Embracing the Layered Intensity

by James Love

Expression in Notes App
James Love
© 2026 The Love Trollinger Initiative LLC. All rights reserved.

The more I seek to understand mindfulness, the more I understand it as a practice of attention—grounding yourself in the present moment. Any activity that helps us do that is, in some way, a mindful activity.

Prayer is one of those practices. It’s the one I’m most committed to practicing daily. But I’ve been searching for another—one that is more physical, more rooted in movement.

While looking for an activity to use with a client, I revisited Dr. Cathy Malchiodi’s work on trauma and expressive arts therapy (you can get the book here). In one section, she discusses visual journaling. The moment I read it, I knew it would work—not only for the client, but for me, and likely for many others.

A visual journal is a space to creatively freestyle or create with intention. Collage is welcome. Drawing is welcome. Anything that helps move beyond the language-centered part of the brain and into the nonverbal. Once the initial excitement settled, I began to practice—and what surfaced was something I had avoided for a long time.

Using markers and crayons, I set out to draw something that reflected my current emotional state. My emotions are often layered and complex. As I began, my hand moved quickly and intensely. Before long, I wasn’t trying to draw anything. I was drawing layers of intense gestures—scribbles. And it felt relieving to let go of trying to make something, and instead allow myself to simply represent my being in the moment.

But scribbles? Come on. I’m a better artist than that… right?

That thought was pride—and it missed the point.

I once shared this tension with an art mentor, admitting that I wanted to scribble but didn’t believe scribbling counted as art. She smiled and gently reminded me of the expressive power found in the marks of children and adults alike. Scribbling, she assured me, is a valid form of expression. I was just afraid to embrace it.

Now, it’s something I can’t escape.

Layering intense gestures is my most honest creative language—one we all knew as children, before we had the words, but knew how to make marks. My soul seems to need this kind of space and permission right now: a place to explore without explanation.

As I sat with the marks, I returned to them—some in the journal, some on my phone. I thought of artists who didn’t rely on traditional imagery, but carried spiritual and emotional weight through abstraction: Basquiat, Twombly, Kiefer, Rothko, and the great ink painters of the East.

This isn’t about artistic skill. It isn’t about whether the work is “good enough.” It’s about finding an honest, nonverbal form of expression—one that releases internal pressure, eases stress, and makes room for complex emotion.

Sometimes, the most truthful language we have is a a bunch of erratic lines representing all the complex emotions inside that we do not have the words for.

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Writing on the Wall--Press Release

 

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Writing on the Wall

Online Exhibition

ipaintforgod.com

Writing on the Wall is an ongoing online exhibition featuring written and visual work by members of the Overlooked Art Collective, along with artists recommended by OAC members.

The exhibition brings contemporary written work into a gallery context—treating language not as supporting material, but as the work itself. Text is recontextualized visually and spatially, asking viewers to read, look, and sit with language as an artistic form.

This is not a mainstream gallery space. Writing on the Wall exists to make room for work that is often overlooked—work that resists easy categorization, market-driven presentation, or traditional exhibition formats.

New work is added on a rolling basis. The exhibition will remain open until complete and will then be archived as a finished collection.

Exhibition Details

• Title: Writing on the Wall

• Format: Online Exhibition

• Mediums: Written and visual work

• Artists: The Overlooked Art Collective and OAC-recommended artists

• Status: Ongoing

View the exhibition at:

https://www.ipaintforgod.com

About the Overlooked Art Collective

The Overlooked Art Collective is a loose network of artists and writers committed to creating space for work that does not easily fit within dominant cultural or commercial frameworks.

Ipaintforgod: Artificial to Art (Official)

by James Love

Student Response to "Happy Birthday" by James Love 

(Courtesy of Dr. Lora Hawkins)

"Happy Birthday" was featured in the exhibition Artifical / Art Official

© 2026 The Love Trollinger Initiative LLC. All rights reserved.

Ipaintforgod was the very first name I knew to give to what I was doing with art when I rediscovered it for myself in Asheville around 2016–2017. I registered the domain, made some cards, and just thought my whole life was about to take off.

I was exploring creating these expressive, abstract, collage paintings—sometimes I used text with them. I thought I was creating art that was just the most honest and real work, and it was not coming from a traditionally trained artist, which made it more intriguing. I was prolific during this time. I treated any opportunity as a chance to produce artwork—and I imagined what I could do with any medium to create art.

I didn’t have a message. I thought Basquiat was just throwing paint like Pollock. I thought that’s all I needed—no message, no story.

I was able to be part of some group shows and host my own solo exhibitions. In two of my solo exhibitions, I was interviewed. You can see one here and the other here. For my first digital solo exhibition, it was covered here.

When it came to interviews, I said things that I hoped someone years later would find. I wanted to be an inspiration the way other artists were inspirations to me.
“I really hope some artist who deals with insecurity because of race comes along and hears this,” or, “I really hope some Christian artist comes and sees this. I’m pushing the envelope,” were some of the things I was telling myself.

I certainly was, in my own neck of the woods—but not globally.

I sometimes think about producing a documentary that covered that time—no words from me—just video and photos. Audio from the interviews. Because that’s honestly what I was doing everything for. I wanted to be made into a star. I wanted the coffee books, the magazine coverage, the documentaries, the million-dollar sales.

It soon became apparent to me that nothing I was pursuing was about God, but totally about myself.

That’s when I ditched the ipaintforgod site and recreated it as History Is Art. I wanted to do something different—something relevant. Ipaintforgod felt distant. It felt like a name that was left in Asheville.

I left Asheville under less than ideal circumstances. I hadn’t shared any meaningful art since I moved. I immediately went into caretaking mode, grad-student mode, and get-a-job mode. I have struggled to maintain my artistic practice in the way I once did.

But ipaintforgod.com is back now, and it will be a website that I treat as an online gallery space. This resurrected container is what I—and my artist friends—need right now. And I am going to make sure it doesn’t become another trend or fad, because it’s not for those audiences.

It’s for people who really appreciate slowing their minds down, looking a little closer. They don’t have to be filthy rich to enjoy the experience—although the rich, as well as the poor, are welcome to participate.

See the relaunched site here.

Devoting Myself to Prayer

by James Love

Digital Drawing on Wacom Pad

James Love

© 2026 The Love Trollinger Initiative LLC. All rights reserved.

I keep showing myself that I’ve got it all figured out. If I can just be smart enough, if I can just read more, if I do this and do that, then I’ll finally be worth something. The Spirit of God has shown me something plainly. Mindfulness is one of the most research-backed approaches in counseling. It’s able to ground us in the present or allow us to really focus or be in flow. Do you know one of the mindful activities listed to use? Prayer.

I imagine this kind of prayer to really be beneficial if one focuses their attention on who they are speaking with—God, in the Christian’s case. And it’s more valuable to consider who you are talking to than what you are saying. May what you say be centered on the One with whom you are speaking. What do you say to God? We are encouraged to pray without ceasing—to constantly be in a state of mind and heart that is focused on God. Prayer naturally orients the mind toward God.

A lot of my issue is never getting beyond myself enough to really have a right-standing relationship with someone else. I think to myself, I think of myself, and I do not often think of others. This is why my world is so narrow. It is peaceful, but not as full, because I am too self-oriented.

So in true “I’ve reached the end of the road” fashion, I am deciding to pray more than anything else. To focus on prayer more than anything else. And to simply be ready when God speaks back. And I believe He will. And I will know it.

Everything You Prayed For

by James Love

ICON
James Love
© 2026 The Love Trollinger Initiative LLC. All rights reserved.

I’ve been in church practically my whole life. Long enough to know that many of us hear the word but do not do it—or do our best for a while, then give in to our own desires and impulses. As someone who studies the mind, I understand that tension. Sometimes we grow impatient. Sometimes we grow pessimistic because it seems the things we learned are not actually happening—ask and you shall receive, knock and the door will be opened.

As I’ve gotten older, my relationship with faith has grown less mystical and more practical. That shift came largely through religious pain I’ve endured. That’s a story for another time, but it’s important to say this: I allowed what I witnessed within the church to convince me that this was not for me, and that I did not want to be there.

Despite distancing myself from the church, I was still praying.

I prayed for people who plainly disrespected me simply for showing up as myself—asking questions, seeking clarity, being creative. I prayed for people who disagreed with my creative expression and my way of seeing the world. I prayed and prayed and prayed.

I prayed for my mom to be healed. When it became clear that healing didn’t seem to be in the cards, I prayed that she would die in her sleep. That prayer was apparently answered.

I prayed for my friends, exes, and strangers—for their peace, their families, their prosperity. Those prayers also seemed to be answered.

But in the process of watching these prayers come to life, I was submerged in an unspeakable depth of pain. While others appeared to thrive and peace was ushered into their lives in different forms, I couldn’t fully appreciate it. My one prayer remained unanswered: remove this pain from my heart.

I cannot lie—I fell away hard.

I looked into witchcraft. I listened to rock music. I read The Satanic Bible. I found myself comfortable with the language of atheistic materialists. My orientation shifted completely because I had grown so disconnected from people who claimed to follow God, and so frustrated with what I thought I knew of God.

I began to believe God was a mirage—a psychological construct interfering with material reality. A cult. An accepted cult, approved by the state. A weapon to keep poor and marginalized people compliant despite the literal hell they face every day, internally and in their communities.

I grew angry at the image of God sitting back, watching humanity unravel, and simply pointing a finger saying, do better. For a while, I wanted nothing to do with Christianity. I thought I was on the right side of history—the side of the “smart” people who don’t live by ancient realistic fiction.

And then I had an epiphany.

After burying my mother and living inside intense grief, something became clear. My entire life had been oriented around my dreams—what I wanted to accomplish before I died, before she died. With her gone, I had to reevaluate everything.

What I discovered was unsettling: my anger and disturbance existed long before her illness. Long before my first heartbreak. It began when I failed to understand how large the absence of my father actually was in my life.

There was no guidance. No structure. No one speaking life into me as a son.

I didn’t realize how angry I was about that absence. I tried to replace it—with coaches, with potential fathers-in-law—but each attempt only deepened my resentment. Outsourcing a father’s role never sat right with me.

What I finally understood was this: I did not feel internally validated. I didn’t truly feel loved. Even my mother’s fierce love, as real as it was, couldn’t fill that particular void. That missing validation haunted me quietly for years.

There is more to the story, of course, but this was the central fracture. And I’m grateful I was finally able to see it.

As this realization settled in, I repented (or changed my mind)—slowly and genuinely.

I began to see that my anger toward God closely mirrored my anger toward my father. I viewed God as absent, detached, doing whatever He wanted—because that was how I had learned to understand my father. I didn’t feel chosen. I felt included only as a supporting character in someone else’s story, not as a reason to stay and build a family.

I will never fully know my father’s struggles. I believe he wanted a good life, but feelings, influences, time, and health overtook him. And still, I love him—because hatred is too heavy a burden to carry.

I love both my parents for what they did and did not do for me. I do not blame them.

What I do understand now is that I must work through these psychological realities in a way that allows me to function, to be healthy, and to use the time I have left well—not just for myself, but for those around me.

That means continuing to pray, even when prayers are not answered in ways I’m ready to recognize. Sometimes pain blinds us to what is being revealed. And sometimes prayers are not answered at all—and that, too, can be good.

I’m beginning to understand that some of the things I begged God to remove were the very things exposing what needed to be healed.

If something in this piece touched a nerve—if you’ve wrestled with faith, grief, unanswered prayers, or the quiet anger that comes from feeling unseen—you don’t have to hold it alone.

I’m open to conversation, not debate. Sometimes clarity comes simply from being heard.

You can reach me directly at
📩 admin@ltisite.com

I read every message and respond when I can.

Why Struggling Privately Isn't Enough

 by James Love

Digital Drawing
James Love
© 2026 The Love Trollinger Initiative LLC. All rights reserved.

The Bible is full of stories that reveal the psychology and heart of humanity.

It shows Jacob loving Rachel but marrying Leah.
It shows Samson surrendering his strength for the company of a woman.
It shows Abraham lying to authorities in an attempt to protect himself and his wife.

When we read these stories, it’s easy to judge and say, “That’s not me.”
But the truth is, these stories are mirrors. They reveal our inner lives—and not always the parts we’re proud of.

Private struggle can preserve dignity. But by itself, it rarely produces transformation—ours or anyone else’s.

In our own lives, we carry stories of triumph, setback, and moments we’d rather forget. Yet we curate the version of ourselves we want others to see. I want people to see my business acumen, not my wounds. I want them to see a successful relationship, not the effort it takes to maintain it. After all, it’s none of their business… right?

I’m sure David thought his affair with another man’s wife was none of our business. Yet it’s preserved in Scripture for all to see. I’m sure Elijah wanted to keep his despair to himself, but we’re given access to it generations later.

So what’s the point?

There is value in your story—for the right person.

This isn’t a call to overshare or to make your pain public property. It’s an invitation to be intentional. Not every detail belongs everywhere. But silence, especially prolonged silence, can isolate us—and it can deprive others of the hope they need.

Not everyone struggles with addiction, grief, doubt, or fear. But many do, quietly. And your willingness to share—wisely and truthfully—could be the thing that helps someone else keep going. It may be painful to revisit. It may feel exposing. But when all is said and done, your story could be the exact encouragement someone else needs to survive their own.

Don’t withhold your story when it has the power to elevate another life.

And here’s the real question: who will tell it?

I read gossip columns more than I’d like to admit. And what I’ve noticed is this—if you don’t tell your story, someone else will tell it for you. And when they do, it won’t be complete. They won’t know about the nights you cried or the prayers you whispered when no one was watching. They weren’t there.

That part belongs to you.

Telling your story takes courage. People will talk. They may say, “That’s not all that happened.” Fine. Let them add their commentary. But at least the person who lived it—the one who understands what happened behind the scenes—is also speaking.

That person is you.

And your voice matters.

If you want help telling your story with clarity, care, and intention, you can reach me here.

• create a paired piece titled “When Silence Protects—and When It Harms”

Just say the word.

Making Art Didn’t Save My Life

by James Love

Opening a Spiritual Door
James Love
© 2026 The Love Trollinger Initiative LLC. All rights reserved.

I’ve been drawing for as long as I can remember. Originally inspired by comic heroes and cartoons like Earthworm Jim, I believed I would grow up to be a comic book artist. That didn’t happen. Poetry entered my life differently—long hours sitting in cars freestyling over beats with my friends, or texting lines back and forth to see if they landed the way we hoped. I never produced an album or published a poetry book. Art was simply something I participated in. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I loved being in it.

At some point, I imagined my artwork could become a container for my most intense feelings and experiences—that this was what artists were supposed to do. The ones I admired seemed to combine expression with mind-altering substances in pursuit of “truth,” and I assumed that was the path I needed to follow. I thought I had discovered the creative blueprint, and that historic artistic success was just a matter of commitment and endurance. That…did not happen.

After leaving Asheville—right before Helene hit—I felt unmoored. The artists I once spent time with were no longer around. The conversations, the planning of exhibitions, the shared momentum—it all faded. My attention shifted almost entirely to caring for my ill mother. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of what art-making had meant to me in the first place. What had once been an innocent and meaningful activity became a strategy—a way to make money. That’s where I went wrong.

Making art didn’t save my life. Not even the money that came from selling work. I confused the tool with the source of strength. What carried me through was faith—the belief that I could endure whatever was in front of me. Art was part of that process, but it wasn’t my savior. It wasn’t a mystical force guiding my life toward some inevitable success. It was a processing tool. A kind of spiritual storage space—a place to hold ideas, questions, and possibilities while I worked through difficult seasons.

I understand now that my internal faith did more for me than art-making ever could on its own.

Because of that, I’m more intentional now—about when, how, and why I make art. I’m intentional about what I share and when I share it. And I’m especially mindful that my creative abilities are not meant to serve only my own well-being, but the well-being of others.

If any of this resonates with you—if you’re rethinking your relationship with creativity, faith, or purpose—I’m open to conversation.

You can reach me here.

What Is a Creative Producer?

By James Love

Photo Credit: The Love Initiative LLC (c) 2024

Bes had seen my career from the start. In fact, I did my first live painting with him at a church in Asheville. Since then, I’ve explored many creative avenues, but it never seemed to stick with my audience.

“You do a lot of different things,” he said.
“And it’s not random to me,” I replied, “but to the people who see my work, it can feel like it comes out of nowhere.”

That confusion matters—because if people don’t understand what I actually do, they don’t know how to work with me, collaborate with me, or recognize the full value of the projects I help bring into the world.

Most people understood me as a traditional artist, and I couldn’t fault them. They had seen me share paintings and drawings online for years, even launching ipaintforgod.com as an online home for my artwork and blog.

But when I developed my business, that wasn’t seen as making art. When I consulted writers and comedians on their creative projects, that wasn’t seen as art. Managing fundraisers or helping shape public art projects was viewed as project management—not creative work. Yet from my perspective, all of it belonged to the same creative lineage.

I needed a way to communicate the full range of my creative output—not just paintings and sculptures.

“You’re right,” Bes said. “You need a way of saying James Love is more than a painter, more than a DJ, more than a writer.”

That’s when it became clear: the idea itself is my primary medium. The tools and formats used to bring that idea to life are secondary.

“A creative producer is someone who creates, develops, and deploys a variety of creative projects,” I told him. “That can include work inside a gallery, outside a gallery, or even helping create the gallery itself.”

“I think that’s spot on,” he said. “It gives you the language to explain that you’re more than a traditional visual artist.”

This doesn’t mean I no longer paint or write poetry. It means I can also produce DJ sets, conversations, fundraisers, and creative systems. The output may change, but the creative intention remains the same.

I am not only an artist in the traditional sense.
I am a creative producer.

If you have a creative project you want to bring to life, click here and let’s get started.

I Love You, Man, and Why It’s Important We Support One Another

One thing is for certain: having the support of your fellow man matters. And I mean that literally—having another man who will listen to you, stand with you, and support you in love and respect. I can’t overstate how important that is.

When I think about some of the hardest times in my life, especially when my father wasn’t there, it was men of God who stepped in. They didn’t do everything right, but they made sure I was moving in a direction shaped by integrity and honesty. Other groups I was part of didn’t offer that kind of guidance. I found myself repeating patterns of thought and behavior I didn’t truly want—because I wanted the support, even if it wasn’t the right kind. Over time, I learned this: choose the men around you wisely. Every man is not for your good—but not every man is out to destroy you either.

With this understanding, the formation of men’s support groups has become deeply important to me. Giving men the tools and structure to gather and speak openly with one another is priceless. This is one reason why I believe early Christians were urged not to forsake fellowship and to carry one another’s burdens. Not perfectly—but persistently. Life-altering things happen to men, and too often we don’t know who to talk to, or even who to think with. That shouldn’t be normal.

For a long time, I wanted to be the lone wolf. The man who made it on his own. The man who felt nothing. The man who moved through life with the strength of three Supermen. But that man was never me. I felt. I hurt. I still do. And many others do too. If we keep hurting alone, the weight becomes unbearable. For many of us, it already is. That’s why we need one another—daily.

Men being able to be themselves and speak honestly with one another, religious or non-religious, is something I want to help make normal. I believe love is still present across those differences. The kind of love I’m talking about—the love of God—says, “I know we’re different, but I recognize your struggle. Let me help you carry it.” Love is the perfect spotter in the gym. Love is the ultimate rebounder and passer on the court. Love wants us all standing, all breathing, all believing we are worthy to live and worthy of love.

Until next time,

Much peace and much love,

James