When we're young and the future is the great unknown it's fairly easy to find purpose in your life...Most of us have parents or family of some kind to take care of the daily needs, food, shelter, all around caring, so with whatever time school doesn't take up, we're left to our own devices, our own little dream worlds we create in our minds. Back then it might have meant running down to the local library (A tiny little place about the size of a small apartment), check out some books to read or sit in front of the television and watch any of the four channels we had, go outside and play with the neighbors or, in my case, find a pencil and paper, any paper, and draw.

It's really the only thing I can think of that's always been with me, this need to create, to draw and, eventually, paint. I'd seen art and I knew people were behind these lines and if one person could do this, so could another...And I worked my ass off all to try and figure out how are was 'Done', how it was created. 

There were a lot of biographies about famous artists back then, usually the ones from way back in history and only a few about modern artists. It wasn't until college where I discovered there were a whole lot of different styles of art and multitudes of artists that weren't named Norman Rockwell. It was a revelation and in between trying to have a social life I had little time to do anything else. I couldn't tell you what was on television because that took time away from creating and that habit has continued to way too many decades later...When I discover a show I like or a new singer to listen to, well, I'm usually five or six years behind everyone else.

But art was my purpose, it was the method I chose to explore the more complicated world of humans. Art helped me understand love, to wonder about the spiritual world, to try and capture my image of whatever 'God' was out there, to see a possible future in my mind and recreate it in two dimensions. The only problem with art was my lack of imagination about how the entire genre would change in the next 50 years.

A few years ago I noticed the trend. More and more art supplies stores were closing as computers took away the need for a brush, paints, and all the other tools of the artists of old. The Wyeth's, Rockwell's, Frazetta's and a host of others were obsolete and now, books on most of these artists of my time, can be bought for a few dollars...There are a few that defy today's new world and books related to them are not easy or cheap. Jeffery Katherine Jones, once called the greatest living artist of our time was not only an incredible artist he was also someone who went through gender reassignment and lived the rest of her years out as a woman...The art she did in her last few years was beyond stunning and books/prints/originals of Jones' work is not cheap, but well worth the price. 

Jones was a person with purpose, leaving behind the world of commercial art, a lucrative position back then, and decided to create 'Real Art'...Almost insane in that world but she did it and all you have to do is put the name Jeffrey Jones in any search engine, hit 'Images' and be prepared to discover why this world is less because she's no longer here.

My purpose with art was to challenge old standard ideas of people, to open the world to more than just something white males would approve of, to discover the myriad of societies and ideas that weren't something I was raised with and see the beauty in every country, every gender, every life. 

It's a continuing process and I don't think any of us ever have the chance to learn even a fraction of another person's life...We may think we can, but after reading hundreds of biographies of other artists and writers I've discovered all my preconceived ideas of what their lives were exploded into massive disappointment. I don't know...Perhaps I thought being an artist would be one big party when it is, in reality, a boat load of work with long hours and learning a whole lot about what is in your mind when you're alone in the middle of the night with a blank page, a pencil, a single light and no one to talk with.

My purpose as an artist has changed in the last few years. Now what I create is not for me and not for now, it's for the future and to whoever ends up with my work, old (gag) and new. I'm still trying to change things, standing up and being counted as a human being who refuses to have labels posted all over me...I still feel love, still hunger for companionship, still dream of being happy for just a little while longer...I've had a few years during the moments leading up to the new century and I was without purpose, without direction and, sadly, on a whole lot of medication that caused me to not give a fuck. 

I also have a sister who wouldn't let me quit on art. 

So, medicines were tossed aside and after an incredibly long and scary withdrawal from those medications which were suppose to keep me 'Calm', I found myself again and I moved beyond the artist I was and am continually working on being the artist I see in my mind. 

I have purpose.

Without purpose we all just whither and die, spiritually, mentally, and eventually, completely. It's easy to quit on this world, on ourselves, our dreams as we grow older. We're almost expected to do this...But I'm still working on that one impossible painting or drawing where I can say 'Finally'. Not going to happen but I'm going to keep at it...

...More talented than myself have died in recent years and the least I can do is use this time I don't deserve to honor the profession I've chosen.

So watch this space because as soon as I can figure out how to work some new software and scan in this stack of illustrations growing next to me, I'm going to post some really different art...That is not for children. I'll have to actually change the listing on my blog to restricted at that time but I think it'll be worth it. Until then, how about these to tide you over


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