Choices, good and bad, are in the forefront of my mind these days. Graduation season, coupled with a most high profile national ‘sexting’ issue, has my thoughts turned toward the decisions we make in our lives. A foolish throwing of caution windward and failure to assess repercussions can mean irreparable damage to our future, or possibly something we’ll be forced to explain to our grandchildren when they want to follow suit.
Not all choices are life altering. Many among us wince upon reflection of our 1980’s kinky perm or wish we’d held off on that chile relleno burrito from El Sombrero. But such a lapse in judgment isn’t likely to get our name plastered on the cover of The New York Post. Many a student I’ve seen start the fall sporting a brand new tattoo with the name of a beloved, having to awkwardly admit they had already broken up. One student I know has profanity inked on his forearm. He is forced in our desert community to wear long sleeves or a large bandage each day. It isn’t easy to rock gauze as a fashion choice.
As an artist I’m often asked to design the tattoos of my students but I always refuse. Aside from a haunting fear that an angry mom will burst into the school office screaming “some substitute forced them to do it”, I do not approve of tattoos on the underage youth of America. It is always met with extreme disappointment when a teen realizes their ‘cool sub’ isn’t down with their desire to put an image of Hello Kitty smoking a doobie on their neck. Furthermore, they look like someone just shot their dog when I exclaim what you’re into at 15 is not going to mean a thing to you at 30. I don’t completely dislike tattoos in general and can be quite taken with the artistry of some. For myself however, I have a hard enough time committing to where I like to buy groceries, I know I could never emblazon myself with anything more than neutral shades of eye shadow.
There are other choices that are far more pivotal. One of the largest in my life came when a college I had recently transferred to realized not all my units could be accepted. It happened mid-semester and the school necessitated a certain number of units before you were able to enroll. I was unceremoniously bounced after spending $350 for books and unable to start elsewhere that semester. So I did what any 19 year old might do that has been suddenly bestowed with freedom, I moved to Hawaii. This decision meant it took me over 10 years to finish college and sent me on an academic odyssey through many of the southern California junior colleges. Ultimately I wound up performing quite well in school and graduating from a far better institution than the one that decided I was unfit to matriculate with them. To this day I reflect on my 6 month stay in the islands as one of the most adventuresome moves I ever made. Now, with an oversized truck full of possessions, I know there was a time I hopped on a plane with 3 boxes and a suitcase and that was everything I owned. Enough to fit into a shopping cart, a life void of tether, I was practically a hobo.
When a young celebrity falters I often feel a sense of internal relief that a camera was not present when I was in my twenties. Perhaps that is why I want to hope they will survive his or her youthful indiscretion. I am less sympathetic when they’ve made it into mid-life and still want to live a life lacking in consequences. When an elected leader does something causing a metaphorical nuclear bomb to go off in the offices of TMZ I am left to wonder how they are able to process oxygen with their head trapped in the curvature between one’s own rectum and colon. I like a lot of what Anthony Weiner and John Edwards advocated for in their political careers but I can’t help think the universe is scrambling to find them a revised path in life away from holding office.
This brings me to the two recent artworks I am including in this blog post. Both are about making a dangerous choice with a less than optimistic outlook. However, there are times we make a bad decision in our lives that might seem irrevocable, but could eventually be the catalyst that helps us find a more suitable and rewarding journey. We have made a personal choice when we choose in error. Learning from that choice, as opposed to denying our own complicity in failure, is additionally a decision to be made. As I embark on a somewhat radical move in my life, it is my hope that I will be guided by what I have learned from my own past nonfeasance. I’ve grown quite accustomed to the current positioning of my posterior as it relates to my cerebellum, with the help of my higher power, I’d like to keep it that way.
