TS MCFADDEN, INTUITIVE ARTIST

Dec
31


YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF AN INTUITIVE ARTIST. CAN YOU TALK ABOUT WHAT THAT MEANS AND YOUR PROCESS AS AN INTUITIVE ARTIST? 

I saw two butterflies flying together. It looked like they were in love, floating and dancing and seemingly playful. Yeah, I think about shit like that. I knew it was a human fantasy, but I embraced it knowing so. And it made me feel like a little boy again. I wanted for that moment to be with them. Free.  
I thought about what they ARE before they were…worms, for the most part, called caterpillars that went through growth stages called instars. They crawled slowly, they ate, they constantly shed layers and in the last stage of instar their wings began to develop. They lived half their lives in slow motion and then by some natural design, wrap themselves up in a cocoon and are reborn. Were they capable of being aware of any of this, of how slow they moved, of how a transformation was constantly happening? Did it even matter? Miraculously they transform inside of their own space and then break out of it. No longer trapped on the ground they see and go where those of us without wings, those of us that once towered above them, cannot. Then after a short life they die. Their entire journey of slow rewarded with flight and float and hover and see…and escape. Their freedom of movement is the beginning of the end of their journey.
These butterflies were a catalyst for my own truth – found in nature, making me feel childlike, as if I needed to be a child to remember. Their movement and their truth affected me. I had been looking for my own truth, confused as to the purpose of my journey and more so in the slowness in which I was crawling and in the layers that I was constantly shedding.
My truth is in the journey to, and my expression of movement – constant, from subtle to extreme – driven by my unending restlessness for next. My truth is in the shedding and the constant rebirth of my self. My truth is in MY movement, seen in all the work I’ve ever done, in the energy of all I have created. My truth is in the escape and the freedom of that movement.

This expression is not OF me, it IS me. “I” am the “art” – a living, breathing, evolving creating organism. I am not caught up in the ego of discipline but rather in the Id and the abandon and exploration of all things intuitive to my nature and to my journey. I must touch every thing that I am pulled to touch – paint and paper and food and flowers and words and music and wood and stone and steel and…and.
I crawl. I nourish. I shed. I grow. I shed. I build. I transform. I break free. I fly. I die…I begin again.
I never really gave a shit about butterflies, really, until they saw me on that day.
WHAT ARE YOU WORKING ON TODAY?
The second edition of my kid’s book, Your Very Own Space.  Specifically, the digitally created illustrations using my photos and my Illustrator drawn characters. I’m also working on some anger management due to some Twitter political discussions.
SOME OF YOUR PIECES, FOR EXAMPLE THE MOTHER SERIES AND ELEPHANT GRAVEYARD SCULPTURE, INVOLVE THE RECYCLING OF MATERIALS INTO WORKS OF ART. HOW DID THESE PROJECTS COME TO YOU AND IS ENVIRONMENTAL CONSCIOUSNESS PARAMOUNT IN OTHER ASPECTS OF YOUR LIFE TOO?
I have a special place for saving things, thanks mostly to my father I think, who hated to ever throw anything away given his very poor childhood and his belief that all things could be used for something. And I have a drive to use them, thanks to my mother, who was not fond of the “clutter and junk” my father kept but rarely discouraged him.
I also grew up roaming the fields and woods of the countryside, it is the place where I created things from what I found and not from what I was given. I have a powerful and emotional respect and love for that (environment) teacher. I believe it must be preserved and cherished for the sake of all the young students who are meant to explore it.
The idea of finding beauty in things that have been deemed worthless is also a peek into my own dark waters.
WHAT BRINGS YOU JOY? 
The sweet and gentle puff of my husband’s breath as he sleeps beside me. The piercing blue eyes of my 97 year old grandmother. The sound of my mother’s laughter. The beginning of the sentence “Uncle Tim…” The unquestioning and commanding love of my siblings. The phrase “fuck it.” My BFF Rich’s fried chicken and okra. Finding words and feeling color. Trees. Lilacs. Making shit.

COMB OR BRUSH?  
Fingers.
DO YOU LIKE YOUR NAME?  
I would never reject a gift given with such love. But yeah, I do, it’s not a sexy name but it’s who I see when I look in the mirror every morning.
FINISH THIS SENTENCE: MY AGE IS…………….
of no consequence, I was way old a few lifetimes ago.
WHAT’S FOR DINNER TONIGHT? 
It’s a clever question because it’s the hardest one to answer and who the fuck has time to eat!?
Check out more of Tim’s work at www.tsmcfadden.com