Charlie missing the train

Kevin Stewart explains Poetry Nights in Ekenäs plus

Artists as Lovers

STRICTLY SPEAKING ARTIST TO ARTIST.

A few days ago I had a very lengthy conversation with an former artist friend. This was a needed conversation because this artists who are also "friends" often vanish. Artists are prone to travel seeking inspirations This one who I now refer had long been absent in my life. Despite that I had searched and search until I found her. Back when we were fomenting our acquaintance, we had become lovers.

Thus even today, I make no secret for the admiration I felt for her. The aroma of acrylic paint and clay stick to my memory just as it remained on m bed sheets after she left . I did not confess this when we reconnected. Our respective art forms an d discussing them shielded us from our past as lovers. She asked me to speak only on my photography. She wanted to know how it. Today,

I felt put on spot. For years I had engaged in making PLAYBOY inspired images. Many females ( I feared then and now understand today) loath some of my photographs of females. Hence I remain ready for a sweeping critique in denouncement. But, this was her, my former confidant, my “artist buddy” she was asking me and there was no indictment in her query.

I could not find the words to explain that I had segue become ashamed of my former work and (by way of comparison) envied another photographer friend's work The female forum had always appealed to me but I had allowed lust to supplant my drive. The digital age had arrived and fellow photographers had carved more unique paths. I had to mention how he the other photographer friend had a already developed a solid body of work. Leaving me behind in he had become a trail blazer. He had been welcomed into art channel. I wished to mimic him, if not then to at least drop my own wasted efforts.

I knew that this old lover of mine was aware that some say , imitation is the best form of flattery. I dismissed such as bullcrap. One may find himself subliminally taking on but not copying another. Flattery itself will get you no where in the artists circles I craved. We reminisced on when our circles included some of the finest artist in the world: Grace Kisa and others I knew such as Michi Meko Fahamu Pecou and Maurice Evans. We also recalled a deceased artist friend Flora Hammond. These and others like Charles Palmer and John Tindel..all came up around the time she and I bath ourselves in each others company.

I knew I could provide a narrative to what I had sought as my quest to delve deeper into what I thought I wanted in my work. I knew I wanted her to check out my source of inspiration in this other photographer and perhaps feel me out. I did elaborate on how photography for me is part performance. Performance as in acting and part costume. I admitted that I think had come to accept that I was a lazy film maker trapped in a photographer's field. I told her I know this is why I now love movies so much. She listened and I could feel through the phone her quiet approval.

When it came her turn to share, she reminded me again of her reserve to not try to represent her work into words. She tried to and images of her spirituality started to swirl in my mind blending into remembered forms and figures. Ah, her paintings, her aroma. This too reminded me of how her work had inspired me to 'go deeper'.

As we parted I told her I no longer feel other artists must create dialogue in words as I do. Some words, such as her own, speak for itself.

Mwasaa Sherard is an artist and teacher who educated me to play more joyfully. She creates in Atlanta, Georgia.

DAY 1 SLOW FOOD: NEXT GENERATION