Art and the Eventual
Journey of Life
By
Steve Sheppard
You often hear many people denying their own artistic
abilities, “oh I can’t sing”, “I could never learn to play the guitar”, “I
could never write like you”, “I am useless at drawing or painting”. Let’s just
look at that, someone has told you that you cannot sing, everyone can to some
extent or another, with application and a little training and a desire, you
could play an instrument, no, you will never write like me, but try writing
like you, again someone, more than likely a bad teacher or a negative friend
has told you, that your art work was rubbish, more than likely because it was
actually better than they could do, and they were jealous.
So when it comes to testing this, I am reminded of a story my
father told me many years back, he was travelling home from work with
passengers, and suddenly pulled over to look at the sunset, his work colleges
made fun of him saying it was just a sunset, I mean you see them every day, my
dad turned and replied “See them, do you really see them”
Think on that for a while, but my father was a good artist,
he enjoyed his oil and water colour artistry, and that’s the main thing, for me
I have had several instances like that throughout my life, and fortunately for
me I was keen to never let them go. You see I came from a working class
background in England, I loved my parents, but they did try and steer me in the
only direction they knew worked, it was the mid 70’s and the open factory gates
beckoned to me, like some monolith, a vampire of time, its doors opened wide
and tried to swallow me up, in a bid to lead a similar existence to my father,
of a 40+ years of servitude and little else..
The main problem that I had, was I had one thing that was a
danger to all that was regarded to be normal at that time, I had an amazing
imagination and a powerful urge to create something artistic from a very early
age, sadly for me my parents sent me to a Catholic school where they literally
tried to beat it out of me. Then I encountered my first angel, I felt it
appropriate there to use a semi-religious term to emphasize this next statement.
I was lucky enough to be taught English by a certain Mr’s Robbins, now anyone
my age from England may remember the second name, if I tell you that she was the
sister of Michael Robbins the actor
from On the Buses, a classic TV situation comedy from the 1970’s, they were
both truly wonderful people, and though she will never know this, she was the
first person whom I’d met that would change the course of my destiny for good,
because she, unlike the nuns who enjoyed telling me I was a waste of skin, she
encouraged me to write, to use my imagination, to engage with the little artist
inside me, I think I understood that, I must have done, hey, hey look at me now
standing ten feet tall.
Many a time I would take myself away into another room and
simply cry, but then came 1999 and things changed faster and more quickly than
even I had anticipated, as I found New Age music, interestingly enough Clouds
by Kevin Kendle was my first album, and from that day onward I was entranced by
an artist like Kendle, who could take a subject so close to my heart in nature,
and manifest from his mind music about Spring, Autumn and life in the wilds of
nature, that could have easily come from my own tormented brain, that day, the
moment when I listened to Cumulus from the Clouds album, was the day the artist
in me jumped out of the box, and made a run for it.
Never would I be caged into a life-style that wasn’t really
me ever again. A couple of months on, I had duties as a Postman to perform, I
liked that job, as it got me out on the road and sometimes into nature, it was
late September, the leaves were beginning to turn and summers grip had started
to loosen on the countryside, I stopped my bike and watched shards of sunlight
drift down from a pastiche of fair weather clouds, and create a stunning moment
of peace, beauty and calmness, something rare in my life.
I stood and watched the moment slowly unfurl, birds flapped
into a dappled skyline, the sounds of the day floated around me, I now
understand that for a short period of time I was completely in the moment, I
had unknowingly accessed the power of now, and within my mind I could hear
music, the music of Brian Eno and Harold Budd, specifically the track, an Arc
Of Doves, and although I felt a familiar wetness on my cheeks, I was more happy
in that moment than in many others in my life.
This happens constantly now; I stood by a pond and heard
Kevin Kendle’s First Light, then on top of a hill on the Isle of Wight and his
Gliders track played over and onwards, I used Eno’s Music for Airports when
flying, all of these tracks have one thing in common, they kept me rooted in
the now, the only real place any of us will ever be, and created a sanctuary
for me away from the chaos of life’s turbulent roller coaster ride.
So knowledge gained and experienced, now some 20 years on
from my postal experience I followed my own path, my true artistic path, away
from the control and manipulation of others, and running hand in hand with my
true spirit freely, so for my parents who wanted me to work in a factory, you
had a son who is a writer, who owns a much loved online radio station, who had
a successful career in media and broadcasting before that, and now a musician, who
has now just recently just had his second number 1 hit single.
Life is something to be experienced; playing it safe doesn’t
work as your always playing to someone else’s agenda, feel the spirit of
artistic endeavour within if you if you wish to do so, and never, ever, let
anyone tell you that you are not worthy, and you will never amount to anything,
you are all sparks of a potential, that need to be turned into flames of
undeniable desire. Go for it, you really have nothing to lose, and you will
make the artist that hides inside of you so very happy.
