It’s hard to follow a kite, up in the gusty strands of light, where with wings achieve flight. There artists go, to catch their breath at sights below. Where Everyman has case in hand, while stuck in rutted jobs meant for common man. Yet brush dynamic, shade and line, and with flair divine, is just an artist friend of mine. The mysterious caper of Jean Michel Folon. His heart poured out on bronze, canvas and paper.
There are some artists that develop a style that captures your imagination. A favorite of mine is Jean Michel Folon.
My Painting in Folon style:
I painted this watercolor to try and capture that feeling, the one men get when they realize the mundane of their existence when held up to the light of nature.
You may find some of his works here:
Folon Google Image
YouTube video of Folon’s pictures complete with background music:
If any of you have been grieving, then you know the experience. The numb days, and the lost nights; for the pain you suffer, I am truly sorry.
Nothing seems as pointless and painful as losing a child. The fact that we spend a great amount of our time emotionally and psychically preparing for the raising of offspring. All we do at times is build the nest, gather the straw, court a lover, create a home, for the unconscious purpose of nurturing the seed of humanity.
When you lose that seed, it was like a flood came and destroyed the crop. It’s is like the tornado of the soul to have your child taken abruptly through violence, neglect, and disease. The planting, watering, fertilizing, the effort, all washed away in a storm.
This piece is my reflection on the grief that has washed over my wife, and so the woman pictured is here is her, but representing all grieving mothers. Her tears are pouring out like a fountain of remorse. I hope the work is reflective of what women will feel when they lose a child. The black hole in the heart is where that child was in their heart; the more central to their lives, the more the hole is centered, and the amount of love relates to the size of the whole.
The life has its pain and it joys. Yet, pain seems to over take joy, like storms overtake serene days of sunshine. The blue angels in the upper corner reflect a future of regaining touch without dearly departed family members. The hope of a future together with them again helps to elevate our thoughts to the heavens rather than to freeze us in the hell of the earthly experience, represented by the orange, black and red lower portions of the design. I hope this captures the feelings of others — let me know 😉
The Roots of Pain
I called this picture “the roots of pain” because of an emotional, draining weekend. I experienced this recently, and justified it because of the weather. As many of you know I live in California, Southern California to be exact, where it is supposed to be sunny, but this year it has been quite rainy, and the long overcast conditions got over on me.
You may know my daughter was buried last year. A wife and I visited the cemetery both on Thursday and Saturday, and the sky was overcast and dreary both days. On Thursday there was someone being memorialized at her feet. Now the strip in the cemetery was once a road, and so they’re now planting recently deceased people up and down this road. So all of the plots have either a headstone or a little plaque for where the headstone will go.
I was thinking as I was working on this piece about how I felt, standing there with all these folks who have died, many who have died from cancer and other diseases or were taken through acts of stupidity like my daughter. And around us them are these old trees, with the roots reaching down holding them up, keep themselves alive, and I thought of the irony of the situation. I mean this is my daughter, and she should be springing up not buried.
So near my daughter’s location are these 4 oak tree with these huge root systems reaching down into this pathway where all these people are now being buried. There you see squirrels scrambling around looking for nuts. They live in those trees, and they are part of nature, but these coffins are crowding the roots of these trees in such a perverse, unnatural way.
So at this moment of my weekend an emotional oppressiveness passed through me, and I was later working on this piece, I created that line stretching across the painting’s length, representing the slice through my soul. It looks kind of like a razor to me, but the idea was it slicing or the living from the dead.
The woman with the hat represents my daughter; it looks like she’s speaking, yelling more likely. Her head full of ideas, color and expressiveness. But then I realized, she’s dead so she can’t be speaking. I’m the one speaking. I’m groping for her voice and her ideas and her expressiveness, even the drama she revilled in.
Yet my thoughts are earthbound, as my soul envelops the emptiness of my heart looking for that space to be filled again. But I am remiss in forgetting that life has a future, and endlessness, an eternity to be experienced, when the physical returns to the dust, and the spiritual is completely set free. So after all it is her spirit I miss, not her body, not her flesh and bones. It’s like as human beings were bifurcated in our thinking: but the true life is what’s on the other side. What we have here is just the roots of pain, and those are the things we will rejoice over leaving behind.