Home | 2015

Time stops. The sun becomes nothing more than a glowing backdrop as it follows its familiar path across the sky, tossing yellow light upon the paper in front of me. Acoustic strums and falsetto melodies drown out thoughts of the ticking clock or pressing schedule. The tabletop is littered with pencil shavings of every color. Paintbrushes send paint swirling through formerly clear water, readying themselves for a new hue. My skin is smeared with graphite, stained with paint and ink, but I don’t mind. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter where I am. When I am creating, I am content. I am home.

There are countless geographical locations across this sprawling earth that would provide me with equal measures of tranquility and repose, none more than the rest, because to me, happiness can not be bound by a white picket fence, nor can it be marked by any one pin in a map. It relies entirely upon the attitude I choose to adopt and the endeavors I choose to engage in, regardless of the location I happen to occupy. How limiting it would be to establish the pinnacle of contentment in just one place. The only invariable aspect of life on earth is the promise of unceasing variety, and the acceptance of this reality breeds in a person a healthy allotment of adaptability.  Life does not restrict itself to one location, so why should happiness?

Therefore, it is in the act of creation that I find my contentment. There is a certain sort of gratification that can only be found in drawing something into existence where it did not exist before--taking a blank sheet of paper and a few chunks of graphite and forming them into a piece  that inspires others to feel something powerful and new. The universe, God’s divine design, demands to be appreciated. From the vast multitude of glittering galaxies to the way that dull afternoon light filters through the window across cracked tile floors, the exquisite beauty of His creation can be found wherever it is sought after. There is fulfillment in the ability to translate even a miniscule degree of that beauty and complexity in my work--to use my own hands to imitate His process of creation. My location is inconsequential. Whether I find myself in a crowded subway car or on a mist-covered summit in the Smoky Mountains, I may still retreat into the recesses of my imagination and bring forth an expression of what I find there.

I will spend my life seeing as much of this world as I can. Travelling from one corner of the earth to the other, making it all my home. I will document its grandeur through lens and pencil and pen. Contentment will not be my home to return to, but rather, my companion, joining me wherever I venture. As long as I am creating, I will never be lost, because art is not my occupation: it is my home.