I have lived a great deal of my life in angst, fear, and doubt. In many ways it has crippled my capacity to actually see myself for who I was and what I was becoming. Somehow I feel so many of the choices I made in my youth have not prepared me for what is to come in the upcoming years. We are currently dealing with Glenn’s Mother’s health declining and having to move her into assisted living. It brings fear of my own aging and possible decline into sight. As gay men we have no heirs to help us through our aging process. I guess my greatest fear is somehow becoming incapacitated and not being able to take care of myself. I once heard the actress Jessica Tandy say “the only thing we really have in our lives in our health” and she lived and worked to her 90’s. It is now 5 years since I was diagnosed with Lymphoma and I have survived. In a sense it has made me more aware of my on mortality in those 5 years I have accomplished more then the rest of my years combined driven I believe mostly by fear and doubt. In a sense this year has really been about stability and pushing beyond all conceivable boundaries. I have felt more of a vitality this year then I have felt in the past 49 years I have lived. So why does it take us so long to actually find out who we are and now at that point of accomplishment and discovery am I opening new possibilities to feed that anxiety. I should be on top of the world at this moment but somehow I feel I am not and it’s creating a great melancholy within me. I know I need to live in the moment learn to celebrate what is currently before me. I have been given or created my own gift of discovery and this year has been remarkable beyond anything I could ever have imagined. How do I recognize and glorify the achievements? Am I a person destined to not be content or happy no matter the circumstances? Being an artist adds an intensity to this doubt, it always has. Perhaps because we are so truthful in our approach to life and everything becomes our mirror. I have a friend who keeps asking me to hold the mirror up to myself and I am still reluctant because I am possibly still too afraid to see what that mirror will reveal. I keep thinking the mirror is this blog and have tired to find the truth of myself within it. But has it become a mask instead? I somehow don’t think so. I think it is the sum of what I have lived and become and the vitality of this years needs to outweigh, outshine all else. In my minds eye I am still a youth and my body responds accordingly. Many that meet me are astonished when they find out my actual age. My next lesson needs to be to banish the insecurity and live in the vitality of the now? Can I really come to the point of total acceptance of myself? How do I get there? Perhaps this is next years project.
Followers of a Fool-Hearted Dream
I am a bit lost these last couple of weeks of this project. It’s that time of the year when in my mind I have already begun reflecting on the year. I keep asking myself have I accomplished what I set out to do in the beginning? What else needs to be said within the year of a man? I have put a lot of ideas and concepts out there, but have I really put out there who I really am? I end the year with less fear and doubt, but have I really done a job of painting a portrait of myself as an artist? Emotionally I feel further along then when I began to year. I am wrapped in a sense of peacefulness that I have wrestled with so many insecurities and have reached out to so many different people and have been moved by all the letters and others who have inspired me throughout this year. Has it advanced my career or established me as an artist? I am not sure, yet? I have a tendency to see greatness in everything even when there is none present. It’s my blessing and my curse to think every moment is filled with meaning. It’s the nature of who I have always been.
Somehow I thought this project would be easier, but so far has been more challenging then I bargained for. But I am astonished that I have managed to persevere and brought myself to the process most every day through out the year, perhaps sometimes not so interestingly, but other times astonishing myself by what has been revealed. I am not a writer, and have never written before. I always feared putting my thoughts out there. I am the most horrific speller and my use of syntax and grammar does not always make sense. But I have at least put the thoughts out there. I keep thinking I will end this year looking mighty foolish because of all my inadequacies. Oddly enough I am still not sure who follows my fool-hearted dreams but there has always been an audience present through out the process. I know to become an artist often means putting your self out there with little expectation. It must be done for the self. In many ways it still feels like photography is somewhat of an intangible art form. It still seems to have no value; the market is still over saturated. Putting my life on display has not really advanced me in my creation it’s just given me a better understanding of my process and somehow made me more comfortable with some of the choices I have made with my life. It’s also revealed some regrets, that I have waited this long to actually expose what’s been in my heart.
In many ways my images lack the sexual qualities of my youth and are now filled with a reflection of myself as if I am looking in from the outside. Youth is filled with a spontaneity that my images lack. I often see a sadness that is reflected in my work, and after this year of self-examination, ultimately my life has been lived in a desperate sadness. Is this truly the way I see myself? Does my life turn back to normal again, to be forgotten? Somehow it reminds me of life in theater, you work toward the creation of a show, breathing your life into the production, it is shared with the audience, but then the lights go down, the set is cleared, and the stage is left empty. Perhaps this is just the general quality of life. But I somehow feel this will prove to be one of the greatest years of my existence. My heart swells with delight to those who have been here and shared the journey. Thank you!
Is Modern Film Missing the Final Reel?
It is that time of year when all the “Best Of” lists begin to come out. I always loved movies so this was always a fascination for me to review these list to see how my opinions compared to others. This morning I saw my first top list of movies from 2011 on the NPR website. The woman doing the reviews seemed a bit perplexed by the lack of standout movies for the year. She thought it was a year of ambiguity in the industry and there were no major films that really won people over; but mostly split the viewer ship of those who had seen them. As I perused the list I began to realize I had not seen a single movie that was released in 2011. As I began to cut and past titles into Rotten Tomatoes, a movie information site that I used to adore and followed religiously on a daily basis, I realized how much this industry has changed and it was now like navigating a mine field to even find a spot to paste those titles due the site being taken over by a barrage of moving advertising. I worked my way through the list of movies, trying to gain more insight, when an emptiness began to fill the pit of my stomach. There was nothing here that even sounded remotely interesting. That old excitement for finding a rare gem of a film that would challenge the way I saw myself or give me a new perspective on my world, somehow was missing and I began to think back to when was the last time I actually saw a film? The last time I entered a theater was to see Avatar, whenever that was, and I utterly disliked the film and experience I have not been back since. Granted I have taken the year off to become consumed by this project but what has happened to world I once loved so dearly. I guess in a sense it has all come home. I still watch stuff, but when the movie houses become filled with glorified video projectors, and Blu-ray at home outshines them it becomes harder to go sit with a group of strangers who are texting, talking and chewing, to watch a dimly lit presentation, at an exorbitant price for me to even go anymore.
My connection to the movies as always been strong and passionate. I began working as a projectionist when I was a young kid and had to stand on a box to see out the portals from the booth and by the time I was 18 I was managing a local theater chain in Missoula. Movies utterly captivated and entranced me. I knew everything there was about every movie and saw most everything released throughout the year. It was the soul of my livelihood and I lived as if my very existence hinged on them. Growing up in a small community in Montana they become a rich fabric in which we learned to see ourselves. Every emotion I have ever felt was first experienced in a movie. What has happened over the years? How have I fallen so out of love with something that inspired me for decades? Today I feel a loss, like a part of myself is missing. Perhaps it’s just a sign of aging but I am still searching for a revelation in the flicker of that celluloid magic.
The Moment Of Vision
I often see a vision that becomes quite sensual to me, a beautiful man, standing naked, in the shadows of the room. I watch the light play on his skin in the darkness as only the shape of his figure is outlined by the highlights across his sensuous skin as he moves about in that darkness, lit only by a streetlight, faint, dim, dappled with emotion, spilling through the window. He subtly moves to expose the youthful shape of his abs, not well defined, but in the darkness I have felt their tightness, another shift and I recognize the powerful contour of his arms filled with tension. As he turns toward the window I recognize the flatness of his chest muscles as they ripple from the darkness yet the highlights expose a supple softness of his skin that I want to reach out, touch, caress. It transports me to a timeless place when I was young and suddenly the vitality of my own youth comes flooding back. He is unaware I am watching him so intently as I am inspired by this remarkable moment as if suspended in time. How do I bring this into the studio? How do I reveal my own thoughts, feelings and the emotions that overwhelm me? I am utterly entranced by the sensation of this remarkable beauty and merely desire to bask in it for an eternity, but know this moment is fleeting, and soon he will dress and go home. The essence of that moment lingers on however fleeting it may have been, savoring it, reliving it, playing it over in my head as it dances through my thoughts for days to come.
Gilbert M: A Lust For Life
Today I wanted to write about a man to which I owe much of my creative life. His name was Gilbert Millikan, probably one of the greatest champions for arts in the state of Montana. Gilbert passed away in 2003 from brain tumor and I cannot let this year’s project pass without paying a tribute to him.
Gilbert was born, raised and spent the greatest portion of his life in Missoula. His father was a smart businessman who invested in properties and owned the original Bitterroot Market, which is now where the Bitterroot Flower Shop is located. Gilbert’s mother was involved in many social organizations throughout the valley so Gilbert inherited the best of both those worlds. He is probably the kindest, most generous man I have ever known. He was somewhat of a philanthropist toward the creative process, the creation of art, and artists of all sorts. There were two sides to Gilbert, one his outgoing social butterfly, and the very reclusive man who often chose to remain hidden. He lived in an old Victorian Mansion, with his two little yappy dogs Sunny and Happy. He was passionate about gardening and developed the grounds of his Victorian Estate into the most extraordinary gardens. This is how I sort of got to know Gilbert. I was a student in college and rented an old carriage house on the property that had been converted into a self-contained guesthouse. I would occasionally help him with the upkeep and planting of those gardens. Movies were another passion we both shared and every Saturday afternoon we would go off to see whatever was new. His passion for movies so astonishing that he bought a video rental business that he grew to become one of the biggest and best in town outlasting any franchise that would dare enter our small community.
Probably the deepest level Gilbert and I bonded was that we were both gay. Though he was much older then I was, he was fascinated by how open I was and how the culture around us was becoming more open and the world seemingly more tolerant. The reclusive side of Gilbert’s stemmed from a certain amount of shame he felt from being gay and the difficulty he was having with his own acceptance of his sexuality. He had a long time partner, but they had become estranged and lived in separate houses in the same block. Anyone who would meet Gilbert would instantly recognize he was gay, as much as he tired to conceal it. I worked off and on for Gilbert for many years whenever I was in town, eventually becoming his personal assistant until his untimely death. I nursed him through his final months as he struggled with the tumor taking command of his life. Upon his passing, he endowed everything he had owned, properties, massive art collections, and estate to four arts charities in the state of Montana, which were considerably under funded at the time.
All those years with Gilbert I learned to face a lot of my own fears and anxieties. Gilbert had instilled in me a passion for what was beautiful and that all creation comes from the soul weather you are photographing, gardening, or cooking. He was a man of amazing means that lead a humble life. Everything was done and approached with as much enthusiasm one could muster with no expectation of an end result. Though he was not an artist himself, he was fearless in his approach for cultivating other artists and brought humanity to the creative process and instilled a passion for others to create. He became a great patron for many artists in the region, filling his house with the works of others. He believed in me when I couldn’t see it within myself. He believed that we had to earn everything, and didn’t hand it to me, but always created an exchange. The honor of artistry was something that had to be earned, like any other business and that anything was possible with a lot of hard work. This instilled an ethic in me for my own creation that seems to drive my passion deeper.
My dear friend, though it has been many years since your passing I wish you could see the seeds you have laid in my heart for what I have become this year. You would ever be so proud of what I have been able to accomplish. The best of everything you ever were I now carry forward. I have now become that artist you had always believed in as a young man. My compassion, honestly, lust for life, and ability to see into the humanity of others I owe to you. Thank you for the gift of such a precious life.
