Bridging Hemispheres

Like so many people here and around the world, I eagerly anticipated the broadcast of the Presidential Inauguration this past Tuesday. I was not disappointed. Notwithstanding the historical significance, one thing that struck me was the role of the arts. Visual and performing arts budgets are amongst the first to be cut in the midst of a financial crisis. Yet, we often turn to creative expression in times of turmoil, finding solace in a familiar melody or, perhaps, seeking new direction with a fresh composition. As song, music, and poetry participated in the invocation of a new era on January 20, I felt even more inspired to create and absorb.

That afternoon, I first saw the photograph (above) taken by a fellow Los Angeles-based artist, Christopher Barbour. There was something about the movement of the color and the title that captivated me, so I wanted to share it with you. Chris and I grew up in the same part of Virginia and, although our respective high schools and colleges were staunch rivals, we’ll put the feuding aside for today.

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Manisha: Can you tell me a bit about the photograph “i woke to find myself”?

Chris: I need to preface this by saying that I am not usually interested in explaining my work, because I want the viewers to have their own experience. I am a firm believer in getting out of the way, as much as one who creates can, and letting the viewer engage with the work by bringing to it what they possess in terms of their own memories, experiences, or feelings. I am not a didactic artist, nor is this choice out of arrogance. I just like the visceral purity of the viewing experience.

i woke to find myself is an image from the series unraveling the tapestry. The piece itself is a feeling to me. It is the way I see the world at times: the confusion and the beauty. A visual poetry of waking, like from a long slumber…and your eyes take a moment to adjust, but this is more about your soul taking a while to adjust to your reality, to your experience, to yourself. The moment between seeing and awareness. Much of my work is an investigation of this idea, this place.

The series was started a while back…maybe in 2003. It is a work in progress, as most of my projects are. They never seem to end, but that is because they are so heavily based on my experience of life. It’s like an autobiography lumbering away, searching through layers of meaning. For this particular series, I have drawn from other bodies of work creating a retrospective of sorts, a new dialogue about my experiences thus far.

Manisha: What is your process in terms of how you approach your photography?

Chris: I only use film and what you see is what I saw. I think more like a painter. I am interested in examining life and emotion through concepts utilizing formal qualities and the Japanese idea of wabi-sabi, which is about finding beauty in imperfection.

My work has many influences…painting, drawing, architecture, poetry, music. Music is a huge one. The way it transcends us. How it connects with us on an unconscious level. I love literary music. Lyrics and instrumentation that make you feel and think. Not all music can do this.

In fact, this series, unraveling the tapestry, was born of this lyric:

So in looking to stray from the line
We decided instead we should pull at the thread
That was stitching us into this tapestry vile
And why wouldn’t you try?

Manisha: As a songwriter, I’m intrigued, of course. Where are these lyrics from? Who wrote them?

Chris: Hmmm…I can’t decide whether to tell. My work is so personal in many layered ways and sometimes I fear it will divulge too much of me.

Manisha: I understand your not wanting to share too much about where the art comes from and your desire to let people have their own lens. I often feel the same way. But, as you say, it is not definitive of the art. Nor is it definitive of you. It is just a window.

Chris: Ok, well, the lyrics are from “Weather to Fly” by the band Elbow. I would like to clarify that the image, i woke to find myself, was taken way before I heard the song lyrics. The lyrics later created the framework for the series. The feeling and meaning of my work just seemed to fit so nicely with my understanding of the lyric.

I construct series – and almost all of my work – this way. I shoot images, live with them, and then a series comes together. If I have a series on which I’m working, obviously I shoot with it in mind, but I still live with the images for a long while, at times. Music, literature, cinema (though not as much lately), and my daily investigation of my place in the world all influence this process.

The image itself is definitely about awakening to oneself. Then again, so are those lyrics. I am glad they resonated with you.

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Since 2002, Chris’ work has been shown at various Los Angeles-area galleries, including Andrewshire Gallery, Urban Art Photo Gallery, Gallery 825, and LAAA|South. In 2006, he was one of 100 photographers selected out of 615 entries to attend the prestigious Review Santa Fe and, last year, he was invited to exhibit at Wallspace Gallery in Seattle, WA. Also, in 2008, he won the inaugural Irevelar competition at Naomi Silva Gallery in Atlanta, GA. Just a couple of days ago, he received an invitation from Naomi Silva to present a solo show at her gallery in 2009.

Chris is presently offering a limited edition print sale, which includes i woke to find myself. To learn more about his journey and his work, please visit his blog and website.

What Chris said about “the moment between seeing and awareness” is something I haven’t thought about very much. For me, that moment is like the space between dreams and reality – when everything is in slow motion. Yet, most of the time, I want that moment to pass quickly, because I’m focused on waking up and obtaining clarity. In my effort to gain awareness, I’m sure I have missed the beauty of the fog on numerous occasions.

As always, thanks for reading. Your thoughts are welcome.

A few days ago, I suddenly found myself longing for the Sundays of my youth. When I was growing up, Sunday was a day for lounging around, for clipping coupons and reading comic strips. We received The Martinsville Bulletin and/or The Roanoke Times. Ever since I was old enough to read and turn the pages of the newspaper, I looked forward to the Sunday comic section: Peanuts, The Far Side, For Better or For Worse, Doonesbury, Cathy, Dilbert. These were some of the comics I remember fondly. (I was less excited about the coupons.) Maybe my memories of Sundays are enhanced by the leisure that typically accompanies childhood years. Or, maybe there was something else that contributed to the leisurely quality of the Sundays that I remember.

The Blue Laws, which restricted alcohol and retail sales on Sunday, also accompanied my childhood years in Virginia. The origins of these laws trace back to the early 1600s, when the citizens of Jamestown were required to observe a holy day of rest on Sunday. The first step towards repealing these laws was taken thirty-five years ago on January 15, 1974. A transitional period ensued, as each county or city was given authority to decide independently whether to observe the laws. Finally, in 1988, a group of businessmen initiated a case that eventually led to the end of the Blue Laws in Virginia. Although I do not feel these laws have a place in our secular American society, one by-product of them was that people seemed to make more time for each other on Sundays. Sundays moved at a slower pace.

In the life that I lead today, I often feel that all the days are the same. As an artist and musipreneur in the US, I feel my challenge is to maintain a portfolio of IGOs, my term for “income-generating opportunities”. This portfolio ideally enables me to draw in sufficient amounts of income, while ensuring that I also have time and energy to practice and create. I am no stranger to faith, commitment, and discipline. So, every day I feel responsible for doing some kind of work towards reaching my goals.

I found the courage to make a promise to my dreams. I promised them that I would do everything in my power to bring them to life. I organized my time in order to make room for their pursuit. At first, I carved out minutes for my art on a daily basis, then hours, days, weeks, months, until I was fully devoted to being an artist and understanding what that means for me and my life. For every unit of leisure that I gave up in order to pursue these dreams, there was something I gained in return and I was one step closer to realizing them.

Enter another law: The Law of Diminishing Returns. Some of you might disagree with the application of this principle to an arena other than agriculture, for which it was originally devised. Still, I think this path is worth exploring, if only as an exercise. This economic principle suggests that there is an optimal amount of investment in a particular scenario. In this case, we’ll apply this notion to the investment of time. The optimal point will be different for every person, based on his or her personal circumstances. The idea is that if you invest less time than this optimal amount, you are missing out on some gains. You are likely to gain a lot from an hour more of study as a novice. An additional hour of study as an expert will contribute to your mastery of the subject. You will be giving up something to get something that is of value to you.

Yet, if you invest more than this optimal amount of time, you might not be gaining anything more. In fact, you might discover that you are losing something. The additional time you spend may well be a detriment to achieving your dreams. Finding the optimal solution is a matter of trial and error.

So, it has occurred to me that, somewhere along the way, I lost sight of the Sundays. Yet, Sundays aren’t really what I’m after. What I’m after is the feeling that comes with a moment of rest. I’m not talking about planning time for meditating or doing yoga or praying or going for a run or reading a book. I’m talking about having some time for doing absolutely nothing and being open to anything the universe offers me in that moment. I want to have that luxury – again.

This year I’m going to find that moment. Maybe I’ll even subscribe to the Sunday issue of the Los Angeles Times and read the comics every week.

In any case, I’m going to write my own “blue laws”.

As always, I’m open to your thoughts and personal experiences as they relate to this post, so please feel free to comment below.