Year of Serenity Weekly Recap (Flight 8: 2/22 – 2/27)

Artemis Sere SS-SG-00347 The Traveler Unraveling

This blog highlights the daily shares from the Serenity Gallery of Artemis Sere during the #yearofSerenity. 

Each “Flight of Serenity” contains:

    • The image and link to a piece from “Echoprism Vol 1 (SS-SG-00001 – SS-SG-00300)
    • The image and link to a piece from “Echoprism Vol 2 (SS-SG-00301 – SS-SG-00600)
    • Pieces that were shared Monday – Saturday of the previous week.

Check out the following pieces that were shared between February 22, 2021 and February 27, 2021.

If you’re feeling inspired, drop a comment on this blog and let me know what you think of my work.

If you’re feeling generous, share my work to your orbit, buy a print from my DeviantArt profile, or grab a copy of “Echoprism Vol. 1” from Blurb.

If you’ve missed any of my weekly updates, be sure you’re subscribed to my Artrovert blog. You can do that through the interface at the end of this blog. Remember to check your email to validate your subscription!

Thank you very much for following  and engaging with my  #yearofSerenity! 

FLIGHT 8

89/600
“October Burns”
SS-SG-00045

Acrylic and resin on 12 x 12 canvas.

90/600
“The Vibrant Noose”
SS-SG-00345

Acrylic and string on 16 x 20 canvas.

91/600
“Vegetative State 2”
SS-SG-00046

Acrylic on 12 x 12 canvas

92/600
“The Endless Blaze”
SS-SG-00346

Acrylic on 16 x 20 canvas.

93/600
“Eye of the Desolate”
SS-SG-00047

Acrylic on 12 x 12 canvas.

94/600
“The Traveler Unraveling”
SS-SG-00347

Acrylic and resin on 18 x 24 canvas.

95/600
“Ravenous Dead”
SS-SG-00048

Acrylic on 12 x 12 canvas.

96/600
“Stream of Subconsciousness”
SS-SG-00348

Acrylic and resin on 18 x 24 canvas.

97/600
“Minister of Madness”
SS-SG-00049

Acrylic on 12 x 12 canvas.

98/600
“The Shadowsewn Legion”
SS-SG-00349

Acrylic and resin on 16 x 20 canvas.

99/600
“Insect Inside”
SS-SG-00050

Acrylic on 12 x 12 canvas.

100/600
“Eye of Oviod”
SS-SG-00350

Acrylic and resin on 12 x 20 canvas.

FLIGHT 8

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FEATURED RELEASE:
ECHOPRISM

 

Echoes of Serenity: First Hundred Works

Artemis Sere Echoes of Serenity: First Hundred Works

There are many things I wish would’ve went differently so far in 2021. It appears there’s a lot less that I can control these days than I thought, and my confidence is often misguided.

My commitment to Art in 2021 has humbled me greatly (positively and negatively), but it has also brought out the best in me. It has opened my eyes to my creative flaws and celebrated my content in diverse ways. It has been an obsession for me, but it has also kept my mind off the realities of this stressful time.

I may not be professionally successful right now, but I am successfully productive. And I have a deep-seeded belief that as long as I keep doing what I’m doing, I’ll get the results I’m after.

For better or for worse, if you marry yourself to the path, you are destined for its just deserts.

If there’s one area of my life that I’m going to take deep pride in so far this year, it’s following through with my development of my digital art gallery and sharing my progress with the world through my social channels and blogs and portfolio site.

Artemis Sere Echoes of Serenity: First Hundred Works

One hundred works down, five hundred to go. No filters. No remixes. The bare, beautiful, and brutal truth of my art, exposed to all.

I’ve shared twice a day, Monday through Saturday in the AM and the PM. I’ve published and shared weekly summaries every Sunday.  I’ve tried very hard to maintain a consistent broadcast schedule, and that has forced me to spend a lot of personal energy and focus on development of content and digital experiences.

As such, I haven’t had much time for development of new paintings or other content, but I have been generating hundreds of remixes of my pieces as well as a steady stream of blogs and stories. I’m able to put a little bit of time into my primary book projects for 2021 – “Obscurious X” and “Echoprism Vol 2” – but the production schedule has really taken whatever free time I have.

I guess I should be thankful that I have the art as my obsession, because the job hunt would otherwise drive me crazy. Seriously. It has not been fun, not been hopeful, not been complimentary. It has been a dehumanizing process that has made me feel less useful and valuable than I ever have in my life.

Art is my great escape, and I’m thankful for my exoteric outlets these days.

Each Serenity Gallery art experience build and share takes 1-2 hours – from content development like additional remixes or on-page content like poetry, to page builds and share calendar updates. An amazing amount of visual resizing needs to be done for different social platforms, and partially done so I can maintain a decent SEO standing and fast user experience.

User experience and content efficiency are really important to me. With that in mind, many of my pieces here have been loaded with VERY low quality imagery. The highest quality versions of my #yearofSerenity gallery pieces can be found at DeviantArt. I know I have a lot of content, and it’s critical to me that users find their way through my gallery with ease and interest.

By that math, I’ve already spent 100-200 hours of 2021 on creating and sharing my #yearofSerenity. Extrapolated, 600 – 1200 hours of 2021 on creating and sharing my #yearofSerenity.

Crazy? Maybe.
Obsessive? Perhaps.
Valuable? Completely.

The legacy experience that I’m building is mostly for me, so I have a visual legacy of the works I’ve accomplished, but it’s also for my audience, for people that consider themselves fans of my creations. I’ve tried to build rich, expansive experiences that touch an observer on various levels — through writing, through texture, through topic or feature – while balancing user and content experience. When it comes to blogs, I don’t worry about “writing long form” content. The stories I tell are more important than prescribed or proper length.

True art has no handbook, no guidebook, only recommendations on how to navigate and burn trails into your creative pavement.

It’s hard to balance what I know is right for marketing and experience development with what I am trying to do as an artist with a legacy to create and communicate. I have a degree in English and Humanistic Studies, and my interests are broad and bountiful. This site is a nexus of my vibrant experiences, creative collections, wild stances, and troubled times.

One hundred works down, five hundred to go. No filters. No remixes. The bare, beautiful, and brutal truth of my art, exposed to all.

I’ve shared twice a day, Monday through Saturday in the AM and the PM. I’ve published and shared weekly summaries every Sunday.  I’ve tried very hard to maintain a consistent broadcast schedule, and that has forced me to spend a lot of personal energy and focus on development of content and digital experiences.

As such, I haven’t had much time for development of new paintings or other content, but I have been generating hundreds of remixes of my pieces as well as a steady stream of blogs and stories. I’m able to put a little bit of time into my primary book projects for 2021 – “Obscurious X” and “Echoprism Vol 2” – but the production schedule has really taken whatever free time I have.

I guess I should be thankful that I have the art as my obsession, because the job hunt would otherwise drive me crazy. Seriously. It has not been fun, not been hopeful, not been complimentary. It has been a dehumanizing process that has made me feel less useful and valuable than I ever have in my life.

Art is my great escape, and I’m thankful for my exoteric outlets these days.

Each Serenity Gallery art experience build and share takes 1-2 hours – from content development like additional remixes or on-page content like poetry, to page builds and share calendar updates. An amazing amount of visual resizing needs to be done for different social platforms, and partially done so I can maintain a decent SEO standing and fast user experience.

User experience and content efficiency are really important to me. With that in mind, many of my pieces here have been loaded with VERY low quality imagery. The highest quality versions of my #yearofSerenity gallery pieces can be found at DeviantArt. I know I have a lot of content, and it’s critical to me that users find their way through my gallery with ease and interest.

By that math, I’ve already spent 100-200 hours of 2021 on creating and sharing my #yearofSerenity. Extrapolated, 600 – 1200 hours of 2021 on creating and sharing my #yearofSerenity.

Crazy? Maybe.
Obsessive? Perhaps.
Valuable? Completely.

The legacy experience that I’m building is mostly for me, so I have a visual legacy of the works I’ve accomplished, but it’s also for my audience, for people that consider themselves fans of my creations. I’ve tried to build rich, expansive experiences that touch an observer on various levels — through writing, through texture, through topic or feature – while balancing user and content experience. When it comes to blogs, I don’t worry about “writing long form” content. The stories I tell are more important than prescribed or proper length.

True art has no handbook, no guidebook, only recommendations on how to navigate and burn trails into your creative pavement.

It’s hard to balance what I know is right for marketing and experience development with what I am trying to do as an artist with a legacy to create and communicate. I have a degree in English and Humanistic Studies, and my interests are broad and bountiful. This site is a nexus of my vibrant experiences, creative collections, wild stances, and troubled times.

FEATURED RELEASE:
ECHOPRISM

 

My Serenity Gallery is a reflection of all of those things, given structure, context, personality, and purpose.

My method has me sharing a piece from “Echoprism Vol 1” and “Echoprism Vol 2” every day. Echoprism Vol 1 covers my first 300 pieces; Echoprism Vol 2 covers pieces 301 – 600. In 2019, I underwent a major project to inventory all of my works, and I didn’t track that inventory in any logical or temporal fashion. The filling of slots 1-600 was completely random, and I continue to build past that number with new creations to this day, with the eventual intention of putting out a “Volume 3” when I’ve amassed another 300 pieces to fill another gallery book.

The main point: there was no logic to the order of how my gallery was built. I grabbed pieces from stacks, numbered them, and dropped that info into an Excel spreadsheet, which I then use to generate labels and do all sorts of other cool stuff. The assembly of the Serenity Gallery was mostly random, unless I intentionally grouped octave pieces together or shifted pieces in or out of the Gallery.

Thus, pieces from the first part of the gallery are woven in with pieces at the last part of the gallery. It has been fun to watch the synchronicity of completely random posts associated together on the same day of posting. Like a double-helix 300 loops long, I’m painting an artistic legacy throughout 2021 that will stand for years to come.

One major highlight was my piece “Painted Reflection X” sharing on the day of my Dad’s passing. Another crazy synchronicity in my world, the piece was randomly placed on that day as part of my content calendar, and perfectly reflects one of the darkest days of my history.

The first hundred shares of my Serenity Gallery have been a vibrant adventure in 2021. I can’t wait to see what unique experiences and synchronicities the next hundred hold.

If you’ve missed any of my weekly updates blogs, be sure you’re subscribed to my Artrovert blog. You can do that through the interface at the end of this blog. Remember to check your email to validate your subscription! Thank you very much for participating in and engaging with my  #yearofSerenity! 

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Xoterica 36: The Breathless

Artemis Sere SS-SG-00345 The Vibrant Noose

“As you think, so shall you become.” (Bruce Lee)

At one o’clock this morning I stopped breathing. For how long, I don’t know. I awoke howling for air sometime later with a sore throat and body shaken from the episode.

At the time of this writing, I still ache and am still shaken by the fight with my own body.

It’s not the first time sleeping breathless has happened. Over the last few years, it has become more frequent. Every few months I seem to have an episode where I awake from a dead sleep gasping for air. I think it has to do with stress and anxiety, a reflection of my troubled days, but I don’t know.

My Mom has sleep apnea, and I never had issues with it until the last few years. I suspect a severe asthmatic attack in 2016 that sent me to the ER triggered it, threw my breathing all out of whack, but I don’t know for sure.

Could be age. Could be atmosphere. Could be diet. Could be lack of fresh air. Could be the stress and anxiety of the present day. Could be a mix of all triggers that stop my breathing at night until some mechanism in my body awakens me to get the lungs moving again.

I never know when I’ve stopped breathing. I don’t know I’m out until I’m yanked out of dreamy state gasping for air.

The reality is that I may not have made it last night, may not have awoken in time, may not have got oxygen back in my lungs in time. Nothing poetic about that. Brutal honesty.

Today, I could be dead today from asphyxiation. Thankfully, I’m not, but I can’t shake the dread of standing near the exit door.

The truth is that I feel dead for other reasons. My inability to find a job with my skills and experience  has been devastating. Too  messages of “Thank you for applying, but you weren’t selected. We’ll keep your resume on file, and let you know if any other opportunities come up.” 

Don’t you know who I once was? Who I am? Don’t you see?

Obviously not.

And I suppose I’m losing sight of who that person was as well as my golden years feel further away. I take regular shots to the gut and the ego with every desperate attempt to end this employment drought. Where once I felt confident walking into an interview, I now never know what will happen. I tell my story, sell my abilities, spin the plates like the best of them, but can’t seem to make the connection. Who I am is not obviously good enough.

This helpless failure takes my breath away.

Once, breathing (and living) was easy, uncompromised, and the least of my worries. Across thirteen years of chronic colitis, I never had issues with breathing. No matter how down and stressed I became, I never was challenged for air.

While I struggled to sleep during that time, as my system woke me up every few hours to vacate, my lungs were iron. Asthmatic issues didn’t enter my life until after my 2016 accident, and sleep apnea has become a lasting side effect.

Another case of destroying myself in the name of art: my 2016 accident was as a result of working with resins without adequate PPE. Art safety wasn’t a priority to me, or at least I didn’t know how important safety was for certain types of art. Any art that exudes dangerous and unhealthy fumes should be taken seriously. Word of wisdom for you.

I suspect that event permanently damaged my lungs in ways. Likewise, my passion for art and prioritization of it in my path permanently damaged my life in ways.

Blessing or curse, my commitment to art has not come without painful consequences and unhealthy sacrifices. I used art to breathe passion into my life, and art has left me breathless. It has exchanged oxygen for output, hope for focus, and humanity for utility.

In attempting to try something different, to become a different person and artist, I exited for a different atmosphere and experience, exiling my successes to a distant land lost to my history.

In attempting to return to familiar spaces, I exiled myself to an unfamiliar present. I do what I was trained, and the audience no longer listens. I play the game as designed, and feel further from useful and valuable in time, an extravagant pet trained for certain tricks but not worth the circus.

Conventional advice suggests that I should seek medical attention. With a serious condition such as sleep apnea, Doctors should be involved and treatment should be administered. As I’m sure you can understand, that’s a complicated endeavor when you don’t have insurance – or the money to spare to put into fixing what’s broken. For a decade, I was flush with financial benefits and opportunities that kept me from crucial and critical outcomes.

Those support systems no longer exist for me. The system I’m connected to now squeezes the oxygen out of you, then teases you with air that you can’t afford, with solutions and answers beyond your grasp. I won’t take handouts, and I won’t burn all that I have to get help.

But I will get help, when circumstances are better and right.

I want to work. I want to be part of a productive system where I’m receiving adequate benefits and appreciating the fruits of my labor. I want to contribute and know what it’s like to be protected again. I don’t want to grasp and gasp on the edge of oblivion.

I’m constantly holding what little breath I have for the time that I can live again. I live my life wracked with worry these days. I get by with what little resources I can muster. I survive more than I thrive.

I know someday I’ll breathe full and clear again, but that time isn’t now. At present, the vibrant noose is strangling my dreams and squeezing the life out of me.

#xoterica

“As you think, so shall you become.” (Bruce Lee)

At one o’clock this morning I stopped breathing. For how long, I don’t know. I awoke howling for air sometime later with a sore throat and body shaken from the episode.

At the time of this writing, I still ache and am still shaken by the fight with my own body.

It’s not the first time sleeping breathless has happened. Over the last few years, it has become more frequent. Every few months I seem to have an episode where I awake from a dead sleep gasping for air. I think it has to do with stress and anxiety, a reflection of my troubled days, but I don’t know.

My Mom has sleep apnea, and I never had issues with it until the last few years. I suspect a severe asthmatic attack in 2016 that sent me to the ER triggered it, threw my breathing all out of whack, but I don’t know for sure.

Could be age. Could be atmosphere. Could be diet. Could be lack of fresh air. Could be the stress and anxiety of the present day. Could be a mix of all triggers that stop my breathing at night until some mechanism in my body awakens me to get the lungs moving again.

I never know when I’ve stopped breathing. I don’t know I’m out until I’m yanked out of dreamy state gasping for air.

The reality is that I may not have made it last night, may not have awoken in time, may not have got oxygen back in my lungs in time. Nothing poetic about that. Brutal honesty.

Today, I could be dead today from asphyxiation. Thankfully, I’m not, but I can’t shake the dread of standing near the exit door.

The truth is that I feel dead for other reasons. My inability to find a job with my skills and experience  has been devastating. Too  messages of “Thank you for applying, but you weren’t selected. We’ll keep your resume on file, and let you know if any other opportunities come up.” 

Don’t you know who I once was? Who I am? Don’t you see?

Obviously not.

And I suppose I’m losing sight of who that person was as well as my golden years feel further away. I take regular shots to the gut and the ego with every desperate attempt to end this employment drought. Where once I felt confident walking into an interview, I now never know what will happen. I tell my story, sell my abilities, spin the plates like the best of them, but can’t seem to make the connection. Who I am is not obviously good enough.

This helpless failure takes my breath away.

Once, breathing (and living) was easy, uncompromised, and the least of my worries. Across thirteen years of chronic colitis, I never had issues with breathing. No matter how down and stressed I became, I never was challenged for air.

While I struggled to sleep during that time, as my system woke me up every few hours to vacate, my lungs were iron. Asthmatic issues didn’t enter my life until after my 2016 accident, and sleep apnea has become a lasting side effect.

Another case of destroying myself in the name of art: my 2016 accident was as a result of working with resins without adequate PPE. Art safety wasn’t a priority to me, or at least I didn’t know how important safety was for certain types of art. Any art that exudes dangerous and unhealthy fumes should be taken seriously. Word of wisdom for you.

I suspect that event permanently damaged my lungs in ways. Likewise, my passion for art and prioritization of it in my path permanently damaged my life in ways.

Blessing or curse, my commitment to art has not come without painful consequences and unhealthy sacrifices. I used art to breathe passion into my life, and art has left me breathless. It has exchanged oxygen for output, hope for focus, and humanity for utility.

In attempting to try something different, to become a different person and artist, I exited for a different atmosphere and experience, exiling my successes to a distant land lost to my history.

In attempting to return to familiar spaces, I exiled myself to an unfamiliar present. I do what I was trained, and the audience no longer listens. I play the game as designed, and feel further from useful and valuable in time, an extravagant pet trained for certain tricks but not worth the circus.

Conventional advice suggests that I should seek medical attention. With a serious condition such as sleep apnea, Doctors should be involved and treatment should be administered. As I’m sure you can understand, that’s a complicated endeavor when you don’t have insurance – or the money to spare to put into fixing what’s broken. For a decade, I was flush with financial benefits and opportunities that kept me from crucial and critical outcomes.

Those support systems no longer exist for me. The system I’m connected to now squeezes the oxygen out of you, then teases you with air that you can’t afford, with solutions and answers beyond your grasp. I won’t take handouts, and I won’t burn all that I have to get help.

But I will get help, when circumstances are better and right.

I want to work. I want to be part of a productive system where I’m receiving adequate benefits and appreciating the fruits of my labor. I want to contribute and know what it’s like to be protected again. I don’t want to grasp and gasp on the edge of oblivion.

I’m constantly holding what little breath I have for the time that I can live again. I live my life wracked with worry these days. I get by with what little resources I can muster. I survive more than I thrive.

I know someday I’ll breathe full and clear again, but that time isn’t now. At present, the vibrant noose is strangling my dreams and squeezing the life out of me.

#xoterica