Large Intuitive drawing I

The progression of my latest piece at my studio at MCAD. The piece of paper is approximately 26 ft. by 5 ft. I began this drawing without any plan other than to start with charcoal, drawing strictly from intuition and  bodily impulses. As forms began to emerge from my markings, I began to define value and form. It has evolved to the point that you see here.

Deluge

Deluge

I saw the storm a'coming, whipping wind and dust did blow.

So I fashioned up a hatchet, made my way to stream below.

Hacked down the willow saplings, just enough to do the job.

Through the trees, I heard a howling, slowly turned to sullen sob.

And with all the best intentions, a shelter I did build.

Wrought for my self-survival, to direct this primal will.

So I draped around bowed form, many thick and sacred hides.

Weighted down by humming stones, with no space and no divide.

With the structure thought secured, I did make my way within.

Did I even once observe that night, my own destructive sin?

As storm did come and lightning cracked, I weathered through it all.

A prison built to hide myself; through deluge I heard a call.

Then that massive gale pushed, and my supports, they did collapse.

Wood did pierce and stones did crush and skin did smother fast.

Hours did crawl by as I struggled for some air.

My blood was mixing with the earth--what visual despair.

And soon I saw it futile, facing eyes up toward the sky.

I gave myself—surrendered—without asking how or why.

My heart took hold, dynamic shift; and rains did then relent.

Just like skin and bone upon myself; the ego, it was rent.

Sun did show to dry the hides, lifted weight by bringing light.

My self-created ruin, now left behind and out of sight.

These new lesions—my salvation—were hardly evident.

All I saw were puncture wounds where willow limbs once went.

And as I grew much older, stepping back to view the whole,
The scars did form the constellation of my very soul.

Act of Creation

Color, thought white--what untapped potential.

Wrought in the tooth; let my hand be nimble.

Construction begun as each form is built.

Twisting and turning--the sculpting wrist lilt.

Burnished and bludgeoned, the truth does now form;

Without false vindiction; no judgement nor scorn.

Tighten the screws with a finishing stroke--a meaningful mark to bring closure.

~t

The State of Things

Well this mountain is crumblin';
I got my snowshoes on,
And my predecessor's fumblin'.
I gotta catch 'em as I fall.
It ain't enough to be bloody,
You gotta scrape to the bone,
While the doctor needs his money.
What a predatory wall...

Well the smokestacks keep spewin’;

They’re coughin’ up a lung.

This degradation’s fuelin’,

All the ones that we call young.

Pills poppin’, get to chewin’--

They work faster that way.

Sublimental creepin’ stipend,

That the fearful force to pay.

Well this river’s runnin’ crimson;

I’ve been drinking from the mouth.

Choking on this indecision,

Seein’ things are headin’ south.

Now, when will we learn this lesson;

I try to fill this empty cup.

Delete these tyrants from my vision,

Bat an eye and sober up.

Cut the act, now, little child;

Reach to soul and sing it loud.

Sedate this noise pollution.

Kill corruption--do us proud.

Latest studies from session 6/19/12. Enjoy!

New Studies from my latest figure drawing session. All are roughly 24" x 36"  various charcoals on newsprint.

Promise in the Water

Did I know what lie betwixt these hands as I strode back to the motherland?

Did I come back here to set things right as I stumbled through the frozen night?

Oh, it came to me in waking dream--hearing timbers shake with quaking scream.

The falseness dwelt deep within my heart; watching bone and tissue torn apart.

The walnut branch, he did present to me--A teardrop fossilized in fallen tree.

Crystallization propped upon my skull; the bees to drone, and the fog to lull.

Where I lay, drink this nectar swiftly,

Should fortune favor, the dawn comes quickly.

Grass for your pillow and stars for your shawl.

I do not have the wherewithal.

What sweet resin carried in my sash; those hands to wave, and your tongue to lash.

Don't forsake me now, my somber love--this wisdom shines down from above.

And deep within the heart of oak, the branches bow for leaves to soak.

Into this river where I pray with you, we pull apart this mental glue.

New softness where once I was adamant; that ancient vow, now to recant.

And sure enough this resin does dissolve as we deeply strengthen our resolve.

~t

Thinking on These Scars

As these hands heal with my mind,
I pass the message on.
As each cut begins to close tight,
Misqualified cells gone.
Gaps replaced with different tissue,
To remind me of the wound.
And with each new resolved issue,
Higher self does loom.

~t

Flames

More progress on this one. Further improvisation and experimenting with some different techniques. Really enjoying this process. Perhaps some wet medium is in order...

Here is another sketch that I would like to share. It is a visual organization of the planes of higher thought and being with my own interpretations and symbols.

More progress...

I am working here to create volume and maintaining clarity of line.

As arbiters of creation...

Here is a recent sketch that I wanted to share with you all. My handwriting can be difficult to read at times--especially when I am frantically trying to record a deep train of thought. The text is as follows:

As we learn to extend our reach beyond our physical form, something truly miraculous happens with our understanding of the energy around us.  We find that it is influenced a great deal by our thought--moreso than our physical actions.  We are vessels of projection, and we have the choice to project consciously or unconsciously.  As arbiters of creation, it is our privilege to shape the currents around us.

Crack in Glaze

 Crack in Glaze

Black, heavy stones chained straight to my bones.

This collapse of will--forgotten tongues.

And with hollow-headed whisper, I stir.

Light as they seem--weighted are these words.

Now from miles away, I send my will today.

Broken clasp and crack in glaze.

Take that pendant with your graceful hands.

Feel the current--shifting sands.

~t

The Exemplar

You see, I brought this idea down from the stars.

And even though it burnt my hands,

I've learned to heal the scars.

Oh, the multitudes of ways to exemplify this path.

Though these legs are moving slower,

This mind is working fast.

Culmination of past truths synthesized all into one.

Through waves of thought--elation,

And another path begun.

~t

----------------------------------------------------------------------

This poem is very much about the work I have been doing with all levels of my being. It is also about a piece that I will be working on soon under the same title. An "exemplar" is a being that is a prime example of an idea above all others. I am not saying that I am one, but rather taking a long, hard look at what an exemplar truly is and the impact that they can have on reality--both illusion and truth.

New Work in Progress

I started a piece yesterday morning before I went to work. It is my largest drawing yet at 45" x 40". I am excited about this work not only because of the size, but because I am working on cultivating the loose, intuitive style that has been calling to me for some time now. There are many layers of symbolism and iconography at work here, and I won't delve into that just yet. But the drawing operates under the idea that if you do enough digging and working whilst leaving one's self open to intuitions, that truth will eventually emerge.

Here is the first 1.5 hours of progress.

White Ash

In bucking headwinds I relax

And as peace of trust confides in me

I reconnoiter my position

As above, so below

Once more this mantra churns the weightless waters

And so the way I speak grows steady

Embers glowing bide their time

~t

The Mariner's Gull

I set out on this voyage as a young man.

Chose a name for my vessel and ventured out.

Nothin’ but salt and waves all around me--

A stubborn mind with resolve so stout.

And I passed through those wicked storms.

Oh, the ocean it did churn and crash.

I had no idea the anchor dwelt within myself.

I still had so much left to learn.

When the sun did rise so kindly,

You became the mariner’s gull.

You stayed so completely by my side.

I didn’t know you were to leave me.

For when I reached a friendly port,

You just up and flew away—

What a silly disillusion that I thought you would remain.

Of course ‘twas not your nature,

So I left the port once more.

I learned to plot a new path not knowing what's in store.

I ran out of provisions and my ship did spring a leak.

A capsized vessel drowning quick.

Nothing solid ‘neath my feet.

When I finally looked up at my sails,

I saw they were only at half-mast.

There was no swimming for the shore,

When I saw that blood-red sun.

As it sunk below horizon—kindred spirit, feel my pain.

The briny deep embraced me.

What striking déjà-vu as I decided to let go.

The water filled my lungs and guts--

The ephemeral, pulsing anguish as my organs did collapse.

The bellows sputtered, gagged, and caved in,

With one last lamentful breath.

Oh, that blood-red semi-circle did invade my sight once more.

Within—a silhouette of a bird I once knew.

One by one they came along, those raptors in disguise.

A hundred lengths of twine bound to them.

Pierced my dead aquatic sky.

Upward they did lift me as my vessel sunk beneath.

I had forgotten the feel of the wind.

I had remembered the sight of the land,
As I was set down upon the grass.

The trees whispered to greet me—

What glorious rebirth!

As those gulls did fly away with their dangling strands of love,

A smile amidst the tears of joy—

They would surely find another.

This new-found land was canvas, bare,

And new sails, I could fashion.

In the sand I drew a circle ‘round a lone stargazer lily.

A benevolent sentinel to watch the constellation forming.

~t

Reversal of the Setting Sun

 Reversal of the Setting Sun

Oh, what a gathering--

This collection of things,

Tied fast to your wrists so tight,

As you struggle to breathe.

Tongue, tooth, and a blade,

On this mountainous crest.

While your consciousness sinks so deep,

Lay those notions to rest.

Feel the wind at your back.

Breathe in deep.

Keep those eyes shut tight,

As you sink down beneath.

With your watch and your chain,

There's no telling the time.

Observing this life you lead--

There's no reason or rhyme.

Open up to these words,

With illusion denied.

Just drop the act now, son.

Let your heart open wide.

Face the wind now, child.

Breathe in deep.

Keep those eyes open wide,

As you rise from beneath.

~t

Praying Arm Lane

This is a segment of one of my favorite 16 Horsepower songs. Last night I has a dream about this song.
It's called "Praying Arm Lane". Beautiful.

Oh, my dream, come and take me quickly,
'Fore the struggle take me.
Yes, lay me down any way you choose,
And with the voices of our children wake me.

The boughs, they all bend for us,
And all the Earth awaits thee.
All the stones, they will cry out,
And every tongue, confess thee.

~DEE

Acceptance!!!

I just found out that I have been accepted into the masters program at Minneapolis College of Art and Design (MCAD)! I am very excited about the possibilities that lie down this path. I've got several great ideas for projects to pursue over the next couple of years, and you are likely to see the prototypes of these ideas manifesting over the spring and summer as I work to hone my concepts and my craft. I can't wait to be back in the trenches with an amazing new city, teachers, and peers.

Thanks to all of those that continued to encourage me to go back to school.

Hewn

Hewn

Wick and flame by stone and dust--

These war-torn hands do as they must,

To build it up and tear it down.

Your frozen antlers scrape the ground.

A tapestry to call my name,

Those locks of woven, horsehair mane.

I left the fear with ember glow,

Learned from soul which way to go.

That piercing sound above the noise,

Did beckon me with timeless joy.

~t

An Evolution

Start of college

End of college

Now

I took a nostalgic trip through some of my old sketches and works when I was just starting out as an artist my sophomore year at Iowa State. It was then that I realized how far I had come down this path, and along with that, how far I have yet to go. I hadn't really made the comparison as to what I did going into school as I did coming out. I was able to improve by a dramatic amount in my drawing, as well as ceramics and metal in such a short time frame thanks to excellent guidance and my own tenacity.

Immediately after school, I didn't do much art. I was burnt out.

Since then, I have embraced my love of making art and have worked diligently to improve my skills in drawing and woodworking. I have also devoted much time to the understanding of all of my later works in order to extract my own truth that I had buried deep within each piece. With the great knowledge I have gained from my many investigations, I have seen the story of my work as a whole and it has provided me with the foresight to see where the work will go from here.

It will be different, and it will be good.

~t

Statement - What Lies in Slumber.

Yesterday, I completed a very simple, but deep piece. It is one that I feel like explaining, so here is the statement for What Lies in Slumber.

It is about the ability to tap into the subconscious. Freud believed that most humans only tap into about ten percent of their total consciousness. He explained this with the analogy of the iceberg. When one approaches a massive iceberg in the open water, only the tip is observed by the personality, while in reality the majority of the iceberg sits below the surface of the water. The part hidden below is like the subconscious. It is unharnessed and we are unaware of its consequences, but to awaken that part of you grants incredible, authentic power.

I used the imagery of the iceberg to conjure this composition. The ninety-percent sleeps below the surface, while the visible ten-percent creates waves that resonate outwards. As our subconscious becomes consciousness, our true selves rise from the depths, creating broader, more consequential vibrations--generally more positive and from a place of wisdom.

~t

What Lies in Slumber

What Lies in Slumber, 2012

14"x18", graphite and chalk on paper

$180

New Peice Started!

Spontaneously wanted to work on an old idea from my sketchbook.

Past the Dreamer's Mantra

Past the Dreamer's Mantra 

 Fear won't desecrate me,

Take this hand and lead me on.

Oh, enlightenment elate me,

Embers burning like the sun.

And I'll walk this walk completely,

As your head doth bob and sway.

While the moon doth glow to greet thee,

And the breeze caress my face.

Shed yourself of all desires,

Everything is here and now.

Don't constrict yourself with wires,

Breathe in light, release all else.

Come up strong to feel this morning,

And greet the waking day.

So love doth come and touch you,

Grant you grace in every way.

~t

The Potentate Series

The Potentate Series

                The word Potentate is defined as a being of supreme power.  The works in this series represent states of psyche and spirit in moments of absolution.  Depicting these states as supreme beings outside of any external context places the power and emphasis strictly on the character and nothing else.  The pieces are designed to use historical iconography to conjure their traditionally associated ideas, but the symbols used are not necessarily limited by those ideas.  They have the potential to take on new meaning as they are presented in new ways.  Many of the intentions behind each piece are left ambiguous as the work is meant to draw an internal realization from the viewer so that the piece has an intimate impact on those who choose to give it meaning.  The hand-crafted frames around each piece are the tangible and sculptural elements to the works.  They relate directly to the ideas behind the art whilst referencing the ideas of shrines, gateways, and mirrors—physical manifestations of spiritual culture.

Keeper of Ruin

The Orchestrator

What Union Hath Wrought

What Wisdom Doth Provide

Before the Ego's Collapse

Arbiter of the Vajra

Post-Show Impressions

It has been two days since the opening reception of "The Figure".  I have had some time to decompress and work on things not related to visual art.  In thinking about Friday night, I cant help but be filled with joy and gratitude for the opportunity to show in such a gorgeous gallery with such amazing people. I couldn't believe the turnout we had that night. From 5:15 to 7:00 every inch of the gallery was packed! 

I was quite pleased at the reception of my work, as well. People were incredibly receptive to my Potentate Series, and wanted to know all they could about them. I was visited by so many friends and loved ones that I was absolutely in awe of the support I received that night. But my absolute favorite thing about the show was the Iowa State students. They peered endlessly at my work, striving to grasp and extract every detail--looking to learn. They made some very astute observations and asked mature questions. It was the best opportunity my art has had to do the work it was made to do, and I am so elated that it has begun to fulfill its purpose.

The gathering afterwords was a success as well. Great food, wine, and friends. I couldn't have had this incredible night without you all! Thank you so much for your support and brilliance!

~t

Wicker Tongue

Wicker Tongue


Dreams of dust did wake him,

When his consciousness did turn.

He leaned to her with tender love,

Asking questions that might burn.

These things, they come in threes,

as they gently trickle down.

With touching words, she answered,

Up above this bleeding ground.

"What take you, oh to laughter,

This denial--winter chill.

My soul was sent to whisper.

Clasp those hands, direct your will."

Live crimson in the pasture,

Oak leaf hands and wicker tongue.

When this charcoal breath did heal you,

Made you want to up-and-run.

Can I, now? And will I?

Tapestry is wearing thin.

Left alone in open field,

So where do I begin?

~t

Tobacco Gown

Paramount, this blazing truth,
Seen through the looking glass.
You swing your horse hair, bat an eye,
And pray that it won't last.
But that fly just keeps on buzzin',
Though you swear you struck it down.
Your crimes come by the dozen--
Sweetgrass braid, tobacco gown.

Well just throw it in the fire, girl,
And let it burn away.
 I've been building up this pyre,
Sittin' here for several days.
Those feathers, they will bellow,
And this cedar will now burn.
It's time to seek the healin',
For which your soul doth yearn.

~t

The Figure--group show this Friday!

This Friday will be pretty huge for me. I am going to have my work exhibited with eight other incredible artists at Olson-Larsen Galleries from February 17th to April 7th with the opening reception being this Friday from 5-7 pm. All are welcome. I am truly honored to be a part of this show and to display my work alongside artists that I greatly respect. Eight of my pieces will be on display and most of the other artist will have a similar amount, so we're looking at around 60 new works by some very talented individuals. A must see!

In my time of living in the Des Moines area, there have been very few exhibitions that have focused on the human figure.  I give props to Susan Watts for pursuing this and putting forth great effort to make it such a big event. I am very excited to see the turnout Friday night and to hear how my newest works are received.

For Everyone on V-Day

Today is a great day to recognize love in all its forms--not just the love between partners, but love of family, friends, and all of humanity and beyond! Take the time to think about the people you are grateful to have in your life, and take the time to forgive those who have wronged you. That's true love, hombre.

The Beginning...

Hello all, and welcome to the first blog post of "The Shape and Colour"!!!

This blog is dedicated to presenting the art, poetry, and insights of me, Trevor Knott, for all of my family, friends, and fans who are interested in what I do. As of now, I plan to submit new posts every other day. In these posts I will include shots of works in progress, writings by yours truly, and eventually I plan to deliver reflections and reviews on the music and art of the surrounding area!

I will start by letting you know a little about myself and my work. I was born and raised in Independence, Iowa, a small town in the Northeast. I earned my BFA at Iowa State University, where I specialized in figure drawing and traditional mediums. I have been making fine art for about six years in which I have worked diligently to evolve the concepts and processes used to create my pieces.

In my work, I use figures and symbols to produce narratives and raise questions about power and truth. What is it? Who possesses it? How does it affect us? These questions and more are addressed in my sculptural and two-dimensional pieces. My favored symbol of power is the obelisk. Creating interactions between obelisks and different archetypes allows me to express my view on power in an abstract way. My pieces are generally done using traditional techniques and materials, as I believe in the spiritual connection of creation and tactile relationships.

Pictured is an example of my work, What Union Hath Wrought.