I think a big part of my becoming an artist was the time I spent in my childhood, not as the center of attention, but as an innocuous observer to everything around me, all the different people and events and stories that formed a personal mythology that very much shaped the way I think and see the world to this day. I think a lot of artists held this position as kids, the watcher standing off to the side, taking everything in. Seizing on those details that seemed interesting and holding them, making them part of their permanent memories. These details give their memories texture and color, giving the past a vibrance that it might otherwise lack.
For example, part of my personal mythology is in the names of family and friends I heard as kid. In my father’s world everyone had a nickname. My uncles were Bucky, Coal Man and Dirty Neck. My mother was The Foot. My grandfather was Shank and an aunt was Moms, with a son who was called The Guinea-political correctness was not real big in this world. They had friends with names like Punky, Snooky, Moxie, Hank the Tank, Nummy, Digger, Chubs, Squint and on and on. These were all very average people with obscure lives but they come alive when I hear these names.
Their stories were often colorful and interesting to a little kid with open ears. There was crime and violence, tales of prison. Racy stories that I didn’t quite get. Sad and tragic stories. Some are lurid and embarrassing to even have in my memory.
But all formed my personal mythology. Most of the stories and events are not mine but have become enmeshed in who I am. In future posts, I will share some of this mythology, these little tales of interest, not so much to just tell the story but to get them down so that they aren’t lost as memory fades. I hope you’ll stick around and hear some of them. Maybe it will spark your own memories and your own personal mythology.
Redtree Times 