Celebrate Art In Her Garden

IN THE AVENUE OF GIANTS,
© 2007, Bill Brockmeier,
all rights reserved by the artist

You never know where opportunities may come from. I was recently the beneficiary of such when an acquaintance I hadn't spoken with in years unexpectedly contacted me. Sherry Disdier, bonsai artist and long time proprietor of the Bonsai Arbor, emailed me about the possibility of my participating in a La Villita photographic exhibit scheduled to synchronize with Fotoseptiembre USA®, International Photography Festival. Since I had no other shows scheduled for my work during the month of September, I jumped at the chance.

I first met Sherry several years ago when she graciously consented to be one of my subjects in a project I was pursuing at the time that I called a "Celebration of Art in the Garden" (incidentally, this project as well became a Fotoseptiembre® exhibition). This series of panoramic portraits explored the pursuit of arts– in its widely divergent manifestations– in the context of gardens (in their own widely divergent manifestations as well). My portrait of Sherry was a vertically oriented panorama that focused on a relative closeup of Sherry's hands as she worked on a bonsai in her backyard "garden studio." While most of my other photographs in the series merely used a garden as the setting for the pursuit of some otherwise out-of-context artistry, Sherry's art was intrinsically and intimately woven into the very substance of the garden around her. I was blessed to have such a significant and deeply relevant subject for my series.

Sherry's Bonsai Arbor is one of, if not perhaps THE, longest art tenant of San Antonio's oldest art district, "La Villita." She has offered her simply amazing bonsai works, and other art objects, in her La Villita shop for the most of three decades in the historic San Martin/Herrera House #5 along Guadalupe Walk. This coming Sunday (September 22) I will be presenting there one of the largest groupings of my work that I have shown publicly in quite some time. The works I will be showing are nearly all produced in large scale on archival canvas, and whose subjects range from the timeless San Antonio Missions, to the lavender fields of Blanco Texas, to trees of the Hill Country, and beyond.

The Bonsai Arbor is located at 418 Villita Street, Suite 500, near downtown San Antonio (78205). The shop is very near the corner of Villita and South Presa Street (convenient parking is just across South Presa, less than 100 feet away!). The full hours of the show will be about 10am to about 6pm with an "open house" from 12 noon til 4pm. Please check the map for detailed directions.

The La Villita neighborhood itself is an amazing amalgamation of people, art, architecture, history, events, and so much more. Read about its fascinating history.

Come down to La Villita this Sunday and see me and my art...and enjoy the ambiance of one of the unique neighborhoods of San Antonio. And while you're at it, you can try a sample of my "2012 Faccia Del Sole," Hatch chile sherry— while it lasts. This wine that I produced last year is just beginning to come into maturity and is more than I ever imagined it would be. I'll see you there...

All Is Not As It Seems

The tag-line/motto that I use conspicuously here on this blog claims that the core reality of photography lies at the interaction of light and matter, the intersection of energy and mass. I have been thinking about this recently in relation to how physical and biological systems detect light. 

I mentioned previously here that I had been reading about the Stiles-Crawford effect and in doing so came across detailed descriptions of the infinitesimal workings of the light-sensitive cells– the cones and rods– of the human eye. Within these cells are contained micro-miniature energy conversion plants, material manufacturing facilities, and supply transportation pipelines. And below it all is an incredibly intelligent organization scheme, or command structure, which keeps it all running smoothly and efficiently. 

The functional regime which I casually referred to as an "energy conversion plant" is what is directly responsible for the all-important light sensitive aspects of the eye. As photons from the external world flood into the eye they are organized and redirected into the formation of a replica image on the retinal surface at the back of the eye. This retina, which some liken to the film in an old-school camera, is the organ of the eye which is responsible for taking these tiny packets of light energy and transforming them in a near-miraculous manner into electro-chemical energy signals that are sent to the brain for further transformation and analysis. 

Embedded in the retinal tissue are the light sensitive organelles themselves: the rod and cone cells. Within these tiny electro-optical instruments are organic dye materials, the molecules of which are stacked disk-like in the rod cells as if they were columns of Necco wafers and in the cone cells like leaves that are being dried as they lie interleaved in the pages of a thick book. The electro-chemical bonds of these stacks of dye molecules become excited as they absorb the incoming photons and their energy. The photons themselves die and are no more, while the dye molecules'  new-found energy is passed along the length of the cell, becoming the electronic signal that can be passed to outside systems. The signal continues along the electro-chemical pathway that comprises the whole of the optic nerve and into the brain itself.

NECCO Wafers, © New England Confectionery Company (NECCO)

What provoked my thoughts in all this is the commonly heard analogy of eye and camera. How often it is said that "the eye is like a camera, with its lens, iris, dark chamber (camera obscura), and light sensitive film at the back"– as if the camera were the foundational and superior system. We reason that a modern camera, with all of its incredible complexity, inter-working systems and subtle design, must be the pinnacle of imaging systems and data management, and think the eye to be a mere semblance of such obvious engineering excellence. 

But as it turns out so often, not much is like it seems. My years of working around and with vision scientists, and seeing some of the results of their experiments, have taught me that the human visual system ("system," because it entails so much more than simply the eye) is an incomprehensibly complex and subtle creation. The interplay of multitudinous features and schemes leaves one breathless when trying to understand how they all relate. And the engineering and design philosophies (if one can use those terms) underlying the whole system should make any self-respecting engineer (whether optical, mechanical, or electrical) blush with embarrassment at her own feeble attempts. 

My point here is not to disparage the engineer (I am one!) but to point out the simple fact that when it comes to imaging and optical information systems, the human eye and its larger visual system is without peer in this wide world, and perhaps, in this wide universe. At least we've not yet seen anything which beats it.  Some cameras, or even other biological visual systems, may exceed human vision in a particular narrow technical aspect, but nothing exceeds its overall performance, utility, and flexibility. 

So, enjoy your modern (or old-school) camera for what is, but never lose sight of the matchless design and astounding craftsmanship of the visual system that opens its two "shutters" for you each morning. 

BELOW FROM ABOVE

Most cultures have revered trees as a symbol of prosperity, longevity, and the tenacity of life. This enigmatic image is one of a series of photographs I am producing that celebrate the joy and richness of life as exemplified in trees.  I call the series: "Trees of Life".

WATERS BELOW FROM
WATERS ABOVE
© Bill Brockmeier

This photograph makes great use of the unusual format of a vertical panorama, and spans nearly a full 360° vertical field of view. Imagine standing near the edge of San Pedro Springs, near downtown San Antonio, looking down towards your feet and then gazing upward along the trunk of a great cypress tree.  You look directly above you at the overhanging cypress boughs, then down behind you at trees beyond the springs and finally, down into the springs themselves.

I am fascinated by the connection of water, earth, and sky, and these three find their most profound and living relationship in the life-forms we call trees. The wonder, and the practical and aesthetic value of trees is inestimable.

God planned and planted the original Garden of perfection, in the center of which stood the Tree of Life. This Tree represented His perfect provision of life unending and abundant. A future reestablishment of such a Tree was revealed to the prophet Ezekiel, and centuries later, to the prophet John on the island of Patmos. Ezekiel described this Tree of Life (though not using that specific term) in the plural: "trees." John, writing much later about a very parallel vision, seems to lean back on the original description in Genesis as "the tree of life," but he adds an interesting twist by claiming that this "tree" (singular) exists on both sides of the river. One tree, but existing in more than one place at a time.

The Tree never withers, or lacks for water, its root penetrating deeply into the ground below, continually moistened by the River. The Tree, never dormant or inactive, produces fruit every month. And its leaves are sufficient for healing, even on a global scale.

Trees are marvelous wonders of the natural world. Their complex biology boggles the mind, and their astounding aesthetic design causes the imagination to soar.

If you haven't yet, plant a tree, and watch it grow as you do!

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This photograph is available in a Very Limited Edition of only 12 copies, printed and mounted archivally on special canvas. The full, framed size is 20 by 72 inches.    Call now to reserve yours— 210-241-6132.

FIRMAMENT

Some time ago, I was traveling by commercial airlines from the San Antonio area to Boston. I am always fascinated by the ability to travel across the continent by air and I delight in the view from such an elevated platform. When the plane's wheels touch down on the runway at my destination, it always seems too soon.

This flight was just such an eye-full since nearly the entire trip we encountered various forms of exciting atmospheric conditions. This was a great time to try some of the photographic experiments that I like to play with when confronted with such great subjects: huge, towering thunderheads, long stretches of unbroken cloud cover, and unusual sunlit conditions. Often, these experiments are interesting but never materialize in usable photographs since the cabin windows so frequently are very poor in optical quality.

Things like age-crazing, general scratching and scuffing, and big gooey smears of hair gel take a huge toll on the ability to take decent photographs. On top of that, reflections of bright things in the cabin can dominate the view as well. To mitigate some of these issues, I usually try to bring with me micro-fiber cloths to clean the window, and it's also a good idea to wear as much dark clothing as possible to reduce reflections. This trip I was doubly-blessed with a high quality, clean window, and sunlight directions that minimized any reflections.

At one point in mid-flight we were flying near 30,000 feet (over 5 miles up) and traveling along between two layers of clouds: a very high layer of thin clouds, and a lower stratum of complete cloud cover (the earth's surface was entirely hidden behind it). The colors of the sky, where it could be seen, were absolutely entrancing– from a light cyan/turquoise near the surface of the earth (the normal sky-blue we see from down here) graduating to a much deeper and purer blue looking up above the horizon.  When gazing up as high as I could see out of the window, the sky was nearly black, but still discernibly blue (maybe a blue-black or "midnight blue").

FIRMAMENT, © Bill Brockmeier, all rights reserved

I tried some different techniques to capture some of this scene, which overwhelmed me with the vastness of the layering of the clouds, and the pure beauty of the unadulterated colors.

I didn't look at the photos until several weeks after the trip, and when I did I found quite a few semi-interesting shots, but nothing that really stood out to me...until I came across one that I took as we flew between the two layers of clouds.  The image really took me back to when I was observing and enjoying it in person.

Recently, I decided to go back to that photograph and try it out in large scale on canvas. After the photograph had been printed, coated, mounted, and framed I sat the completed work up against the wall in my studio and was amazed at how it had come out. It looked to me, and had the feeling, much like the abstract paintings that I so admire. Then it hit me. Turning it upside-down, I thought "let's make it a little MORE abstract." This new composition, which placed the earth at the top of the canvas and the sky below it, was definitely superior to the conventional view.

The very dark blue of the highest atmosphere was now at the bottom of the image, giving it much more a sense of stability and solidity.  The light gray solid cloud cover was now a band of light towards the top, with the brilliant cyan/turquoise streaking between the two. The deep blue below, although actually a view of the high atmosphere appears to be almost water-like. But if it looks like water, where is the horizon, the distinction between the atmosphere and the ocean? The whole effect is a bit mystifying and one is reduced to the pure simplicity of enjoying the colors and the structure of the image, without being able to really ferret out what is going on.

The more I have looked at this image, the more it seems to me shrouded in the enigmatic mists of the original Creation itself.  Some of the opening phrases of Genesis ("Beginnings") say that "...God made the expanse (the firmament) and separated the water under the expanse from the water above it. And it was so. God called the expanse 'sky.' And there was evening and there was morning– the second Day."

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This photograph is available in an Extremely Limited Edition of only three copies, with just two remaining. The full, framed size is 20 by 72 inches.    Call now to reserve yours— 210-241-6132.

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Note: this article is the first in a weekly series that will showcase my Very Limited Edition photographs. For more information on these editions and how I produce them, click here or on the Very Limited Edition link in the upper right. 

Frenetic Activity

Life sometimes seems in a "neutral gear" mode when to all outside appearances nothing of significance is happening.  Then, suddenly, a flurry of activity is upon you and you wonder if you are going to keep up with it all.

As I have mentioned a few times over the previous months I have been visiting a large and special parcel of land in the Hill Country of Texas with the goal of producing at least one work for the "Arts and Conservation" project of the Cibolo Conservancy. Although I have been wondering how it would all turn out, I am pleased with what finally came about through these efforts. The project happens only once every other year so it is wonderful to be a part of this infrequent event.

The work I have chosen for exhibition in the show is titled "BEFORE THE FALL." This panoramic photograph takes in numerous cypress trees along a mostly unvisited stretch of the Guadalupe River between  Comfort and Twin Sisters, Texas. I have produced the image in my special archival process on canvas and framed it appropriately in a fairly rugged, yet elegant, dark wood.  The pallet of soft green and muted orange of the autumnal leaves of the cypress trees plays a counterpoint to the hard, textured surfaces of the trees' trunks.

In an "artist's statement" to appear alongside the exhibited photograph I have written:

"Living things— displaying scars of their battle with the elements, and yet ever new with the soft evidence of recent growth and renewal. These are the venerable cypress of South Texas. The Kilpatricks' conserved parcel on the Guadalupe is an extraordinary space where these botanical giants dance with water, sky, rocks, and deer. Although cousins of the evergreen conifers, these goliaths of the Hill Country are just turning from the green of summer to the amber/orange of autumn and will soon drop their leaves, to be swept away by the river below."

BEFORE THE FALL, © Bill Brockmeier, 2013, all rights reserved by the artist

The other photograph I will exhibit in the show is titled "DARK MIRROR" and is the image which juried me into the show. All of the selected artists' juried works will be displayed along with their current project works. I have displayed this image here in previous articles about the "Art and Conservation" project and show. The image is a panoramic view captured at the Pedernales Falls State Park, just after the sun had set. My artist's statement to appear alongside it reads:

"Water and stone constitute the "warp" and "woof" of this unique landscape textile that the Creator has woven in Pedernales Falls. The organic softness of liquid contrasts with and complements the durable and inert nature of hard rock– but in the end the water has its way and changes the face of the stone through erosion. Most visitors to the Park see it in the bright light of day, but I composed this image just after sunset, when the crepuscular light had tranfigured the landscape into a dark garden of mysterious beauty."

DARK MIRROR, © Bill Brockmeier, 2013, all rights reserved by the artist

Both of these photographs are available in very limited editions of only eight photographs each and were produced, mounted, and framed using exclusive archival, museum-grade processes. The full size of both framed works are 48 inches long by 14 inches high. The initial retail price of each will be $700 and when the editions are sold out, no further images will be produced. You can see both of these images in person (and all of the other wonderful art!) at the "Arts and Conservation" show, "Our Hidden Treasures," at the Cibolo Nature Center, in Boerne, Texas (check out these links for the location and details). The show exhibits art works of diverse media (not only photographs!) and will be open to the public from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. April 12 and 13 (FRI-SAT) and from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. April 14 (SUN).

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As it often seems to happen I have extended lengths of time when no shows are scheduled, and then suddenly multiple things seem to happen at once.  This has been the case over the past few weeks as I have been preparing for two shows which will be happening simultaneously this coming weekend.  The other show, Boerne Professional Artists' "Parade of Artists," will be happening at the same time— more on that later.

Unexpected Gold

Growing up in the Midwest, I was absolutely enamoured with the deep pine forests of the Rocky Mountains. I had been born in Denver, but after our family moved to Kansas City we only visited the mountains as tourists once a year. The plains of Kansas and Missouri surrounded my home for a hundred miles in every direction and these were not populated by large forests of any kind, let alone the lofty pine. These evergreen trees were exotic to my young mind and seemed so different than the few hardwoods I was familiar with. The pines were incredibly tall, and rather than spreading broad branches in a horizontal scheme, they seemed to soar straight up into the heavens, their tops even tickling the feet of angels flying "up there."

Another way in which these pines seemed so superior to the oaks, maples, and sycamores I knew was that their "leaves" were made for the long haul. Unlike my lowly hardwoods, which weakly dropped their entire crop of leaves as the weather turned cool in the fall, the ever-green pines had wonderfully exotic needles with which they eternally clothed themselves. Even through the coldest arctic blasts the proud and stoic pines kept their deep green cloaks wrapped tightly about them. Never naked, never shivering in the cold, they seemed to laugh at what the winter threw their way.

BARELY GREEN, © Bill Brockmeier, 2012
All rights reserved by the artist

When I moved to South Texas thirty years ago, you can imagine my surprise when I discovered the "secret" held by the magnificent cypress tree. The Hill Country in which I live is filled with the clear, cold, fast rushing rivers and streams which host the wonderful cypress. These trees nearly always grow at the very edge of the rivers, thrusting their feet and legs– up to their knees– into the fresh water and solid rock limestone bed. Some of these huge seniors are known to have seen over a thousand seasons, and who knows how many floods.

These cypress giants seemed so much to me like the pines I idolized as a boy. They were incredibly massive and tall, as were the pines. This was certainly a "tree's tree" that fulfilled the biblical description of the "Cedars of Lebanon." And the finely divided leaflets seemed so much like the pine's needles. These were clearly in the "evergreen" class of trees. Or so I thought.

BROAD PALLET, © Bill Brockmeier
All rights reserved by the artist

After our first summer in South Texas, with the coolness of autumn descending from the north, we began exploring the Hill Country in earnest. As we approached one of the seductively clear rivers on our journey, I noticed something strikingly odd about it. This stretch of once magnificent cypresses was turning brown and some were already bare and apparently dead. How could this have happened? Was it some strange tree-specific blight killing them in succession? Was some out of control insect species to blame? Had something been dumped in the river and poisoned them? What a tragedy!

As we drove on and came to another river the same depressing scenario appeared at the river banks. We couldn't believe how badly this plague had progressed. We were somewhat deflated as we finally arrived home.

That evening, as I read about the bald cypress in our field manual of trees, I suddenly realized the ignorant mistake I had made. These cypress were NOT the evergreens I had supposed them to be, but were actually classified as deciduous trees! These trees were supposed to drop their leaves each fall. I sheepishly told my wife about the truth I had just discovered.

In the few decades since that time I have come to appreciate the rich gold, amber, and orange show the cypress makes each November. I now actually look forward to this unusual autumn display of deciduous splendor. It is kind of ironic that growing up in the Midwest, where gorgeous autumn trees are the norm, I now live in South Texas where most of the oaks are "live" (nearly evergreen), and this seemingly "evergreen" cypress is one of the few deciduous trees. As a wise man once said: "Go figure..."

The Richer For It

He is not only a professional photographer but a window-cleaning professional as well. My friend, whom I had not seen in quite some, time stopped by unexpectedly and we shared some truly enriching conversation. His unusual mix of creative and practical work always brings an interesting perspective to our conversation.

The two hours that we spent yacking (or is that "yakking?") covered a lot of ground and of course we solved many of the world's ills in the process. One thing that came up was the intriguing interplay between individuality and community in creative pursuits.

As an artist it is always obvious how personal the act of creating is. It is about taking something that is very significant personally, and expressing it. It is about taking something internal, hidden, and owned, and making it external, visible, and in a sense, giving it away. Art always starts with an individual personality who values something deeply. It always starts with some one.

Frozen Mustang Grapes—
Turning them into wine, the project at hand
© Bill Brockmeier, 2012

If anything is to happen creatively an artist must initiate– he must seize those nuggets of inspiration and take a risk. The artist has to act, or risk losing those glimmers of what might have been.

If I have learned anything about photography (and art in general, for that matter) you can't see something and then say to yourself– "Wow...that would make a great shot! I'll have to remember to come back to that when I have time tomorrow..." No, you'd better at least attempt to take a great shot of it now, as tomorrow will, most likely, never come. If inspiration strikes, the moment needs to be seized, or the moment (and the art that accompanies it) will be lost. This is the personal prerogative of the artist, and he can blame no one else if he let's the potential creation slip away. The inspiration comes in a personal way, and the person is responsible to act on it.

As our conversation continued, we began to discuss the fact that art and its creation is not entirely individual and personal, but is also a function of community. I have already indirectly referred to this communal aspect when I mentioned above that the internal, personal creation must ultimately be given away. Yes, this giving away is a personal act, but obviously it must have an object; there must be someone to whom it is given. Without some audience, without someone to see, hear, feel, or otherwise evaluate and appreciate the creative work, this art is simply a masturbatory excercise. If the art remains a personal thing and doesn't connect with another, it remains pointless and empty– sterile.

And the importance of human relationship to art is not only that someone is out there to receive it. Our ability to "speak" creatively to the community is not simply a one-way street, for if we only ever spoke, and never listened, this, too, would end up being empty. We have ears to listen, and eyes to see, and we need to be taking into our personal, internal beings what others are communicating to us (whether those others be artists or not).

As my friend and I conversed, I was reminded of some experiences of several years ago. A co-worker, who happens to be both a jazz saxophonist as well as a mechanical designer, was commenting one day on some of my photographs. He spoke in some detail about all of the things he was seeing in my work– geometric relationships in the composition, the emotional ground and tone of the images, and so on. I had to admit to him that I hadn't really seen some of these things before in my own work, and, frankly, I was amazed that these things were there. That simple interchange caused me not only to see those things in my past work, but to actually look for them in the world around me so I could consciouslly strive to incorpororate them into new work. And it also causes me to now look (and appreciate)  much more deeply the work of other artists.

The direction of the conversation that my friend and I had been pursuing began taking another turn. We realized that so much of what were talking about was incredibly parallel to what we both know of true spiritual community. He and I have known each other for many, many years, and before we ever shared common interests in photographic pursuits, we knew each other as spiritual "brothers." In true, Christian spiritual community, the term "brother" is not merely a cliche to be thrown around trivially, but is a vital truth of our existence. And it is in this sense that we began realizing the dual, two-track nature of our conversation.

Just as with the artist, the creative act begins for our spiritual nature as an intensely personal thing. These "things" rise up within us, striving and yearning to make it to the surface, struggling to burst out of us and become external realities. These "things" are the "creative," spiritual acts that are generated, not by us, but by the Holy Spirit of the Creator Himself– God Almighty actually living in us, and in some miraculous, incomprehensible way, through us.

And just as with the artist, we believers have a choice before us. We can either respond by saying "Wow, that was a great inspirational thought or understanding or impulse...I'll act on that when I have more time tomorrow...," or we can choose to actually act on it and say "Wow...there is no time like the present...in fact, there IS NO TIME BUT THE PRESENT! I will take a hold of that inpiration and flesh it now to the best of my ability, for there may not be any further opportunity to act on this. Thank you Lord!"

The interesting thing of this is that even in this intensely personal act, it begins not actually with us, but with another– the One Who is the ultimate Creator! We simply need to respond to His creative impulse, so even in this we have community and relationship at work.

But then, there are the more obvious relational aspects of the spiritual life– the "brother"-liness (and sister-liness) that I mentioned above. Just as with the creative expression of an artist, the true spiritual person aims for her life to connect with others, for her spiritually creative impulses (initiated by the Spirit of God) to impact the lives of other people. If we sit on these "things" and don't let them see the light of day, they are pointless, void, and sterile. We need to seize these nuggets of inspiration and breathe life into them by breathing them into others' lives.

Finally, my "brother" and I agreed that the other direction of relational life is just as important for our spirits as it is for the artist. To listen intently to others, to try to see what they are trying to show us is essential for our lives. It is essential for a properly balanced view of ourselves, as well as for an accurate view of others. We seriously need to cultivate and attune our receptive skills. The musician calls this intonnation, and he values this as one of his most important attributes– the ability to listen carefully and precisely to the other players in the ensemble, so he can effectively "play in-tune" with them and thereby produce powerful and beautiful and timeless music that can take the breath away.

He had to leave, and I had to finish the project I was working on, so we parted ways that day, both the richer for it.

Don't make the mistake of waiting for "just the right time" to act on creative impulses: either artistic or spiritual. And don't make the mistake of thinking that artistic pursuits or spiritual life are only singular, personal pursuits. Live in the community as well as your own skin, and your life will certainly be the richer for it.

Conserving the Hill Country

A few days ago I had the opportunity to travel to the site of the Arts and Conservation project that I will be undertaking for the next several months. The location is a beautiful and considerable stretch of the Guadalupe River between Sisterdale and Comfort, Texas. The region is classic Texas "Hill Country" with its rolling hills, steep knobs, and rich river valleys with "pecan bottoms." In particular, this stretch of the river is populated by ranks of huge cypress sentinels arrayed below bare limestone bluffs.

Thistles Along the Guadalupe
© Bill Brockmeier

We met with the landowner and conservator of the property who graciously explained to us the layout of their place, and where I might find interesting subjects to photograph. She told us why they had acquired this piece of land and what it has meant to them over the years. They appreciate the unique treasure that they hold and they have made it available to me to convey some of its beauty to others.

I plan on visiting the property over a period of months so I can capture images during different lighting, weather, and seasonal conditions. I will make my first photographic trip to Sisterdale later in June, and will bring you some of the fruits of my efforts here.

Collaboration To the Max

I recently read a very thought provoking (and practical) article that had been passed along to me by a bright young architect and colleague. The article, "Practice Matters" by Andrew Pressman (FAIA), appeared in the 04/2009 volume of Architectural Record.

The article explores the importance of teamwork in the architectural practice and then goes on to explain how it can be fostered. As I read the article, I kept going back to my own professional pursuits in the area of photographic art, and although I generally work "alone," much of what was being related seemed germane to my own creative work. How could creative teamwork have anything to do with me? I finally realized what was going on.

Collaboration of a Dark and Aged Sort
(more on this in a follow-on article)

When I leave the studio and visit a potential site for creative work, there are at least three entities that end up being involved the process. The most obvious one is myself. If I am not involved, there simply is no creative process at work. This may seem like a trivial matter not even worth discussing, but there really is something important to consider here. My words here– "If I am not involved..."– describe the issue precisely. For anything significant to occur, I must be involved. Simply showing up is of no profit. I have to be fully engaged in the process, open to what is going on around me (as well as within me), and ready to change course in a moment's notice if required. This is a very dynamic and active process for the individual artist.

The second entity is not quite as obvious, but it certainly comes to mind if you think about it just a little. This would be the subject. When the creative matter at hand is portraiture, it is pretty obvious that the subject is an entity with whom the creative agent can and needs to communicate and relate on a very personal level. Generally, the deeper and richer the communication is between these two, the deeper and richer the potential creative result can be.

If the image to be made is not a portrait, the subject is less likely to be engaged in an interactive relationship. Here, the subject (architecture, landscape, abstract, or other) will mostly be involved in one-way communication (speaking, not listening), but just because it's one-way, doesn't mean you shouldn't be fully engaged with it. In fact, this makes it even more important for the artist to listen carefully, and to look closely in order to discover what the subject is saying. And even then, it can be helpful for the artist to verbalize their own response to what they believe the subject is saying. Speaking these thoughts out loud can even clarify what is transpiring internally in you (yes, people may whisper about you if they witness this, but so what?!).

And this brings us to the third entity. What could be more stimulating, and more productive for an artist than to collaborate with the One Who is, in fact, the ultimate Creator? So often the Creator is given short shrift in the creative process, but we do so to our own detriment. The Creator did not simply finish His active creating in the beginning and then retire for the remainder of eternity. He may have "rested" for a day, but then His activity began again in ernest.

As we are involved in the process of creating art (or any other creative activity) it is of high significance to seek personal communication and relationship with the One Who created all. And as with any personal relationship, we cannot make it happen on our own. All we can do is simply seek the relationship and be open to it. It is His prerogative to invite us into His sphere, His initiative to give us the incredible benefits of His thoughts, and His power and gifts to enable us to create worthy art.

This is collaboration taken to the ultimate degree. If you want to know what creativity is all about, spend some time with the Creator.

On a final note, this post itself is an interesting example of some of the details offered in Pressman's article mentioned above. In my next entry here, I'll flesh this out a little more (see the image above for a hint)...

Opportunities

The Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin, Texas (and part of the University of Texas) was an exceptional venue to host the recent art festival there in which I participated. The architecture, the landscaping of native plantings, and the Central Texas springtime in the air were marvelous. And the camaraderie of my creative sisters and brothers who participated in the show was certainly stimulating.

I would like to thank the multitudes of art patrons and enthusiasts who visited my exhibit over the weekend, many of whom are now brand new readers of my blog here. These folks were not only highly encouraging of my work, but had some superb aesthetic insight into the specific pieces I had displayed. It is wonderful to have the opportunity to share such diverse artistic thoughts, opinions, understanding, and conversation.

I must say that I was somewhat overwhelmed by the extremely positive response I received from the hundreds of people who spent significant time in my booth. The most frequent comments that I heard over the two-day show were: "These are gorgeous!"– "...stunning!"– "...incredible work!" While I certainly appreciated these comments, I was humbled by their intensity and volume, as I realize that what they were really admiring was the stunning beauty of the natural scenes themselves that I had hoped to capture in some small way.

My Exhibit Before the Crowds Arrive,
Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, MAR2012

This thought is driven home even more forcefully as I remember many of the people commenting that the photos looked "incredibly three-dimensional" and that "...it seems like I am looking right out a window at a field of flowers." This makes it absolutely clear to me that the subject of their appreciation was, in fact, the beauty of the Creation itself. As much as I would enjoy to receive these accolades myself, I must pass them along to the Creator, Who not only brought about the specific beauty of these natural locales, but Who is the ultimate Author of Beauty itself.

The show was a couple of very long days of mostly standing on my feet and talking with hundreds of people (maybe more than a thousand?), but overall it was rewarding on many different levels. I definitely look forward to seeing these folks again next year!

The Art of Discovery (Part 3)

I started what has become a three-part article by looking into some of my own recent experiences of Discovery. I will finish it with some cautionary advice, also gleaned from personal experience.

There are those who warn against using the word "create" and its derivative nouns and adjectives as being something akin to blasphemy.  They reason that using this word for anything other than referring to the Creator's direct creative acts and the resulting Creation attempts to dilute the power and uniqueness of that primary act. I can certainly understand that viewpoint and even have some sympathy for it. However, I believe there is still an appropriate use of these terms, when humans are involved in what has come to be known as creativity.

God's highest achievement in His creative work was undeniably the creation of humankind. In the first part of Genesis, God is seen finishing off the perfect work of creating by saying: "Let us make man in our image— our likeness...so God created man in his own image...male and female he created them...God saw all that he had made, and it was very good." There is a rich depth of meaning bound up in the phrase "made in his own image," but for this brief article I would like to consider just one aspect.

In the opening narrative of Genesis, we certainly see God primarily as Creator of all. It would be surprising, therefore, if this creative talent/skill/bent was not among those aspects of "his own image" that He placed in His highest creation, mankind. Because of this, I believe strongly that the ability to "create" (in the secondary, not primary sense) is an integral part of who "Adam" is (and we, by derivation) . This ability to take what is unseen, unmanifest, and bring it into physical reality is a gift beyond words, beyond imagining. This gift, along with other God-like aspects of our character, is worlds apart from the rest of the Creation. Why God put this absolutely stunning power within us defies explanation. But nevertheless, there it is.

CREATION, bronze sculpture,
© Irene McCoy, all rights reserved

The power to "create" (and this is the last time I will use quotation marks to differentiate our abilities from God's) is so amazing, so astonishing, that it is also intoxicating. Just as a rare and exquisite wine can have the wonderful attributes of color, clarity, bouquet, and other gustatory delights (and, apparently, Jesus made/created some amazing wine Himself!– see John 2.10) it has the ability to stupefy, as well as uplift the senses. I have written previously about the exhilaration that can come with the adventure of discovery, and with anything that is so exhilarating comes the potential for "drunkenness." We can easily become "drunk" with our ability to create, and not appreciate it for the gift it truly is.

Being a creative being carries with it tremendous responsibilities. First among them is to realize that God Himself, alone, is THE CREATOR. All creative ability and acts are purely a gift from Him. There is nothing of merit that we can do, apart from Him. Because of this, it is incumbent upon the creative person to seek this Creator God, to know Him, and to know His direction and guidance for the whole of our lives, including our creative work. Then, in the final analysis, it is only right for us to thank Him for this grace, and to appropriately give Him all the praise and glory for the outcome.

This last part can sometimes be difficult. It can be so fulfilling and pleasurable to receive praise from others for the artful works that come about by our agency. But this is a trap that can only serve to sever the channels of creative flow that come from our God. If we believe, and if we allow others to believe, that this creative ability is our own isolated possession, we cut ourselves off from the true Source, the true Spring of creating. By claiming to be the sole source of the creative pulse that flows through us, we set ourselves up in the place of the Creator and forget Who He is, and we are then simply left to our own paltry devices.

Know the Creator God, and glory in His wondrous work, whether it comes through us, through others, or simply and directly from His own capable hands!