Jordana Rae Gassner Portfolios
Beginnings are sometimes easier than endings, often last shorter than one would like (re: the so-called honeymoon period) and are generally markers for well, something new, right?
Integral to all starts is the question of "when to do it?"
Today seems like a good day. It is a Tuesday and I have lots of memories of Tuesdays as being days of significance.
J. Wellington Wimpy's, "I shall gladly pay you Tuesday...for a hamburger today" for instance from Popeye. Non-sequitering into a moment of wondering if people in the 30's knew how prophetizing those words are (think "debt, debt and more consumer debt").
Olive Oyl was the character most people associated me with, by the way. I don't think they meant it as a compliment.
-ending that line of thought and getting back to Tuesdays.
"Tuesdays with Morrie" is a book still holding a place of honor on my bookshelves / having "Marie Kondo-tidied" ages ago, only those sparking books staying home.
There's more, but I'd like to get to the art topic that sparked this current stream of thinking.
Recently, someone asked me if I listen to music while painting. My first response was no.
No, I do not listen to other peoples' creations while creating my own. My paintings have their own cadence, movements, tones, octaves. To listen to someone else would, in my feeling, disrupt the song of my own work. My paintings already have a cacaphony of others' voices within them, mainly, every experience I've ever had in my very short life thus far (46 years not being a drop in the bucket related to humanity's length of existence). And my job as I see it, is to open myself to a quieter voice, streaming into my consciousness from what I feel is something mystical, magical, wonderous. Something that sourced poetry, sonnets and all those marvelous experiences that hopefully cummulate in a resonance of knowing beauty, kindness, purity...
The other, more "me", personality pieces, the training in how to paint, the thousands of hours of practicing technique, editing composition, makes my works human. I've talked to a lot of artists and every one of them describe the "something" sensation a bit differently, some calling it soul, others choosing to remain at "something bigger than me."
Whatever it is, I feel it is a joint venture in creation.
And then my brain, during this conversation of whether I listen to music while painting, remembered... ah yes, well, ahem, I DO listen to music a lot while I am "warming-up" or making studies of which there are many...many.... many.
That same "something" and human skill mixed to create such beautiful compositions I definitely imbibe aural-ly on a regular basis; literally drinking it in with my ears. Music, afterall, is a great way to connect and feel, to change a mood. Music for me is a great way to (groan, I am SUCH a sucker for puns), CHANGE MY TUNE.
So, more questions answered coming up. Most probably on a Tuesday. Maybe not EVERY Tuesday, but perhaps the 2nd Tuesday of the month is easily accomplished.
See you then, J
Integral to all starts is the question of "when to do it?"
Today seems like a good day. It is a Tuesday and I have lots of memories of Tuesdays as being days of significance.
J. Wellington Wimpy's, "I shall gladly pay you Tuesday...for a hamburger today" for instance from Popeye. Non-sequitering into a moment of wondering if people in the 30's knew how prophetizing those words are (think "debt, debt and more consumer debt").
Olive Oyl was the character most people associated me with, by the way. I don't think they meant it as a compliment.
-ending that line of thought and getting back to Tuesdays.
"Tuesdays with Morrie" is a book still holding a place of honor on my bookshelves / having "Marie Kondo-tidied" ages ago, only those sparking books staying home.
There's more, but I'd like to get to the art topic that sparked this current stream of thinking.
Recently, someone asked me if I listen to music while painting. My first response was no.
No, I do not listen to other peoples' creations while creating my own. My paintings have their own cadence, movements, tones, octaves. To listen to someone else would, in my feeling, disrupt the song of my own work. My paintings already have a cacaphony of others' voices within them, mainly, every experience I've ever had in my very short life thus far (46 years not being a drop in the bucket related to humanity's length of existence). And my job as I see it, is to open myself to a quieter voice, streaming into my consciousness from what I feel is something mystical, magical, wonderous. Something that sourced poetry, sonnets and all those marvelous experiences that hopefully cummulate in a resonance of knowing beauty, kindness, purity...
The other, more "me", personality pieces, the training in how to paint, the thousands of hours of practicing technique, editing composition, makes my works human. I've talked to a lot of artists and every one of them describe the "something" sensation a bit differently, some calling it soul, others choosing to remain at "something bigger than me."
Whatever it is, I feel it is a joint venture in creation.
And then my brain, during this conversation of whether I listen to music while painting, remembered... ah yes, well, ahem, I DO listen to music a lot while I am "warming-up" or making studies of which there are many...many.... many.
That same "something" and human skill mixed to create such beautiful compositions I definitely imbibe aural-ly on a regular basis; literally drinking it in with my ears. Music, afterall, is a great way to connect and feel, to change a mood. Music for me is a great way to (groan, I am SUCH a sucker for puns), CHANGE MY TUNE.
So, more questions answered coming up. Most probably on a Tuesday. Maybe not EVERY Tuesday, but perhaps the 2nd Tuesday of the month is easily accomplished.
See you then, J
