Art, bloggity blog, writing

Thoughts on how abstract art can help you

I was talking to one of my friends this morning about how to get back into the swing of things. She asked me how I got my groove back after I escaped Rock Bottom.

And it took a while, but, in the end what has helped me is blogging and abstract art.

Quite often when we create art we put so much focus on things and it is that focus which we lack when we become blocked.

Blocked = no focus.

No focus = no art/no words.

No art/no words =sad artist.

Well, actually, sadder artist because normally we become blocked because we are sad (or sick or anxious or tired etc)

Abstract art allows you a kind of freedom to be creative without actually having to create something specific. Especially with art forms like acrylic pouring, drip painting, drawing fractals, ink blots and other such “chaos” art.

I call it “chaos” art because it is less about talent and more about luck and outside influence. I’m not saying that it doesn’t take talent or that those who use these forms are talentless, it is simply not as reliant on talent as trying to do sketch wirh charcoal or do an oil painting of your great aunt Petunia.

But it is a way of creating and expressing and getting almost instant results.

Same sort of thing for the blogging. Sometimes, I have no idea wtf I am gonna write about. I haven’t been able to put pen to paper at all. So I just pick a thought floating around in my bubbly grey matter and start madly thumb-typing away.

It is about getting synapses firing.

Blood pumping.

Creative juices bubbling and boiling until they simply spill out of your noggin.

Now I will leave you with a few pickies of the pours I (and by I, I actually mean me and the roomy) finished today.

Love

Amberley

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Art, bloggity blog, writing

Does art have to say something?

As I return to my pour table this week after our many travels, I have found myself asking myself “but what does this piece say?”

My art normally says nothing unless my medium is words, because I choose not to use living subjects. But this is of course not what I fucking mean, is it? What I mean is “what am I trying to say?”

And what is my answer? I dunno, Amberley, what the fuck do you want to say?

I think, most of the time, my art doesn’t say anything. Sometimes, you can see the emotions I was feeling when I made the piece. Sometimes, it is a reflection of my personality. Sometimes, I just liked the way those colours went together or they were the only colours I had.

I think the same can be said for writing too. Sometimes we write something because we want to say something else. Sometimes we directly write about a subject so bluntly it is like getting smacked in the face with a giant dildo. Sometimes, we don’t want to say anything. We just feel like writing an entertaining blood-fest starring jungle pirates and cowboy faeries.

Does it make our work any less valid?

Does it change peoples perception of our work?

And does it even fucking matter what the author/artist wanted to say?

I did a painting a couple of months ago. I completely abstract one. I just liked the colours.

Someone really liked it and wanted it. But they liked it cause they saw a frog in it. I couldn’t see the frog. But they could. I didn’t paint a frog. But they saw one.

So, do we really need to be saying something or expressing something if others will only interpret it their own way anyway? Or is this the point? The sharing. The differnt views.

I dunno.

Love

Amberley

Art, bloggity blog

The futility of saving dying things

When on holidays, I was at a beach where hundreds of these big guys were washing up in the surf, still singing, salt caking their tracheae. the sea gulls were having a feast.

I picked up a few, figuring they were all going to die soon anyway. But if I had to choose dying in the shade of a tree or dying on burning sand, drowning or being eaten alive slowly then I know which one I would choose.

I couldn’t “save” a lot. Peiple looked at me very strangely too, walking back and forth from the surf to the trees, in a dress not suitable for the beach, carrying the giant bugs as carefully as if they were children and even speaking to them… yep. That’s me. Talking to bugs and trying to do what I thought was the “right thing to do.”

But was I just prolonging their suffering?

Was it mean to the sea gulls to deprive them of this rare opportunity, this delicacy? Did some sea gull babies go hungry that day because I prolonged the life of already dying bugs?

I have no idea.

But these are the things that plague me.

Villainous and virtuous seem to be dependent on the side of the fence you are on to begin with. And this eats at me. So much so, this is what my current novel is about.

Which is super important in fiction writing. Most people do not think they are a “bad guy.”

I’m not really giving advice, because writing advice from anyone besides people like Stephen King, Jack Vance, Raymond E Fiest, Robert McCammon, or any other truly great writer, is bullshit. But I am more just having a public conversation with myself that may help other writers think about what they are writing.

Love

Amberley

bloggity blog

Thoughts on beach photography

As I wander along the beautiful beach I am camping by, I simply cannot help but take out my phone and take snap shots.

It is so in our nature to do so. Our phones are like a limb now, never leaving our side and if we loose it we feel the lost-itch of its missing presence – the phantom pain of this served appendage.

But it leads me to thinking about how many people have taken a photo of this very rock formation, this same stretch of sand and surf and it makes me put down my phone for a moment.

So, if there are already photos of this beach out there somewhere, in fact, EVERY beach, why do we keep snapping?

You could say that each photo would vary slightly, different waves, a change salt crystal clusters and sand grain placement, clouds and shells and critters woulf all vary from photo to photo. But aren’t they all basically the same thing?

Or does the artist matter?

Or is the real difference in the meaning to us? To the artist?

Melancholy crept up my throat as I stared out to sea. Out into the blueberry waters that had been captured byany other artists before me. It felt useless for a moment. Worthless. If I wanted to look back I could use my memory or simply type the beach’s name into Google images.

But, since this my journey, my time to record and create, I lifted my phone up again and cotinued snapping.

As an artist, what’s the point of having an experience if you can’t create something from it?

Love

Amberley