Every artist has a perfect moment, when the mood is just right, the lighting is just perfect, the music is exactly in sync and in tune and if everything could stand still in that one moment, it would be saved, captured and preserved through the artist's medium of choice - paint, film, ink, pencil...
I had a perfect hour earlier today, or so it seemed. I had just come out of the subway at City Hall. I turned right and there it was. The scene seemed to stop for one long second. It was drizzling slightly. The street lights were on, but in perfect contrast with the dwindling daylight. I heard nothing but quiet for split second. Then I heard everything. I saw everthing, smelled everything. I feared nothing. The three projects I had on my desk did not exist. For a moment, life was good. I thought, strangely to myself, If I died now, it wouldn't be a bad time to go.
It all ended when an hour later, the deli guy charged me 2 dollars for a cup of coffee.
J.T
Friday, January 07, 2005
Thursday, January 06, 2005
One for the little guy
I gotta say, every once in a while, the sun shines on the little guy. Therefore, a little exclamation of "ha ha" escaped from my mouth when I saw this story about the disgruntled Apple customer suing Apple over their restrictions on the AAC music format.
Don't get me wrong, I love Apple as much as the next guy, but that little issue always bugged me.
Don't get me wrong, I love Apple as much as the next guy, but that little issue always bugged me.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Melancholy
It might have had a little to do with my bank account balance, which I saw on my ATM receipt this morning, or maybe that had nothing to do with it. Either way, my day which started out as a day I had taken off for a little me time turned sour.
I love movies, real well written movies that make you feel satisfied that you just watched them. Ergo, I loved spanglish. It's well written, just long enough. And yet, as happens occasionally to me when I watch these movies, I got sour after watching it. It had nothing to do with the movie and I suspect everything to do with me.
Aside from the occasional outing, movies are my escape. They are the last vestige of my artistic side I still try to keep a connection to, for reasons as yet beyond me ( Refer to previous posting). I used to write. A lot. Poetry, Novels. I used to sketch - a lot. I love languages. I dabble with spanish and a little french. As it is currently my only escape, I get a little withdrawal anxiety once its over. I wish I could continue to live in the movie, in someone else's life for a while and put mine on hold, or hibernation in computer parlance.
While it is not always recommended I'm sure, I decided to take a chance at a little self analysis, as this was not the first time I felt this way. The first thing that comes across quite obviously is that if I don't want to come back to my own life, it must suck intensely. Not so. It leaves a lot to be desired, no doubt, but there is also a lot good about it. Of course, this could all be denial. More on that, maybe a little later. I'm still not convinced that people I know won't be reading this blog.
The second thing I zero in on is that one of the characters in the movie is a lot like me. He's a professional Chef, an all around good guy finally living in his dream jobscape. But his personal life.. not so great. We are un-alike if there is such a word in the sense that I cook for fun and dabble with computers for a living, but I would love to have a restaurant, preferrably just like his one day. Unfortunately, while his personal life could be great - he's married, two sweet kids, - it's just not. Watch the entire movie and you get an answer to why his is not so great.
Now I just wish I saw the script of my life and knew about mine. As yet, I'm not sure my blog postings are making any sense, but stay with me, I might start figuring this all out soon enough.
J.T.
I love movies, real well written movies that make you feel satisfied that you just watched them. Ergo, I loved spanglish. It's well written, just long enough. And yet, as happens occasionally to me when I watch these movies, I got sour after watching it. It had nothing to do with the movie and I suspect everything to do with me.
Aside from the occasional outing, movies are my escape. They are the last vestige of my artistic side I still try to keep a connection to, for reasons as yet beyond me ( Refer to previous posting). I used to write. A lot. Poetry, Novels. I used to sketch - a lot. I love languages. I dabble with spanish and a little french. As it is currently my only escape, I get a little withdrawal anxiety once its over. I wish I could continue to live in the movie, in someone else's life for a while and put mine on hold, or hibernation in computer parlance.
While it is not always recommended I'm sure, I decided to take a chance at a little self analysis, as this was not the first time I felt this way. The first thing that comes across quite obviously is that if I don't want to come back to my own life, it must suck intensely. Not so. It leaves a lot to be desired, no doubt, but there is also a lot good about it. Of course, this could all be denial. More on that, maybe a little later. I'm still not convinced that people I know won't be reading this blog.
The second thing I zero in on is that one of the characters in the movie is a lot like me. He's a professional Chef, an all around good guy finally living in his dream jobscape. But his personal life.. not so great. We are un-alike if there is such a word in the sense that I cook for fun and dabble with computers for a living, but I would love to have a restaurant, preferrably just like his one day. Unfortunately, while his personal life could be great - he's married, two sweet kids, - it's just not. Watch the entire movie and you get an answer to why his is not so great.
Now I just wish I saw the script of my life and knew about mine. As yet, I'm not sure my blog postings are making any sense, but stay with me, I might start figuring this all out soon enough.
J.T.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Creative Nirvana
For every artist/creative, there is that dream job, that big one that either landed your name in the right circles, or put you on one of those unseen professional "maps" that people talk about. After that, you've pretty much graduated from the trenches. You can almost sit back and reap the benefits. You become a household name. You command your own prices, you can fire your clients!. It's creative nirvana.
I don't have one of those kinds of jobs. Yet. But I got a call from a potential client today that might put me in that situation. One of those clients that would hold the key to the locked room where they keep the "map". That's the good news.
The bad news is that the kind of project that they might want me to do, I have never done before. I have done components of the project, parts of it, for different clients, but never done the whole thing as a package before. So I am in one of those places where a large part of me wants to get the call for them to say, "Go ahead sport, you got the job" - I'm assuming that's what the "map" keeper would say if one existed, stay with me here.
The other part... well, you know.
I don't have one of those kinds of jobs. Yet. But I got a call from a potential client today that might put me in that situation. One of those clients that would hold the key to the locked room where they keep the "map". That's the good news.
The bad news is that the kind of project that they might want me to do, I have never done before. I have done components of the project, parts of it, for different clients, but never done the whole thing as a package before. So I am in one of those places where a large part of me wants to get the call for them to say, "Go ahead sport, you got the job" - I'm assuming that's what the "map" keeper would say if one existed, stay with me here.
The other part... well, you know.
Saturday, October 16, 2004
childhood innocense
My beautiful young niece came to visit this weekend, and she made me appreciate those photographers who are able to take pictures of toddlers and make it look easy. And in particular, how critical an SLR is to the process.
<epiphany>Never try to take a picture of an active toddler with a camera that only relies on autofocus.</ephiphany>
The Nikon Coolpix 5700 - while an excellent camera has several shortcomings, not the least of which is that it is not an SLR and therefore does not allow manual focusing on images, at least not in the conventional sense, or at least in the sense that's useful.
Be that as it may, there's something to be said for youthful innocense. More than not being able to take a single usable shot with my digital camera and having to resolve to using my Minolta film camera, I got satisfaction from the fits of laughter that emanated from her whenever the flash went off.
The Nikon Coolpix 5700 - while an excellent camera has several shortcomings, not the least of which is that it is not an SLR and therefore does not allow manual focusing on images, at least not in the conventional sense, or at least in the sense that's useful.
Be that as it may, there's something to be said for youthful innocense. More than not being able to take a single usable shot with my digital camera and having to resolve to using my Minolta film camera, I got satisfaction from the fits of laughter that emanated from her whenever the flash went off.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
internal conflicts
At what point do dreams get sacrificed for reality? At what point did that little bit of creativity used to replenish the soul become just another moment not doing something that could be constructive.
I used to dream of days when I would take my laptop to the cafe in the Met, sit down there and in inspired sorroundings produce things that may one day be referred to as creative in relation to the works of art in that magnificent edifice. Life creeps up on you and one day you find yourself looking back on what could have been and finding no real answer as to why it wasn't. New York City is as fertile as you can get for inspiration.And sometimes I can't seem to get enough.
Yet I feel empty sometimes. I guess I must not be soaking up the right things. The soul of a creative needs to be fed. Or else, being in a city like N.Y looking for inspiration can become like soaking a dead leaf in water. It may re-hydrate, but its never going to come alive. Am I making any sense?
I guess that's my point...
I used to dream of days when I would take my laptop to the cafe in the Met, sit down there and in inspired sorroundings produce things that may one day be referred to as creative in relation to the works of art in that magnificent edifice. Life creeps up on you and one day you find yourself looking back on what could have been and finding no real answer as to why it wasn't. New York City is as fertile as you can get for inspiration.And sometimes I can't seem to get enough.
Yet I feel empty sometimes. I guess I must not be soaking up the right things. The soul of a creative needs to be fed. Or else, being in a city like N.Y looking for inspiration can become like soaking a dead leaf in water. It may re-hydrate, but its never going to come alive. Am I making any sense?
I guess that's my point...
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