EMay

is creating music, art, words and sustenance

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Just here for the party!
$1
per month

Rock on! For being here at all, you get access to the Patron-only news feed with pictures & stories about my creative process, as well as my gratitude <3

Unicorns
$5
per month

My favorite mythical creatures! For your patronage, you receive...

- Patron-only feed w/ pictures & stories about my creative process

- One patron-only songs every month!

- Download of any other songs I publish that month

- 50% off anything you want in my bandcamp store

- My eternal fascination and gratitude

Mermaids!
$9
per month

The seductive sirens on the sea! For your patronage, you receive...

- Patron-only feed w/ pictures & stories about my creative process

- One patron-only songs every month!

- Download of any other songs I publish that month

- 50% off any merch

- My eternal fascination and gratitude

PLUS a signed CD or Record mailed to you upon joining

AND special thanks on my website & new records

AS WELL AS A postcard of original music-related artwork that you can send to a friend

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patron

About

"Paint... when the idea posesses you. Make compositions. Use the knowledge you acquire in the class of life at once. Like to do your work as much as a dog likes to gnaw a bone and go at it with equal interest." - Robert Henri

Several years ago, I found myself drawn to the mountains of West Virginia. I was pulled in, first for a compelling love, then for a vibrant community, and finally for a communion with my oldest longing -- to be at one with nature. As an artist, this love and my friends and the glory of my home have filled me to the brim. 

For my entire career, I have alternated from behind the scenes to on stage, from painting to patronage, from writer to reader and back again. I suspect I'll never stop this journey, constantly filling up my cup from the fountain of vibrant creativity that exists in our human culture. Working to support others creators gave me endless inspiration, much joy in bringing into existence the work of other daring artists, and a sense of importance in my ability to 

But I have come to realize that being a professional in the arts is ultimately is not my path, not in the direct work-for-paycheck ways that I have done. I suspect I will always produce events and consort with artists on better business practices, because I do love that work. However, as an artist, if I am always helping someone else put on a performance, when will I get on stage? If I am always showcasing other artists works, when will I pick up my paintbrush? If I am always critiquing or evaluating others works, when will I write my own novel?

I have taken some time off to reflect and, more importantly, to create and release work. Last September, I hung my first art on public walls for the first time in well over a decade. After that exhibit, I released my first fully-produced album in February, a project that had languished on the backburner for somewhere between 10 years to a bakers-dozen of months, depending on when I start keeping track. The more stalled work that I release into the world, the more creative I become. I have started a series of guitar drawings, watercolor sketches of the farm I live on, still lifes and abstracts. I have written poems, non-fiction and fiction stories, and have begun work on a novel. I write a song per week, by order of a group I have joined, and several other snippits as I work towards becoming a better musician. I have performed with a Turkish singer, alongside a percussionist to create music for yoga classes, and have begun touring with my new rock band.

Far from exhausted or overworked, these creative endeavors seem only to bring me closer and closer to the core of my being. The more time I spend making art, the more time I find to spend freely observing the world around me without judgement. The more songs I write, the more songs I hear in my head, longing to come out of my mouth. I feel pulled into that eternal moment of NOW with such a force that I may as well be tossed in an undertow of an ocean that has been lapping on my shores for years. Except instead of drowning, it feels like surfing.

Some of you have known me for a long time, others not so long, and perhaps a few of you, not at all. But when I, from inside myself, assess my life and career without judgment, I see that this has all been coming forever, back to my earliest memories. It was only me that got in the way of seeing that, of living up to my fullest potential, of KNOWING who I really was and DOING the work I was put here to do.

Patreon has been on my "backburner" of projects for a while, mostly because I've always felt that there were more direct ways to make money on art -- selling CDs or canvases, performing at concerts, and my long list of professional endeavors. However, another thing I noticed upon looking backward was how incredibly supportive my fans have always been. When I wasn't sure if I should start performing solo, my friends and fans backed my first solo recording. When I was on the way to Los Angeles with barely enough money to cover the cost of creating my last album, people stepped in with $5 to $500 (and a few lovely souls, even more) just to see me achieve this life-long dream, with nary a promise of anything in return. When I hung my first art show in a dozen years, people responded with love and joy and gratitude. Strangers purchased the work, but more importantly, the community appreciated the installation. People still come up to me to say how lovely it was to walk into Tip Top and be surrounded by my work.

I am the last one to this party, and I am glad to be here. I told a friend, not terribly long ago, that I wanted to be a musician. She furrowed her brow, analyzing the data, and said, "Are you not a musician already?" I was seeing the past, all the things I regretted not doing, and the future, all the things I've yet to accomplish. She was seeing the recent facts -- Stanford had just hired me to fly halfway across the country to play 45 minutes of my original songs. Another friend, when I began opening my sketchbooks and heart to the local galleries, said, "I was wondering when you would finally show up."

I no longer wish to decide exactly what I am going to do with my work, but I know now that I must keep going regardless. I will continue to encourage YOU, active and aspiring artists, to continue on your journey as well. But I cannot always do that from behind the curtains. Now, more than ever, I need to do it from the stage.

Thank you, always, for your ears and eyes and hearts, which you loan to me for our time together. May those moments help lift you through many other parts of your lives -- I know they do for me.
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