I’ve been wondering why I’ve seen representations of deer in so many visual artist’s work lately?

I think it is one part fashion and one part folks getting tired of being surrounded with this modern world. I have observed more animals in general being portrayed since 911. The deer to me is a symbol of the way it used to be. Billy bob hunting with his cousin. The movie “Deer Hunter” makes me think of good old boys growing up in small towns, growing old, and being happy about the little things. Their favorite team winning the Super Bowl, etc.?

I did a series of work (click here to see) investigating this in 2001 before 911. The dot com bubble had burst, and to me their was a sense of getting back to my roots that I was investigating. I believe a lot of folks were doing the same at this time. I never hunted but I grew up in a small town in the south where hunting and fishing were as much a part of growing up as sports were. I somehow was able to escape hunting and fishing camp weekend trips with my friends. And really was just never invited. Maybe I wondered why, or how I never became a part of that lifestyle?

Deers are tough. They are roughed. They make me think of surviving. Feeding my family. Taking care of my own. Taking care of your own. Now the the icon of the trophy deer is on gallery walls, and kitsch campy t-shirts. It abounds as a truly American icon. Maybe in a few years American artists will see another icon as fashionable?

Maybe they will focus on the strip malls, and gas stations that are everywhere. Who knows really. One thing I believe is that there is a collective unconscious in the symbols that are used throughout from East coast to West coast. No one started it. It always was. We think together. We feel together. And now it seems Americans wants to go hunting together. Don’t you?

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ideas. invent. define. refine. this world.

I want to have roof gardens in Five Points.

I want biofueled RVs that are totally off the grid and can sustain life fully, forever.

I want to start a cooperative art boutique.

I want to curate local storefront windows with local contemporary art.

I want R.A.D.O. to develop an arts community that uses all green building supplies surrounded by sculpture parks and live work spaces for local artists.

I want to go to graduate school for arts administration in order to learn more about nonprofit arts management.

I want to start a nonprofit that develops an after school program that is run by emerging local artists.

I want to start a flourescent light bulb door to door sales program.

I want to open a green products local hardware store.

I want to buy a historic home and restore it fully.

I want to be involved in social programs that use art as a vehicle for social change.

I want to buy a trailer and use it as a traveling gallery of contemporary micro art.

Don’t you?

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Clean eating. Clean drinking. Water. I apologize for my past behavior. I apologize for my rants and negativity. Into thee. I have such passion. A lasting. It keeps me motivated, and associated. Competitive in nature. I have become a bully. Praying on the week. And dishing out judgement and I’m tired of such activity with it’s ferocity.

Teacher, I apologize for my outburst in class. I apologize for not raising my hand before speaking. I apologize for looking at you and silently judging. I apologize for talking about you behind your back. I apologize for looking at your life’s work and snickering inside. I apologize for I have no right to. No fight to. And I give up.

What step am I on? The step where I wake up and realize I have been an asshole many times and have not known it. I have left dirty messages. Wondered why things couldn’t be better. Why? Everyone is trying their best. Who am I to judge? Who am I to fudge on common courtesy? I am tired of dishing out negative synergy. I am tired of thinking I know best. I am tired of forming an opinion on everything. I am tired of trying to back it up.

I want to be involved in flow. Surround myself with those who are not struggling against the current. Surround myself with those who have given up and have let the stream take them. Surround myself with positivity. With friends who are not out to get anything from me. And in return be that friend to thee. This is my apology.

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Approaching my birthday and I’m brewing in my stew. Of life. Of mights. Of my personal fights. How much do I have left in me? I look at my mountain top that I have not nearly climbed. I must reach the peek by night fall this time. I want to stand tall, and view the horizon line.

Ten years have quickly passed. And I have amassed a collection of adventures. Not many pictures. But many images that are in my head. Images I will take with me until I’m dead. And this mental photo album will grow and grow. Until a force data dump obstructs it’s flow.

I’ll illustrate animals for generations to come. Drawing the icons we forget as we grow old. Make sure the little one knows which ones will bite. Make sure she knows not to quit without a fight. She will not reach her mountain top for years to come. I hope when she reaches it she’ll find us standing tall in the sun.

Little one we are all on this journey and sometimes you’ll find yourself alone. Sometimes along the way you’ll find yourself a home. Sometimes along the way you’ll find yourself a friend. All you can do is pray that your friends stick around till the end. And hope when it’s all over we will all find that same mountain top, that we all climbed. We can all look at the same horizon line. And we will see our life’s work as it stretches through time. Then we can all pray for that moment not to end. Or maybe once there it will just start all over again.

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I’m taken a back. Taking a wack to the head, Jack. I look in side and it no worky here no morey. Words are not coming out easily, fluently. I sit and stare at a blank canvas. A line. An idea that has little idea. And there is no beauty. And there is only hard work.

Wishing that things would flow. Like the flow of my fingers knowing where the keys are hitting the keyboard. Knowing how to, when to, automatically, auto pilot. Flowing water down mountain top drip through rock, stone, hard substance. Finding it’s way. Drip. Drop.

Wanting ideas to shine, mountain top beam truth. Wanting to set an example for myself to live by but not wanting to make that example impossibly difficult, perfect. Know that you are going forth. Slowly finding truth, but not beating yourself up over it. On it.

Thinking of icons. Towers. Built for little nuggets. Chicken fried. Tied. Peeping out of their plastic side. vibe. I see it in the distance. It is perfection. We are all gathered round. Laughing. Well rested. Well fed. And it was all worth the test.

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