I've been working as an artist for about 15 years. Most of it has been illustration of some form or another, and tattooing has been a constant for the last decade or so. One of the things that no one really gives you a heads up about when you start to work as a freelancer is how it affects your relationship with your art and creative process. Well, how it's affected mine, at least.
About a month an a half ago, after a few months worth of talk therapy, I started taking medication for depression and anxiety. It's been... rough. I had an intensely bad reaction to the first antidepressant, which resulted in crying fits, bouts of terror, shaking and minor tremors, etc. The antianxiety meds have helped a bit, but have had other physical side effects that really make one wonder a bit if it's worth it. The newest meds have a tendency to knock me out for 10 hours or so at a time, and leave me so groggy that it takes at least 45 minutes to find my face in the morning. I usually don't feel fully awake until around 7 or so in the evening. I don't even bother trying to remember why I've walked in to a room; I usually just sit down and hang out until something grabs my attention.
There are more appointments next week, to further tweak and replace and introduce new meds. There is an appointment early next month to sort out if maybe the depression and anxiety are just byproducts of untreated adult ADHD. I've been told by my therapist, my psychiatrist, and many of my friends that are medicated for similar things that it typically gets worse before it gets better. That the medication process is exactly that, a process.
During all of this, I quite suddenly started to paint. Painting has never been a frequent medium choice for me. I do a fair amount of digital painting these days, but at heart I am an illustrator, and approach most, if not all, projects from that perspective. I don't feel confident with paint and brushes and canvas. I don't feel totally lost either, but it's still something that's a bit uncomfortable for me when I look at it from a vocational view. But for the last few weeks, most nights, after dinner and the business of drawing of the day is finished, I go in to my studio, turn on some Tom Waits, and turn in up loud. And then I paint.
All of the paintings thus far have been portraits of my favorite musician, Tom Waits. I was introduced to his music around the same time I started working as an artist. A friend of mine gave me a burned copy of Bone Machine. I had never heard of him at that point, and the cd sat in my car for months un-listened to. Honestly, I had somehow gotten in my head that it was Tom Petty album. Not that there is anything wrong with Tom Petty, but at that point in my life I just wasn't interested. Then one day, sitting in my car on a side street in Northeast Minneapolis, I tossed in Bone Machine. From the first few notes of "Earth Died Screaming", something in my head clicked, and I knew I would be listening to Tom Waits for the rest of my life.
But why was it that at 35 years old, a decade and a half into my career as an artist and a few months in to finally trying to do something about my mental health, was I spending hours every day painting portraits of a 72 year old musician?
I have some thoughts on that. They aren't very well organized, and I'm not sure they actually provide a sufficient explanation. But maybe writing them down will help me make some sense of it. So I'll get in to those thoughts tomorrow. Or maybe Saturday. And there will be more Tom portraits to go along with them.
XOXO
-Adam
Painting 01: "Romeo is Bleeding" Gouache on canvas board, 6x6in.
Painting 02: "Beneath His Coat There Are Wings" Gouache on canvas board, 6x6in.
Painting 03: "Dead and Lovely" Gouache and acrylic on canvas, 9x12in.
Painting 04: "Make it Rain" Gouache and acrylic on hot press illustration board, 10x20in.