Proof That Dogs Are Far More Soulful Than Us

Photographer and artist, Martin Usborne‘s series: Dogs in Cars

When I started this project I knew the photos would be dark. In a sense, I was attempting to go back inside my car, to re-experience what I couldn’t bear as a child. What I didn’t expect was to see so many subtle reactions by the dogs: some sad, some expectant, some angry, some dejected. It was as if upon opening up a box of grey-coloured pencils I was surprised to see so many shades inside.”

Read about and see the whole series HERE.

 

So I imagine this is what fostering a cute, fluffy animal is like, right about the time you’re handing the cute and fluffy over to its “forever home.”

Cherry Blossom: Paper, spray paint, charcoal, India ink and acrylic on canvas.

My “Cherry Blossom” painting sold.  It has been hanging in our guest room at home for the last few years.  I had originally painted this piece as a commission to hang in a salon/spa space that sadly, had to close its doors after Hurricane Ike and the recession hit almost simultaneously.  The paintings I created for that space were given back to me.  And with the exception of one, they’ve all found pretty perfect resting places on walls in our home.

A friend of mine recently stumbled upon a photo of my beloved cherry blossom and immediately made me an offer.  I had created this piece with the initial intent of selling it.  I wasn’t expecting the side affect of falling a little bit in love with having it hanging at our house for so long.  Attachments aside, I happily parted with the painting.  I know it’s going to be well cared for, and since it went to a friend I get to visit my cherry blossom any time I want.

A few days after delivering the painting I received a text message with a photo of the final resting place for my cherry blossom.  I get really excited when people who have purchased my works send me photos of those works in their home.  More so when I sell pieces to strangers all over the country.  It’s just nice to get a glimpse of these pieces of me and pieces of what I love so much merging with these foreign spaces.  To be given the opportunity to view what others see in my work by how they display it.  It’s an honor, really.  And it’s nice to see my babies thriving in their new homes.

“Twilight Epiphany”

Artist, James Turrell recently graced Houston’s Rice University campus with one of his incredible installations.  “Twilight Epiphany,” Turrell’s 73rd skyspace, is acoustically sound and programmed for light shows.  Glenda, Michelle, Rhonda and I went to check it out just after sunrise on Saturday.  SweetArtInstallationSerotoninSqueeFest!  It is my third and favorite Turrell installation to have experienced.  And I cannot wait to go back again for one of the sunset performances.

Photo by Rhonda Rubin
Frame the Sky
Bathed in Turrell filtered light.

                           Elation                                                            Joy

Rabbit Hole
Photo by Glenda Sims
Photo by Glenda Sims
Besties: Michelle, Glenda, Rhonda

Therapy

I’ve had A LOT going on with my back pain: Finally getting to a diagnosis and undergoing a procedure to (hopefully) fix my Piriformis Syndrome.  I’ll get into all that later.  But since my procedure, I’ve been laid up at home in a lot of pain going through the recovery process.  It’s getting better and better each day but my activity levels are majorly limited.  It’s making me stir-crazy and damn near bat-shit-insane.  My body is anxious for activity and I’m not allowed to… activate.

Whatever, you know what I mean.

So when I got home from work today I pulled out my sketchbook and hit “play” on the new Alex Clare album, “The Lateness of the Hour.”  This is where it drove me:

I have some great ideas about where to take this sketch and I can’t wait to throw them all down on canvas… Which will be a while since I can’t bend, stoop, blah, blah, OhMyGodThisSucks, blah.  But thank the baby Jesus for art.  I couldn’t stay sane without it.

The Process

Of an artist interpreting lines, layers, texture, geometry, nature, form, light, shadows, mood, feeling, emotions, intention, and chance into a sketch.  Which may or may not be further translated into a cohesive art piece.  When I look at the world, my brain is a continuously circulating reel of images that I’m constantly piecing together.  Eventually a story emerges much like a train of thought and what sticks with me the most are the transitions between the images, not the images themselves.  I become obsessed with how these images (captured or remembered) relate to one another beyond their natural timeline of happenstance.  And it makes me wonder how that string of events could visually translate.  If it would even make sense.  Or rather, how to make it make sense.  Like taking snapshots from your brain, laying them out on the floor in a pile, picking out the ones that “fit” and sewing them back together with one hand while the other hand creates new images to be sewn into the gaps.