bike," which is a symbol for the millions who have been lost to HIV and the cause that the friends and loved ones continue to carry forward, and then hit the road.  The ocean views and the cliffs were absolutely astounding and the brisk cold air pushed me forward mile by mile.  But omg, the hills, and the hills, and the more hills that came.  I swear none of them ever went downhill!  But I conquered them and rode into camp triumphantly 9 hours later :). Now I'm stuffing my face at dinner and listening to the touching stories from today, and trying not to be afraid of the 108 mile ride tomorrow to King's City!  Wish me another triumphant ride tomorrow and I will send another update on my return!

Camera Experiments

I went out to a park in Los Angeles up in the hills originally to test out my new Canon 60D photographing skaters in a small skate park, but as usual reverted to abstracting my surroundings.  All of these images were created solely in camera, with only some minor color adjustments in Lightroom.  No filters or composite layering of any kind were used to create the images.  It truly is amazing what long exposures and inducing camera flaws can produce!

Never Let Me Go

Looking up from underneath,

Fractured moonlight on the sea,

Reflections still look the same to me

As before I went under.

This is a song by one of my favorite artists, Florence Welch, from her Ceremonials album.  It is hard to put into words exactly what goes through me when I listen to this, but I will do my best.  As with all my artwork, this piece is tied to a place and a time, and, where before I focused on my past, my present is now pronounced and all-consuming.

As many of you know, I moved to LA after graduating from A&M and have been looking for a job.  Coming up on 10 years now I have been studying, training, and refining my skills so that I may one day have a career in making animated films.  My eye has never strayed from this goal; it has given me focus, direction, and stability in the way that a dancer focuses on a distant point to maintain balance as they flow through their frenetic performances.  But, if you spend too much time staring at something, you can begin to lose clarity in the world around you, and the subject of your gaze imprints itself so that no matter where else you may look a specter of it remains.  It is in this way, I fear, that the pursuit of my ambition has tainted my perspective and I can no longer see as clearly as I once could.  Now, at a point in my journey where the ability to control my advancement is hindered, I find myself completely disoriented.  There is no more schooling to provide sustenance or guidance for my trajectory, short term though it may have been, and I have discovered that achieving my dream is different and more complicated than I had known.  I feel almost as if I am flailing, trying to remember the choreography but unable to decipher the rhythm that had once given me purpose.  However, though my steps may be faltering, I am forced to acknowledge existence outside of my goals and maybe even the possibilities of writing another tune, or at least one that is slightly different, to align my dance to.

And it's peaceful in the deep

Cathedral where you cannot breathe.

No need to pray, no need to speak,

Now I am under.

My fear, at the moment, is that if I never am able to achieve finding a job at a studio, will I be able to put myself back together and live freely like I did at the beginning of my journey?  Can I surrender myself to the will of whatever force determines the fate of the universe and find happiness?  This is where the song comes in.  Most people think it's about suicide, the literal story of the artist surrendering her life to the ocean and finally finding peace as she dies.  I strongly disagree with this interpretation.  It does feel as if it's a surrender, though, not of life, but to the emotion.  Maybe even to something more ethereal, like fate, or love, or just happiness in general.  

The ocean has always had a very complex meaning in my life, as several defining moments have taken place by waves crashing on shores.  Maybe that's why the song moves me as it does.  This is the type of lyrical and melodic fusion that is to me what religion is to other people.  It harmonizes with my soul and guides me, gives me perspective, and erases the nonsense chatter that fills my head every other waking minute.  What it makes me ask myself is, can I surrender my ambition and just be happy with where life takes me?  To allow myself peace as promised in these words is something I could spend a lifetime trying to achieve, though I am able to on serendipitous occasions.  Once when I was on a ship on the Alaskan ocean, chilled to the bone while watching an endless sunrise, once wandering around at night with a fever through what felt like endless outdoor gardens at a magical Mexican resort, and then again tonight sitting  in the park under the moon painting this picture.   

And now it's breaking over me.

A thousand miles down to the sea bed

I found the place to rest me head.

Never let me go.

There are very few physical of means of describing this emotion, but I can remember doing something as a kid that comes close.  I don't know if any of you out there have done this, but when I used to play in swimming pools I would let myself sink to the bottom and just sit there listening.  There was something very peaceful about the weight of the water around me, the isolation from sound, and the release of the control of my body.  I could lay there suspended, perfectly still, forever if nature would have allowed.  This is how I wish to be able to live my life one day.  To let it wash over me and take me where it will, to surrender my desperate goals and find happiness with the peace.  To find stillness of spirit.  Wherever I may end up.

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me,

And all this devotion was rushing out of me,

And the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me,

But the arms of the ocean delivered me.

Lighting Sketches

There was some cool lighting happening at work today.  There are actually a few times of day where I catch small little snippets of cool lighting around the studio, so I'm going to try and capture them while I'm not working on anything.  Might as well be productive!

Attempt at a new color style

A while ago, my professor posted this artist, Marco Bucci, on our class's website, and I've been dying to give his style a try.  This is a big leap for me, since I tend to work very monochromatic and conservatively with color, and I will admit, being so bold with color choices scared me to death.  I watched his tutorials for a good hour and a half before I felt confident enough to start making marks.  But anyways, this is my first attempt, and even though in the end I started being to naturalistic again, it's a good start to breaking out of my fear of bold colors!

New Website!!

So for anyone out there who hasn't already seen me plastering this all over Facebook, I have a new website with all of my work from my MFA series, along with pricing, size, and medium info.  I'm still going to be posting my casual art stuff here, along with the descriptions of my processes and whatnot, though there may be a bit of a lag while I graduate and figure out what I'm going to be doing with my career.  Here is the link!

R.J.'s new portfolio site

Final MFA Body of Work Piece!!

Carnal Map #4
6.5' x 6.5'

I am happy to announce the completion of my final MFA body of work piece!  It's been an incredible journey that has completely changed the way I view my art, my life, and my past, and I know that it is only the beginning of something even greater.  I plan to have my final show and defense mid-March, location and time TBA, but I will be sure to let everyone know.  Also, if anyone has questions concerning the subject matter or my process, feel free to email me at raymond.penajr@gmail.com and I will be happy to explain!

Final Projects in My MFA Series

Some people may have seen my recent works in progress posted to Facebook and thought that I had gone a bit mad, just splashing seemingly random and muddy swashes of paint all over a giant canvas.  I know that most people have the reaction of "anyone can do this, when they see the giant mess I'm making.  But, I promise you, there is a method to my madness, and I'll do my best to describe my method and process to you.

Short summary of previous works:

My first series is based on capturing the physical imprints of my body upon a surface.  The images consist of my physical body in addition to marks and imprints that were unforeseen as a result of my working in the dark.  What this reveals is the underlying psychological process associated with the memories I have based the images off of, or more simply, the memory of my body unintentionally making itself known on the surface that speaks a clearer truth than my preconceived ideas.

My second series utilizes the methods I discovered in the first in that I use the intuition of my carnal memory to produce an image.  These paintings are different from the photograms in that the method is more deliberate than the unintentional recordings resulting from working in the darkroom.  In fact, I used my iPad to record a quick memory/intuition fueled sketch, that I then referenced as a intuitive compass as I worked in a much slower larger scale.

My final series will be two large scale paintings composed of multiple layers of tinted blacks.  For these pieces I am actually drawing inspiration from another artist's methods concerning a specific set of works: Mark Rothko's Rothko Chapel paintings.  These paintings are composed of many layers of uneven black washes that are different tints.  When you first look at them, you don't see much but black.  However, as your eyes adjust, you begin to see the layers of subtle colors that pull you into an infinite depth.  As Rothko put it, 

"bright colors sort of stop your vision at the canvas, where dark colors go beyond. And definitely you're looking at the beyond. You're looking at the infinite."

My works take the concept of creating a limitless space upon the canvas, but instead of applying the concepts of universality and infinity I fuel my expressions with intensely personal carnal mnemonic responses.  I perform each wash with an intuitive anchor, like the iPad sketches, only this time the anchor is musical.  I have been performing musically from as far back as I can remember.  Indeed my earliest childhood memories are performing singing and dance numbers on a stage for an audience.  That being so, music has embedded itself deep within my psyche, and nothing can recall the physical chemical responses associated with the memories of a period of my life like music can.  As soon as a song plays it's as if I step into a portal and relive those most potent memories of my life.  With this technique, each pass of color on the canvas becomes a physical marker of the memory within my body, building a map that displays not the response to an isolated moment or time period, but a window through which you can perceive a lifetime of experiences of joy, sorrow, love, hatred, envy, and every other hue of the emotional spectrum that paints my identity as a human being.

Asterisk*

Here are some highlights of my work in our end of the semester show for Viza631.  And in case you're wondering, yes, the pictures of pieces that have fallen off of the work is indeed intentional.  My work is designed to degrade slightly over time, as the changing surfaces mimic the fluctuating nature of memory and perception

DAMAGE!!

So due to an error in mixing the plaster for the central portion, I lost a large chunk of the mid-right side.  I am very sad at this, but I also kind of like it.  Currently I'm struggling with the decision to repair it or not, since part of my concept is that I surrender control of these pieces upon completion, but it may take me a while to figure out what the correct answer is.

Dysmorphia

4'x6' (wax, salt, acrylic, powdered charcoal, plaster, plaster sculpting clay, playsand)

 

 

Today I completed my final piece for the semester, titled "Dysmorphia", in which I address specifically my struggles with body image, my diabetes, and gay culture.  My original plan was formulated in a previous post, but as you can see there have been some significant changes, all of which were discovered by accident.  There's a lot of talk about process here, but if you want to get straight to the meaning of this painting, you can skip to the blue section near the end :)

I began the way I normally do, looking at the intuition drawing to reorient myself on the emotional memories, and then letting my body intuitively express them on the canvas.  Next  I next began painting, using water to mix the paint with the charcoal, after which I began constructing the gash in the center with a mixture of plaster and (though I didn't intend this) plaster sculpting clay with I though was another carton of lightweight plaster and tossing around salt and powdered charcoal.  At this point I was feeling lost.  Everything seemed arbitrary and contrived and did not carry the emotional weight I had obtained in the intuition sketch.  So, I went to a crock pot in which I had been melting blocks of paraffin wax, and, since there were no handles to prevent me from burning my hands, i had use some oven mitts to lift out the pot.  Generally speaking, the pot was ceramic and therefore slippery, and this in addition to the lack of friction with the mitts its no surprise that I dropped it on the canvas and spilled wax across almost the entire surface.  Obviously, there was immediate horror, but these things do happen and I have learned to move with the situation.

So, I let everything cool down, meditated, and play with the new surface, discovering it was impossible to paint on but also froze everything underneath the wax which was awesome.  So I took it further, pouring on more wax, throwing n more charcoal, getting a knife and carving into the surface, spraying on a clear matte primer which allowed me to paint again, but what was this telling me?  I had done all these things to the surface but had not discovered anything.  But of course, this is when the revelation came.

When I first started dropping the charcoal, I had gotten a water bottle and sprayed water on to see if I could freeze the powder to surface with it without blowing it away.  Here I did the same thing, and unintentionally created pools of water that drifted across the surface, picking up particles of paint, wax, salt, and charcoal and depositing them in the cracks and crevices of the wax.  Unintentionally, I had discovered a way to reveal every mark and scar in the surface. 

How does his relate to dysmorphia?

Glad you asked!  I came to the realization that in this piece, the wax becomes my body, and every element that I added to alter the surface becomes a reflection of what I feel I need to change about myself.  These efforts destroy and alter the surface in ways that are mostly invisible to me, yet an unintentional element reveals the truth.  The water washes away the surface, picking up the superficial materials and redepositing them into the traumas that I have inflicted beneath the projections, forcing me to acknowledge not only the fact that they exist, but that I am accountable.  In many ways I do not see myself as I am, but only in terms of the environment in which I am placed.  This relative identification is corrosive because those elements are not inherent to my body, placed, instead, by the cultures of which I construct my identity.  The images of male models and masculinity are merely simulacrums of perfection, yet for me they have become reality and I am a deviation.  

You may wonder about the significance of the scar in the middle of the image.  Well, to me, the flaws in my appearance are the only things I see.  They become magnified to extreme proportions, though in reality they are mostly unnoticeable.  This scar is a side effect of my diabetes, called lipodystrophy (the deterioration of fat due to frequent insulin injections).  On my left thigh, I have developed a small dent where the fat has deteriorated, and though it's barely noticeable, I obsess over it enough that it is perfect for a representation of how I see myself.  

2nd Pass of a Final Piece

    Completed a 2nd pass on this piece today.  I added blown up printouts of a journal I kept during my undergrad, and let me tell you how terrifying it is for me to put them there.  I literally had panic running through me as I read the entries, some of which contained detailed descriptions of my darkest thoughts that are more in depth than the posts that I put on this blog.  After placing them on the canvas, I immediately began a process of burying them and concealing them once again from view. However, eventually I was able to realize that hiding and concealment has been such a huge part of my life for so long, that I needed to excavate it and reveal it in order to accept myself and past.  Therefore, I began to wipe away what I had buried and reveal the texts (some of which the ink had begun to bleed and distort from the moisture, which is interesting).

    Overall, I was finding it difficult to tune into my memories today, so to experiment I took the painting outside while it was dark and continued to work on it in very minimal light.  Just enough that I could find my tools.  Since the concept of this piece is the blind search for self, I figured I might as well try to do it literally and see what happens.  The result?  A very intense emotional recall of some very specific and terrifying moments of anger and frustration connected to my inability to connect with others due to my fear of condemnation.  The passage in the upper left of the painting is where this took place, and in some places my brush strokes became so violent they stripped the layers of plaster underneath off the canvas.  Eventually, I got to the point where I threw the brush out and literally applied paint through my own hands, clawing and wiping at the surface as my body became tuned to the frantic search for form and structure that my memory was surfacing.  As usual, I'm not sure how I feel about the results, but currently I don't think I can observe the piece until the residues of disgust and frustration are washed away over a night's sleep.  You can also compare this iteration to my previous version here.

First Pass on a Final Piece for the Semester

As usual, exploring the effects of different orientations

close-ups of specific techniques of burial and excavation

So this painting is 4' x 8', and the scale is critical to the theoretical basis of my work this semester so the pictures really cannot do it much justice but I'll do my best to give an accurate depiction of what's going on here.

Staring at the huge blank canvas before me, it was incredibly difficult to make the first marks.  For whatever reason the sight of such a large area of pure possibility can be slightly paralyzing, and I have this fear that my influence will ruin that purity.  To help myself, I chose one of the intuition exercise to serve as a map for my emotional state:

Now I am not using this as a 1:1 sketch for an exact composition, but more of a guide to assist me in honing in on a particular emotional memory.  In doing these exercises, I am able to quickly sketch and express and remain true to emotional responses without the distractions of conscious mental processes.  However, working on a piece of this scale I am unable to maintain a continuous expression simply because I have to pause so often to prepare materials.  To remedy this, before I start throwing things on the canvas I stop and meditate on these sketched images to tune my intuition back into the region of memory response that I achieved during the sketch, and once I achieve that start letting my body create what it wants.  I literally use no constraints as to what artistic techniques I use: if I want to throw dirt and plans in with the paint I go outside and dig a hole and mash the dirt into the canvas.  If I want plaster to dig through I mix up some paint and plaster and glob it on and start digging through it, or if I want to cut through the surfaces I find the nearest object and started scratching and grinding away.  The process is incredibly liberating, and much like the photograms reveals much more than I ever could have consciously chosen to demonstrate.

As I worked on the piece, the meditations on my memories began to take the form of a mad scramble, as if I were digging to uncover something that I knew I needed though not knowing what it was  This is what it was like for me, especially in those first few years on my own as the strict rules that governed my younger years broke down and I built a new framework to live by.  This concept took root in my mind and I naturally began to look to earth and organic matter to form the surface upon which I literally dug through to uncover previous layers on the canvas.  I plan to continue to incorporate different materials over the next month to build mass on the surface and to further support the sense of history and discovery I am working towards.