Starting from humble origins in a Mission District garage in 1983, Creativity Explored celebrates 40 years of supporting artists with developmental disabilities in San Francisco.
Creativity Explored was founded by Florence and Elias Katz, an artist and a psychologist duo who believed that art is essential to life. Throughout our history, we’ve facilitated the art careers of hundreds of disabled artists — and changed the art world along the way. Our artists have seen their work exhibited in museums, galleries, and art fairs in over 14 countries and have earned over $2.2 million from their art. Our San Francisco studios are the center of a thriving creative community where all are welcome.
Vanity Searching—Discovered Creativity Explored
Years ago, I bought the rights to ArtChangesLives.com for my blog. That was about 18 years ago; I was still in grad school. As I began to post my entries, I did some vanity searching and found that Creativity Explored holds the number one rank for Art Changes Lives, and they were located in San Francisco.
The next time I visited San Francisco, I made a point of visiting their studios. It was abuzz with activity and artists working in all sorts of media. I visited with a few of the artists, and they shared their work with me—genuinely excellent and original work. So, I want to recognize this organization for its work.
Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye… it also includes the inner pictures of the soul. — Edvard Munch (Virtual Art Academy)
A few days ago, I visited the Contemporary Museum of Los Angeles (MOCA) and saw and enjoyed Henry Taylor Side B show. The exhibition was a retrospective of Henry Taylor’s work—primarily portraits. The work, The Screaming Head, 1999, stopped me. Similar to Edvard Munch’s work The Scream, where I felt fear, panic, and anxiety down in my soul. Taylor’s screaming head, I got the absolute frustration and angst the artist must have experienced as a black man.
In order to experience a poem, we must understand it; in order to understand it; we must hear it, see it, contemplate it—convert it into an echo, a shadow, nothingness. Comprehension is a spiritual exercise.
Octavio Paz, Alternating Current, p. 49
I don’t think I am creating anything as profound as Paz describes, but as I said many times in this blog—I am on a path, which is not totally visible to me. I get glimpses, but never too sure what I see. I do want to say that just because I post works of art, I do not think they are grand, that the technique is refined, or the lines sure and sharp. I know they are not. However, as I do and study my ideas, my voice and path will clarify. There is one thing I want readers and friends to know, and that is that I believe in a power greater than ourselves, and there is a piece, a bit, of that power, that Light within each of us. I don’t know if I am a theist, non-theist, pantheist, or panentheist. Whatever I am, I seek to reach, connect, and engage with that Light that exists within me… and you. I am saying this partly because I have avoided saying it in the public eye of art critics and peers. OH MY GOD! I just came out again. 😆
This article came to me through a friend on LinkedIn that I respect very much, Chris Zuege. The article is by Robert Rose. Chris posts on LinkedIn often, and I always find his posts enlightening. This resonated with me because the work I do is very off the cuff. I often wonder as I am working and when it is done. Am I the tool or the creator? For me, this quote and article gave me an answer. I am the tool, and what I create was loved before it existed.
I know it has been quite a while since I posted to this blog. The truth is that I was off learning. I studied color… read philosophy… learned more about 3D digital art. I will be posting more regularly again.
Today’s post was important to me. First, to wish everyone a great holiday and an even more fabulous new year and then share my last drawing of 2021. Its title is Tumult. It fits for 2021.
The drawing wants to draw what is invisible to the naked eye.It’s very difficult.The effort to write is always beyond my strength. What you see here, these lines, these strokes, are rungs on the ladder of writing, the steps which I have cut with my fingernails in my own wall, in order to hoist myself up above and beyond myself.
Cixous, Hélène, and Catherine A. F. MacGillivray. “Without End No State of Drawingness No, Rather: The Executioner\’s Taking Off.” New Literary History, vol. 24, no. 1, 1993, pp. 91–103. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/469272
This drawing lingers for me. Not wanting to call itself done. Yet, even when I call it finished, it calls me back. A friend asked me what I was doing a few times when he called from New York, and I told him, “I am working on a drawing, and it won’t end.” He asked me, “How do you know when it is done… Don’t you stop?” Well, no. You don’t just stop. Some might say I should. I am moving on, but it sits on my desk. Done for the moment.