Sunshine Almost All the Time

scenes from a trike ride

It’s December and, for the first time in 32 years, I’m above ground and able to experience sunlight during these cold, dark winter months. Ever since moving to Boston in late November 1980, I’ve worked in windowless, basement copy shops, pressrooms and pre-press studios.

Yep, we’re talking bleak. Mind you, for the longest time this didn’t bother me at all. It totally fit with my image of hip-tudedness -- you know, the wearing of all black ALL the damn time (preferably something ripped AND black), sunglasses even on cloudy days, Benson and Hedges lit at the slightest hint of stress and disconsolate, moody subjects in every last painting. And just you forget about that daylight crap.

Ophelia

Somewhere along the line though, recently-ish actually, I came to see and accept that I’m actually a pretty happy, non-bleak type soul. I noticed that the figures in my paintings were tortured-ish yet, most often, painted in bright cadmium reds and yellows, cerulean blues and dioxazine purple (with a healthy dollop of titanium white mixed in).

Yes, I’m mad about (was mad about -- you know, pre-deafening? I’m quite sure, if I could hear them now, they’d still drive me to ecstasy.) Liszt’s Totentanz, Nine Inch Nails, Concussion Ensemble, Mission of Burma  and myriad other loud, angry, solemn, industrial works.

BUT

but

To be utterly honest, I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart and brain for ABBA, Cat Stevens, Creedence Clearwater Revival and even some John Denver. Oh yes, even John Denver. Ah yes, that sound you hear right now is all hipster cred that I MIGHT have had swirling down the toilet. Rapidly.

I like snowy winter vacas on cold, grey, gritty city streets -- hustling to get out of the wind and into dimly lit coffee shops filled with serious, grim looking intellectual types. I like laying about in bright, dandelion filled, spring meadows -- reading Alexander McCall Smith, essays by Nora Ephron and the magical dreams of Alice Hoffman.

After all, we can’t read Dostoevsky all the damned time, don’t ya know.

I’m learning to embrace both the yin and yang of life. Trying to anyway.

In these last five or ten years, within my windowless industrial settings, I found the long, dark winter months much harder to bear. The last workplace (quit just one week ago today) was a cement block, factory space with watery, weak ass fluorescent light. Sure I could have taken breaks, gone out to the loading dock for a shot of sunshine here and there. That would’ve been healthy for me on a good few levels but getting off the desk was hard. There was always a ton and a half of orders to process and not enough hours in the day. Plus, I suspected if I walked out the door, I might possibly not return.

I have walked out though and am just digging the hell out of this vitamin D type stuff. This is a big fat radical change for me and I don’t know what’s going to happen next. It’ll involve sunlight though -- I’m sure of it.