There is No Art Without Feeling!

“Stories are not complicated. They are, in fact, deceptively simple. But like anything simple, they are difficult to create.”
― Brian McDonald

It’s time I tell my story, in as much detail as I can tell. It’s time to get vulnerable and tell my audience, my friends and followers, exactly why I do the art and make the things that I do.

As a child, I would draw, on everything, sketchpads, walls as most children do. I even remember painting my brother’s face. I drew superman because he was my Jesus. I drew Batman because he was a deity of warning, of what I could become if I let my darker feelings become my only gear. Even as a kid I knew this. I drew and drew and painted and drew. Imagining exactly what life with a pencil and paintbrush perpetually in my back pocket would look like. Fantasising about becoming my generation’s Andy Warhol. 

When I was 19 I met a girl. Nay, I met a force of nature. She was a true mountain mover, or at least I felt so. When she first walked past me I felt it. I saw her halo, it was painted black with soot and dirt, from years of turmoil. I could still smell the smoke. I still saw her halo though. I felt it. I heard it sing to me. She was a true entity of grace. I wasn’t ready for her. The world wasn’t ready for her. She was my Cinderella. The irony though, I was the beast. At this point in my life, I had let go of drawing for a minute, I was nothing more than a glorified doodler. My art was hip hop and poetry, I used my limited understanding of the English language to communicate my feelings. Amongst an art form that was simply culturally inappropriate as it pertained to my position in the world. I needed visual art at this point and just ignored it. So I dated this girl for the better part of six months, on an off as damaged and fragile children do. She had trust issues and they rubbed off on me. Men were not kind to her and she did not know what to do with one that truly cared for her. In saying that I simply did not know how to appreciate, the fact that she was a force of nature. We did not love one another the way we both deserved because we were simply two people who were drowning. I needed art and instead wrote in journal after journal a series of whingy and whiney “rhymes” about how I needed her and her love. I was selfish. I did not do my emotions justice. I was like a two-year-old throwing my toys because I felt emotions far more mature than my comprehension.

This relationship affected my decisions and self-worth for the coming years. I continued to pursue writing in all kinds of forms and as I grew I realised I wanted to draw, I couldn’t ignore it’s siren calls anymore. My sketchbook was beckoning from a box in my cupboard and at the tender age of 21, I began to draw again. One day I was talking to my mother and I had said to her, 

“One day I’d like to write a book”.

She paused as if she were not sure how to answer that statement.

“Why not now?” 

She replied much to my surprise.

I was so shocked I can’t even remember if I answered her. That was the day I began writing Serenade. A painter/musician by day and a vigilante mercenary at night. Putting it short, Serenade may have saved my creativity. A story of heartbreak and loss, I drew Serenade as I wrote it. It was one of the most honest things that I have ever made. It doesn’t hold up now, it’s simply not structurally sound nor does it make all that much sense. However, I had proven myself capable of something I had thought only those like Stan Lee and Jack Kirby were capable of. I had left part of my soul on those pages, etched into the ink. Perhaps one day I may return to have another more informed and rebooted crack at Serenade. However, this was only the beginning.

I have dabbled in many other stories and comic endeavours since, including an array of characters like a samurai octopus man and a group of anarchists who live in a post-apocalyptic sci-fi world, however, I realise now that I never really finished any of them because I wasn’t really saying anything that was honest. I wasn’t compelled to complete anything because I had no real connection to the stories. I just had cool characters that I wanted to bring to life with no regard for what I wanted to say with them. I had no more stories because frankly I was only 23 and I hadn’t seen much beyond that first love. So I continued to draw and I drew and I drew and I drew. 

I fell in love again and met the women who would become my greatest love, my Irish queen, my fiancé and the mother of my two children. She inspired me to write and draw and even get back into my poetry. I began in the fan art realm and made poster after poster, product after product, to subsidise my income, yet still no true art. No art that I can honestly say was worthy of being shared. I mean I was in love again and this time it lasted. This time I had someone who was not perfect but who complimented me as a person. I even had a daughter and nothing. I mean I felt the yearning to create something true but I just kept drawing Batman.

In this time I suffered trauma from an incident that happened at my then workplace, about a month before my daughter was born. It was not an easy time but I still kept drawing Batman. Now I know that at this time I was simply keeping myself entertained, or rather distracted. I was processing. I was not capable of sharing my truth.

Leap to 2020, the year begins and we are all optimistic this is our year. I was ready for the best year of my career. Bush fires were raging through the New South Wales inland. We were living in a little granny flat at the time and couldn’t take my daughter out to a playground for fear of smoke inhalation. The sky was black and the sun red. We were living in what looked like a scene out of Reign Of Fire. We were already suffering and COVID-19 hadn’t even hit yet. However, at this time I did my first two pieces of art that I was proud to say were mine and truthful. I had created a character named The Sandgirl based on my daughter after seeing her play with sand and throwing it over her head, I was inspired to make true art. The other was the aptly named Fireman, to support the Royal fire Services of Australia. I only sold the one I think, because I had not earned my audience's trust, I believe that was because my work was not sincere or truthful.

Then Covid hit us like a ton of bricks and I lost my steady paycheck/day job and I became a stay at home dad. What a task that was. This was when I started feeling, writing, journaling, allowing my honest and deepest of emotions to be felt. Suffering through another trauma but this time we were not alone, we all suffered through it together as a species, as a planet.

This brings us to today. 

Here we are the crux of the story. 2020 happened, I kept drawing a little bit of fan art through last year but now, I am far more in touch with my feelings, my pain, my triumphs and I believe it’s because I had time to think and process them. I have had time to work on me internally. I have finally had time to work on getting rid of the fearful part of me. The parts of me that was holding me back artistically and personally. I know now my emotions want to be felt and that's why I paint, that’s why I draw, that's why I write, that is why I create. It is an expression and deep down I have always known that is why I have been drawn to art my entire life, as a means to express my deepest and most intense of feelings. My fears and my struggles. The things that make me feel insane. The wildest of thoughts and the deepest of loves. 

Art helps with the pain, art helps with the remains. When the dust and ash have settled and the tears have dried, that’s where art steps in. When the cracks in the heart start to scar over and the beating begins again, that’s when art steps in. When the coffee is cold and the hangover subsides, that’s when art steps in. When the painkillers kick in and you can finally walk again, that’s when art steps in. You see that halo we all possess, that hangs over our bedpost every morning. When we strap it on and begin to express ourselves, it shines. It will shine brighter than we could ever imagine. It doesn’t take much more than slapping a paint-covered brush over a canvas. That Halo will shine at its brightest, no matter who you are. Art is the only form of expression that matters. The only form that will cause your halo to shine as bright as it is capable of. Some call it “the zone”, phycologists call it “flow state”. I suppose that is what it is. A zone that we disappear into. I believe when we are in this state, we are tapping into our humanity and that’s why it feels so right. It is an alignment of the true self with the universe. It is the removal of the masks we wear. The closest feeling I can describe is the honeymoon phase of love. It’s that first right kiss every time you step into the practice. You see when you turn up to create, the truth about you will be revealed, don’t run form it. As scary as that may sound, I assure you, my dear reader, that it is beautiful. Art is the truth, because it helps you to feel everything you need to, it helps you to grow into the person you are, the person you want to be and the person you are meant to be. Art is the gateway to feeling and when you deny it and yourself that honesty when you deny yourself to feel, you cease to exist. Your soul becomes lost and that is exactly why there is no art without feeling and why we as artists must be honest in all of our work because not only will our audience know we are not being truthful, but so will the universe. So make art that is honest, make art that is real and truthful and do not be afraid to bleed. To cry. To feel. The truest and greatest of art is created when we leave parts of our souls in the art, so that it may live on beyond us.  

I Challenge You:

Write your story. Write a story that can help people. Help others to survive.

As always ladies and gentlemen, Happy new year and don’t forget,

Stay Weird 

Written and edited by Jordan Morpeth

© Jordan Morpeth 2021