The layout of this updated Exhibition Model emphasizes the Composition and the stark Symmetry my art journey arrived at. Viewers will start in the foreground and continue to the mature drawing style on the back wall, walking in the shoes of the artist as the journey unfolded, and seeing how the central nuclear symmetry connects past and future. The journey seemed to follow a compositional imperative to progress in a way that completed the center where opposites were resolved in a metaphorical union. The exhibition will show how a later stage of the journey becomes the "missing link" in the completion of the journey's composition, over a decade after the journey began. 

The left wall of the model highlights with figurative works a "story board" of the journey. The right side has certain "artifacts" from the journey, as a pay stub from the factory covered with drawings, burnt drawings from a vandalism, and early works drawn on scrap wood from the factory (that was before mounting a drawing board next to my work station), Etc. My first drawing board was completely destroyed as per new management. But my second, smaller (more discrete) drawing board was salvaged. The hole to the upper left held the paper or plastic ketchup container from Hardee's I filled with coffee to create the blue wash drawings. This artifact will be in the exhibition.

From a bird's eye view, you can see the layout of my journey's composition. It starts to the right and ends on the wall to the left. The  layout chronicles the unfolding of an art journey that traveled to the depths of the creative process itself. While working on the assembly line, I literally went back to the drawing board,  starting from scratch, learning the elements of LINE, SHAPE, and TONE,  and later TEXTURE, Etc., and even TIME, in a gradual, process that culminated years later (after leaving the factory) in a fast-paced drawing style (where the journey ends on the left wall of the model). My pen cuts through paper like a chop saw through wood,  audibly recalling the sound of the mill - a unique and connective reference to the factory days where the style originated. So, yeah, I guess you can add SOUND to the above elements. 

The 2 symbols I evolved through drawing to there dynamic conclusion to the far right (journey's early stage) were later united in the center via a series of figurative union. For the sake of brevity, I have represented series as selected individual pieces from the series. Thus, each piece from the series will have slight variations, some more than others.

The triangle of the diagram connects the revelation hieroglyph discovered in a book (positioned at the right of the model) to a drawing created years later at the left, which contains the eto contains the hieroglyph, in a dynamically transformed state. In other words, the element of time has been infused with the otherwise static ancient symbol. The middle part section of the model breaks the hieroglyph into halves, the right side was the initially unknown symbol I evolved via the play of opposites with the known feminine form - these represent the primal opposites. The left part of the hieroglyph is one of the 4 parts that compose the 4-part composition that merges in the middle as the union of opposites. The feminine form is broken into a posterior and anterior. But these also represent a time element - a going and a coming. It was like 10 years after the backside posterior feminine form was united with the front-facing anterior form (this series also ushered in the COLOR stage of the journey). Now, I know a lot of this can be confusing, but it is enlightening, informative, and delves deep into the atomic nature of art. I didn't draw my heart out on the factory floor because I was guaranteed a fortune - I didn't sell a single original work from this journey - I persevered because I believed in the power of art - I believed in art's magic to transform lives. I took the leap and struggled to swim in the vast sea of the dark unknown. My pen was my life preserver.

Beginning the art journey on the assembly-line required a severe narrowing of subject matter. Essentially, I was accompanying my abstract output with a figurative commentary. Initially, I was creating abstract sketches I planned on bring to life when I got a studio. But the studio didn't happen. Early works were explorations of abstract loops and  of figurative works, many expressing a boxed in figure struggling to be free - an apt metaphor for the situation. To adapt to the assembly-line, I narrowed the figurative to a feminine form (the backside, as there was no time to do the front with facial features and such), and the abstract was reduced to a 2-looped symbol. 

Note: The bundles of drawing below the drawing board represents where I stored my works on the factory floor. When management changed hands, changes happened so quick - the forklift slid the green dumpster into the door plant and suddenly my drawing board was being beat to pieces with hammers and my bundled drawings tossed to dumpster. I dived in after them and saved  them, of course.

I drew the 2 shapes in dynamic interplay, this one so many times, then the other one, building my strokes up. The shapes were broken down into a series of strokes and repreated over and over.

Problem: How to show the evolution of the 2 shapes as they developed on the assembly-line.

Solution: Open the back of the drawing board to allow the 2 symbols to progress on a factory style conveyor belt or roller structure. This "factorizes" the process of the drawing while presenting the evolution of the works.   

The 2 symbols had reached their dynamic conclusion, and I was stuck. Here the 2 stacks of drawings reveal the sheer number of drawings that I was repeating, while supporting the assembly-line.   

Problem: How to represent that I was stuck and the vast quanity of drawings that were repeated.

Solution: Create 2 stacks, one for each of the symbols, that simultaneously serves as a support for the conveyor belt. Each stack is to correspond to the drawing directly on top (the repeated drawing). By looping the conveyor belt into gear shapes, with the drawings on top of the accumulated stacks turning into itsef, the impression of a "jammed" gear is achieved. Thus, the stuck state is expressed.

Perhaps the lowest point in my art journey was that of being stuck drawing the same 2 symbols over and over when they had reached their dynamic finish line.  I was facing a dilemma: if I stopped drawing the dynamic pair, my jourmey's momentum may be lost; if I continued, I was merely repeating myself. It seemed there was no way out - I was stuck. 

I had resisted seeking the meaning of this unknown symbol until it felt right. One day after work, I went to the bookstore, and as if being led, I went straight to the rack harboring the book that I thereupon cracked right to the hieroglyph that gave me the assurance that I was on the right path. The hieroglyph revealed that the unknown abstract symbol I was drawing with the feminine form, had a masculine meaning, indicating that I was engaged in the play of opposites. It was a game-changing revelation. 

Problem: How to express the revelatory event of discovering the meaning of the numinous symbol.

Solution: Open a book and hover above it the revelation symbol with exclamation strokes around it.

What can carry you beyond your fear of failure? The same thing that eradicates the other obstacles in your way - unwavering belief in your goals. That they are beneficial to our fellow humanity, makes believing in them easier and worthy of support. This 2-pc prop juxtaposition from my exhibition model allows viewers to come face to face with an embodiment of fear - something threatening to our progression. Focusing on the paper sword,  it appears useless against the giant figure before you. But, your mind can level the playing field. Imagination can win the battle. 

Problem: How to project the experience of coming face to face with archetypal fear to the viewer while paying homage to archetypal heroism. 

Solution: Structure a 3-D giant with a large sword towering over a relatively smaller paper sword encased as an ancient artifact.   

This was the center of my journey's composition, whereby opposite elements were united, and the center of the composition is a figurative embrace - love is the center.  Although the front-facing completion of the posterior forms would not emerge until approx. 10 years later. Wow, talk about hanging in there.  On opening nights for these exhibitions, I will feature a human couple embracing and going through the aesthetic motions of selected drawings.               

It's been said that tribulations tend to happen in 3's. Well it happened along this journey. My factory drawing board was destroyed and my bundled drawings tossed to the dumpster - represented here as the scrap wood in the innermost semi-circle below post. After a drawing session at McDonald's, I was physically assaulted by a gang (probably the Bloods or Crips as they are known to inhabit parts of my hometown). Systematic in their ritual, they timed 3 cars to lock me in a circle and disoriented me with their high beams. They then shut their lights off and emerged from the vehicles,  attacking from every angle.  I collasped to the ground from the many punches, then they continued kicking me. I recall laying on the pavement, bloody (the 3 ketchup packs on the 3-D prop reference this), watching with blurry eyes as the gang put the finishing touches on their mission -grinding my drawings from that nights session into the pavement with their sneakers. I finally got up and limped to the McD's drive thru window, but the staff was closing up. The 3rd incident of tragedy was discovering that the trailer my drawings were stored in was vandalized - my drawings were burned (see drawings on the outer synthetic grass semi-circle), doused with house paint and varnish, and even stuffed in the broken toilet. The windows were broken out and destroyed drawings were spread outside the traiker. So here you have the artist, his drawing board, and his drawings, all destroyed, almost. I arose from the ashes and mounted a smaller drawing board on the factory floor and tore my paper in half to adapt to the more discrete drawing surface. I continued my fight on ripped paper and in between assembling doors on the line. The ripped drawings springing from the small drawing board pay homage to the Phoenix rising from the ashes, and of special note is the fact that my 1st significant juried art show winning was sponsored by Phoenix Galleries in Soho.

I knew that technically, drawing in the factory was pushing my luck, but I did my job and pulled overtime when they needed me. The fact was I couldn't stop this journey once it started. But how could I even attempt to explain that? Who would understand that I was living my own personal myth - I was following something that animated my very existance and could not stop this quest.  When new management took over and my drawing board was destroyed, I had to resurrect another one - albeit much smaller and discrete. I played it off as a perch to sit my coffee on. To further disquise my drawing board, I made it a flip-top, so that it dropped flush with the post it was mounted to, when not in use. I tore my paper - often old companty invoices - in half to adapt. Every ripped drawing from this period is a testament to an artist's will to not give up, even if the very elements of space and time were restricted.

Without going into detail, suffice it to saw, there are many things in life that can take its toil on art-making. Car problems alone can  deplete an artist's funds for materials, for example. My work had survived the commotion of the factory, the trash, vandalism, and the lack of support. But, the worst threat comes from the artist him or herself - that of giving up, of letting the dream fade away and die. Whatever it is, it is your art and it is something you fell passionately about, something you believe in (otherwise you wouldn't have dedicated so much time and effort to it). Why would you stop doing what brought your life so much meaning?  Everything seemed to indicate my journey was over. It wasn't that I has not sold any originals from the journey. I could deal with that because I was used to surviving on a day job. The problem was there were probably a thousand drawings that expressed one thing in common - I was not progressing - I was stuck. And each additional drawing was just a reminder of that fact. What drove me to pick that pen up again, knowing this? How many times could I repeat to myself, "The world is your oyster," when my best efforts were yielding no results? It can start to get to you when you are essentially the only fan of your art. I had experienced a beautiful journey and yet I felt something was missing - it was incomplete. My work was boxed up and put in storage. Yet the inspiration to keep going was in the works themselves. And if they were hidden from sight, they couldn't influence you so well. My works were constantly moved around, but from time to time, I'd pull one from a box and I could see the value of spirit and soul, and how rich it is compared to creating art devoid of those things. You have a voice out there that is uniquely yours and no one can perform it better than you. And when you begin to see how your work relates to earlier pieces, you can begin to see this wonderful composition. Art can be a lonely experience, but consider the opposite end of the spectrum where you have too many distractions to focus on your art.

 This 3-D prop from my exhibition model is the "deceased body of work" stage where your work is shelved or gradually relegated to a place further and further from the forground of your focus. So many factors can accumulate that your art becomes a broken dream. It's not usually something that happens overnight. You slide into a comfort zone that has slowly lured you from your goals. And the mini comeback attempts give just a moment of hope before they dissolve completely. That surrender is like a stop animation film 20 years in the making, hardly noticed when it reaches it last frame. The "Still doing art?" lines from those that once saw a brief shimmer of your passion, are replaced by "How's it going?," and other general lines. You yearn for the old lines but know that repeated responses like "Been too busy lately," or "A little bit," etc., has indicated a weakening of your passion for art. What can I do to address this drying up of earlier dreams, and perhaps provide a little inspiration? If I show this beautiful composition that a journey in art forges, could some be encouraged to believe that there is breath still in what they thought was deceased in their life. Can they not see how much potential exists in them, still? Will they not rise from this poverty of spirit that has rendered their lives so bland and unexciting?  

Problem: How to represent the death (or in my case, the near-death) of an artist's journey or oeuvre. 

Solution: I placed copies of my drawings in a transparent display case  shaped like a coffin, and opened the end to play off of the "viewing" aspect, which works well with art as well. It paints a solemn moment of seeing your art scattered like this without any order, especially irrelevant to presenting an art journey that requires a sequential arrangement.  

Years went by and it seemed every drawing I did was just a reminder of a dead end. I couldn't progress. I was stuck...for years. But my mind could not believe my journey was over. It was just too much beauty in it to forsake it. I couldn't let it die. Art was the best I had to offer and this journey would have nothing to say - it would inspire no one, if I gave it up. So, I continued to draw these rip drawings or pen katas, as I call them. And I was starting to at least get into a few group shows.   

I had been drawing at fast-food restaurants again, and Color finally emerged, in the form of fashion drawings. But these were not merely fashion drawings - they were something much more important and relevant to my journey - they were the front-facing completion of the posterior forms begun over 10 years earlier. This would be akin to the stage in alchemy called the "peacock's tail" whereby color arises in the container heralding the coming of the great work. Now, the center nucleus of my journey's composition was complete - the opposites were completed and united in a metaphorical center. 

These color works were of a series like other stages I progressed through. The one in the middle is shown moved from its horizontal spread to complete the center 4-pc composition of opposites united in a nucleus. The broken black line represents compositional motion.  

The reward for perseverance is to have gained a voice that is your own, that is you to the core, and that no one can do it better because they can't be you. You are you and no one else. And if your work is you, then you have tapped the gold.  All the riches and prizes pale in the presence of your hard earned trophy. You have discovered that life current that flows from a well that will never run dry. 

Should you find your voice, you will gain an understanding and perception that will allow you to see things you never saw before. You will be operating from your creative center, and your work will be powerful. Others may fail to see it, but it is your responsibility to make it communicable - don't give up, the world will be a better place if you don't.

With this drawing, a hard knocks drawing style originated on the factory floor was crowned with academic achievement - it "graduated" with kudos with the director of Harvard Art Museums selecting it for the Outstanding Drawing Prize in a national juried show - after a 20 year upward battle. Additionally, hidden in its composition  was the ever present and helpful hieroglyph that emerged as a revelation nearly 20 years back from its creation. It's 4 loops with 2 open ends is dynamically transformed in this drawing, "Dock with Rope." If one but looks for the magic in their art journey, it will shine through the haze.     

This diagram serves as a key to understand the various stages that the journey is comprised of, starting at #1 stage and ending at #11 on the wall to the left. If all the props were put on the model, it would hide the over-all structure of the layout. Therefore, I just put numbers where the stages of the journey occur. The layout is not set in stone and in fact, I will do variations on this model, adapting it to the floor plans of the various hosting museums and galleries. I will eventually work with curators to formalize the details of exhibiting this universal journey in their unique space.