June 13, 2014
Through the Eyes of An Artist
Many of you see Jake’s work from his Instagram feed, which then is posted onto his Facebook page, which then is shared and “liked” by you and many others. As for me, I get to see the piece “unfiltered,” if you will. I see the process behind each one- the initial formation of a piece, first in thought, then on paper…canvas...marble…carved in wood. The art you see is the art I am in love with. (More than the creation, I am in love with its creator). The art, these works, they are my home- my private gallery- my place of inspiration, exploration, veneration and protection. Like many of these pieces, I, too, am a work in progress. We share similar genesis. Perhaps that is why I am so connected to the process of the pieces…to fall in love with a work of art is to fall in love with its story- its becoming, of fulfilling the potential unseen by many except the Artist himself. That is, the Artist and me. You fall in love with the concept and the sketch- adore it and selfishly want to covet it as your own- my own. The concept is merely its birth; it has a long way to grow. The piece continues to take on a life of its own, and I want to protect it. I want to keep it safe because no one truly understands the preciousness of its conception; because its story is so close to my heart. But deep down I know it has its separate fulfillment- its own destiny. These works of art grow me; they are a part of my story. As they are harvested from a season of fruitful thought, built up and created- I am, too. I am enlarged in its process- which is my own.Jake, My Artist and I, recently returned from Italy. Now that we are home, I wonder if it was even real…only time will tell with each art piece My Artist creates; each one reminding us of our dream…
Our gift took us to Rome, Siena, Florence, and Milan, where the object was to experience the greatest art in human history; to admire careful craftsmanship in every detail; to learn from the Masters. And we did. I saw Italy through the eyes of an artist, and not just any artist, but My Artist. Jake has a naturalness towards every and any medium that he puts his hands to. He coaxes the material with an understanding of how it work. Jake is an artist who is reverent of the past, paying tribute to the Old World art forms and techniques. No, he is not stuck there- in the past. He is an artist who paints in present strokes. He is an artist destined for this precise time. In order to gain perspective of the present, he studies the past. In order to create in the present, he must know the foundation laid by those who have come before him. Though these masters are long gone, their work lasts, offering themselves up as the ultimate teachers of enduring skill and beauty. 
As surges of tourists jam through the museums and galleries, we practice the art of stillness. We sit and observe. For hours, Jake sketches. For hours, I watch. At times, I am scrolling through endless thoughts. Other times, I am fully immersed in the intimacy of the paper and the pen- and nothing else. 
Jake belonged here, in this moment; his soul overwhelmed with inspiration- his hands aching to create. I, too, ached. But my aching came from the passion of process- of observing My Artist being fed and flourishing beneath the work of other craftsmen- of other artists- of other men just like him. As much as he belonged here, in this moment, and these moments to come, I couldn’t help but think of home (at a time like this? In the thick of the romance that is Italy?) Home: where I knew the inspiration found here would come to life in the works he had waiting for him. Home: where we belonged. Where My Artist could work out his lessons learned on paper…canvas...marble…carved in wood. 
The walls of our gallery- our home- will soon be adorned with Italy-inspired art; art that borrows from the masters of the past and are reborn and reworked in the masterpieces created by a current master; by an artist for the present world.