People have been asking me; what’s up with the seagulls? Artists use motifs. We develop a visual iconography. This is how we distinguish ourselves from the rest. It’s difficult to figure out what you want to do. It usually starts with understanding what you want to say. Then you have to investigate if you really do know what you’re talking about. I think that the seagulls are ringing true at the moment. It seems like people are digging them. Every artist has a signature brand or multiple brands. Francis Bacon had screaming priests, Morandi had teacups, Warhol had Elvis, and Picasso had whores. Tasty Danish has seagulls (and pigeons). I’m a man of few birds… ha-ha.
My old friend and art teacher, Jack, asked me about my seagull motif at the beach. I was finishing up a beach workout, and ran into him during my ending rope session. He inquired about it, and wanted to understand where it was coming from.
I knew what it was about, but didn’t necessarily put specific verbiage to it. I work mostly intuitively. Jack asked me if it was a self-portrait. It always is. An artist, I should specify a good artist, leaves little separation between their work and themselves. It should be an intertwined endeavor. An artist draws from life and then breaks it down in their lexicon. So, the seagull is a self-portrait. It goes to a different level from there.
I lived in New York City for most of my 20’s. I moved as I was turning 30. The move was not an ideal plan. It was a decision that had to be made. I was bleeding funds, the Big Apple was getting bigger and I was getting smaller. I didn’t have the means to continue on in the urban hell that is that city. I likened the city to a raging bitch. She’s beautiful, glamorous, seductive, and will take you for everything you’re worth. You best let the city give that sweet sweet loving to the younger dopes.
The transition was rough. I was in a turbulent storm upon arriving homeward bound. I didn’t know where to find my sea legs. I was crippled by my ego. I was a shell of a man trying to piece together what the hell just happened. It was like the cosmos were squeezing tightly around my neck, and I couldn’t break free or tap.
I then found myself on the beach. I went there with the intention to workout, but I realized I came there for an answer. I was lifting and throwing a hefty stone. I’d chuck it as far as I could, and then go to pick it up again. Nobody was around. Nobody else was enjoying this godly landscape. I could hear the waves crashing, my breathing get heavy, and some seagulls squawking. I forgot about the anguish I had been suffering. My mind opened up to the moment. I was just a man on a beach heaving a rock. My past was of no consequence. My future was not now so I chose not to care. I let go, and embraced the now. I stood there as the waves crashed, and watched the seagulls. We were the same in that moment. I was no different. I was another animal, and there was nowhere else. We were all one thing.
The seagull became, in essence, a spirit animal. I looked at those stupid rats of the sea with reverence. I did not feel special. I did not feel less than. I felt the same as those animals in that moment and space in time. I let go of worldly things, and gave into the crashing waves of life. You can’t control the waves. You can ride them, and go along with the ups and downs. Once I surrendered to the chaos I found order. I knew this state of mind was always something I could tap into. So, I could always be like the seagull. That was enough to let me know that I could always find a way back from the depths. I also realized that nobody else was on the beach. It was a holy spot, and most people had no idea what they were missing. I became grateful, and adopted a grateful mindset. I had so much, and it wasn’t much. It was all I needed though. If it was good enough for the seagull then it was good enough for me.
The video above was filmed by my old friend and art teacher, Jack.