The Artists Life
“Sean Lion Women and Mermaids Doing Autopsies on Things as the Bad Ass in the Corner Looks On.” By: J. A. George AKA; The GYPSY was inspired by the writings of artist Baroness Ampersand and the sinking of the Titanic.
Inspirations From A Baroness
My friend, artist Jana Jones AKA; The Baroness Ampersand has a way with not only the tip of a brush but with the written word. She paints with vivid color in both mediums visual and literary. I sit fascinated and enthralled by all she writes because she writes of The Artists Life, as she calls it and which we now carry on with our art blogs. I understand her ramblings and can relate to the depth of the soul from which they pour for I live the Artists Life daily.
Understanding her metaphors and similes (is that redundant?), is like deciphering a foreign language for the beginning student unless of course you are fluent in that language. Which I am! For so long I did not use that language, then one day I discovered Jana and rediscovered my artists tongue. So long unused I, at first, stumbled over the phrases, words and inflections. But I am again becoming fluent with that language of cryptic images and layered meanings.
I slowly fell out of use with the language during my relationship with my first wife. She could not understand and thought that it was crazy that I insisted that she not talk with me when I was creating. My concentration was such at the time that any disturbance killed the soul of my work. She was not an artist, she did not understand. Over time my art took a back seat to the desires of my penis. My brushes and pencils laid virtually untouched for years. Once in awhile I would pick them up, brushing off the dust and cobwebs but the passion was gone and I had forgot the language and they would, before long lay again untouched.
Oh if she had just understood and had not suppressed the language what art I could have made. She was an exotic dancer and was art in motion what paintings I could have created, what magic would have been revealed upon the canvas. But alas she had no understanding and I allowed her to engulf me in her desires instead of my own. After twelve years her needs became more than I could fulfill and she, like the Succubus she is, left me to drain a new victim.
As I began to recover and was starting to rediscover the language I fell prey to another Succubus. This one envisioned herself an artist, a decorator if you will, but never understood that lime green and burgundy are not complimentary colors. She continued the draining the first demon had begun and I started to shrivel and my soul started to wane. She drank and drank until I had no more to give. She drained my emotion, she drained my passion, she drained my bank account and when all was drained that she could drain she left me, as the first one had, for her new victim.
Oh, I fought her, I strived in numerous ways to regain the language, I did not succumb easily but in the end I lost the battle. I knew I had lost the battle the day she said, I feel nothing when you touch me. Her draining was complete. She left me with, I was looking for a good father for my children and I at least accomplished that. Used, abused and thrown away I lay crumpled, broken, drained. The language was, or so it seemed, forever lost to me.
Enter the next moment in my Artist Life; Debbie. One day Debbie said to me, I wish I could paint. With those words the lock was turned within the door that held her artists soul. That door was flung wide and Debbie discovered, more and more, her own artists soul. Yet the day came when Debbie had no more use for me and tossed me aside like an old rag used to clean the paint off your brush. I was old, worn, tattered and of no further use to her.
I was crushed, my artist soul wounded and in danger of being lost forever then into my life stepped a true artist that had suffered similar triumphs and defeats as I had, someone that understood the Artist Life struggle; Raychel AKA; Mad Hatter. Being a caring beautiful Native Queen she took pity upon this poor peasant nursed and healed me at a time when I felt I was forever lost. Though neither her nor I knew it at the time, she as an artist, nourished me with her artistic soul. She fed me small amounts so that I would not become greedy and engorge myself and slowly I gained strength and started to again understand the passion and language I had lost.
As Mad Hatter breathed life back into my artists soul Jana reminded me of my native tongue. And in reminding me of that language so long forgotten she has struck up, within me, inspiration with her words. One example has already come to fruition and started with this phrase;
“A series of narrow doors, painted green, still line the side of the building, and if you don’t look too closely you can see the whores leaning on the door frames, smoking Lucky Strikes, back lit by the dim light of the interiors, calling out into what was an alleyway.”
This phrase from a writing of Jana’s inspired my painting “Whores In The Alley Smoking Their Lucky Strikes.”
Musings by Jana are the inspiration for two works I will be completing in the near future and one already completed derived from the same writing;
“Miss America contest, circa 1950, when it actually meant something and I thought about Mermaids and Sea Lion Women, and wondered where they must live, in the ocean. – I also thought of my father he is the bad ass sitting in the corner, waiting for somebody to fuck up. – And I imagined two Sea Lion Women, pecking at the drama because they like to perform autopsies on things.”
These phrases led to a work that I had, within my mind, “Sea Lion Women and Mermaids Performing Autopsies On Things As The Bad Ass In The Corner Looks On.” It took over a year to complete the painting. I kept getting blocked; my mind would not communicate with my hand and I could proceed no further. Outside of Jana’s phrases of inspiration I was missing the key element that would bring the work together. That element was found when I visited the Titanic Museum in Branson, Missouri.
The next inspiration came from one of Jana’s writings in which she states;
“The local Madame DeFarge laughs and knits.”
When I show off my knowledge of Dickens Literature with a follow-up comment soaked in metaphors from “A Tale of Two Cities” Jana shoots back with;
“GYPSY I wonder if you will paint a Madame DeFarge, knitting and laughing wickedly. Don’t give her red hair. But hopefully, you’ll paint black tights with a little hole in them, on her legs.”
This has inspired a future work which is bouncing around in my head as “Madame DeFarge Laughs and Knits as Madame Guillotine Sings.” I find black tattered tights sexy so they will somehow be included in the work and whether or not the antagonistic Madame DeFarge has red hair remains to be seen.
Last at the moment, but certainly not least is a inspiration derived from a quote in one of Jana’s writings today. It seems as though the Baroness Ampersand has lost a very dear friend whose pleasant memory is a piece of her artistic soul. The memory and force of the loss is evident within the writing as you read the cryptic passage from her past;
“I’d read a book during that time that talked about The Third Reich’s entry into France . The title to the book was, Is Paris Burning? I don’t remember the contents of the book, except for one particular fact. Hitler called his general every day and asked the same question, until he got the answer yes. Is Paris burning? And I linked the three questions in my head, at the time. Every day when The Art Teacher asked, Are you still a virgin? Have you been in his bed? I would answer, Is Paris burning?”
The work that is even now germinating in my head will simply be called, “Is Paris Burning.”
Mad Hatter breathed life back into my artistic soul and Jana breathed life back into my work. Neither of these women set out to intentionally help me to rediscover my artists tongue but just by their words and actions both have helped me to rediscover the passion that lies within the language of the “Artists Life.”
Who knows what future inspiration they will give birth to within my fertile soul but I anxiously await that next rush of creative erection that will climax in what I refer to as “A Mental Ejaculation Spewing Forth Creative Juices.” Thank you for the artistic ménage trios Ladies you both leave me spent and satisfied!
“Art must evoke an emotion in order to be art. If it only creates indifference then it is not art, it is garbage!”
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