If you take away the subjective personal details from life

everything is relevant & necessary.


Too much passion for this life

will only lead to madness.


Time is eternal.

Time is an illusion.

Time ages everything.

Roses are still beautiful.


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YESTERDAYS NEWS. The evolution of a creative thought.

Reno Art Works.

April 14th. 6 – 8 pm.

1995 Dickerson Rd.

This April Reno Art Works will debut an artist new to the block, J.Charboneau.

Her solo show, Yesterdays News is an endless series of old news collaged with overstimulation from the following influences: Television. Radio. News. album covers. Quotes. Movie stills. Dreams. Random thoughts. Caffeine. People watching. And time.

The show explores the artist’s filtered chaos theory through a progression of artworks and words that evolve as a subjective chronological installation of creative thoughts.

The Minneapolis-born painter chaotically illustrates any subject matter relevant to that which she has been exposed to, frequently drawing inspiration from the over abundance of media and information.

She hails herself a visual philosopher using ambiguous gestures of forms, places, and words to direct the viewer towards an idea rather than an understanding. The viewer ultimately is suggested to bring forth their subjective thoughts to finish the artworks and find truth in them.

Yesterdays News will weave you through the chaos and leave you satisfied by the inclusion of your own personal relevance within it all.


 


 


 


 

white flakes lay silent

atop black shadows of night.

whispering winds come from beyond

infinite grey nothingness.

my cold breath falls in tune.

winter night harmony.


 

morning comes.

the snow falls.

beyond the trees

is a blank. white. haze.

a blank. white. haze.


 

A tahoe lake gleams miles below.

I squint into an afternoon sun.

Its silent here.

I can hear life.



 


 


 


 


 

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days of endless highways.

             endless tragedies.

           endless adventures.

roll on young soul. roll on.


 The more I see with my very eyes

The more real this world truly becomes.






 

I woke to the obnoxious beaming sun warming my bedside window. Before I could think to take my first breath outta dream state my hand quivered for the pen. My mind began sketching ideas and fantasies before my eyes fully adjusted to the new days light. My heart was beating anxiously with anticipation of creation…

I woke an artist. An artist taking no moment, no pause, no break from a desire to create. I am not here to sit back and watch the natural beautiful flow of life. I am here to be fully immersed, fully present, fully inspired.

Today, I woke an artist. May tomorrows obnoxious beaming sun stir me again into this beautiful creative state of existence.


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3am writing:

I know that face full of smiles also has held faces full of tears and frustration… I know that perfect song and that perfect concert had moments of forgotten words and big tall heads blocking stage views… This is the chaos that not only surrounds our “picture perfect” memories but that is also a part of them. One cannot go without the other. The chaos is everywhere, and it is also relatable to everyone.

The connections begin when you break down a memory or an idea to the chaotic mess of its existence.

When no true form can be depicted in this mess, we build it ourselves, from personal inspirations or recollections… yet there are cross-sections of ideas, inspirations, memories, and spaces that all people share at one point or another.

It is at these cross-sections that two people who have contradicting lives and ideas can share a connection no matter the end result of the absolute memory or thought.

… So that is my idea on art, I see it not as a simple gratification, but a challenge to use that creative intuition that is within us all. I take my thoughts, inspirations, and memories-break them down, to the rawest form and give them to the viewer to make of it what they wish…. To use their creative intuition, throw caution and sense to the wind and truly honestly make it their own…


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To rise and fall

As the sun and moon

To live true and honest

 


Time…

always suspended over my head

a weightless ton of worry

 


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with blue skies ahead

we’re still rocking

in this great big hazy mess

as a matter of fact,

we’re all in this

hectic hazy mess

together

but blue skies

keep our minds occupied

ahead we forge

gotta get outta

this beautiful

hazy mess

 


Driftin off from mangroves

diggin philosophies and tales

i realize i know

I’ve known all this time…

we’re all drifters

the sun through the sky

the waves through the seas

the mice through the fields

everything, through life

we drift along

different stories to tell

but peaceful drifters

is all we be

 


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“My life is a vast inconsequential epic with a thousand and a million characters- here they all come, as swiftly we roll east, as swiftly the earth rolls east.”

“Why plan? I’ll just drift down the road looking at unexpected events…” -Kerouac


I am not one often fond of bustling cities, but there always seems to be an overwhelming connection that evolves as I blend and become what makes a city alive. It is not the landscape or the natural beauties that build a cities’ character, but rather the people. Each unique soul navigates their way about, all with different motives and ambitions to justify their temporary existence in such a chaotic place. I find this to be a beautiful example of mankind’s unique creative addition to this place we call home. A true city is one dominated by human influence and imagination. The structures, sounds, and smells are born through us and without the constant influx of our different opinions and ideas a city holds no heart.


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Look at my life…

sweet blissfulness

surrounds me

a calming fills the air

the thick of beauty

enslaves me

oh wont you join me there

in that moment

of surreal peace

I realize the truth

my life is what

I have made

I stand as living proof

lives unfold

everyday

outcomes a mystery

those who react

in simple ways

continue to live free

 


I can feel my heartbeat

but it is not my own

It belongs t this body

that shields my soul

My nerves may tremble

my muscles ache

But all is temporary

to the realities I make

I can hold back no longer

break free I must

There is more to me than this barrier

I belong to all there is and was

To deny myself this freedom

and the beauties of all there is

My soul is not worth keeping

if imprisoned by influences

For I am more than what you see

I’m more than what we know

I am you as you are me

As we are all unfathomable

A mystery it shall remain

I’m not shy to admit my doubt

But to live within this body’s limits

is to truly live without

 


as much as I cannot fathom the depths of discovery that lie before me in the natural world,

even more so the depths of the inner self yet to be obtained will forever be unknown.