21st Entry, August 27th 2008

"Serenity is a frame of mind, it is a way in which one thinks then moves it is not a destination but a discovery one derives from within ones self and though lost at times, once made it cannot be undone but attained again and again if one chooses it."

- Tobias Talbott
caption from a short story titled Of Wolves and Angels written by
Tobias Talbott 1994

Have you ever seen or heard something that for no particular reason simply stuck in your head?

For me the answer to that is "many times" call it a job hazard or my nature as a creative force but yes I have a proverbial library of such things and to each a memory attached and to those a stimulous and emotion and to such an attitude built upon and therefore an action,

I paint it.

Ergo the term "Impressionism" people, stories and even surroundings - they impress me

by definition to impress means to leave an imprint derived from the latin term onis rhet philo (appearantly the way its spelt has nothing to do with the way it sounds and thats why I hate latin but I digress) anyway Impressionism means the artist paints not the actual thing but the impression it makes on them.

One impression that astounds me and I dream about to this day is of my own father. I am telling this story because I feel as though the readers and fans of mine for whom I am so very grateful need to know a little bit more about me as a man.

So to my readers and fans and clients alike I will forgive your perceptions if you forgive me my presentation of the material.

ok

all judgements aside

the story

It was in early August the tail gate of the very tail end of a warm summer in northern New York when my father in a cut off pair of shorts and I in an inner tube went out into the water. My mother had lathered me up in so much bug spray and sun block my skin was literally water proof but I love the water even then eyes wide open.

Pine trailed and birchwood lined the breeze swept across an always calm lake shore with three feeds leveling it's water through what I thought then were waterfalls big, medium, and small.

I was never really afraid of anything and always wanted to push myself even at that age, and at that moment right then
my goal

was to follow my father to the dock,

he had no clue I was behind him

that is until he had gotten out of the water and heard my mother yelling from the shoreline

and even then I'm not totally convinced he had heard a word what she was saying but he looked toward the shore at first with a "what now" then another toward her with a "what?" then without saying either looked down at me in the inner tube smiling up at him and laughed and smiled back then grabbed me up out of the water and onto the dock.

I think that men have a built in mechanism that enables them to ignore shit which is pre puescent, like even in the Y chromasom as in "Y me, Y now, Y do you want me to do that, Y do you keep talking etc etc -- so ladies dont blame us, blame god cause us boys are designed to simply tune out

anyway

I saw him dive off a few time and I was more than content to sit there but it was time to go in.

Ma had started to call out again.

Not knowing how to get both me and the tube back to shore cause I had no clue how to swim at that age so he had me get into the tube and I was game.

One Pitch

and not a very hard one

and I was out of the tube

and straight down to the bottom

Now at that very moment

I had no clue that what was happening was wrong, and I had no panic

I trusted completely the hands of my father and the voice of my mother

so as I sank I looked up

and saw a brown yellow light, the sun beaming into a shade of gold

and saw blue and gold speckled fish with dark finned dots running away because they somehow knew I didnt belong there

I remember seeing bubbles like diamonds coming from everywhere upwards

and all of the sudden coming towards me I saw my father under water

and the look on his face was that of an angel's

I know because that day I knew what it meant what it is to not trust and to trust

and what angels were.

I didn't cry until my mother wrapped me in a towel and lifted me off the ground, I think it was because my dad simply gotten back in the water and swam away and not because I had almost drown.

My father as a man was nothing particular and there was nothing as equally particular to his destiny really save that he give part in creating three bodies for three souls.

The first of which is me,

the second of which appears in the photograph at the beginning of this entry

the third of which we wish would come home but cannot.

I digress

Honestly

I have dreamt of Angels ever since that day.

and from time to time when

at my age now

when

I actually can feel whats wrong and what it is to sink

I paint them.

Carouseil by Patrick Gorman Pettis

for a link to a song that co-inspired this piece please click below:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlqymdcqRcM

August 13th 2008, Hairless

Who are we really?

How honest can we possibly be in a world where we're almost expected to be unimportant and simply go?

I know that we are in fact each of us precious, and perhaps each of us just a little weird. We have our tools and "things" like our bodies, our homes and our details or preferences/addictions but hind sightly really how much do we need? And who sets that definition?

Well for any graduated soul the answer is simple, in reality, I do.

I do myself and only me set those definitions of who I am and how I am presented, let the rest be left for angels and devils to decide in how I am perceived

or how my true image is perverted.

Trust me between the mob and rumor they usually if not always do and 99.9% of the time need no permissions.

What is the difference in psycho-emotional miles between manipulation of one's own presentation and of other's perceptions then? Where within that does the truth lie (so to speak)lol?

This was a theory put on canvas by me after a psychic reading from whom I would consider one of the most wonderful and beautifully well communicated smooth and honest creative forces I have ever met in my own life time. His name is Michael Baldwin, hairdresser and a psychic one too. He and his partner have a local Spa.

Anyway he read my proverbial "beads" and I felt absolutely powerless, quiet and still although exposed quite beautiful. This man must attract muses and angels because there was an honesty and tact that would bound itself on miracle

I digress lest my thoughts get ahead of my words.

I went there for a reason - a change.

The gift needless to say was in exchange for extraordinary services and it is now hanging in their salon appropriately named

"Magical Scissors"

located at

2236 Broadway in New York, Historic Schenectady up Broadway through the old Rail Bridge past Ontario Street
12306


There are two songs I used to create this piece to kind of acclimate my inspirations, you can hear them here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4AFDHia51Do&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDiJSNADKIk


The Theory behind the Piece titled "Hairless"

We as human beings are masters of expressing non verbal communication. We do so in our every day and mostly unconscious lives. Using clothing to express who we are or what role we play, how we are to be perceived. Using facial expressions, make-up even what we drive to sometimes make wordless statements about what we like or who we are.

Who then do we become or even are for that matter when the wrappers are off? This was the question I posed to the canvas – what of mans self image without the wrapper.

The image is meant to produce a calm unwilling, a shyness in its beauty. Broad strokes were used to signify the idea that we sometimes deal with ourselves too broadly. Tend to outline rather than fill the definitions of who we are and what we want.

A backward glance of the male figure was given toward his viewer to induce a want or acceptance and hope of understanding, perhaps even help or advice as to how to turn and face them.

Over all I was happy to use both elements of the home made natural materials I create and acrylic to capture a color spread which inspired me from the future owner’s business as my palette.

I hope they love it as much as I loved creating it for them.

Perhaps then still they might provide me with a picture of it hanging there for my blog unless they sue me for metioning their business without permission lol.

19th Entry August 9th 2008, "6th Installment: To Move A Bloom"

"To Move a Bloom" by Patrick Gorman Pettis

These are the final pictures of the piece. Henna and black acrylic were used to apply the very last details.

Thankfully it has already been purchased by a wonderful gentleman in Florida. It is the only one of its kind, unique in so many ways to my other work. The subject alone sets it in its own category.

As I've stated before in previous entries my collectors and fans, readers of this blog already know that I add images hidden into the piece as my way of rewarding those who really look. If a person is interested in a work of mine I want to keep them entertained while maintaining the integrity of that piece's statement and idea.

And although I cannot tell you, my reader, where they actually are in the piece I had pictures taken of a few of them. The last three pictures in this entry are of those images.

Thank you all for reading and watching the development of this specific work. To see it in its very beginning stages and the story behind it simply go to the 1st installment in this blog.

- More Later