It's been a very long time....
After a very difficult period of life where I doubted everything I knew, or thought or imagined, I find myself at this place again of wanting to speak. The truth is I have been speaking, but the ear I've been striving for is closed. Along with the heart I am afraid, this audience of most, if not all of my thoughts just doesn't want to hear, or feel from me anymore. I have no meaning to them. As devastating as it is...has been, I need to start to live again and release and regain in a small way who I am. Find a new purpose and place to purge. Here is a small start.
When I was a child, my Mother's stepfather...my Grandpop... to me was the coolest guy around. Racing speedboats, he was a naturally fascinating man to me within my vision of danger and speed and all that came with it. He never really boasted about it at all, but I knew all I needed to know every time I saw his wall of trophies from victories of bravery won with one hand on the wheel and the other the throttle as his tunnel hull design boat skipped across the flat water at amazing speeds, ready to flip and kill him at any moment it seemed. He was like no other in my life.
Sitting with a group of friends around a picnic table a few of years ago, a friend of mine while we were all talking of past experiences suddenly called me a 'renaissance man'. It was startling and flattering, but in thinking about that now, I see that is simply not true. If there ever was one, my Grandfather was it. With his 'career' going from an aircraft mechanic and pilot in the 1950's to boat racing in the 60's to owning an auto garage in the 70's, to a final career as a teacher after going to college at 50 years old, he continually used his skills to remold himself again and again. This mindset carried into his creative life as well and as you see as he enjoyed painting and many other artistic pursuits his whole life. It seemed he was always inventing, making something or trying something new. I loved it, I love that about him and loved being around him. He was my best friend.
As I look around, I think a lot of men set themselves in a 'way', usually through their workplace achievements or through some type of physical competition, seeking to dominate others on some 'field' of sorts to receive their 'prize'. Their accomplishments... measured in records, or trophies or colored cloth belts are based on a short period in life of physical feats of strength. When their bodies age and tire and they can no longer perform as they did, these trinkets they hold on to is all they have left of this moment in time. It seems to me a briefly lived "look at me...(look at...what I can do!)" mentality. Although my Grandpop was quite accomplished in his racing career as was the testimony found in those brass cups topped with speeding boats sitting quietly on a shelf, his real trophies to me now left behind are the ones made of pigment and canvas that adorn my walls. He left behind something that instead said, "these are what I have given from my heart and mind...my imagination, for you... for you can enjoy it too". Those metal trophies that I admired in my youth are long gone now, perhaps now decorating someone else's home, but it is the ones fashioned from layers of carefully laid paint framed in wood that show me his heart and passion. A gift from his soul for others to enjoy and find inspiration in. At the end of his life as his body faded with cancer, it was this heart and mind that shined from the canvas that he left behind for us. No 'masterpieces' worth millions, except to me who finds them priceless.
In my own life, always having enjoyed a variety of individual sports found in skiing, climbing and sailing among others, and although I enjoyed the physical time, I have never been drawn to 'beat' others by physically conquering them...not even myself...to find my worth in mastery over someone else, but instead have always found my heart in expression, to be open to see the world, as I hope you have seen and read here in this blog. Finding images in this world.. a gift from God before my eyes, has always energized me, taught me something...exposed something about myself, and even more about others. I found in my travels, the destination was not as important as the journey and even though I have always desired to climb mountains (Aconcagua to be specific), the trip was always more valuable to me than standing on the top of any hill, planting 'my' flag there. Now, as much as I would have loved to do so, I doubt I ever will see that mountaintop in this life and although I might not have the youth anymore to be able to leap though the the air to break a pine board in half to consider myself 'cool' (which I never did), I would rather now seek to fashion something useful and beautiful, sharing it in love. In this world anymore, I don't know which really is more appreciated, but I would still choose the later...
In thinking about it now, I am so grateful to my Grandfather...Grandpop...for being the type of man he was, that he showed me the type of man to be, always encouraging a different way to see, to experiment with the unknown and to see possibilities where there did not appear to be any. Likewise, I am thankful he left behind these snippets of art, framed pieces of himself as a small reminder of himself and the place his heart still holds in my life. I look forward to seeing him again someday after I am gone...to once again know his presence, but for now, I am happy to have him still with me quietly speaking on my walls.
I hope that perhaps the images that have jumped into my camera through the tugging of my heart for you and have found their way into this blog, would someday inspire you as well... to bring you joy somehow... open your eyes to beauty, and leave a legacy of who I am. If you've never known me, never loved me...that you still might 'feel' me here.
One of the many paintings I get to enjoy around me from my grandpop Hayden.
