VISUAL PHILOSOPHY ART ZINE, EDITION III : AVAILABLE NOW
STUDIO VISIT INTERVIEW: THE HOLLAND PROJECT
LITERARY REVIEW FEATURING THE MEMORANDUM COLLECTION: THE MEMORIES OF GHOSTS
backward moments – backward thoughts – trying to ride the train of yesterday, but the station has crumbled to the ground
meditation to bliss – a soul refreshed to the new day – angst from moments where chaos has control… the dreidel still spins with a coin of infinite sides.
trying to reform
transparent thoughts of discomfort.
clouds float by sparsely
VISUAL PHILOSOPHY | EDITION I
In a vortex of calm and chaos I stood at the ancient mountain’s edge… The void crumbles the ego.
Morning Reflections: She lay beyond the chimney stacks bellowing their morning heat unto a crisp January air. I witness just enough for her to set my horizon. The drifts flurry upon her ancient stone. Moment after moment roll on swiftly; she lay still. The wisdom is in the silence. It’s in the pause of being… be still, as the ancient beauty. Witness time without worry of it being lost. The strength to survive as a still shadow is the strength she has burdened for centuries. This is the great Epic of Mount Rose. – The chapter of truth lay on the horizon of this dreamstate morning reflection –
THE ARTIST SHALL ADAPT – we are creatures of knowing and creation, there should be no lapse in revolution.
The ambiguous landscape is a stop-gate for conversations about inconclusive truths born out experience and emotion…
Has the conversation started yet?
Artist statement thoughts: chaos – control – action painting – gesture – abstraction – the destruction of time … value/non-value
Note to self: Dependence upon an idea is the death of the idea. Let go of the restrictions set from a blind society… There are no picket white fences in your future.
The portrait is either a mask or a distorted reflection.
THE MIDNIGHT COLLECTION. Ecole De Paris
April 2018
It became an avant garde Hub for artists in refuge. They took to the forgotten city streets, cafes, and saloons in an attempt to disrupt the unconscious norms of a sleepwalking society.
This community of creative misfits lives on. Escole De Reno!
This eclectic collection of work stems from the study of technique through the mundane… Open your eyes to the beauty of The Midnight Hour.
-J.Charboneau
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.
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.
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.
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…
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
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
“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.
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