Work It Out

 

James love, “Untitled (I Love This)”, digital drawing (2021-2024)

One of our first acts as humans is to make marks. As children, we make marks in an exploratory way, with no meaning or purpose other than to explore. A child’s scribbles can be cute, innocent, and annoying—especially when they end up on the walls.

Then children begin to craft stick figures and faces. Eventually, they add more and more detail as their brains develop and awareness grows. I have always loved the art of children. I love it not just for its honesty and rawness but because the feelings I get when I see children’s art are usually ones of joy and intrigue.

Other than children, the four artists I associate with being childlike are Jean-Michel Basquiat (whose work originally inspired me to explore painting), George Condo (like Basquiat, he got me painting, but inspired me to use a paint stick as opposed to a brush—my favorites are the R&F brand), Pablo Picasso (in his later years, when he took inspiration from African aesthetics), and Cy Twombly (hands down, one of the artists closest to my heart because of his childlike expression). Twombly is someone I’ve returned to over and over. His style led to a more pure, childlike expression, similar to children’s scribbles, and it feels so intense yet serene at the same time.

I remember telling Cleaster early on when we met that I really wanted to scribble to express myself, but didn’t think it was “real art.” She showed me examples of art that looked like scribbles—aggressive marks, soft marks, all kinds of variety. I remember her saying, “Just don’t make it on lined paper.” (Later, I saw a work in the Blue Spiral Gallery that went against that advice. Eventually, I decided I could go against it too.)

Via hyperallergic

As I’ve been going through my documented artwork, I’ve found a few examples of how this love of scribbling shows up in my notes:

James love, “Untitled (Bless Me)"

James love, “Untitled (Messiah and Disciples)"

What I appreciate is that I was still attempting to create figurative work, but through high-energy lines. I’ve always sought to strike this balance between observational representation and emotional/spiritual representation.

The spiritual representation is tough for me. My frame of reference for spiritual representation is the Bible. In the Bible, God is spirit. So when God creates, it’s spiritual—do you get me? Because God is spirit. But what I also notice is that the text is about the interaction of this spirit through and with the people who live on this planet. The spirit speaks to people, sometimes with a voice, sometimes with dreams and visions. The spirit can even speak through others. But the spirit is always creative.

Why do I say that? The spirit of God in the Bible spoke through a donkey, a fire that never burned out, and even sent fire from heaven. God led Israel in the form of a cloud by day and fire by night so they could see. In the New Testament, God became Jesus. And Jesus did things like multiply food, walk on water, turn water into wine, speak and raise the dead, and be raised from the dead himself. All these things and more are in the Bible. Pretty unbelievable, right? I think that’s the point. I think it shows the creative capabilities of God—that God’s creativity and power know no bounds.

That’s why, in the beginning, I felt like I painted for God. I wanted to tap into that creative potential, but I was doing it every which way except by being purely inspired by God. I used sleep deprivation, fasting, and chemicals to assist me in reaching altered states to make my artwork feel “free” and uninhibited. But I began to wonder—why do I need these things to create and be creative? I don’t. What I’ve noticed is that I can be more intentional with my creativity when I’m not in altered states. I can understand myself and my intent.

This creative journey of mine has been excellent. It will continue to thrive, and it will alter thoughts, hearts, and spirits upon impact—for good. My creative chapter now feels like I’m in a place to make the “happy art” my mom used to talk about—creating from a good emotional and spiritual place, not a tormented, traumatic one.

Like Robert Zachary mentioned in one of his poems about his elders--basically along the lines of they didn’t know the trauma word like we do today. They moved on hope and resiliency. They couldn’t afford to stay stuck. They kept moving.

And I will walk in that same spirit. I will walk on confidently until I see the Lord—if He judges me worthy in Christ to see Him. Amen.

I hope you see God too—in your life now and forevermore, if it’s the desire of your heart.

James love, “Untitled (Here to Help)"