† December 7, 2007

     December and the holiday season has come around again... "and what have we done", and what's with the picture of the race car?  Well... it's not really what I want for Christmas (although a spin through the gears would fulfill a childhood fantasy) but for those who don't follow the sport, it's a McLaren MP4-21 Formula 1 car.  This 2006 incarnation was not a particularly good year or vintage mechanically for McLaren but damn, it looked mighty fine.

     There are a few reasons why I have included this image within this journal entry.  The first is...  if 2006 was a bad year to be a McLaren fan, 2007 was even worse.  And 2007 was no fault of the car but had more to do with the politics of the sport in general.  You see, in 2007, the first year in many where the McLaren worked and a Championship was at hand, it was taken away by the powers who control the sport.  These events inspired me to do some writing on the subject and the place I used to express my opinions, was the forum on the Speed TV website.

     Now I know, F1 is not everyone's cup of tea and most of the time even I find it difficult to balance my interest in an opulent gluttonous waste of limited resources with the childhood passion for a sport.  But here I am, 38 odd years since I used to sneak in the back way of Mosport (a track located a bike's ride from the house I grew up in) and I still love to watch these things go round and round.  That is where my passion for racing (F1 in particular) began, as a child of ten pretending to be the driver of the number 4 Can-am car of Bruce McLaren.

     But don't worry, I won't belabor the subject here, except to say... its relevance is that it is a chapter of my history and since this is a journal, should be included somehow.  So if you are interested and want to read my thoughts on a childhood passion turned adult obsession, click the link below to go directly to the thread I posted.  In posting the thread and having to defend my opinions (mostly from Ferrari fans) I searched out my history and found (from an F1 fan's perspective) an impressive cast of characters who played a part in my growing up.

~

Speed Link: Thank Bruce Almighty I'm only a McLaren Fan...

"To do something well is so worthwhile
that to die trying to do it better cannot be foolhardy.
It would be a waste of life to do nothing with one's ability,
for I feel that life is measured in achievement,
not in years alone."

Bruce McLaren
August 30, 1937 ~  June 2, 1970

     There is more to this racing thing then just a competitive circle jerk of men going round and round in a pointless waste of resources.  There is passion and pushing the limits of self to the point of no return.  This truth of the sport Bruce McLaren found out first hand when he lost his life in testing those limits of faith in the machinery and human fearlessness.  There's an edge there.  An edge that when you step over it, will spell your doom, no ifs ands or buts ...  And throughout my interest in racing I think it is this element of the sport which has kept me watching.  Don't get me wrong.  It's not that I am just hanging around waiting to see the next wreck or someone killed, it's about watching people push themselves to the limits of their ability with death literally on the line.  It's something we all could learn from, for in all truth, death is watching over our every move and when it comes knocking wouldn't you rather go out in style?  Dressed in your best?  I would.  And this leads me back to another passion of mine, my art and the ability to do it.

     If tomorrow turns out to be my last day should I really be working on anything other then what I am best at today?  Death would tell me the answer to that question is without a shadow of doubt... no.  And yet, with the knowledge of this truth perched on my left shoulder, why do I still find myself doing everything but what I know and feel I should be doing?  It feels as if I made a wrong turn on the road somewhere.  In fact and most likely, more then just one.  But here I am, now where to go from here?

     I think one of my most recent wrong turns was when I thought it would be a good idea to go back to working on other things (signs, portraits... and what not) in order to pay the rent.  My intention was pure, in that I wanted to keep my "real work" free from any commercial influence.  Problem is, in so doing I now find myself working on nothing but those other things.  Along with that, I have had to go through a learning curve in pricing commissions fairly.  By counting my hours on various projects I have found that I tend to undercut myself.  Generally ending up somewhere below minimum wage by the time the work is done.

     It is not something I can allow to go on indefinitely and to add to the unworkable wages I ran into other bumps and barriers.  Things like paint peeling off signs I've done, not being paid for the work I've done and in retrospect, not getting enough commissions to do, even if I had the time to do them.  Painted myself into a corner, or what?

     It sure feels that way and I guess the only option afforded is to track my feet through the wet paint in order to find the door and get out.  There's always a door.  Sometimes you just have to admit you made a mistake and walk over the work you've done to get to it.  At times it seems the souls of my shoes are covered in various tacky layers of multicolored mistakes.

     Ah... but what is life without making a few mistakes?  Boring and safe, is my guess.  And beyond that it's through mistakes we learn.  And sometimes byproducts of making a few errors in judgment can be beneficial in turning a new corner.  For example, through turning my attention to commissions as a way of financing my art, Stef and I created a new company and gallery, Art Unseen.  This was not something which existed when I reached the end of my third party gallery representation search.  The futile search which led to my taking all original work off the market.  If you care you to, you can read about it here: Letter of Resignation Part I  The short of it is, I was fed up with trying and finding nothing but consequence in having my worth and work defined by sales or salesmen.

     Change.  The only constant.  So change I must and with Art Unseen open for people to drop in, at least I have a place to start.  It may not be a big New York or even be a gallery located in Santa Fe or Sedona but it's a place to start.  And during this past summer, for the first time since taking my pledge of eternal poverty, someone seriously wanted to buy one of my original works.  So there I was, standing on principal and I could feel a definite speed wobble in my stance. With whispers of sell hovering within earshot I couldn't do it... for what I've said.  But I could feel my principled approach to the subject of artist survival, was tenuous at best.

     There was a part of me that wanted to follow those whispers instantly.  But luckily for "me and my high morals" the client liked the image so much that they bought the giclẽe print instead.  This allowed me the opportunity to offer them the first option to purchase the original (including an exchange of the giclẽe) should I change my mind.  Which I think I have.  Changed my mind.  And not only on this possible sale.

     The piece the client wished to purchase was one of my smaller pencil drawings.  And perhaps through doing more of these pencil drawings, I can find a balanced compromise with my desired purity of the art and the financial support to produce it.  After all, the smaller images I produce through pencil are every bit as true to my being as the larger ones or the oil paintings.  Also, I have a definite direction in which I wish to take the pencil and can feel a sense of passion returning in anticipation of getting started.  So with all that pointing in this direction, it just makes sense to change course.  

     It makes more sense than slogging on producing images I would not normally create, only to end up not making enough money doing them.  I have gone through the pricing curve on various projects, signs, portraits, web design, commissioned oils and whatever else, only to come up consistently short.  Through no fault of anyone but myself, the oil paint commission took 507 hours to complete and I priced it at 4000.00.  You can do the math, does that make any sense?  Not to flex my ego or blow my own horn but for what I do (and not many have the patience or fortitude for it) someone flipping burgers at McDonald's earns about the same.  Of course having now finished the piece, a future quote or estimate for an oil painting commission would be 15,000 to 20,000.  And along with that price hike, I have to assume a take it or leave it stance, because to do any thing else, makes no sense.  As far as my misadventures on the commission route, I guess sometimes you have to try on an old shoe to see if it still fits and try not to kid yourself into believing it is comfortable, when it isn't.  It's a logical conclusion, not to keep walking in uncomfortable old worn-out shoes.  In fact; it would be more practical, to just go bare foot.

     There.  I think I've convinced and given myself permission to move in a direction where fear is not my guide.  And rather... to move in the direction and place where passion, devotion and pushing the limits of my ability are King.

~

     Speaking of kings, fear, making no sense and coming to no logical conclusions, I think it's time, once again, to take a few pot shots at my favorite Martian... G.W. Bush.  I mean, he does live on another planet, doesn't he?  I for sure, don't share in his view or vision of ours.  Then again, perhaps George is the original illegal alien and Lou Dobbs is missing the mark with his broken record on broken borders.  Borders?  Bush, not unlike another tyrant in recent history, doesn't understand the meaning of the word.  Oh... but the surge is working (or so the TV says) and look, George and Condy are going to make peace in the middle east by the end of next year.  If I were George I'd be careful on setting any timetables.

     The George and Condy show.  These days it seems they're the only ones of the original shiver left swimming, whereas the others have seemed to vanish as if they originated out of the mist.  And now, George, as a parting gift is going to make peace happen?  George Bush couldn't find a peace of shit, if it came out of his own ass.  Anyone watching for the under story can see the event was and is mainly designed to further isolate Iran, creating the opposite effect of peace in the east.  Further justifying future wars within an already unstable region.  And sometimes (actually most times) I think that that's just the way "they" want the Middle East, unstable, to validate the military presence in oil land.  Doesn't take genius, does it?  If you want proof that genius is no longer required within our world, you need not look further then the so called leaders of it.

    So it turns out Iran does not have or is presently pursuing the tools to start the third world war.  But George continues to look for a fight, bringing in the hypothetical to justify fears existence and the pursuit of God only knows what.  What was it he said?  That by Iran halting their nuclear weapons program four years ago, it means they can start it up again?  I'm not sure but I think it was something to that effect.  That's like saying the glass is half... damn I don't even know of what.  Does he or do they really believe we are still fooled by these twisted patterns of speech?

     Oh that Dick, he's good, I almost forgot about him.  That was until I heard he said this.  That by the end of he and Georgy's term, Iraq will be a stable democracy.  And democracy, as we all know, brings peace and along with George and Condy's efforts, all things in that part of the world will be hunky dory.  Wow... good news, and just in time for Christmas.

~

     So Christmas is almost upon us and outside, my world is covered with a blanket of pure white snow.  I love looking at the way snow covers everything.  And in blowing my drive I love the way it leaves barely a trace of disturbance.  It's almost a shame when the kids run through it breaking it's smooth almost sensual curves but hey, they love playing in the snow.  And that too, is a thing of beauty.  These are the things that I wish to focus on.  I've spent way to much time concerned over people who (in an attempt to draw attention and hence, energy their way) like to make things uglier for spite or whatever justifiable reason.

     The vampires of negativity.  People who act purely out of spite or those who talk, talk, talk, while saying nothing, drawing your energy through your attention into a vacuum and wasting your precious time.  I'm tired of giving the Humperdinks* and Six Fingered Men* my time and energy.  For all I care, they can go back to the Fire Swamp* or the Pointless Forest**.  To be honest Harry (and I know deep down everyone has one) I no longer see their point in my life.  Short of me just walking away and leaving them to their own devises.  They don't deserve another ounce of my mana and I have better things to do with my eternal spirit and the remaining years of my life.

     I'm turning a corner and if I hit the apex right, just maybe some of what I have given freely or that which has been taken, will come back my way.  I am going to do my best to turn my focus on to what I feel is still beautiful within our world.

     My Christmas wish this year?  Just a small one.  That the comedy writers go back to work.  I miss "those guys" and trying to get the news out of CNN is just no fun.

Except for individual private use, all rights reserved Copyright © 2008 by Petrus H. Boots