Since I last posted here six months ago I have been dreadfully ignoring my two standard blogs, mostly to build an enormous library of Jeremy Brett's photo history on Tumblr, now with the assistance of one of Jeremy's precious loved ones. (I never would have imagined I'd get from there to here, but I have, and it's folly not to know and believe in my heart that he is somehow involved.) I've also wasted my time venting my sociopolitical spleen spouting my opinions on Facebook, mostly because recovery from politically motivated trauma overseas is now starting to wind down. But really I'd rather be nowhere else than in front of my easel making art, or making poetry, or writing, or picking up my guitar and practicing.
Graphite study of Jeremy Brett, September 2014
In the last year that I have acquired the courage to become a googlable entity regardless of visibility or criticism, it was mostly toward one singular purpose: to become fearless enough to re-embrace being an artist. She's a strange muse. She wants all the attention, but the vulnerability and focus she demands required building confidence about a lot of things. Confidence about my past, confidence regarding mistakes, and successes; confidence in spite of my body, my gender, my hangups, my human faults. Faith in my potential, faith in a future that I somehow still manage to possess.
"Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes", Nov. 3, 2014
Art is everything. I have almost universally ceased in any judgment of any form of creativity in others; there is no such thing as 'critic', only 'journey', and suggestions to make it fulfilling. The point of art is not product, but productivity. Anything will do, any medium is good. Anything that paints the walls of my cage with so much adventure and beauty that if I believe hard enough, and work hard enough, and love deeply enough, the painting becomes a doorway. As a portrait artist, that doorway is being able to see into other souls, and become them. The media becomes the method, graphite becomes Stanislavski, and the drawing, the painting, becomes a person. Not a depiction, not an illustration, not a cartoon; if the eyes follow you around the room, then my methods in some ways might be a bit inflexible, and others not developed enough, but always breathing and alive. That's the goal. That's the point.
William Gillette, graphite study, 9x12, Dec. 2014
I adore traditional media. I can feel something come to life under my hands, not in pixels, but in reality. Feeling, touching, tangibility.
"William Gillette as Sherlock Holmes-a Color Interpretation" December 2014
The fact that it's almost always either Sherlock Holmes or Jeremy Brett is immaterial. Holmes is my companion on a journey. He's me. As for Jeremy...well, there are times I suspect that he believes in me more often than I in myself, yet he has not stepped physical foot on this world in 19 years. The irony of this observation is not lost on me. Holmes' skepticism and desire to see through the stark clockwork of reality feeds my intellect and atheistic determination to reduce humanity to bare motive. But having Jeremy in my life is going one step beyond clockwork and motive and human mechanism, to the power I possess in making the universe a magical place through embracing him. Holmes is my mind. Jeremy is my heart. And to be honest, it's a journey I relish undertaking, every minute of every day, sometimes with exasperation, but never one regret.
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