Life happens, the Mark Rivard blog.

I woke up last night thinking about painting.  I fell back asleep thinking about color and texture.  I woke up again thinking about frames.  I fell back asleep thinking about composition and mixture.  I come to my studio every single day and think about all the emails and invoices and thank you’s I need to shovel out like the driveway after a heavy snow fall.  It seems to snow every single day in my life, which, I am being a total bitch about because the idea that I have made it to a point in art where I have emails to respond too is a dream in itself.  But I ignore those obligations and I paint.  I don’t even paint the things that I am supposed to be painting, I have unfinished commissions lying around all over the studio.  I paint where my hand leads me, where my process is naturally taking me.  It started out with a well know story of a young man and common knee surgery, stack of old skateboards and a Sharpie.  That was the first “period” of art for me.  Last winter was all about stencils, this winter has fallen into a play on sculpture and Pollok’s free flowing paint style.  I have no idea where the progression comes from, I’m simply glad when it hits.

I stare down the barrel of very successful business idea’s every single day.  My phone just rang and it was someone TRYING to give me money and I ignored it.  I want to paint, and if I don’t paint while the iron is hot I fear it might not heat up again for a very long time.  I paint out of fear that tomorrow I might be diagnosed blind and then I won’t have anything to show for it.  It’s like a disease and the most prominent symptom is selfishness.  I spend my days alone and secluded, ignoring the phone, scanning past important emails, and certainly not giving time to family and relationships.  But I can’t sleep.  Images not yet created race through my mind poking at me like an unwanted IV, ringing loudly like the morning alarm clock.  When I go out I often get lost from the conversation of others and find myself staring into an empty beer glass wishing I could leave and go back to the studio.

Why are artist the most self destructive people?  Why do we ignore the clear path and trudge through the mud instead?  If someone offered me $10,000 to draw a skyline on a skateboard I would probably try to learn how to play the guitar instead.  Artists are stupid.

Sometimes the odds get stacked so high that you’d rather quit whatever your doing and try to keep up with the Kardashian’s instead. Fuck that. I have a terrible personal life, haven’t watched Sports Center in 9 months and can’t keep up with my laundry and the dishes piling up in my sink… Right now all I want to do is my laundry and dishes, but if you want do something extraordinary, something… that will never be won in a lottery, or handed down from a trust fund, you better drink that 5 hour energy, slam that Red Bull and get that fourth job… The American Dream will kick the shit out of you before it get’s good. Imagine crossing the Atlantic in wooden boat with warm beer. It could always be worse, keep on trucking… Even if your truck just broke down.

I live in a world full of very artistic, fresh, and beautiful moments. The people that occupy the these moments share all of those same qualities. Throughout the course of many relationships, past and present, I have been lucky to encounter these tiny little moments where everything seems to be aligned. Humans interacting in beautiful ways stripped of all material distractions creating art. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully grasp the power of a relationship, I’m too afraid of that emotion. But at the very least I appreciate the gorgeous moments that can be encountered. A person is lucky to have loved and been loved even once in their life. Things are constantly changing, it’s the appreciation of the beautiful moments that I look back on for inspiration.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful moments… Let’s keep’em coming….

“Let Go”

It’ hard to recognize art that is physical, art that is created through ones movements and environments. Art that only the creator sees and feels. The best art ever created would be considered by many to be sport or hobby. Those are the same people that have never found purity in a moment or in a movement. You don’t truly realize how important these moments are until they are gone. As surfing is to painting, as skating is to photography, and as hiking is to writing. The mediums can be endless… Unless in the moment the art can only be remembered or imagined. It’s the kind of art that can never be recreated or put on display, it will only happen once and once only. In most cases it will only be recognized by the artist themselves. It starts as an interest, then slowly becomes a passion, then grows into a lifestyle… Then like any progression as the paint dries and the ink runs out, the body fails. Like writers block or a broken camera the art weakens. All you’re left with are the memories of the moments that brought you happiness. You’ll never forget… You can’t. You’ll never forget the way the Earth looked moving past you. The first time you let go and gave into gravity. It changes a person. You begin to realize where you really are. How simple this life really is. We’ve got made… Just look up and jump!

Mark Rivard

Envy,

Have you ever seen the MTV show The Hills?  Or maybe the east coast version, Jersey Shore?  I do not envy those people.  What they have that some might interpret as a positive is a facade.  In the Middle East some people believe that if you have something of value, be it material or intangible,  others will want it.  If you’ve ever been there you’ve seen the “Evil Eye”, the amulet, the blue eye.  They believe that this eye will ward off envy.  Nazars are charms that the Turkish sell in bazaars, they are the same thing, a blue eye.  I have blue eyes…  Wait, SHIT, I still have envy!  This isn’t working.

To be envious.  I have always been.  I have always looked to certain people in certain professions or with certain talents and wondered how great it must be to have that life, all that money.  Envious of someones wife or girlfriend, or perhaps envious someone whom is single.  the entire notion of Envy being a sin seems completely unbelievable to me.  How would someone ever live their life free of envy?

Just today I found myself envious of, myself.  As I sat in my studio trying to paint feeling frustrated with the the lack of quality art I was producing I looked at some of my older pieces and wondered how the hell I was ever able to create them.  On this day I hardly consider myself an artist.  Envious of my past self.  Sometimes I am envious of children.  Sometimes the elderly.  I even find myself being envious of the lesser fortunate.  Have you ever looked at someone who lives a modest life out in the woods, free of bills and obligations and wished that just for five minutes you could experience that kind of freedom?

So where lies the problem with envy?  As far as I can tell, and certainly in my experience, envy has been mostly a tool of pure motivation.  It is suggested that envy be negative in the light that it means you are wishing someone else ill because of something that they may have acquired that you lack.  Brad Pitt is married to Angelina Jolie, but that doesn’t mean I want him to die. I would however steal her so fucking fast given the chance.  Sorry Brad, but that chick is beautiful.  I see envy as an amazing tool.  I, for one, truly hope I never see a day that I don’t envy something.  It drives me to continue my push to live a better life.  In fact if you don’t believe in the power of envy I would encourage you take a long look at whether your going to leave the world a better place or just simply leave.  To not envy is to not care.  I want to give a damn.

Envy, if your a sin, I’m a true 100% sinner.

It’s been quite a long gap in posts here and for that I apologize!  I’m still in the figuring this website out phase and I just noticed that people have been commenting really incredibly nice things in response to some of my older post, encouraging and inspiring me to continue!  It is no secret that I have a career in visual arts but it may come as a surprise to learn that writing is without a doubt my favorite medium.  I spend too much time ignoring it and that has to stop.  Moving forward I’m going to finish the Seven Deadly Sins posts and make a huge effort to keep Life Happens current and interesting.  I recently turned thirty and my life in the last year has been an unbelievable roller coaster providing an underlying education most people will never understand, including myself.  I’m going to stay true to the mission statement of my original post while trying to translate what it takes to make something of yourself out of nothing.  Blood, sweet, tears, laughs, fears, financial up’s and downs, and the ever elusive success…  We all dream of being something, we all vision ourselves in different places in life, I’m going to figure out what it’s actually like to get there….  I think you should probably give it a shot too.  30 years on this rock went way faster than I expected, time to pick up the pace!

Life Happens fast…

Erik,

One year man, one year…  Some days are better than others.  Today not so much, but I have seen some okay days since you’ve been gone.  The funny thing is that I feel almost guilty just saying that.  Like as if I should live the rest of my life depressed because you did what you did.  I guess on some levels I’m still mad at you.  I’m working on that dude, I bet it’s safe to say we all are.  I’ve been thinking about this day for awhile, which I find kind of weird in it’s own right…  Thinking about the one year anniversary of the day you died.  What’s the significant reason here?  It doesn’t change anything.  All I can come up with is a relation to a night I had with you last year about two weeks before you went.  Remember when You, Ojard, and I went to Park Ave Pub that one night and it was empty?  Just the three of us sitting at the bar bullshitting.  I had just broken up with Bo and was super depressed.  God, man, that night you gave me some advice, I don’t know if you remember, but you asked me, “Do you love her?”.  I said yes and you said, “Then go tell her, I’ll take to her house right now.”.  Thankfully, in hind-sight, we didn’t go seek her out that night, but what really stuck out to me was the advice you gave.  Most people had told me forget about it and move on.  Not you Erik, you wanted to take me on some crazy romantic, climatic, get-your-girl-back kind of a trip that was straight out of the movies!  Remember that Erik?  Fuck I do, you know why?  Because that was something only you would have done for me.  That night was something else, that night was the last night you and I talked one on one, bro to bro.  Little did I know at the time you had your own demons that must have been far stronger than mine running through you.  I think about that more than I’ve ever told anybody dude.  The advice you were giving me went both ways.  You needed those kind of words from a friend more than I could ever have imagined and I didn’t see it!!!!!  FOR THAT I AM SORRY, GODDAMN IT ERIK IF I HAD ONLY KNOWN I WOULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING I COULD!!!  It fucks with my head all the time to think about how when you were really down you never told me what was bothering you, you just told me how important we were to each other.  How important, especially, Nate was to you.  We were family.  The kind of family that not even a blood line could understand.   It was even apparent to others occasionally.  One night we were standing on the steps of Liquid Lounge having a real serious conversation about something and someone came up to us for some high fives and hello’s and you just kept your hands down and told them to move along, they were interrupting.  Remember that conversation?  I do.  We hugged.  It was an important one.  I’ll never forget it.

That night at Park Ave Pub we did some “Hood” shots… Man, it’s funny cause Ojard still does those all the time!  He does Hoods every time some ladies are around just to get a reaction!  You’d be proud of that Erik.  Ojard misses you man.  On New Years this year we both did a Hood in your honor, we talked a lot about you that night, in fact, we talk a lot about you every time we get some booze in us together.  He and I need to see each other more, it sucks actually, you’d be disappointed.  But you know how it goes, it was always the same story with you.  I feel bad sometimes for my Mother, you know she loved you like son and she was stuck in the Middle East when you went Man.  Shit, I know she feels bad that she wasn’t there at your funeral.  It’s weird sometimes, I think about You and Nate, and Ojard and I.  Four brothers bound by fate.  My Mom had just as much enjoyment yelling You and Ojard as she did Nate and I!!!  If that’s not family I don’t know what is?  In fact Erik, I think my Mom is the only person I’ve ever witnessed you back down from.  Nate misses you too man.  Nate misses you far more than any of us will ever know.  I may have been the one that did the talking at your funeral but you know damn well I was speaking for both of us.  He was really having a hard time, as we all were.  NATE FUCKING LOVED YOU ERIK.

I was thinking the other day about what the greatest lesson you’ve ever taught me was, what have I learned from you?  It reminded me of the time I was in 10th grade and we were going to the regional ski race.  Remember that?  The team had a hotel and my Mom wasn’t going to let me go but you somehow talked her into letting me go with you guys and stay at the hotel.  The two things that stood out that night for me was how I literally felt like I was on tour with the Rolling Stones hanging out with you guys at a hotel partying!  And how I woke up the next morning in the in the bathroom with electric blue hair!  My Mom wasn’t even mad!  That was your magic Erik!!!  That was the greatest thing I ever learned from you, how to be CAREFREE!!!  That is something I can never thank you enough for, you taught me what it meant to not give a fuck.

In all seriousness though, that may have been the best lesson I ever received from you, but the most important one is one I’m still learning to get better at it everyday.                      You taught so many of us how bad a disease like Depression can get.  I can personally say that I know for a fact your final actions have saved lives.  I’ve been down as low as I get on occasion and I think about things like ending my run here in this life, and then I think about you.  What you’ve put some of us through.  How that would be for everyone else to deal with.  And the conclusion I’ve come up with Erik, is that what we’ve learned from your experience is so powerful that it could change the way the whole entire world thinks if only they all knew what this feels like!  Today as I’m writing this I find myself in a hard time, a time of heartbreak and confusion.  I feel that little bastard of a disease and it’s hands around my neck yet again.  Luckily we all wear our dog tag chains in your honor everyday and they keep those hands from getting too tight.  All I can do today though Erik is remember you, and believe with my whole heart that your looking after me like you always did and your making sure I’ll come through this better then when I entered it.  Goddamn it Erik I miss you and I still need you as a friend.

Erik Peterson, your an amazing friend, I will always love you like my other older brother.  MAY YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE …  REST IN PEACE.

Love,

Marky

THIS IS PUBLIC BECAUSE:  I decided to may this letter public because I believe it can be used as a helpful tool to anyone struggling from depression.  I remember when Erik first died I posted a little memoir on my website.  I couldn’t believe how much of a positive response I received from sharing those thoughts.  I wear my heart on my sleeve and am convinced that more of us should.  I encourage everyone to pass this on in some format to those that knew Erik or could benefit from it’s contents.  At Erik’s funeral I remember that when I read a passage from that original writing his parents and brother all stood to hug me.  Now I don’t know them all that well but that told me that my words meant something important and were helping them in some way.  If that is the case then I would be a fool not to share this with everyone.  If your struggling please get help.  I promise that are people out there that will miss you and want you here.

Sloth,

I didn’t even know what Sloth was until a second ago and my first reaction to the definition was FUCK THAT SHIT!  Supposedly sloth is “neglecting what God has spoken”, or “being physically and emotionally inactive”, or “spiritual and emotional apathy”.  Basically if you don’t pray all the time your straight fucking SLOTHING!  I guess this means I’m down 0-1 right off the bat because I never pray.  But then again I live on planet Earth.  I live in the real world.  The world where if I could get away with it I would sloth out on my couch for the rest of my life and no one would ever even notice…. assuming there really isn’t a man upstairs watching me that is.  I wholeheartedly do not see any problem with this sin.  If that’s what you want to do, be a sloth and lounge all day not praying and acknowledging you connection to the so-called spiritual world feel free.  Your one less person I have to compete with in the rat race.  I am now fully promoting Slothing.  Done.

But how does this apply to me?  That’s what the purpose of this little written experiment was supposed to be about.  What does Slothing have to do with my life, when have I indulged in this sin if you will?  I slept until 1pm today, does that count?  I did not pray, nor will I, does that count?  Hmm, I’m confused, I just don’t see the problem here!

I also read that, “Satan finds some mischief for idle hands to do.”  Does this mean that it’s SATAN that’s telling me to look up porn and exercise my reproductive organs when I’m bored!!!  Oh GOD help us all, maybe I should be praying more because if you type in the letter P in a search engine on my laptop the only “suggestions” your going to get are for PORN sites!  Or maybe that sweet Prod Nike commercial, the one with Ice Cube and Kobe, that was the shit!  Never mind that, a little off the point.  Anyway, so Satan is controlling my idle hands, I need to keep them locked in a praying position and never let my mind stray from God in order to avoid ever Slothing again…  Yep, that’s not going to happen, I’m a Slother with a serious crush on Jenna Jameson.

Sloth.  A sin so ridiculous I can’t even find a way to incorporate it into my daily life.  Still confused and moving on…

Mark

Karma is a bitch. Over the last decade I have successfully broken a few hearts. I have moved back and fourth across the country too many times. I have dragged a few peoples emotions through the dirt along with my own for the simple reason of, well, just because. So today as I find myself in a relationship where the girl I am in love with is going to do that exact same thing to me that I have done to too so many should I be surprised? I should actually probably feel a little lucky because I have the rare opportunity to count down the days until my next breakup, my next heartbreak. Cynicism probably doesn’t even describe the morbid nature of my situation in terms of life’s little romances, but hell, it’s the truth.

My plan; write out my take on all of the Seven Deadly Sins as I see them in terms of my life. I may not actually write anything that has anything to do with a particular sin but I need the structure. And I don’t care. Think of it as a seven chapter short story. The Sin itself will be merely a starting point to a connect-the-dots type of ramble that will, hopefully, when completed make some sense.

I’m only doing this because I have found myself 100% in artistic, goal-oriented, go-getter GRIDLOCK! I have complained of this before, but I swear this time I mean it. Yesterday I stared at stack of receipts, invoices, canvas’, and basically a giant neon sign that spelled out a laundry list of things I needed to accomplish and I did NOTHING. Well that’s not entirely true, I bought two songs off of itunes. One might think “Don’t worry Mark, your going to have plenty of time once your girlfriend moves.”, and that seems a perfectly logical except for the fact that it simply isn’t going to be the case. I probably won’t do shit for about a week. After that week I will go on a rampage of productivity, but that is still FOUR WEEKS OUT!

So with that, it’s settled. I’m gonna write, it’s what seems to be the most freeing and logical thing I know how to do when my chip count is getting low. And it’s usually a safe bet as I almost always come out on top. That’s not as impressive or arrogant as it sounds either, I really think life is gamble that the odds are truly in our favor. Sometimes you just have to dig little harder than others to succeed. It’s the game of life, not roulette. What’s with the sevens anyway?

Mark Rivard

“Broken Lance”

He stood abruptly from the snow bank he was sleeping in. Confused, he looked around but nothing registered. He looked up toward the blinding sunlight and a sharp reflection hit him in the eye. It was a street sign that spelled the words “Broken Lance”. He then realized he’d been in this strange place for eight years. He was aging but not growing. He looked to the surrounding mountains and understood the attraction, but the town reeked of stale under-achievement. “Has this really been my life for all these years?” he continued to ask himself. The funny part was the question had a literal sense because he couldn’t remember many of the nights this town had served up. He brushed the snow off himself and began swerving in a slight gallop down Broken Lance. He swerved right into a new day, a new month, a new year, only this year would be different. This year he would leave the stagnant under-achiever behind. As the hangover wore off and Broken Lance faded in the distance the clock in his head kept ticking, always clockwise regardless of whether his life sometimes went counter………

Mark Rivard