For those that don't know, I'm a resident of Knoxville TN. When I was a teenager, I would walk the late night streets for hours at a time in the cool night air. I'm never been much for heat. I prefer the city at night, especially during the hours of which nearly no one is out and about. The city seemed abandoned as I walked through it's arteries apparently alone.
Some of my favorite memories were spent driving down a road called Lionsbend. As a teen, I only went down this road a couple hand full of times as it wasn't near my home and I didn't have a car until I was eight-teen. But as I did then and now, I couldn't help but feel like tumbling down Alice's rabbit hole. The road winds through a wooded vein, loosing structure and light the further you pass through it. Each turn of the path disorientates you to your whereabouts and in those younger years, I felt as though the road would never end. I would travel eternally, lost in a forest of unknown that was somehow more comforting than any home I had ever known.
Tonight I drove around the old haunts of my hometown searching for resource images and that intangible something that I, as an “artist”, crave as the basis for my pieces. (Achieved reference image at the bottom) I passed by all my old homes losing myself in a past I felt far removed from. During all this, I realized a trait I had inherited from my one or both of my parents. I am consistently allured into the drift of settings. Perhaps it's because I moved so much in my life, rarely staying in one domicile for fairly long. Maybe it's genetics, handed down from a legacy of nomads and wanderers. Or, it could just be me. Cliched as it may be, those woods call to me. I crave that cool air of movement against my face. Drifting on that wind like all the leaves, and all the birds, with all the wings I've portrayed in art and projected on others. My greatest heroes? Benevolent wanderers abandoning their roots for the unknown and the sites unseen.
Those I idolized have become pieces of my now.
Tonight I've stared into self reflections allowing waves of emotions to spill over me: pain, delight, regret, wonder. Now, I prepare for a new gust, a new adventure. In a month I leave for Europe for a short time. After I apply for art school and shortly after, depart, leaving all this behind for my great perhaps. The regrets I have is for those I have left behind, hurt by my absence. I cannot keep contact with everyone I would like to for various reasons. It may be selfish of me to loose myself further to my forest and for this I apologize. It has unknowingly become a part of me over all these years and to be frank, I cannot resist that allure. It all matters however. All those people and places I move past are memories that last as long as my essence persists. We all matter as long as we perceive and remember. This night's ramblings are over now, self expression achieved.
A photo from tonight's adventures. Cheers.
|Tavish White is a massive man full of lank. He spends most of his time working on everything and some of his time being absolutely preposterous. Tavish work's include but are not limited to: scratching (graphite, ink, wax, shell matter, and other various debris) into wood pulp, manipulating virtual interfaces to ponder fictional scenarios, contemplating the nature of infinity within finite space and morality, absorbing information from territorial knowledge units, and depositing supplements and wares into ductile receptacles under the watch of robot overlords.|