Otro fragmento del video-diario. Memorias de mi niñez in Nicaragua.
It's been a very busy 2018 so far. I'm very proud to be supporting Surgeons of Hope in their efforts to bring children in Nicaragua life-saving heart surgeries. I'm finishing a new painting titled "Soul of Hope" which I will be donating for their upcoming fundraiser gala in NYC. All proceeds from the sale will go support their next surgical expedition in Nicaragua this March. I have also pledged to donate proceeds from sales of selected prints and artworks available via eBay Charity to the cause. I invite you to check them out and learn more about their mission to create a world in which every infant and child with a damaged heart has an equal opportunity to receive life-saving surgery. Fellow Artist: Please check out my latest installment of "Fellow Artists" at my blog. I talked with artist Laura Ricciardi about her thought-provoking body of work "Bedda Da Nanna" which deals with beauty, legacy and her maternal grandmother's struggle through dementia. Videolog en español: Bueno, el pueblo me lo pidió y aquí finalmente les va el primero. FDLM en español por medido de algo que yo llamo Fragmentos. Sera un video diario el cual tratare de hacer cada dos semanas. Este incluirá reflexiones en mi vida de artista y fragmentos de videos de mi arte y más. Espero les guste y me envíen sus comentarios. New series of works on paper: Floret 2018
Until next time. Thank you for staying in touch!
"Thank you madness,
I could not do it wihout you."
Long before I discovered the visual arts, I walked around with a pack of intrusive inner voices. I always understood that they were not a part of me, but implanted in my head by traumatic experiences in my life, as child. I didn’t know how to make them go away. Ignoring them and trying to run away from them, got me into a self-destructive path and almost got me killed a couple of times. No matter what I tried to do to make them shut up, they would always resurface. Eventually, therapy, meds and a diagnosis that explained quite a lot. But I may or may not talk about that later. Though finding counseling helped, it wasn’t till I was forced into the silence and solitude of an art studio that I began the scary task of facing them one by one. One day I began to ask myself - How do I know these voices are not just characters in a play, a short story, a poem, a song or painting? That’s when I began to listen to them. I invited them in, despite my fear of the outcome. Eventually I learned to trust them and employ them in my work. Some of them could be very abusive, beyond what you’ve imagined the inner critic to be like. I still listened and even put in practice some the things they told me I couldn’t do, or that I lacked. This approach ignited entire art series and made open to explore. The more I work, the better it gets. It gets quieter and to my surprise, some voices have even disappeared without saying goodbye; while new ones emerge. I find myself sharing this today to face one of them actually. The one that tells me “You got no story, you’re not a writer, you didn’t even go to college, you loser. You can’t spell and nobody’s going to read your crappy blog. You’re weak for sharing this shit.” As I began to write this entry, I created an image of this enraged character pacing behind me, while saying such things. He knows that I’m no longer listening, as I continue typing to expose him. He knows that I’m winning and now he’s fading into nothingness. Should he return I will be kind enough to beat him into a work of art.
He's always anxious of what you might think of him
The boy knows he never meets your expectations
So he hides instead, under your tone of voice
Despite fear of judgment and resentment, he comes back again -
just in time for your grandiose recital!
Pale he stares and listens, with modest dreams kept inside him
Never making a connection with your intermittent existence
© 2002 Franck de las Mercedes
Toda la divinidad te la robaste tú.
Toda esa belleza que a otros se ha negado.
Se tropieza hoy contigo un astro
jorobado, flacucho, débil, orejón y narizón.
Dadle algo de perfección, oh Cristo.
© 1999 Franck de las Mercedes
When I was in my 20s, art was just something I did as a pastime. As I look at what became an actual career, I couldn't have predicted all that I've done as an artist so far. I don’t even know how I've done most of it, to be honest. Even as an amateur back then, one thing eventually became clear to me: I had a gift, a point of view, something to say, and this was all worthy of sharing with the world. So I nurtured it, believed in it, affirmed it, improved it and protected it from naysayers. In my beginnings as an artist I discovered that when you know you got vision and move forward with it, the more you do with your dream the stronger resistance gets. Some may even try and throw stones in your path or grab you by the collar and try to bring you down to humiliate you. Those moments emerge to ask if your vision is still on track, or to make you see how much your dream and you have grown as a creative person. It also makes you so grateful for/towards the support of those who love you, accept you and believe in you. There's a verse I turn to, when fear, blocks, resistance or uncertainty arise. I find it as essential and vital now as I did then, when I had no clue what my vision would be or where the road would lead. It's from the book "The Courage to Create" by Rollo May: “If you do not express your own original ideas, if you do not listen to your own being, you will have betrayed yourself. Also, you will have betrayed your community in failing to make your contribution.” So no matter the times we live in, we must assert and bring forth our courage to create. Could it get any better? I believe so.
Bueno, el pueblo me lo pidió y aquí finalmente les va el primero. FDLM en español por medido de algo que yo llamo Fragmentos. Sera un video diario el cual tratare de hacer cada dos semanas. Este incluirá reflexiones en mi vida de artista y fragmentos de videos de mi arte y más. Espero les guste y me envíen sus comentarios.
Once upon a time, on a night of tender infancy my sleep was interrupted.
In silence, with eyes locked in my dreams, I first encountered betrayal.
From that moment on, I was cursed to sleepwalk through life in nightmare.
© 2000 Franck de las Mercedes