Pax Omnis– At West End Gallery
I too am not a bit tamed,
I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp
over the roofs of the world.
–Walt Whitman, Song of Myself (1855)
In the last few days, I have had some trouble focusing in the morning as I try to write for the blog. I attribute this to the fact am a lot more tired than I was in the past week or so, most likely as a result of a course of steroids I had been on coming to an end. For the week I was on them life seemed to be close to normal once again, as far as energy is concerned. Made me aware of what I have been missing.
But now, sitting here trying to actually write something I want to say seems like too big a task. So, I went looking for something I could replay or maybe rework a bit. I have tried not to do that much this past year as I endeavor to write something new each day as part of an agreement I have with myself. Rerunning a post feels a bit like I am cheating.
But I came the post below that speaks of a short verse from Whitman that is vital to my being and thus, my work. I thought it would fill the bill well this morning. Plus, it works well with Pax Omnis, shown here on the right, another painting from my current West End Gallery exhibit. For me, it is a painting that very much represents rising above the everyday– over the roof of the world– and asserting your voice and place in the larger realm of being beyond the earthy plain.
These lines from Song of Myself have rang in my ears for decades and are at the core of my desire to paint and in the formation of my voice as an artist, long before I picked up a paint brush.
Before painting, I tried my hand at wood carving. I did a number of bas-relief carvings that were fairly crude in a folksy kind of way. I was untrained and just went at it, much as I did later on with my painting. I believe that the painting worked out much better, but the carving had a part to play for me at the time. It just felt like it had to be done.
One of the first things I carved was a rough-hewn face with the four lines– poorly executed– from Whitman next to it. It was nothing to write home about, carved as it was from the end of an old 2×12 pine board. I was not originally particularly proud of it as a piece of art. But it has great meaning to me, staying near me in the studio, and I have come to really appreciate it. It makes me wonder what might have been if I had followed that path of expression. For some reason I like that the centers of some of the R’s and B’s have fallen out. It adds a dimension of some sort that I could not have planned.
In the past, I have described what these four lines from Whitman have meant to me. One was written for another painting but I think it fits equally with Pax Omnis:
…the four lines above have been a guiding beacon for me throughout the past 25 years as I have tried to be an artist. These words instructed me to be only myself, to openly and boldly express my feelings without fear or shame. To not hide my scars, my fears or my weaknesses because they are part of my wholeness and keep me in balance. To not be underestimated or devalued by myself or anyone else. To claim a foothold in this world and bellow out the proof of my existence in my own voice:
Here I am.
There are paintings that I do that are meant to represent this thought, paintings that are meant to be plainly expressions of that Here I am. I consider them icons in my body of work, pieces that fully represent my work and what I want from it. This painting definitely falls in that category. It’s simply put but not a simple expression.
When I look at this painting I personally see myself and all my hopes and aspirations, all that I am or desire to be.
What I hope for this painting is that someone else sees that same here I am in it for themselves, that they see in it those things that make them a whole and perfectly imperfect person with a place in this world and a voice that demands to be heard.
Is that asking too much?
I don’t think it is. We all need to have our barbaric yawp heard.
Here’s The Who with a song very much in line with this post, See Me Feel Me, from their classic rock opera Tommy.