Day Fifty Eight: Hormones of Spring.

Awe, the day, the day.

A managed to catch the nicest bike ride you could expect for February here. The route was gorgeous and lakeside. The sun glistened off the water in delightful patterns. I was wearing a green scarf and red gloves. I could see the scarf blow in my shadow and it made me demure with a fleeting thought of Audrey Hepburn. I felt gorgeous and fast.

Later while contemplating costumes the sunset gave me new colors to add the the mix. All the pinks and purples and blues to the near full moon rising huge and close and friendly.

I can hardly compete with the best that nature can offer but I can be grateful to have such visual stimulation in the warmth of an unusually comfortable and bright winter day.

Consequently, I start late, full of good intention, sorely lacking in time. But full of sunshine and spring and wild oats.

February 27: Acrylic Paint, Sharpie, grease pencil on Foam Board. 16"x20"

I thank God I was raised Catholic, so sex will always be dirty.  ~John Waters

Day Fifty Seven: What a tangled web...

When explaining my relationships to a new friend, well... I see some absurdities in my life.

Not that I feel absurdities to be a bad thing... no, I suppose at this point they are part of whom I have selected to experience now. And I am happily surprised to see it, and be able to acknowledge it.

But sometimes things that take me away from art for a while defy verbal definition.

Or perhaps I have not the words now. So, my absurd friday leaves me with this:

 

February 26: Silver Sharpie on Black Construction Paper 

"True friends stab you in the front" ~ Oscar Wilde

"When a friend is in trouble, don't annoy him by asking if there is anything you can do. Think up something appropriate and do it." ~Edgar Watson Howe

"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom." ~Marcel Proust

Day Fifty Six: It is Good

Sometimes when something upsets me for whatever reason, that is when I realize how little I control my emotions still. And how long it takes me to release negative emotion. It swirls and gains and ebbs in my head and body. It takes on a life of its own once I rationalize, justify and feel victimized.

There it is, all outside of me, affecting the inside of me.

Time to regain control and get happy and connected again.

 

February 25: Sharpie on postcard stock, 4"x6"

"Oh, the places you'll go, oh, the things you'll see." ~Dr. Seuss

"Hitch your wagon to a star." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Day Fifty Five: The World Turns

So, it is getting pretty amazing here is Laurentia land. Activities are afoot that may take me away from making my studio art in a refined and consistent way and plunge me deeply into large artistic projects that may take turns heretofore unimagined. I can hardly wait. I am always open to new experiences and I foresee a doozie coming straight at me in the form of dozens of small  *and not so small* titillating, enervating and creative projects working with a collaborator for many. Yay for me!

Thank you.

So, today you get this:

 

February 24: Sharpie and pen on postcard stock, 4"x6"

"I learned that the richness of life is found in adventure... It develops self-reliance and independence. Life then teems with excitement. There is stagnation only in security." ~William Orville Douglas

"Without leaps of imagination, or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning." ~Gloria Steinem

Day Fifty Four: Uh Huh, its a big one.

I have finally decided that I am done doing what I do to this piece, its done. And I love it. It only took about a month and a half. I have learned to have a steady hand. I wish you could see it live. It is alive.

And just in case, here is a detail:

 

February 23: Oil Paint on Canvas,  48"x24"

"There is no greater joy than that of feeling oneself a creator. The triumph of life is expressed by creation." ~ Henri Bergson 

"Don't look for obscure formulas or mystery in my work. It is pure joy that I offer you. Look at my sculptures until you see them. Those closest to God have seen them." ~ Constantin Brancusi 

Day Fifty Three: And the Beat Goes On

So, okay, I am feeling rushed for time these days. 

When I started this project I was happily making art in a reclusive manner. I had spent several months mostly away from social interaction to the service of art. And good things happened, and I started this blog. 

Now, society is creeping into my realm again. Just a couple friends that lure me with their goodness and good times. And then a movie, or some music. Well, just a couple hours. Let's eat together. Hey, how is the bike running? 

And then soon the day is ending and I am artless. Or nearly so. 

I will not give up either. But I will give you this:

 

February 22:  Graphite and Grease Pencil on 18"x24" rough sketch

"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out.  It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being.  We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit."  ~Albert Schweitzer

"I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying." ~ Oscar Wilde

Day Fifty Two: Sunny Sunday!

I want to hop rocks, look in the river, ride a bike, get some sorely needed vitamin D. What, its only February? Well heck, looks like April to me!

And I am filled with glee today. My friend and I have decided to go to Burning Man this year. Rash decisions made easily with PBR, rollies and a great imagination. I can see it now. All the art, all the people, all the fun, all the dust. Starting and ending with a great road trip. What could be better for a artsy thrill seeker? And I hear that Center Camp has WiFi. Weeee.

More on that later.... Until then I ride my bike and conjure dreams of moveable art.

February 21: Sharpie on Watercolor paper, 9"x12"

Day Fifty One: Movie Night

 I finally am going out to a movie. I love movie popcorn the best. And I like the trailers and the stupid "turn off your cell phone" shorts. I like the dancing candy and soda. I like the plush seats with cup holders and arms that conveniently go up between seats, when the popcorn is shared... I like watching people arrive, scanning for seats, some shy and some bold. I like the thrill of the dimming lights. I like whispering to my friend in the dark, leaning in. I like crying at poignancy, laughing out loud at our common humanity, jumping with a rush of adrenaline when surprising things occur. I love the credits and thinking about what it was like there at the making of the movie. How many people were involved, how was James Cameron to work with, how much CGI is in the film. I like trailing out with an appreciative crowd.

I am looking forward to this movie, Avatar. All I have heard about this, the highest grossing movie of all time, is nothing but raves. And the friend I am going with never fails to bring a level of fun and joy to any occasion. Anyone who makes me feel so special is extra special to me.


So I post early and tuck a hanky in my pocket.

 

February 20: Sharpie on Heavy Paper, 9"x12"

"If my film makes one more person miserable, I've done my job"  - Woody Allen

 

"Do or not do, there is no try" - Yoda

"The length of a film should be directly related to the endurance of the human bladder" - Alfred Hitchcock

Day Fifty: Just another manic Friday

So much to do and such short weekends:

 

 February 19: sharpie on paper: 8"x14"

Only Robinson Crusoe had everything done by Friday.  ~Author Unknown

Day Forty Nine: Sigh

Need a nap. And a vacation in Mexico. And a tan and a swim in the ocean and some fresh seafood and ...

 

February 18: Sharpie on Construction paper

Day Forty Eight: I want to climb to the top of that rock!

I have to admit to feeling a little like I have not been living completely up to my full deal here in the last couple days. This is an art blog, and while the art has been present, of course, the blog portion has been a little lax. 

Its not as though the art was so huge and complex that it boggles the mind and words would only cloud the issue... no, I have been barely producing enough each day to get by until a new big work is ready to be shown here. And my words have been sucked dry.

Truthfully there are several pieces that need to finish and move aside. I am waiting for the next deluge of inspiration but I fear that too many unfinished pieces in a messy studio do not  provide enough room for them to develop unfettered by past experience. I don't want to continue to copy myself. Imitate myself. I want to look at blank space and conjure new worlds. See new visions of perfection.

Same with my relationships. I wish to view them anew daily. Untainted by anything. I love you all over again.

All that aside:

 

February 17: Sharpie on Watercolor paper, 9"x12"

"There are no failures - just experiences and your reactions to them." - Tom Krause

Day Forty Seven: Who Knew I would make it this far.

I Did!

 

February 16: Pen and Sharpie on Watercolor paper.

"Any idiot can face a crisis - it's day to day living that wears you out." -Anton Chekhov

Day Forty Six: Back when I was a kid!

Sometimes I get too effervescent. And sometimes I forget to realize it.

 

February 15: Sharpie on Watercolor paper, 9"x12"

The artist uses the talent he has, wishing he had more talent.  The talent uses the artist it has, wishing it had more artist.  ~Robert Brault

Day Forty Five: The rain washed away my Valentine.

 

So yeah, it rained all day. That should have sent me running to the studio but instead my urge to Sunday drive still took me out. There was the usual stop for coffee, sweet and hot. 

And next is the daily trip to the river. With the myriad of locations to satisfy that urge available, I took an amble on the beach near the city center. 

Now I am hiked and coffee-ed and I see him again. I saw him yesterday for the first time. Then he was also walking alone, but downtown, in the midst. I was instantly struck by the image he presented. I could see the vague painting forming in my head. 

He is early 20's and tall with thick blonde shoulder length hair, wearing a tan knee length pea jacket and a newsboy cap. I am not sure what it was, just a quick view, an image, a thought. 

Then today in a totally different neighborhood: there he is walking. The glimpse was fleeting but the outerwear was the same. I cruised a couple blocks pondering the stalking about to occur and just what would I say? Finally I round the block and ready for a drive-by. 

He was gone. I have spent internet time trying to find that image. But all those boys are so porcelain looking, not ruddy and healthy, disheveled, with an attitude. 

All my projection onto that hapless person whose face is fuzzy notion… But I can see the painting. Hummm…

Until then....

 

February 14: Sharpie on Bogus, 9"x12"

"To love another person is to see the face of God." -Les Miserables

Day Forty Four: River Rendezvous

Lusciously relaxed from a gorgeous hike along the Spokane River in the sun, I found myself meeting amazing people the rest of the day.

I learned with the entire crew of the espresso place how to make a really yummy creamsicle drink. Then drank its sweet goodness with happy tongue and adoring faces as they watched to make sure it was done to my satisfaction. It was.

I wandered with my creamsicle into a bikeshop to oogle the new bikes and ended up watching some kick ass bike videos and meeting two really nice guys, Adam and Tim, who love to ride.

And oh my, the art I saw. Harold Balazs is amazing, the energy flowing through his work is so powerful.  And now I want to play with a grease pencil. And where does one find rolls of milk carton paper?

Thank you for the wonderful afternoon. I feel relaxed, refreshed and ready to try something new.

 

February 13: Sharpie on Watercolor paper, 9"x12"

"When you are in Love you can't fall asleep because reality is better than your dreams." -Dr. Seuss

Day Forty Three: I move the furtherest when it is right there,

So, Ideally, everywhere I go is inspiring. And I fully believe that to be true most everywhere I venture when I am aware. I love you all. So I  am sure you see how our exquisite exchange is material in my own transformation. I see you.... I mean "I love you".

Midnight looms from all parts of the day:

 

February 12: Sharpie and Pen on drawing paper, 8.5" x 14"

"I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees." -Pablo Neruda

and i meant that with all the sincerity I can muster given the information I have.

Day Forty Two: The Final Straw

I am in full plot mode.

That means every stupid piece of paper and file needs to be organized, sorted, categorized. Laundry cleaned, fixed, tossed or otherwise dealt with. I need a haircut, the living quarters need a good scrub. The studio needs to be cleaned and organized. The car needs to be cleaned, oil changed and the insurance paid.

All the while, I am creating a plan for what, how, who, where next. I love organized me. And me with a plan is tough to slow down.

And since art is near the center of my dream and desire, that continues forward:

 

February 11: Pen and Sharpie on Drawing Paper, 14"x17"

This internet version of the photograph of the art does not quite do it.

"Let there be Peace on Earth and let it begin with me" - Jill Jackson Miller

Day Forty One: Come Home, Be Loved.

My otherwise blissfully domestic evening got hijacked by a couple of drinking boys. Apparently not content to drink at home all day: a drive to a dive ensued, complete with open containers.

Luckily we got the car home and sent one to bed. The other grumpily stomped off into the darkness of a rainy night swearing to find his own way. So there's that. And the girl... she is not happy and will gladly tell you all about it. I listened.

But now back I go to making dinner, making art and focusing with quiet mind. (No, that is not wine in my cup)

 

February 10: Sharpie, uni-ball on bogus, 9"x12"

"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong." - Mahatma Gandhi

Day Forty: Rocky Horrors

I have been wrestling with stuff today about this blog. After a month and a half, yes, I am learning and of course that is good. The discipline is quite affirming. 

It's the art.

The daily pieces; experiments, done in a couple hours, for the express purpose of making something; they look good on the internet. The size alone keeps them simple. Not too much clarity is lost since the size difference is not extreme. Sharpies make great colors, vibrant, and they photograph surprisingly well in poor light with my borrowed camera. 

It’s the real art; the ones that I labor over, days and weeks. Large complex pieces with texture and volume and stature begging you to look harder. The complexity can't be shown in the lost resolution of said poor photos reduced to a fraction of the size of the original. They don’t say volumes and they look cramped. The texture is lost in a post-botox style reduction. And I can’t even speak of the colors. 

I am starting to feel melodramatic.

The throw-offs look better than the substance in this artificial blog gallery. 

Three hundred twenty five more days of this conundrum.

February 9: Sharpie, pen on 9"x12" bogus

Don't worry, on the road to making art my life, all will resolve.


"If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading. " -Lao Tzu

Day Thirty Nine: Secret Lives

Lying in bed with my laptop, a cookie and some milk. I would say more but I have powdered sugar on my fingers and my keyboard is getting dusty.

 (A midnight snack that required a trip to Albertsons, some serious soul searching and a sad lament. But I did have an exchange there with the clerk who appeared to be the only other occupant of the store. Apparently before bagging my bananas and going gray in a bad economy, she was an appraiser. The boundary lines around here are not always convenient. For an appraiser.)

February 8: Sharpie on heavy paper, 9"x12"

 Yes, hazy stars in a convulsive landscape.

"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be."
– Kurt Vonnegut

Day Thirty Eight: I am feeling the pull of testosterone.

It prompts me to do and say things that might inflame. I am generally pretty stoic in that area. I meet few men that go beyond interesting to talk to into sweaty thoughts. But sometimes... sometimes...

And is it the man that inflames me, or because I am inflamed, he seems so fetching? And so I advance and retreat. Surely facebook is a poor playing field.

Ah, spring and her silly pulses and desires. And my folly at playing along. But I could use the exercise.

February 7: 9"12", Sharpie, pencil on construction paper



"Sex is like art. Most of it is pretty bad, and the good stuff is out of your price range." - Scott Roeben

"Remember, if you smoke after sex you're doing it too fast" - Woody Allen

"Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand." - Unknown


"Sex is more exciting on the screen and between the pages than between the sheets." - Andy Warhol


"Grown men should not be having sex with prostitutes unless they are married to them." - Jerry Falwell

Day Thirty Seven: Veer, Part Two

so, for a couple days in a row I have been super indulgent with friends, substances, art, music.

I have sort of whipped myself into a frenzy of excitement:

so

 

February 6:  And, this is mixed media.

Day Thirty Six: God I Love Fridays

So much expectation of the weekend. So much pent up energy. I so enjoyed the misty rain. Art to be seen, art to be made, sleep to be missed.

February 5: Watercolor, Pencil, Sharpie and pen on Heavy Paper, 9"x12"

Day Thirty Five: My shoulders ache

I pass by a massage school all the time and always wonder which of those gathered out front smoking are massage therapist wannabes. I applaud the effort it takes to go to school, and lots of things in my life have prompted me to smoke, but…. It baffles me. All the massages I have had always came from some fit, homeopathic, vegan, peace, hot rocks, cool tunes, aroma therapy candle types. All seemed full of Om.

Except for that one time in San Diego; she was a six foot tall, muscular, gorgeous, beach volleyball player with hands that could rip my head off.  Part way through the massage I was in complete agony as every knot and muscle was being fed through a pasta maker. Naked except for my sheet, I was trying to relax and wonder if constant massages and volleyball and bench pressing daily could make me so strong. And there in her sterile room, no incense, no mood lighting, no mellow jazz, no deodorant, she wrung me out. She released tension in places that even a penis can't get to. Head to toe, painful muscles tightened by self-induced stress gave way to her unrelenting hands. I don’t think she smoked though.

I am glad that I just thought of her, I had dreams of flying to San Diego once or twice a month to have her work me over. I smile still, and my overly tight shoulders just shuddered.

Anyway, I have a good one tonight. This has been a long time coming. It stalled for a while. I tried to over-complicate it. But I managed to wait until it spoke to me. I wish you were here.

 

February 4: Acrylic paint, sharpie on Heavy Paper, 42"x40". It is really fun in person. I can't tell you how much you are missing here with this photo.

Day Thirty Four: Art vs. Words

Yeah, showing the painting first robs my writing of its will to play.  The blog wad is blown and I don't have anything to say after that. My art is a hard act to follow for my writing. It still functions in warm-up band mode. Not yet ready to be the headliner. Still playing covers and using cliches. But it is practicing and bought sunglasses and made a facebook fan page.

I think the Art likes the suspense, the warm-up. My Art is a diva, please humor Art for art's sake. Plus, the process of making the art is not describable in words, that's the whole thing, that is why it is visual and not words, why my soul gets to breath. And that is why Art is so snippy about the poor photo shoots and the indistinction between the very small and the much larger, texture lost in 800x600.

But the words, immediate and potentially meaningful... well now, Words is getting a little cocky. It wants to get full rein to play. Unfortunately it is impatient and seldom waits for inspiration, just takes off running, shooting off at its fingertips.

And here I am, caught in the middle. Are my words and my art in harmony or are they sparring partners?

Enough.


February 3: Sharpie/Uni-ball on Heavy Paper, 9"x12"

 

Meanwhile, I almost watched the news last night and noticed myself getting agitated and nervous. I avoid so much. I like peace and smiles and other happy spirits.

So infatuated with the new stuff on the easels.

Day Thirty Three: Back to basics

So, I was thinking that I need to get back to basics here. The art has been getting increasingly further buried in the bowels of the post. So, I move thee back to the Top:

February 2: Sharpie on Watercolor paper, 9"x12"


New art is getting some strange new colors. Funky cool colors.In paint.

So...

I was going to sign off, then I realized the emptiness of the gesture to declare to "Move the Art to the Top" of the post if there is no bottom to lift it up. Elevate it above the bottom.

Sure, It at the top, of a one story structure.

That thought brought me to here.

Calvin just breezed in with french fries for me to scarf up. I am greasy fingered.
Good Day

Day Thirty Two: Hello I love you.

I have been filled with gratitude all day. My good fortune at finding what was lost, all intact, has left me amazed by how good things can be.  I fell madly in love with life in a shiny new way.

Okay, I lost my wallet yesterday. And the pain that hits you in the gut of course is well known. As my face flushed and adrenaline pumped, I canceled my bank card. And did everything I could to stay calm while tearing through the car one more time, just in case.

I called the Albertsons I was at, certain that my trip to the ladies must have been where I had dropped it. "No", Marty, the nice voice on the other end replied, after a nerve racking two minute wait. (Nerve wrecking is more like it. I had things in my wallet not yet approved for general use but I had just acquired, that I find helpful in the making of art. So, if the wallet is found, then what. Sweating....) "No, I did not find anything". Oh, thank you. Sort of glad he had not found it.

Now what?

So who had found it? (Please be a friendly understanding sort and not an intolerant nut job.)

And now I am headed back, instantly afraid to drive without my license. To the scene. I am not certain what to do...

Once back there I scanned the lot: Any people standing around looking like they might have found it and would love to speak to the owner? If they have my license, how hard will it be to track me down anyway? Can I re-license in Idaho?

I circled the lot to where I was parked.

And viola, the same space is empty in an otherwise full lot. As I veer into it, I see a lump on the ground? Is it possible? After all the people that must have pulled in and out, it was sitting there on the pavement getting rained on. Sweet mother of mercy.

Thank you God. I mean really, thank you.

I pulled in, picked it up and pulled out.

And have been downright giddy, full of goodwill and happy fortune since.

 

Wahoo! February 1: Sharpie on Bogus.  9"x12"

1/12th of the way through the year. I am happy. I feel younger. Hahahaha!