Artistic Foundation.

(i) looked into the mirror and found my reflection, and (i)
began to see the world from a different perspective, and love
showed me a sight that was brilliant and bright, and peace
taught me to see beauty and reason connected with music 
we sang for the people and so i placed my perception on the cross
taught me to see beauty and reason connected with music 
showed me a sight that was brilliant and bright, and peace
began to see the world from a different perspective, and love
(i) looked into the mirror and found my reflection and ( i)Revolution.

Tuesday, August 5


Sometimes, I have a hard time with compliments. As much as I'm beginning to understand artists and how they deal with their insecurities, I remember we all have the same needs. Compliments confuse me because they are so dangerous. I want your compliments as a reader, to be honest I desperately seek your approval and your warm open arms, but I know I don't need them. If you see my work and it makes you smile, it makes my day because I made it for you. If you tell me how great my work is, how beautiful and pretty and "awesome" it is, it doesn't mean much to me. Those compliments, though I truly appreciate the heart of what you are trying to do, leave me saturated and fat with my own ego. If I become comfortable, I'll be come "satisfied" and if I become satisfied, I'm afraid I'll die as an artist. Words can be lethal.

On the other hand, contributions mean the world to me. When I see you smile, it makes my day. When I feel you smile, it makes my week. When you tell me why you smiled, when you tell me what I did, in my small isolated existence, that made you smile, you bring me pure passion and joy. I want to know you and my work is for you. I give my art to you and make it available for you because I want to understand you. I want your love and respect, but more I want to be able to love and respect you and your brilliance. If you won't let me know you, I can never love you. If you don't let me love you, you'll be alone. Maybe that's what you want, but if you think that's true, I submit that you are lost without an identity and hope you will discover it before you become invisible.

Compliments are difficult. One artist might weep at a work of art, one might cry a single tear, and third may smile. Emotion is beautiful. Share your emotion with me, if I stir you, tell me how, don't thank me. I don't need your thanks, because I should be thanking you for allowing me the opportunity. Don't thank me, just let me love you because that's the greatest appreciation you can truly show me. That's what I want most.

I want to lead you step by step to becoming an artist if you aren't one, but I find that the path is quite different for each individual. I'm beginning to lose hope in my ability to "lead" you, but I believe I want to shepherd you instead. I will continue to expose myself, for a time, in hopes that some will understand before I post my art. I suppose the lesson here is to know yourself and your identity. Understand embarrassment with it's shallow limitations. Know who you are, find that artist in isolation. Don't be afraid of the other artists, embrace them and encourage them. Tell them what you love about them in your language, but also try to tell them in theirs. If we don't try to step outside of ourselves once in awhile, I don't think we are any better than the others trying to destroy our creations and set fire to our open fields.

A good attempt at communication is a valid compliment.

Wednesday, July 30


I have a friend who plays piano. When notes are put in front of her, they dive from the page to her fingers and grace the keys with delicate precision. The result, in my opinion, is brilliance and if you heard her you would agree. The conflict rises when she hears others play from memory or begin improvising. She has a habit of comparing herself to the other artists and she gives her false anxieties a bit of credibility. Personally, I can mash the keys of a piano for hours and melodious or not, I wish I could read the sheet music like her. Sometimes I think we get so focused on the grass being greener we forget to look up at the sky.

Reading through my previous post, I see I haven't fully explained "isolation" to you. As I had stated, "In isolation, only you can judge your own behavior". I mean for this statement to be explored and encourage you to do so for yourself. Isolation, in a positive sense, is the act of separating yourself from the standards that restrict. If my friend forgot about the others, if she stepped away from the comparison games and the competition for just a moment, she could probably return to the place that acquainted her and that instrument in the beginning. Learning a new art is challenging and exhilarating. It truly is like mapping uncharted territories. Forget about Mozart, Yes, or even Coldplay, let yourself exist, for a moment, with your instrument - with your art.

The easiest way for me to create is to lock myself up in what I call my safe place; it might sound childish but give it a chance. When I close my blinds and lock my door (and turn off my phone!), I can find isolation. I personally define the social standard in that place because I am the only one. I might as well be the last man on earth and the only one judging me is me. Once I let myself go, I can create and be proud of my creations. ( i)Revolution is a product of my safe place.

Before I encourage you to test isolation for yourself, I want to say this: ( i)Revolution is founded on good principles with the intent to better the individual and better the community through the arts. Resentment, hatred, and bitterness have no place in ( i)Revolution as they should have no place in you. These stumbling blocks can destroy your character as an individual and destroy the credibility of your art. Personally, time spent in isolation allowed me to see a lot of my own mistakes with relationships and helped to restore them before I had completely sabotaged them myself. If you find a lingering animosity in yourself, whether it be with a parent, a former friend, or even a significant other resolve it first. Seek restitution or you will be plagued by that internal conflict and your art will reflect it. That said, good luck finding your "safe place" and let me know how it goes. When you come out in control, we can begin community.

Saturday, July 26

So here we are.

I look around and I can firmly say there are very few things that can be found consistent in this world. The ones I have discovered draw me to curiosity and drive me to constant evaluation. The light from a sunrise, for example, must have been the first thing this sphere must have felt, and really the first you and I felt too. The world has never spun in only black and white like the old movies might suggest, we know white light has refracted since the beginning. Colors have radiated from the sun and the rains have celebrated the relationship, the community, from the first day they fell. Rays of color have splashed across the faces of the children and their eyes drink in the spectrum. We too are apart of the community, though we often forget it because it has existed before us. We never seem to appreciate the things we didn't create, perhaps it is because it makes us realize how small we really are.

I believe our lives as children show us our true capacity; unguarded and joyful. You can not really understand me as an author if you don't know my origins. Our origins shape us and we have no control over them as vulnerable children. But often, we find harmony with one another despite our backgrounds and our struggles. The majority of the adults who watched over us never understood us because they never understood themselves. As a child, I would approach the pastor after a sermon and I would stand there amongst them and they towered over me. I reasoned and suggested and they heard my words and said "what a smart boy", but they didn't listen. When the people I respect didn't listen, it left me feeling alone, isolated. I quieted myself for a bit and hid my questions, and kept the answers close to my heart. Some of the adults, though, did see me for my value. They encouraged me and loved me, and my hope grew. My friends never understood why I danced and sang in that place, maybe I didn't either, but I felt safe and I wasn't hurting anyone. Singing and dancing had become my greatest vulnerabilities, showered by the embarrassing words of the others. I don't think I ever really understood them and the hatred they carried, the others. Purpose danced around them, but few joined.

Growing up, it was the artists that loved me. I wanted to be like them, to be with them, but I was different and it has taken me over two decades to understand why. I found myself surrounded by the others, the ones that were not artists, and it threw me around as if I were in a crashing wave. I have been called "queer", "fag", or "gay" as much as i've been called Jimmie, so you learn early on to become impervious to the people who hate what they don't understand. I loved them regardless, or at least I always tried to, if you can't forgive the others you will always be one of them. As I noted above, embarrassment is what causes us to break away from who we are and our innocent potential. The first day a child is embarrassed is the first real day the child understands hurt and pain. Embarrassment is a personal shame felt from failing a perceived social standard; as I described, mine was dancing. The kids laughed as I moved my backside left to right and right to left on the rhythm of the music that played in that chevy bronco. It was the first time I had heard rock and roll and it moved something inside of me that I didn't recognize. I should have smiled but instead I hid from the attention and fled it. It wasn't until six months into my twenty first year that I really began to see the flaws in my own logic, but when I did the light refracted in that mirror like I had never seen before. Revelation overwhelmed me. I hope, in this moment, you ask me what I found. This is the first key to discovering what you are missing in yourself, what the artists have known all along, is understanding this:

I allowed their judgements to destroy my joy. I expressed myself and they didn't understand. That day, I joined them and judged myself. My soul hid from the first scar I gave myself that day. I stood alone, in need, as I stepped away from myself.

Step One: Find the earliest moment that embarrasses you. Let your mind think back and try and see it for what it is. Detach yourself from them, who are they anyway? In isolation, only you can judge your own behavior. When you have no one to compare yourself to, you are the only one who can determine the social standard. Be proud of who you are.

I have been waiting for you.

I know why you are here and I believe I can help you. Though you may not realize it yet, you are here because it is exactly where you are supposed to be. The emptiness inside you leaves you unsettled, I know because I can feel it too. You hate how comfortable you've become, I did too. I am not a surgeon, I can't just fix it and make it go away. That's for you to do. I am a poet and I am a revolutionary. I'll scatter these words across the page in hopes that you'll find them and hear exactly what you need to hear. I will leave them here because I desire you. I desire your presence.

I can see you have fortified yourself tight. Your walls are high and their mortar is thick. Sometimes I too just need to step away off to isolation. Even now as my callused fingers press against the silver alphabetic boxes, I am painting this canvas alone but I cannot seem to escape you. You are always on mind, and why? I never requested you, never have I asked to be so drawn to you. I am haunted by you and haunted by what you have inside of you; for what reason? I need you, but here and now it doesn't matter because we are not ready to be together. Not yet. The others can never understand, they have abandoned the things that they loved most, but I believe we still have hope. Time is short.

I suppose if I am true to myself, this art was never just for me. It never could be. If it were, I wouldn't be plagued by the notion of rejection for the things i've created. I should start off by saying that if you find I carry no merit you should leave now and perhaps for the best. If my heart is not truly where I say it is, I am disillusioned and lost and i will certainly take you with me. But if you study me close, using discernment, maybe you'll become overwhelmed with hope. If you can find hope in the things that I am saying, maybe, just maybe, my vision of community can exist and you can be apart of it.

So I begin here with this preface, I want you to understand who I am and why I stand. I am willing to share myself, and all this with you. I am not seeking glory, and I don't need their fame. I fight this pain in my bones and this nausea in my stomach that the vulnerability brings for you, and you alone. If you can read what I share, all I ask is that you respect it. I want to know you too, if you'll have me, and I promise you will always have my respect.

This is my journey to becoming an artist I hope you'll join me.