Speed Traps, Warm Colors, and the Complexity of Love

I got pulled over recently racing home after an Amazon Flex shift. When I had finished the shift I was 48 minutes from home, deep in the backwoods of a neighboring suburb. Getting pulled over increased my commute time, killed my momentum, and could’ve taken everything I had just worked for during the shift, if I was issued a ticket. Doing the wrong thing (speeding) was getting me home faster, but eventually it catches up with you and the consequences are restarting from the beginning.

“Ironically, the pursuit of happiness can lead us into the eternal trap of chasing unhappiness.”

-Justin Kan

Even if it’s not going 55 in a 35 on a late night. If it’s the wrong relationship, the wrong career, an addiction etc, the longer you continue, the harder it will be to get back to where you started. If you took the wrong stop riding the bus, the further you ride in the wrong direction, the harder it’ll be to get back to the station.

Sometimes you don’t even know you’re headed for disaster. I never saw the cop until his lights flashed behind me. Sometimes disease takes hold before you ever notice a symptom. The fly doesn’t feel the trap closing around them until it’s too late.

Speed Trap

Where’d all the Time Go?

Someone commented recently that I should make more happy art. If I’m being honest, melancholy is more my muse than happiness. But even in the midst of sadness there is a sweetness to my work, or at least there is intended to be. I’m very inspired by warmth. I love being in the sun, warm colors, cuddling laundry fresh out of the dryer, a hot shower. I associate warmth with life, with growth, with comfort. While knees deep in the winter months, I’ve been slowly losing my mind. My skin is dry, I hate feeling the icey wind whipping across my face. I don’t even enjoy snow.

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.”

-John Lubbock

As I’m writing this it’s 75 degrees in the middle of winter. The ground hog just declared 6 more weeks of cold, yet I’m sitting outside in shorts basking in the warm light. I’m reminded of summer time, good friends, and wine at the park. I’m just trying to bottle up this feeling and share it with you.

Where’d all the Time Go?

Hopeless Romantic

My first aspiration in life was to be in love. My favorite movie was the cartoon Robin Hood. I would watch it on repeat day after day. I didn't understand what love was, nor was it sexual. I ached to feel intensely about someone. I wanted to yearn like Robin Hood for his princess.

Later in life when my English class read The Great Gatsby, I wanted to feel like he did for Daisy. It would be nice if they returned the favor. But it was the act of finding a love worth throwing a party every night on the mere hope they might come through the door.

No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Even if the connection is fleeting, it’s encapsulated. It’s immortalized in the love letters, the photos, and the memory.

Hopeless Romantic

Parting Words

I don’t think creators ever know what people will identify with, but the articles about my art have been the best at cutting through. In the coming weeks the pieces you’ve seen over these articles will be available as prints. I hope you’ll consider adding one to your collection.

As always, thank you for listening.

-RJ