Patrick Gorman Pettis' Blog

The mass majority of who we are is not bones and muscle, it is not brain tissue and cells, it is intangible - remove that "thing" and we are no longer the occupants of our physical beings. However we are in a way addicted to these symbols of ourselves, these bodies and faces; having no memory of what it is that we really “look” like in an existence much greater and longer prior to this splash in our earthly pond. This is why ghosts still look human even in the period dress they once wore while living. It is familiar. When love happens it happens in the soul. Yes there are physical releases of peptides doing their job making us feel “Ah’s” and “Oh’s” and an entire series of internal physical events that transform us down to the very cells and mapping of our brains. However what sets those things off is a stimulus and connection then a choice. What makes that choice albeit of our thinking or waking minds is that part of us which is intangible. And when that choice is mutual – w

"i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands" - caption from EE Cummings' poem "Somewhere I have never travelled" as outlined in the 1st installment of this series, see entries 14 through 16 for more information In a place within the single nature of all things, where the wants and needs of that thing meet, love sometimes appears washing the zenith. Love is both a want and a need in and of itself but it is beyond those things as well. I see it as the catalyst that makes one aware of itself peaking the senses and priming the soul. Eyes dilate, breathing increases, heart rate elevates, habits and appetites alter as if subconscious and a small curious ache appears; logical or not it is none the less quite real. In the caption above the idea of not even the rain having small hands stood out like a pin prick of light in a dark

There is a kind of love which happens where it’s fruition into a relationship is irrelevant to it’s existence. It is a wish and a power. Not to be confused with an obsession or desire to possess, it is a hope based admiration which runs so deep it inspires and infects it’s bearer completely. It is both battery and muse. The words are hard to find to depict such a love but those who know it personally know it exactly. It would be as if to see something in nature, in the wild. Where the desire to walk up to it and touch it or pet it is so great but if one would move they fear it running away all together so they just stay in place and still, watching and waiting to see what it does instead. Imagine then if the admired came a little closer and closer still. That feeling that something so adored is so near and it’s tangibility is so fragile, as a flower is so fragile. So I went to the next step. Immediately I looked for roses that could encapsulate this idea. After searching for two days I

There is a timelessness to love. It is a universal thing, known by many species. No matter the culture it is understood. The strength of which distances in time and spaces between have no effect. I wanted to add this concept in the piece. To make it "generational", weathered but beautiful and in this wish an idea evolved in compliment to the two inspirations (see previous entry). As if in the attic as part of something greater - something lost for a period of time and forgotten by those unfamiliar. A painting that represented a deep and beautiful story between two people. A love story about to be learned by someone whose life is a direct result of it, but continues it in their own life and is inspired by the piece. I know that the concept when read is wordy but please forgive. I haven't ever really written these thoughts out before in or during my creative process. In this attempt to communicate them I think I over word because I fear misdirecting the reader or prejudgeme