Texture

I took this photo in the backyard of my parents house. This tree was taller than all the others with one large branch reaching upwards towards the clouds.

I love the way the small, spear-shaped leaves create a ruffled cluster against the backdrop of the cotton filled sky. This picture contains a small range of shapes and colors, however, it is bursting with rich texture and depth.

Rise Phoenix

I am in charge of doing several of the hiring interviews for my job. Right from the start his resume stood out. And the more resumes I read, the more I kept going back to his. The initial phone interview went well and called him again to set a time for him to come in and begin working.

When I tried to confirm a time he snapped at me.

"I CAN'T MAKE IT ON WEDNESDAY AND I DOUBT I CAN DO THURSDAY."

Needless to say I was taken aback. I ended the conversation abruptly and starred quizzically and my phone.

"Wow" I thought "I guess I'm not going to be calling him back."

Surprisingly he actually called me back later that night but I didn't listen to his voicemail until the following day.

He apologized and explained that he was having a bad day. I was touched by the sincerity in his voice. I called him back to offer him a second chance.

I got to work early with Liz to help set up. We were outside on a break and I told her the new guy was coming today. I told her that I had this inexplicable feeling that he was going to be a smoker and that he was going to be covered in tattoos.

Almost on cue a man walked up to the building. I looked at Liz and said "I'll bet that's him."

"No way" she laughed, "he's not supposed to be here for another three hours".

The man approached and asked if either one of us was named Melissa. I told him that I was.

Turns out he was the man I had interview over the phone. And he was three hours early. Both of his arms were covered in tattoos and he reached into his pockets to find a lighter for his cigarette.

I turned to Liz and smiled "I knew it."

He handled the job very well. At first he was very quiet but I began to realize that he wasn't used to having fun at work. We broke him in with jokes and water balloon fights. We began to laugh about that time I almost didn't call him back.

The truth was his apology showed me that he had character and I was happy to have him be part of the team. His appearance suggested at someone who partied and drank a great deal, but his energy hinted at a powerful transition. He had one foot in his party life that he wasn't quite ready to let go off, and another foot ready to take the leap into establishing a powerful career. I always had the sense that he would do great thing.

One day I was walking behind him when one his tattoos caught my eye. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.

"This one is your most recent one, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is."

It was a large tattoo taking up all the space from his elbow to his wrist. It was of a Phoenix rising up from its own skeleton in a fiery blaze.

"Do you know anything about the Phoenix mythology?" I asked
"Not really" he admitted "I picked it because it looked cool."

I looked at him in shock.

"I can't believe you don't know anything about it. The Phoenix is a mythological creature that rises up from its own ashes to be born again stronger and more powerful than before. You are Phoenix."

It wasn't until after that conversation that I learned more about him. His rocky childhood, his parents divorce, and the years of wild partying and drug abuse. He was even in a coma for several days as a child because he had been hit by a car going 70 miles an hour. His doctors tried to get his parents to pull the plug on him because they were that certain that he wasn't going to make it.

Yet the man I saw before me was so different from his past. Still a product of it, he was moving in direction that would take him to such great things. You could tell he was a man who wasn't going to let his past define him.

We would always spend a little time each day talking about his life goals and what he wanted to accomplish. He had great instincts but struggled a little bit when it came to leaving some elements of his past behind. He didn't seem to get too much support from friends and family.

"I think this is why I am supposed to know you" I said to him one day. "So I can be that voice OUTSIDE your head that lets you know you are doing the right thing. You are smart, you are a hard worker, and you have the ambition that can take you anywhere in life. Sometimes you just got to shake that dust and know what's right for yourself."

He nodded.
"I hope I know you for a long time" I added, " You will go on to do so many great things."

One day I happened to be driving past his apartment on the way to work and I called to offer him a ride.

"Actually I need to talk to you" he said. "My friend got me a job where he works and I start training tonight. I don't think I can work with you anymore."

My stunned silence was taking up all the space between us. If I have to be honest with myself I knew this day would come but I didn't think it be so abrupt.

"It's nothing personal" he tried to reassure me. "I just need the money."

He was used to seeing me handle any crisis with grace and fortitude, but this time was different. This time I let the struggle show.

"How could you have so little respect for me and Liz that you would do this?" Tears welled in my eyes. "The worst part is I feel like I'm losing a friend. I've lost a lot of friends over the years but this is the first time I've lost a friend to money and that is an awful feeling. I don't think you realize how many people you beat to get this job and how highly you were respected."

He started to realize what he had done and offered to move his training back. I said no. I could tell his heart was no longer with us.

"I doubt I'm ever going to see you again and it kills me to think that this might be the last conversation I may have with you. I never wanted this to be on bad terms. I've so much respect for you and this hurts."

"I'm sorry" he said. There was a definite sadness to his voice. He wasn't expecting me to cry. I knew he wanted to say something more comforting but he couldn't find the words.

I took a deep breath. "I hope you are happy at your new job".

I was stuck in traffic for over an hour. I was still wiping tears from my face when Liz came out to greet me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed.

"I am so sorry" she said
"Me too."

My Phoenix, you are such a powerful creature. You are tougher than you realize and more loved that you will ever know. It is much harder to rise from the ashes of a fire that you started yourself, but I will always encourage you to rise. Some bridges are going to burn but that's why it's so important that you learn to fly.

Someday I want to met you again. I want you to look me in the eye and say with pride, "Look at all the things I have done."

And I smile at you and say "I know."

Love Letter for a Friend

Maybe you were the wrong person to talk with about relationships. There is nothing worse than getting served life advice from someone who has never had a problem.

Some of us gave love our all only to have our hearts stomped on in front of us. Grateful to get even a little piece back. But you were lucky. Prince Charming proposed to you in the wedding section of a bookstore. After all – what could be more charming than a cliché?

I feel like I am the only person I know who never daydreamed about living behind a white picket fence because at the end of the day it is still a fence. I never wanted to be caged.

Now lets get one thing straight: I would settle down, but I sure as hell won’t settle for less.

I have always felt like I had a realistic concept of love. I expect there to be good days and bad days. Laughter and smiles as well as tears and fights. To me that’s just the life experience. A fight is just a mechanism for coming to a solution. The only reason two people argue is because they are both right. But you would be amazed at how many people see a fight as a purely destructive force as apposed to a means of rebirth.

Love isn’t about carelessly strolling thru some fairytale garden. It’s about walking through hell together. And when you make it to the other side you can look each other in the eye and say “I would’ve have rather gone through that with you than anyone else on earth. Thank you for not letting go.”

Maybe all my struggles look silly from your point of view. You got your Prince Charming but I want a warrior. A fighter – someone who believes in courage. Not just as an idea or suggestion, but as a way of life.

This world is full of weakness and so many people find their shelter behind their white picket fences.

You got upset with me because I don’t idolize your life. You think that if I made the same choices you did that perfection will just fall in my lap. But you didn’t create what you have it was just given to you. I’ve had to work for everything and carve out a life on my own. There is a reason I’m still an artist and you are not. I didn’t let the bastards grind me down. I listened to my instincts and took risks. I trust my gut and it has lead me to some beautiful things.

I feel like you gave up your instincts in favor of a perfect life. I hope that it is worth it and I do hope you are happy. But, honey, we all hear voices. Only some of us are brave enough to admit it. You father tells you he loves you every night before you fall asleep and every time you are having a bad day. He knows how strong you are and wants you to stay that way. I hope you hear him too.

Love was never about being perfect or coloring by number. It’s not some easy formula. It is more beautiful and heartbreaking than we all thought it could be. The biggest difference between you and I is that you are trying to tame it and I am trying to live with it. 

Markings

At DRIP we throw a lot of paint around. By the time the show is over it is all over the audience, the floor, and especially the cast and crew. On this particular day I had gotten splashed with a healthy dose of red and blue. 

The red landed on my skin first, followed by blue, which took the same path as red. The colors mixed creating blurry purple lines. Most of the time I get covered in paint it just becomes spots of color. But this time it morphed into beautiful markings.

I examined it in the mirror. At first it looked like a wild bruise or veins just under the surface of my skin. It also reminded me of a jellyfish sting or those intricate lace-like burn patterns some people get after being struck by lightning. I looked down at my arm again. Everything reminded me of horrible injuries and yet I still thought the marks on my arm were beautiful.

That night was actually our sixth month anniversary of having opened the show. I have been with DRIP for about six years - almost since the beginning. I thought of all the hard work I put in and the criticism I have endured from friends and family who didn't understand why I would follow such a crazy dream. All of those things could have easily broken someone else, but they never broke me. And the beautiful markings on my arm became a reminder that all I have survived makes me a more stunning and interesting person.

The paint washes easily off my skin in the shower. But I would gladly wear these markings over and over again.

Virginia Sky

This is one of my favorite photos I took while visiting my friend in Virginia for her wedding. It was a whirlwind six day trip. I got to stay with her and her husband, tour various parts of Fredericksburg, Richmond, and Washington D.C. - as well as help out with some of the wedding preparations.

This photo was taken as her wedding reception was winding down. I stepped outside the reception hall to take in the evening sky. I was surprised at how the last remnants of the daylight clung to the horizon. Off in the distance the lights from a another venue in the property sparkle just in front of the tree line.

I took a nice, deep breath as the breeze whisked over the hill. I was so grateful for the ability to be in Virginia for my best friends wedding. The entire trip was filled with so much joy. I couldn't even remember the last time I had just laughed and smiled for six full days. Nothing was more beautiful than realizing how lucky I was underneath the Virginia sky.

Grounded: The Art of Looking Down (Part 6)

This photo was taken while I was at New Smyrna Beach. I had gotten up specifically to watch the sun rise over the water. I sat on the wooden steps and enjoyed the breeze as the sun made its way up past the clouds. 

After a fun day at the beach I took a nice relaxing shower. I just laid there and let the ceiling fan cool my skin. 

In the evening my uncle and cousins decided to watch football. I never got into sports but I decided to join them on the couch. I propped my feet up and took in the hard wood ceiling. 

When I got out of the car on this overcast day I noticed that my gray pants matched the concrete below me. My shoes and toenails were a refreshing burst of color. No matter what I wear I always seem to find a way to carry some color. 

I took this photo at DRIP as we were about to add more paint to the sand. It was a messy but fun afternoon. 

Tattoo

I spent most of my life never wanting a tattoo. I found it unlikely that I would love a design so much that I would want it on my body forever. But I was wrong and I did find I design that I fell in love with. The tattoo itself is simple but its story is beautifully intricate. 

2007 was terribly unkind to me. I struggled to make it through that year only to have my last remaining grandparent pass away just a few days shy of Christmas. Ray, my grandfather, would have been 92 in just a matter of weeks. 

I never got to know my grandmothers since both had died young, and so my grandfathers became very important to me. It was heartbreaking to lose my last grandparent when I myself was so young. 

On New Years Day I raised two proud middle fingers as the ball dropped in New York. 

"2007 - I will see you in hell." 

I welcomed 2008 with open arms, ready to put the mess behind me. Turns out I got a lucky break when I began working with DRIP. Something that just started out as an internship transformed into a wonderful opportunity. I had been making art all of my life but being involved with DRIP made me feel like I was part of an artistic community for the first time. I wanted to get a tattoo to commemorate how I felt and how far I had come. 

It was a pretty radical thought since I had gone 25 years without ever having the slightest desire to get inked. I remembered a conversation my sister Jenny and I had a few months ago. She made a joke about wanting to get a cave painting tattoo across her butt. After laughing I stopped and thought for a moment. I loved art history and cave painting was at the very root. Maybe my sister was on to something. 

I let the idea simmer over the next few months. I got "The Complete Idiot's Guide To Getting a Tattoo" and read it cover to cover. I learned lots of great information about getting a tattoo, however, what interested me most was the art of ancient tattooing. 

Tattooing is far older than most people realize and nothing made that more clear than the discovery of Otzi. Otzi, was a man recovered in the Swiss Alps. Originally, the people who found him thought he was a lost hiker they needed to identify. However, it rapidly became clear they had someone much older on their hands. As it turns out, Otzi lived around 3,300 B.C. and is one of the oldest human remains ever to be found. Scientists were amazed that he had been so well preserved, so much so that his tattoos were still visible. It appeared the art of tattooing has a longer history than anyone imagined. 

In most ancient cultures tattoos were treated as a rite of passage. You only received one after achieving a milestone. Even sitting through the process of getting a tattoo was a testament to your character. In some cultures, if you cried or complained the person giving you the tattoo would stop. You would forever wear the unfinished tattoo as a mark of shame. 

I also found out that where you placed the tattoo on your body carried a significance. Some cultures believe that you should avoid placing tattoos anywhere on the center line of you body front or back. Most cultures, with the exception of the Maori, avoid facial tattoos.

So after a years of never wanting a tattoo and a few brief months of research I had my heart set. 

I felt confident that surviving the previous year only to reaffirm my love of art was my heartfelt and most sincere rite of passage. 

I walked into the tattoo parlor well feed, calm and sober. Mentally, physically and spiritually ready for the next phase of my life. 

I wanted the hand prints of the ancient cave painters on my right shoulder. I love art history and cave paintings are such an important part. To me, the art work of the cave painters says more about our humanity than anything else. What thought went through the mind of the first person to create something that was as functional as it was beautiful? Our minds and our creative drive set the course for our culture. The hand prints they left behind are deeply personal. Not only did they leave us with their hand print, but the dye they used was created by mixing in their saliva. Their language may be gone and their history may be sparse, but I can still connect with their art. 

I wanted six hands - one for each member of my family. I wanted to wear my family tree. I wanted to acknowledge all of the amazing history behind me while realizing that I was creating my place at the present moment. 

I went to get my tattoo at Granted Ink. Todd Grant came highly recommended to me by friends who had gotten tattoos. 

All I brought Todd was National Geographic magazine. He was nervous knowing that I was an artist.

"Are you sure you don't want to design the tattoo?" he asked politely

"I just want six hands. You can arrange them any way you like. I didn't come up with the design, I just want you to recreate it. Besides, you're a great artist, I trust you." 

He seemed surprised by my faith in his abilities without ever having a tattoo. But he was a professional and quickly set to work. My tattoo took about fifteen minutes to complete. 

I loved it.

It was art, it was family, it was beautiful.

It wasn't until I had gone home to visit my family several weeks later that I realized that I had gotten my tattoo exactly one year to the day my grandfather had passed away. December 19th, 2008. A coincidence that reminds me that I have angels on my shoulders.

I came a long way to find my purpose. My rite of passage made me a much stronger person. I am grateful for everything I went through because my own personal evolution has helped me grow into the artist I am today.

Granted Ink: https://www.facebook.com/GrantedInk