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Art Conversations

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Picasso Self Portrait

Our brains hurt. Our hearts are heavy. We are alone with our thoughts that drown us. Picasso self portraits are not about mimicking the art of another, like a monkey copies his master, they are a language we can use to access the broken in our brains and put it on paper.  It is our diminished view of ourselves begging to be released. Things have happened we cannot un-do.  Things have happened that we cannot un-see.  Things have happened that we cannot un-feel.  But we can release these demons from our brains, put them on paper – once there they lose much of their power over us.  I have posted above my self portrait from today.  It is a world apart from the first I did – which I tore to shreds. This is your journey, I will walk by your side and am always here to help when…

FIRST BE TRUE TO YOU

It is not enough to know yourself. What is important is to BE yourself. Nietzsche What does that mean?  You are a cop.  A paramedic.  A soldier.  You have seen too much, you have done too much and your bucket is full.  What can Nietzsche, Socrates or Plato possibly know about what you have to face each and every minute of every day? Step outside for a walk with me, let’s meander down our grenade strewn path awhile, together. How do we understand our world?  That man lying on the street covered in his own vomit – where is the sense in it?  That child traumatized in your arms, carrying her to safety that you know will short-lived – where is the sense in it?  That child soldier you shot in that far off war that will never truly be over for you – where is the sense in…

Life is a meander through a grenade strewn path.

To realise that our knowledge is ignorance is best. To regard our ignorance as knowledge is a disease. Tao Te Ching What does this mean to somebody living with a mental health disorder?  I see and speak to so many who define themselves by their labels.  The first things they say to me: “I have PTSD” “I have Severe Depression and Anxiety Disorder” “I am Bipoloar” “I have severe Attachent and Anxiety Disorder” And so on. What does this say?  It says, don’t ask me to be me, see me by my label – like a leper swinging their bell to ward off the healthy, we clang along life conditioned to ring our bell.  Let the world know what label we have been assigned. What if you stopped doing that?  It doesn’t mean that what happened to you no longer matters, nor that the struggle you face daily, hourly, is…

WTF?

The essence of Van Gogh’s later paintings is an artist’s search for the divine; the expression of his teleological beliefs and thinking. “WTF?” Polite translation: “What on earth does that sentence mean?” Clearly to understand art, one requires a PhD and thesaurus ready to source fifteen words where one might do. Not so. Who knows that Van Gogh wasn’t entirely sure he liked sun flowers?  In fact when he painted them he was extremely depressed, having been excluded from a cozy artist village and again fighting mental health issues, he sought solace and consolation in the natural world.  His sun flowers are at once living and dying; there is the joy of the new bud, the bloom of the full sunny dish of splendid colour sat beside the dead and dying bloom.  Life and Death.  Sit side by side.  Joy and Despair. “Dude, I’m a busy Cop/Soldier/Paramedic/First Responder what in…