October/November/December

2006

Seeking Solitude

As I quietly strolled along the pebble pathways of the Nitobe Memorial Garden on the campus of the University of British Columbia I sensed that I was being renewed. The air was fresh. Light raindrops fell, intermittently adding their usual expanding circles on the surface of an otherwise glassy pond. A soft breeze blew down from the north and rustled the yellow tinged maple leaves. The lone attendant who sat at the entry gate of the garden quietly played her flute – adding a breathy melody to nature's orchestra. The scene was sublime and I allowed myself to be embraced and nourished by it.

My hour in the garden was the salve that my mind and heart longed for after the exhausting weeks of nonstop travel. In the midst of the busyness it is easy to forget just how necessary solitude is to the core of our being. Without it we become hardened to the subtleties of everyday life. The small things – like raindrops on the water – are easily overlooked because the often self-imposed pressures of the day demand our attention. Those daily pressures slowly erode our spirit and drain us dry of life. When was the last time you intentionally sought out a place of solitude? If it takes you a while to pinpoint that experience it has been far too long. I would venture to guess that if you honor that aspect of your life you'd experience a renewed vigor for living, which would give you energy to face the other daunting demands of your schedule.

I know that if I am going to be creative it is imperative for me to have times of solitary reflection. It is during those moments that I can tune out the surrounding distractions and start to tune in to the abundance of life that surrounds me. I encourage you to seek out a quiet place where you can reconnect with your true dreams, creativity and personal vision.

I recently opened an exhibition in Vancouver, B.C. at Regent College on the campus of the University of British Columbia. The work in the show was varied yet it held together by a thread that was noted in the title of the exhibition – A Fragile Life. Each of the paintings, drawings and sculpture took a unique metaphorical look at the finite and tenuous nature of humanity. Though visitors to the exhibition were greeted with familiar forms an unusual emotional/psychological undercurrent existed in each work. Viewers interacted with the pieces out of a personal history, so each person went away with a unique viewing experience.

At the opening reception I had the chance to talk with people about the personal motivations that directed each work in the show and I was able to discuss the process of creating specific pieces. Having the opportunity to connect with viewers who are interested in knowing more about the history of the work is such an important part of my public exhibitions. This specific exhibition was displayed on a college campus and I had the great pleasure of talking with a number of energetic and inspired students who will soon be out working, creating and sharing their creations with the world. Their robust idealism infused me with renewed enthusiasm and hope for the creative future.

Autumn Event Feature

Season of LIght Auction

November 25, 2006 5:30pm-11:00pm

Children's Hospital of Seattle will benefit from the proceeds generated by this extraordinary charity auction. I have teamed up with a child that has received treatment at Children's Hospital to create a unique multi-media sculpture for this event. If you would like to be a part of this beautiful evening, please click here for more information.

The auction will be held in the Spanish Ballroom at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel in downtown Seattle.

The Real Questions

When is a work finished? What constitutes a completed work? Is it worth trying to define these parameters? What is the importance of the process?

All of those questions loom large in my mind as I continually wrestle with them and try to arrive at definitive answers. Yet I find that my attitude and outlook change continually. The process of seeking answers to the questions has become more important to me now than the answer itself. I have grown comfortable with the organic nature of the process as I go through various stages of artistic development. The following thoughts are taken from writings that I have made over the past few months. Please feel free to contact me if you have any additional thoughts or insights.

When is a work finished? What constitutes a completed work? This is truly a subjective question that is based on numerous individual and cultural preferences. It would be easy to pass by this question and say that it is impossible to give an answer, yet there are so many great examples of artworks that exude "finishedness." So, I think it is important to examine why they feel finished. I think a piece is finished when it reaches a place where any addition or subtraction to it would make it something completely other than it is intended to be. Once it touches the uttermost point of anticipated expression there is usually an internal peace that the attuned artist can perceive. I believe it is there that the artist should stop. It is possible for a work to be powerfully resolved without being conventionally complete in the visual sense of things "looking like they are supposed to look". We must strip ourselves of the idea and judgment that art should only mimic what we physically see. There is often more power in a work when it follows the expressive, abstracted veins of creation.

Is it worth trying to define these parameters? I think the challenge of wrestling with definitions and seeking answers is essential to continued vigorous creativity. The actual answers my not be of the highest service to the artist, but the cultivating and digging is important because it forces the mind to be engaged in process. As the artist seeks out the answers to questions, often other questions will arise, and out of the thought cultivation greater clarity of personal vision will usually result. Personal vision will yield a richness of creativity. Seek to define and yet know that in your seeking you may get lost in the process of creating.

What is the importance of the process? Without the passion for the creative process the artist and the collector are left with a soulless product that could essentially be manufactured by a machine. We are numb today because of the continued onslaught of marketing that tells us product is everything. Yet the product is everything only until there is a new, improved product. Culturally we move mindlessly toward the banality of product and disregard the life that is hidden in process. Though I esteem process I also must temper it with moderation – there is life in a product when it has been born from the passion of process.

Tangier

There's no salvation in elsewhere;
forget the horizon, the seductive sky.
If nothing's here, nothing's there.

I know. Once I escaped to Tangier'
took the same face, the same lie.
There's no salvation in elsewhere

when elsewhere has empty rooms, mirrors.
Everywhere: the capital I.
If nothing's here, nothing's there

unless, of course, your motive's secure;
not therapy, but joy,
salvation an idea left behind, elsewhere,

like overweight baggage or yesteryear.
The fundamental things apply.
If nothing's here, nothing's there –

I brought with me my own imperfect air.
The streets were noise. The heart dry.
There was no salvation elsewhere.
I came with nothing, found nothing there.

- Stephen Dunn