Planted, not Perfect

When I tell people I do figure drawing, they tell me many things, “I could never do that I’m too ____… I’d be too embarrassed… I’ve always wanted to but…”

Funny thing is, the artists they don’t need you to be this that or the other. Tall, short, fat, thin. Doesn’t matter. Just to be yourself. And be still. That’s it.

We walk though life praying that we’ll be good enough. But all the while people are waiting for people to just step forward and say, “here I am.” Not to push it. Not to project it. Just to be.

It gives them freedom to do the same.

You don’t have to take your clothes off to accomplish this. You can do this every day of your life. You are who you are, and we’re all on a journey of improvement, self-discovery. But right now, we’re here, and we’re alive. That’s good enough.

Honesty goes a long way. Be you. Be proud. Be brave.

Blessings, my wonderful friends,

Aaron

This is My Body: Figure Drawing Session #1

 

The other day, I had the chance to work with Alex Alford at the Colourfield studio in Asheville. Being able to connect with him, to lay everything down and work together to create art: that was a wonderful treat.

And this, perhaps, how art should be created: not by putting on faces, but by tossing our masks aside and being truly ourselves. This is the challenge. May we all, as artists and as people, step up to the plate.

An Education

“I wanna write a romance novel,” she says,

“where things are messy, things are perfect,

where romance isn’t smooth,

and the lovers don’t quite know what they’re doing.

Otherwise, you go into love thinking everyone’s got it all together,

and that’s not the case at all.

We’re imperfect beings, our fiction should be an education in that

So that reality goes a little smoother.”

Roadside Assistance

Changing a tire in the rain

only to find it is rusted solid to the well,

now using words I probably shouldn’t

while my wife calls for roadside assistance.

 

As the rain comes down,

I admit defeat and rise.

In the distance, the sheep are grazing,

I watch their passive migrations and become

entranced.

 

Eventually, the rain stops,

the sun comes,

a bow appears,

and roadside assistance is able to

knock the wheel free with a mallet.

 

We go home, take a shower, and switch into dry clothes,

It’s all funny now, and isn’t that always the case:

even in the downpour, there are sheep to be found,

and help to be called,

clean clothes on the horizon,

and a wife who loves you

even when you become creative with your verbiage.