The Struggle.

This is too big. Why did I ever think I could catch this?
A sunset, an entire sky…heaven itself…all with some horsehair and oil. And it’s setting, it’s all going so fast. I don’t have time, someone please press pause. I don’t have that shade of gold, the one in the lower left corner, where that portion of sky meets that portion of water and it’s dancing and it’s changing now, just in this moment, and there it changed again. I have a kaleidoscope of colors, but none for the most important part and I need this to be it.
I need this to be it, to remember why I fell in love with art in the first place, I need it to forget the Professors and their methods and the daily critiques, to forget any tear stained piece I’ve thrown away, to erase all the student loans, my parent’s disapproval, his screams to get my “shit” off the table… If I can get this, if I can just even come close, then things will change. I just know they will. So you see, whoever you are, I am sitting here silently, with a storm inside, pleading with you, for just this one break, to be let in on this one secret, please just let me find that shade of gold, please just let me catch this evening’s beauty, and please let me take it back and show the others…because somehow I think that things would be different…if not for them, then at least for me. Because I'll put all this splendor above my bed and escape each night in my dreams…


This is too deep. How do I plan to go about catching this? An entire being, an entire entity, an entire universe…all with a box and some film? And with so little time left…the sun is setting, it’s going fast. There, that look her face, I just missed it, someone please press pause. The light is dancing and it’s changing as reach for my bag. I’ve just asked her if I can take her photo. She said yes and smiled…or did she? The ocean isn’t behind me. It’s in that subtle smile…She is exquisite in her peaceful poise. Does she realize the favor that she has done for me, to have this chance? Because I need this to be it.
I need this to be it to remember that it’s more than just this. I need it to forget my desk job, the taxes, the fluorescent lights, super markets and stock markets. I need to be believe that time can be stilled, if only for a moment and that while everything keeps spinning at million miles a minute and aging and death and loss are inevitable, that perhaps I have some say in the matter. And I need this to be it because it’s another piece to the puzzle, the one I spend hours in darkrooms trying to figure out.
So you see whoever you are, I am not just talking with you, I am standing here hopeful, with a goal in mind, pleading for you for this one glimpse, to be let in on this one secret. Please just let me catch that look and that light and let me take it back and show the others. Because somehow I think they would look at her and see themselves and maybe understand…and if they don’t, then at least I will, and I’ll hang this Mona Lisa moment above the mantle and come to her whenever I need help with the mystery.



This is too intricate and the cycle is too complex. In what way did I think I could ever go about catching this? A theory, a concept, the creative spirit…and all with paper planes and pencils. I’ve never known this before, never seen it this clearly, never quite seen the story laid out in quite this way. The subject of a subject of a subject, the circular pattern of it all, all so unaware that while we are watching, we are also being watched, and while we are creating, something else is being created. But the sun is setting and it’s going fast. And I don’t have the right word yet, and the answers to my questions might not stick around long enough for me to find the sentences and stick them to the page, somebody please press pause. The stories are dancing but they are already changing as I reach for my pen. And I am praying as I scribble, because I need this to be it. I need this to be it to remember that it’s worth the mental torment and minimum wage jobs. I need it to forget the wastebaskets filled with rough drafts, forget the insecurities, bitten nails, and endless pots of coffee. I need it to know that the days ahead will be worth it, and that this path has promise.
So you see, I am sitting here crying to you with a task unknown, begging to have my eyes opened just a bit more, to be let in on this one secret. Please just let me catch this word and this Truth and let me take it back and tell the others. Because somehow I think the heart of an artist would recognize these events, these pleas, this desire, and know that it is their story too, that it’s always been theirs, and that maybe they will be as encouraged in their craft as I have been, to try and tell it.


photograph by sir james.