This year has been one full of perseverance and new challenges. I set the bar extremely high for myself in hopes that I would prove to myself that I can do so much more than I thought possible. But in past endeavors, I have found myself being one with a louder bark than bite. Meaning that when the going gets tough, I stop pushing. But I’m trying.
The Chair and Microphone series from Enter the Worship Circle are as unique as each artist that is featured. I was honored to be a part of the creative process for Volume 4. Working with Ben Pasley and Tim Coons (the featured musician) was a joy. I had a ton of creative freedom right from the start. Some of you may remember the initial concept I posted on dribbble. Well that came from listening to some of the rough mixes of Tim’s songs. I really felt a theme of surrender and water from Tim’s music. The story of Moses parting the Red Sea kept coming to mind.
Based on the past three chair and microphone albums I knew everything had to be done by hand. And that made me feel all tingly inside. If you didn’t know already, I’m a huge fan of the DIY/Hand-crafted style. So I started with some soft sketches on post-it notes and sketch books. After receiving feedback I moved into Illustrator and started my refining process. The whole project went pretty seamless and I’m very proud of how it all turned out.
Chair and Microphone, Vol. 1
Chair and Microphone, Vol. 2
Chair and Microphone, Vol. 3
I am happy to the max!
Pre-Order the new album The Suburbs straight off their website and you can download two songs for free.
While I was re-organizing my workspace today I found an old artist statement from a previous mentor of mine, James Michael Starr. I read it again and was reminded of why I’ve kept it all these years. I hope it speaks to you as much as it does to me.
What Makes Someone An Artist?
I could draw from a very early age. I remember, when I was about four, drawing a shield on the side of a cardboard box so that I could climb into a fantasy police cruiser and be Broderick Crawford on the 50’s television drama, Highway Patrol.
I also remember many of my first drawings were of revolvers. Apparently I watched a little too much tv.
As I grew up, everyone knew what I’d be. It was obvious. I could draw very well.
But, did that make me an artist?
When I was in high school, I entered the Draw Me contest to win a scholarship for an artist’s correspondence course. I didn’t win, but I took the course anyhow and paid for it with a paper route, throwing the Dallas Morning News. Evenings I sat in my room and did lessons in transparent wash, pen & ink, and charcoal pencil.
Was I an artist yet?
I was an art major in college, worked in an art store, and then started my career as an art director. At home I tried to paint, but couldn’t. I had nothing to say.
Twenty years passed. When I was 42, I looked back. On the eleven-year, childhood separation from my mother that even now cannot seem to be recovered. On my best friend who doused his car with gasoline and set himself on fire while I was away at college. On the failure of my sixteen-year marriage and the passing of youth’s warm sun. And on the rediscovery of a loving God who’d been there all along.
Now I had something to say. Now I was an artist.
Dallas critic, Jim Fowler, wrote, “Painters attempt to capture the world around them and color the image with a little bit of their insides; artists attempt to capture the world inside them using the images they see in the external world.”
What’s inside of you? What do you have to say?
- James Michael Starr
