Art Show on a Table,2

 

Art Show on a Table, 2

 

 

 

 Art Show on a Table

 

 

Mary by de Bayou

 

 

 

Merry Christmas!

Art Show on a Table

 

 

 

 

Art Show on a Table

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dancer in Opal

 

Dancer in Opal

Ink jet print, 24M, 12/2013

Dancer in Opal is an illustration of a transcendental state.  I have had experiences like this since I was a child.  Once I saw a burning bush.  My father, sisters and I were walking in our woods.  A young pine tree zapped me with a full view of its iridescent shimmering aura.  Abruptly, my father whacked my butt, once, sharply,  to pull me out of the "episode".  Evidently going into spontaneous trance states is inappropriate.

 

 

 

 Dancer in Opal Head

 

 

 

On Art Methods

Art has been a joy for me since childhood.  I loved finger paints, and remember being aware of colors early.  Over the years (I am 69) I have made art almost continuously.  Oil and acrylic painting and drawing were enduring loves. 

 

I started doing Photoshop in about 1999.  A neighbor gave me a bootlegged copy.  I was hooked immediately.  Over the course of teaching my self Photoshop I saw that my painting skills transferred to digital painting relatively easily.  Both mediums employ brushes, translucence/opacity, line, volume, color, texture and other creative tools.  Both mediums have advantages. 

 

In Photoshop you can take a finished version of a picture, duplicate it and use it again in a new way.  And make prints of both versions.  Maybe you saw the "Opalescent" picture in the last blog entry, that digital picture evolved into this ecstatic picture.  I drew a silhouette of the dancer, the silhouette was filled with the "Opalescent" cutout.  I may soon use a print of this px as a plan for an oil on canvas.  Or I might adapt the dancer for collaging.  So art evolves and stays interesting.

Digital art has been around for a few decades now.  It is taking time to be a recognized as suitable for fine art.  Just as photography took time to be recognized as a legitimate artistic expression.

I have been rejected for shows because I collaged original digital cutouts into acrylic paintings.  I like the tiny detail obtained with digital prints.  Smaller detail than I am willing to paint with a "real" brush. 



 The current David Hockney, exhibit of digital paintings, at de Young Museum, Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, Calf, USA, is a signal that the best digital art is being recognized as fine art.  Hockney has been at the top of the art food chain since the 1960's..  He is called a living master of oil painting.


Tis the season!  Have a loving and joyful holiday seasoned with sweetness. 







No Rules!

Opalescent

Digital painting, 24M, 12/2013

Why do I love making art?

NO RULES!

The canvas is like a small piece of real estate, it is a concrete part of the world.  The canvas is a neighborhood and a series of canvasses can make a city.  Or, a vision of Heaven. (I  avoid Hell.  Why go there?)  (Yes, I reserve the right to contradict myself.)  I can watch the bloom of an imaginary Elysian Fields unfold.  I can, me, by myself, unrestricted by the plans of others, I can populate that empty space of matter with a comic/serious personal pantheon or any other preposterous images concocted by my muse.  Haha, how fun is that?

The canvas allows me to translate the ephemeral landscape of mind, of personal imagination, into concrete reality.  This is a place where I can replace the monkey mind radio with entrancing colors, and occupy myself with the craft of making marks.  My head gets quieter.

 Freedom on a small flat surface, freedom to make a tiny bit of material wiggle in anyway that I can wrangle. 

When I face a white stretched canvas,  I have a space that is not constrained by rules.  There are guidelines.  Yes.  Composition guidelines.  Color harmony theories.  Appropriate imagery is expected, but not mandatory.  All of these guidelines may be broken.  In fact, an artist can make a career of consciously ignoring any of these guidelines and expectations.  In fact, whole artistic movements have centered on breaking the norm.

The best art is subversive.

Creating something totally new on canvas, I am constrained by the limits inherent in the paint.  Paint can do amazing things, but there are limits.  And, I must work primarily within the limits of my skills, but there is also, the challenge of expanding skills.


Making art is the only place where I find unrestricted freedom.

 

Rule Rules, Rules

OK, you get it, I don't like rules.  I have been surprised to find that some people do like rules.  They are relieved to know the correct way to behave.  This discovery gave me food for thought.

Some guidelines are necessary.  But, too many rules restrict us from reaching our full potential.  Rules can dampen the spirit, constrict the soul.

Common courtesy guidelines help with the flow of personal relationships.  Good manners are simply consideration for the other person. 
 
I/you must edit thoughts before they make it out of the mouth. Words can hurt.


Remember all the rules of school?

Sit in your desk. Sit still don't wiggle.  Don't talk.  Pay attention. No running in the hall.  Is the real function of school to mold behavior, put us in a straight jacket of appropriateness? We were trained to follow the rules.  Stop that or you will get detention. Are we molded to be compliant worker bees.  Go to the principles office!  NOW!  Shame!

This is something that I do not understand:  Why do so many children need medication to make them appropriate for school?  Wouldn't it be better if the school was appropriate for the children?  To expect an eight year old child to sit still for hours at a time, is unreasonable and inhibits the free blooming of the student.

 We must follow the rules of laws, of course. Some rules we need, to oil the gears, to keep us from stepping on each other.  But, must we also follow the superfluous, irrational laws.

There are procedural rules.  Like, the procedure for driving a car is strict.  No playing with the rules on that channel.

So some rules are necessary, but many just restrict personal freedom. 









Here are two articles about rule breaking art.  I was confused about the artist who made "Piss Christ".  I had him confused with Damien Hirst.  Hirst floats zebras and calves in tanks of formaldehyde.  I guess I was fundamentally confused, because in my mind urine and formaldehyde both have a disgust factor.  In my mind both zebras and the crucifix should receive some respect.  Or maybe not.  Just another tidbit for thought.  These artists took a sledge hammer to appropriate imagery. 

Rule Breaking Shock Tactics

Blasphemous’ art work is damaged

April 19, 2011

AN ARTWORK depicting a crucifix in a glass of urine, named Piss Christ, has been attacked by protesters at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Avignon. New Yorker Andres Serrano’s photograph was attacked just hours after nearly 1,000 demonstrators gathered to protest over the “blasphemous display” outside the museum. Two people managed to force their way into the museum and attacked the Piss Christ with a hammer. Another photograph, showing a nun’s hands at prayer, was also attacked. No one was arrested but security camera pictures have been passed on to police. The Piss Christ was being shown as part of an exhibition titled I Believe in Miracles to mark the 10th anniversary of the Lambert collection in the former papal city. Catholic activists from the group Institut Civitas had called the protest about the exhibition and general secretary Alain Escada told La Provence newspaper: “We are living in times of Christianophobia. We demand that this work be withdrawn from the Lambert collection”. The abbot of Cacqueray said to the newspaper: “Imagine if Mohammed or Anne Frank had been bathed in urine. This secularism is done against Christ while installing Islam in France. We would be as well to rename secularism as Islamism.” The museum reopens today amid reports that staff have been sent death threats. It has the Piss Christ still in place so people can see the damage. Created in 1987, the photograph has been called the original “shock art” as it predated many of the more modern examples such as Marcus Harvey’s collage of Myra Hindley created from children’s handprints and Damien Hirst’s shark in formaldehyde.

Blasphemous’ art work is damaged

April 19, 2011

AN ARTWORK depicting a crucifix in a glass of urine, named Piss Christ, has been attacked by protesters at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Avignon. New Yorker Andres Serrano’s photograph was attacked just hours after nearly 1,000 demonstrators gathered to protest over the “blasphemous display” outside the museum. Two people managed to force their way into the museum and attacked the Piss Christ with a hammer. Another photograph, showing a nun’s hands at prayer, was also attacked. No one was arrested but security camera pictures have been passed on to police. The Piss Christ was being shown as part of an exhibition titled I Believe in Miracles to mark the 10th anniversary of the Lambert collection in the former papal city. Catholic activists from the group Institut Civitas had called the protest about the exhibition and general secretary Alain Escada told La Provence newspaper: “We are living in times of Christianophobia. We demand that this work be withdrawn from the Lambert collection”. The abbot of Cacqueray said to the newspaper: “Imagine if Mohammed or Anne Frank had been bathed in urine. This secularism is done against Christ while installing Islam in France. We would be as well to rename secularism as Islamism.” The museum reopens today amid reports that staff have been sent death threats. It has the Piss Christ still in place so people can see the damage. Created in 1987, the photograph has been called the original “shock art” as it predated many of the more modern examples such as Marcus Harvey’s collage of Myra Hindley created from children’s handprints and Damien Hirst’s shark in formaldehyde.         Damien Hirst, Reportedly Britain's Richest Living Artist from Wikipedia

   

Damien Hirst
Hirst in a still from the movie The Future of Art
Birth name	Damien Steven Hirst
Born	(1965-06-07) 7 June 1965 (age 48) Bristol, England, UK
Nationality	British
Field	Conceptual art, installation art, painting
	Damien Steven Hirst[1] (born 7 June 1965) is an English artist, entrepreneur and art collector. He is the most prominent[2] member of the group known as the Young British Artists (or YBAs), who dominated the art scene in Britain during the 1990s.[3] He is internationally renowned,[4] and is reportedly Britain's richest living artist, with his wealth valued at £215m in the 2010 Sunday Times Rich List.[5][6]

Cardinal Woman

Cardinal Woman

Ink jet print, 12/2013

 

 

This recently completed painting speaks for itself,  I can't think of any words that would add anything to its beauty, except maybe "Death is the beauty of the rose". 

 

 

 

Pajama Friday at Barnes and Noble

 

I went to Barnes and Noble yesterday.  B+N is one of my favorite hangouts.  No matter what city I find myself in,  (haha, that makes it sound like I get around a bit, when in truth I have become something of a recluse) the comfy environment and the pleasure of scanning books while drinking coffee and eating a croissant draws me in. 
 

I browsed the books.  I thought about buying a philosophy by  Neitzsche but the jacket quip emphasized nihilism, a perspective that rejects all moral principles and holds the belief that all human endeavor is futile.  This was not for me, I have decided to hold only those beliefs that support happiness or promote compassionate love.  I would rather be happy than right. Especially since the pursuit of right beliefs has only left me confused by all the contradicting information.  

 

I found the book, "Depression for Dummies", and thought about reading it but then I thought, I can do depression all by myself, I do not need to read a how to book, I can do sinking into a mudhole of despair without any instructions. 

 

I can also pull myself out of the mud.  All it takes is a little denial of the facts of life.  Positive thinking works but since it is so difficult to frame the facts of death and injustice in a positive light without turning summersaults of irrationality, I just call it denial.

I saw a perky person wearing cartoon printed flannel pajamas standing between the paned glass doors and the magazine display, she was amusing.  Then I saw two other people wearing apparel appropriate for couch potato time.  I guess it was pajama Friday.  Very interesting.  A kid in a grey onesie checked me out.  I bought Dave the book, "Exceptional Chickens" and a jigsaw puzzle of a world map.

But wait, in this one blog, I posted a picture of youthful bloom/cold death.  I wrote, death, beauty, rose.  And, I wrote that I deny death.  I guess that you can see the problem here, confusion?

Bye now,  gotta go watch my favorite new TV channel,  it is called "Crock A Shit Chanel", have you seen it?  My fave program is called, "Composting for Doomsday".









 

 

 

 



Opal Dakini

Opal Dakini

Inkjet print created recently

 

 

Lets see, what should I write about this?  Well, it sure is a sexy picture.  This Tibetan Sky Dancer is full blooded, both ethereal and earthy.

 

Sex is essential, I believe that joy is our true and rightful goal.

 

Not porny sex. Not the mechanical production of sticky bodily fluids.  Not puritan sex.  No repression or guilt. Culturally we went from one extreme to another in the last half of the nineteenth century.  Prude sex to porn sex in fifty years or less.  Is it possible to be sane about sex?   

 

We create joy by  truly, softly and fiercely  connecting with another person. Letting down our guard, opening the gates to another being.  Shedding the carapace of ego and stroking a cascade of pleasure chemicals.  And don't forget to enjoy the afterglow.

 

Here we are, bound up in these flesh bodies, bound by social rules, bound and determined to come out on top. Constricted by the binding of sad little egos.  Our spirits bandaged with fear. 

 

Good love making, creating cocktails of pleasure juices to wash the body from inside out,  can loosen and even break the shackles constricting our being.

 

 

Ro Abreu Poetry

Here are two beautiful poems by my friend Ro Abreu.  She says it so well.

 

 

Tantra

I am holding out my hand to you.
I am the Earth…
I am your Goddess Lover
I am deep, and warm, and as fertile
as the longest of your full night dreams --
naked as the Moon,
blinding as the Sun,
more intoxicating than swallowing Stars.
If you touch me,
you will know what it means to be alive --
you will understand how the rhythm of your breath
is the axis upon which Eternity spins.
The fire of inspiration
waits, banked, to light our joining.

RCGA, 2010

 

 

Elixir

I have wanted you
like cool water
and you have been
that draught for me

You are a shiny thing
hidden in the bottom of the glass
that hypnotizes me
and makes me forget
where I am going

For a moment
I can imagine having you
I can indulge myself in the fantasy
before what is interrupts what might be

I have told myself again and again
to open up my fingers
even if the glass breaks
and yet, I keep drinking
because you are the elixir and the jewel
so satisfying, so beautiful

RCGA 2010

 

Here is the link to Ro Abreu's blog:

http://the-mystic-fool.blogspot.com/



Conspiracy of the Gods!! Prometheus Tells All!!, part two, Stealing Fire

 

Prometheus in his Sean Connery Incarnation

Archival Inkjet Print

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Conspiracy of the Gods

Prometheus Tells All

Part Two, (part one starts with post on September 30)

 



Prometheus Tells ALL!  Red Hot News!  As told to hot shot reporter Cherry Belle of the Natural Inquirer, for immediate release, all wires. 

Luxuriously ensconced at a dimly lit table, flipping my red curls gracefully, I mean with a nervous jitter, I stared at Prometheus and tried not to drool.  I pulled my video cam from my Ultra High End Bag.  My pen was topped with a pompom made from the tail feathers of hummingbirds.  I was nervous, but at least, I knew that I looked amazing. 

 Swishy was giving us entirely too much attention.  He was a fabulous fairy and I adored him, but I had work to do.   "Thank you, dahlin," I told the gaytor kindly, "we have everything that we need, our drinks and this snazzy little snack that you brought, now we have to work on the interview."

Prometheus sipped his Evian and began to tell his story in a hypnotic cadence.  I closed my eyes and I was there, I was then, back in the beginning of time.  I visioned it all, the strong hero, the sweet smell of fennel burning, the gut gobbling eagle. 

Prometheus Tells ALL!  Red Hot News!  As told to hot shot reporter Cherry Belle of the Natural Inquirer, for immediate release, all wires.

 

Sean Connery's voice!  OMG!  That throbbing bass!

"I strolled along the seashore, glorious day, light played on storm clouds. Bare feet in the shallows.

I worried about the plight the of the people. They lived like animals.  Ate raw meat.  Shivered, exposed to the elements.  The mighty control freak god Zeus would not allow them to progress.  Some old grudge gnawed at his gut whenever humans were mentioned. I wanted to help humans rise up.  I needed a plan.

Zeus was against you people, Cherry Belle, you and yours, from the start.  He restricted you just to get even with me. He and I had been going around and around from time immortal. The last move had been mine, when I tricked him with the lamb bones wrapped in fat.  He was always trying to outsmart me or get revenge for imagined offenses. 

Let me tell you about Zeus, he rapes virgins, he steals, he kills.  He decrees harsh punishments for slight disrespect.

One may wish, all one wants to wish, for a loving, compassionate god, (like Buddha), but what we got is Zeus.  Selfish, egotistical.  It is all about him, all the time.  He decreed 'there shall be no other, gods before ME!'   He cannot see beyond his immortal nose.  Just try telling that asshole that everyone would live better if we all cooperated for the good of all, just try telling him that, good luck with that.  People have been turned into stone for less.

Zeus, well, Zeus,  I tell you, Cherry, that Zeus is one mean and power hungry God.  He wanted to keep you mortals ignorant, groveling in the dirt.  I saw that earthlings could be shining beings.  Zeus was preventing your potential of near deity super powers. Zeus stood in your way. He was jealous because you would be god like if you were given knowledge. He was fearfully motivated to protect his King of the Gods position. Beings from all the kingdoms, upper to lower have suffered from his petty jealousy.  I could see how beautifully and capable you are made. Zeus obstructed me at every turn, but I had checkmated him before and knew that I could do it again.

On the beach, I searched for a plan as I wadded in the shallows.  A bruised storm cloud moved in from the west.  The wind smelled of fish, like sex juices.  Positive ions charged the bracing air.  Overhead the sky stretched,  divided into highly contrasting colors, dark purple out to sea and sun kissed blue nearer shore.  Dramatic lighting reflected on a roiling ocean with white capped highlights.

I looked toward the dunes where sea oats danced with swan necks.  Was it a play of light? Or just a subtle tingle that caught my attention?  It was the size of the fennel, standing taller and broader than the other dune plants, that is what drew me to it. 

 The giant fennel stalk bowed to me and I snapped it smartly off from the root.  I could see inside the hollow tube stalk a soft, dry filling.  I knew that the inner substance would burn slowly, for a long time.  This was the tool that I needed to smuggle divine fire out of Olympus.  Now I had a plan. I zoomed back to the heavens in my flying object.

Since the Olympus parking lot was filled with many chariots of the gods, I did not attract attention when I parked. I entered the heavenly castle through the service entrance, and ascended the back stairs, my head held high, as if I had all the rights of the universe to be there.  I did have rights, I had the right to do the right thing. 

Zeus was passed out on his diamonds and gold throne.  Luckily for me, the King of the Gods had too much ambrosia intake, again.  He was snoring loudly, (it sounded like he was stripping his gears), so I was not concerned about awakening him with noise.  However, I did cat foot it to avoid alerting his attendants.

Zeus' lightening bolt, belching holy fire, was ensconced in the golden charger between the windows. When I touched the fennel stalk to the flame it sparked easily. Wrapped in my tevlar cape it was quickly smuggled out of the castle.  I walked casually down the stairs, past the cooks and maids, and out to my flying object.  So far, things were proceeding without a glitch.  So far.

A short, smooth ride in my bronze chariot, and I landed at the Earthling encampment, located in the area that is now Africa.  The humans were huddled together in a cave, naked, shivering and hungry.  They were little more than animals.  They deserved better than this miserable borderline existence.

They were well made beings, I made them, your progenitors, from clay, I sculpted you, myself.  Your high potential was obvious.  Physically, you are beautiful, intellectually you are more than able, emotionally you are a sphere of storms and sunny days.  Creatively you are capable of inventions that the universe has never seen before.  You are so close in being to the gods,  creatively you are superior to the gods.  All you needed was fire, enLIGHTenment.  The savior of humans, that is me, I knew that I could save you from a lowly existence. And here you are, thousands of years later, moving creatively into the unknown.

I taught you mortals how to use the fire for warmth and cooking and light.  With these tools earthlings were able to progress through their amazing history up to the present milieu where we now find ourselves,  in this hypnopompic lounge, with Swishy delighting in meeting our every need.

Zeus punished me with eternal torment.  Of course.  You know, he turns on his omniscient power, and he knows everything.  He watched me, after he came too, the next morning, with a pounding head, but still able to tune in, he watched me.  On rewind he saw it all.  How I had stolen his fire for the mortal human beings, to help them progress towards their amazing unknown potential.  OMG he was so pissed off.

 Human history could have worked out even better, (you know what your faults are), but that is another story. Revenge is a tempting rollercoaster,  an exciting but endless trap.  Try to avoid it.  I can see that now.  Zeus got even with earthlings, he unleashed Pandora on your race! Like I said, that is another story.

Me, I was chained to a rock in the Caucasus Mountains.  An eagle devoured my liver everyday. Everyday it grew back to be eaten again.  Oh yea! That Zeus, do it his way or go to hell!  I suffered hellish punishment for almost, for close to, eternity.





....continued... to part three.....

 

Conspiracy of the Gods!! Prometheus Tells All!! part one, Intro

 

 Conspiracy of the Gods!

 

RED HOT NEWS!  See it here, the exclusive Natural Inquirer  interview with Prometheus,  the Bringer of Fire.  The WakiLeaks whistle blower who is both criticized and worshipped, tells all to hot shot reporter, Cherry Belle, of the Natural Inquirer.

RED HOT NEWS!  Prometheus tells all!  Conspiracy of the Gods! 

EXCLUSIVE! HOT SHOT REPORTER, CHERRY BELL, INTERVIEWS PROMETHEUS!

 

I waited with pleasant anticipation in the fabulous Lizard Lounge of the Hotel California.  Looking around, I decided that the softly lit, art deco style lounge was my new favorite comfort zone. 

Prometheus, looking very hot indeed, in his young Sean Connery avatar incarnation, appeared in the lounge entryway.  Ah, yes, he IS a Greek God, I sighed, I almost swooned, as he sauntered through the door of the lounge.  Behind him was the sparkling hyperlight of the lobby. The bright back lighting silhouetted his wide shoulders and narrow hips, (OMG!).  He walked with a languid, powerful grace into the twilight of the lounge. 

I waved and he came and set opposite me in the booth. He was right on time for our appointment.

Our server, Swishy, struggled to maintain a professional demeanor, as he stared at Prometheus. He took our order and wiped the drool off of his chin with the back of his hand. I smiled in secret amusement at the server's loss of poise. I was feeling a bit shaky myself.  Of course it is stunning to see a real God, right there in front of your face.  We were both awestruck.

Swishy was cute and charming. He served our refreshments with a dramatic flourish and barely contained adoration.  I expected him to bow at any minute.  Prometheus had an Evian water, I had a Singapore Sling.  (Just shut up! I know what time it is.)

After the required few words of small talk, I cut right to the chase, "Tell me Prometheus, everyone wants to know, why did you leak that astounding information about The Conspiracy of the Gods?"

His voice was deep and melodious, it thrummed in my belly, "Well, Cherry Belle, I believe that the people should know about this huge conspiracy that effects every aspect of their lives.  Even though it happened over 100,000 years ago, the conspiracy has long ranging effects people.  The Gods endeavor to keep humanity unenlightened, you might say that they want people to be stupid.

You see, in Heavenly Olympus everything is perfect.  Perfectly boring. The Gods, Zeus, Hera and their friends need something entertaining for couch potato time.  After a hard days work creating planets and animals, naturally they want to veg out with a little mindless entertainment.  So they turn on the Omniscient Power and spy on humans.

Humans are constantly creating problems, issues, and drama.  If you were rational and disciplined then it would not be so much fun to spy on you.  Your madcap behavior entertains the Gods.  You are the TV of the Gods.  YOU are the ultimate reality show.

(Maybe you thought that you were having Truman Show delusions, but this is true.)

"Prometheus, what do you say to your critics?  They say that you are a traitor of the status quo.  You are a whistle blower, you gave all the secrets to WakiLeaks, some even say that you are a sacrilegious devil.  They say that you are a thief, that you stole from the Gods.  What do you say to them?"

"Thank you for asking, Cherry Belle, I am the liberator, I brought fire to earthlings, for this I was severely tortured. With fire, earthlings were able to crawl out of the mud and create civilization.  Fire gives people light, warmth and cooked foods.  Fire is a metaphor for intelligence.  It is true that humanity continues to be greatly flawed, but without the enlightenment of fire Earthlings would still be groveling in the dirt, literally and figuratively."

....to be continued....
To be continued, episodes will be published when I get them written.  I am working on pictures and writing the story.  Please follow the story and be patient.

Impertinent Asides

In Greek mythology the immortal Prometheus defied the gods and gave fire to humanity.  He was tortured with cruel and unusual punishment for this theft.  Almighty, King of the Gods, Zeus (played by Brad Pitt) had Prometheus chained to a rock in the Caucasus mountains.  Each day an eagle was sent to feed on his liver.  Each night his liver grew back to be eaten again the next day. 

Fire symbolizes en-LIGHT-enment, intelligence. With fire humanity progressed and created civilizations.  We crawled out of the mud and created cities, cars, computers, Square Pants Sponge Bob, and cat memes. 

In other words, according to the ancient Greek myth there was a conspiracy of the gods to keep humans ignorant!  Prometheus wanted to empower people but the gods, with Zeus as leader, tried to prevent our rise. 

I knew it!  I knew there was some weird deep shit happening that makes people so irrational and counterproductive.  We can blame it on the gods. A conspiracy of the gods.

It is convenient to have someone or something to blame for the chaos of life. We certainly do not want to take personal responsibility for the exciting and interesting mess where we find ourselves.

 

Conspiracy theories proliferate and breed like frogs.  Mysteries surround the Kennedy assassination, the death of Marilyn Monroe, and even New York 9/11. "The government" has covered up the truth, at least that is what many people think.  Me, I am maintaining an open mind.  I am entertaining all options, you know, I am confused.

Scholars note that conspiracy theories, once limited to the lunatic fringe have become commonplace in mass media.  Conspiracism has emerged as a cultural phenomenon.  (Wikipedia)

As we humans search for meaning in this time when the economy is a roller coaster, when "the news" is a celebrity flaunting her bikini body. In this time when we have sent people, people in the flower of youth, to war for what ten, twelve, forever years now, but really do not see much about the war on "the news".  Where are the pictures of the coffins?  At a time when even "the news" is subject of conspiracy theories, we search for meaning and understanding.

Wikipedia info:

Conspiracy theories:

As a predominating cultural phenomenon replacing democracy as the dominant political paradigm[edit source | editbeta]

Some scholars argue that conspiracy theories once limited to fringe audiences have become commonplace in mass media, contributing to conspiracism emerging as a cultural phenomenon in the United States of the late 20th and early 21st centuries, and the possible replacement of democracy by conspiracy as the dominant paradigm of political action in the public mind.^{[8][10][11][12]} According to anthropologists Todd Sanders and Harry G. West, evidence suggests that a broad cross-section of Americans today gives credence to at least some conspiracy theories.^[1

Prometheus:

In Greek mythology, Prometheus (Greek: Προμηθεύς, pronounced [promɛːtʰeús]) is a Titan, culture hero, and trickster figure who is credited with the creation of man from clay, and who defies the gods and gives fire to humanity (theft of fire), an act that enabled progress and civilization. He is known for his intelligence and as a champion of mankind.^[1

The punishment of Prometheus as a consequence of the theft is a major theme of his mythology, and is a popular subject of both ancient and modern art. Zeus, king of the Olympian gods, sentenced the Titan to eternal torment for his transgression. The immortal Prometheus was bound to a rock, where each day an eagle, the emblem of Zeus, was sent to feed on his liver, which would then grow back to be eaten again the next day

How Have I Offended Thee? Let me count the ways?

Poppies

Inkjet print, 2011

 

 

 



 

Three Eyes

Inkjet print, 2011

 

 

How have I Offended Thee?

Let Me Count the Ways

 

OMG!  My art is offensive!  OMG!  Offensive, tacky, scary and embarrassing.  Incomprehensive, seemingly pointless.  It goes beyond the boundaries of good taste.  People are frightened.  My family is embarrassed. They are afraid that their friends will find out about me.  I have heard thinly veiled suggestions regarding medication.  There are some twists in my artistic path that are shocking.  Frightening!  It seems that I have not only offended the Christians;  New Agers and atheist also beg to differ. Dog lovers, dog haters and compulsive shoppers are avoiding me.

 Everyone else is just laughing.  Laughing at me or with me?

I am so sorry.  I apologize if I have offended you.  No offense was intended.  May I offer an explanation?  I have art brain.  This is a poorly documented anomaly of human neuroanatomy.  It is a disease, recognized by very few doctors.  Symptoms include lack of boundaries and an ineffective inner brain editor which leads to inappropriate behavior.  Please pardon me, the devil made me do it.

Actually, my Muse made me do it.  If I don't follow her she pouts and goes away.  She requires free range.  Without her, I get artist block.  Without her, yes, I could paint and write, but it would be boring.
 

Oh, Yea!  Take a look.  Beware, art may scramble your brain.  And you may not like that, because it makes you think.  It is a challenge.  It may shock you out of the doldrums. Shake up complacency.



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 Office of Reason and Good Sense
333 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, DC

                                                                                                                                        

Dear Janet, 

There are some things that we need to discuss.  I am trying to help you to be successful, I am taking my valuable time to speak to you for your own good. 
 

First of all, a little alliteration is nice, but too much repetition is just annoying.  Hyperbole has its place, but please, do tone the exaggeration down.  And irony?  Irony is tricky,  some people don't get it when you write the opposite of you intend to communicate.   So, please refrain from irony.  Are you actually aiming to convince people that you are crazy? Or, is that just an accidental effect?

 

Throw "cute" in the trash.  How do you expect people to take you seriously when your so called "work" is just too cute?

 

Most Important!  For Gods sake, stay away from religion and spirituality.  No one really cares and you don't know what you are talking about. 
 

 Don't you remember?  Two gallery curators, the people that can help you exhibit your work, have rejected your pictures because of the twisted religious aspects.  Are you listening?   If you want to be recognized as an artist, then you need to have broad appeal.  They told you, two influential taste makers told you,  "We like the pop art, but not the religious pictures."

You are doing it all wrong!

 

Stick to light and fluffy.  You can make "nice pictures",  people want to be reassured.

You must be consistent, find a pretty style and stick to it. No one knows what to expect from you.  Changing styles every few years doesn't work.

 

I know, you are confused.  Is that your tag line now?  Listen up.   Being confused is not a good way to brand yourself.   Don't embarrass your self.

 

I don't want to tell you these things again.  You are bright.  Listen up.  The annual evaluation is coming up.  So study the guidelines, and follow the rules.

 

Sincerely yours,

The Voice of Reason

 

 

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Lets Paint

Conspiracy of the Gods

 

I am working on a picture and story of Prometheus, Bringer of Fire. Prometheus is an ancient Greek Celebrity.   The working title is,  Conspiracy of the Gods, "Prometheus Tells All". 

 

Red Hot News!  See the exclusive Natural Inquirer interview with Prometheus,  The Bringer of Light.  The WakiLeaks whistle blower will explain the devious behavior of the Gods.  He exposes the ancient conspiracy to keep fire from humankind.
 

 

         

How Have I Offended Thee

part two

 

 

That writing that I did, the "Lets Gossip Barbie", was over the top.  It offended Christians, New Agers, and the complacent majority with it's subversive insinuations.  There was a lot of silly sex.  But I think that the most material that caused the most offense, had to do with compulsive shopping, which, along with dissing dogs, maybe a TABOO subject. 
  

ART is a vast planet, with rivers and mountains and forests, there are mysterious, unexplored regions.

 

I invite you to journey with me off of the map.  I want to help you open your mind, help you be the driver of your own life.  I want to scramble your preconceived notions.  Question the architecture of your belief system.  Don't forget to pack your sense of humor.

My work uses surrealistic art references to access the unconscious.  The unconscious parts of our brain have a huge influence on our behavior.  Perhaps, by making the irrational visible, we may come to know ourselves better.  If your brain is scrambled, maybe you will put it back together, maybe, you will reevaluate your thought processes, and be better than ever.  

Oh, yea!  I hope that it upsets your programing.  Believe it or not, you have been programmed.  All that stuff that school taught you?  Much of it is just crap, wrong.  Did you go to church?  You are really programmed.

 You have watched a hundred jillion advertisements, all intended to make you feel inadequate, an inadequacy that only expensive products can allegedly soothe.  All intending to program you into being a good little consumer. 

You have been molded into a cog for the consumer culture, a huge machine that makes stockholders rich.  And, puts you in debt so that you are slaved to a shit job.  Think about it, darling.

(I do recognize some boundaries, for instance I will not urinate on religious icons, like the most successful living artist of the day did. Damien Hirst used shock tactics to jump start his career.  I may be irreverent, but I do not want to be seriously inconsiderate to the people who have found some comfort in religion.)

12/9/13  
I was reading over this blog today and recognized a mistake.  Damien Hirst did not make the "Piss Jesus" art work, Andres Serrano made it in 1987.  Damien Hirst floated a dissected baby calf and a zebra in formaldehyde.  The similar offenses here are the source of my mistake.
 

 

In these words and pictures, that I post online, I most sincerely hope to communicate from my consciousness to your consciousness. Bypass the rational and communicate directly brain to brain. I color out of the lines of social constrictions to irreverently and subversively, challenge you to think for yourself.

 

OK, well, that is an overly ambitious goal.  Maybe, this is just a bunch of bull shit that I have made up to entertain myself. Whatever!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Gidget, Gadget and Gizmo

 

Gidget, Gadget and Gizmo

digital painting, print, 8/2013

 

 

 

Gidget, Gadget and Gizmo, these words kept chanting in my mind, replacing the CEO approved mantra that I intended to chant.  So, I made a picture of this silly trio.

 

POP Religion

The POP Religion show that was scheduled for 9/14/13, has been postponed.  We are working on a new date and venue.  I am disappointed to postpone the show, but good things are in the works.

 

Gulf Shores, Alabama

Last week we had a wonderful family beach vacation at Gulf Shores.  Much of the peninsula is protected park reserve, so we saw a lot of wild life.

 

Here is the wildlife sighting list:

 

Eagle! Perched high in a pine tree, then it flew away on mighty wings.

pelicans, blue herons, comic sand pipers, humming birds, gulls

dolphins

shark

one sting ray and two manta rays with six foot span

jelly fish

etc. , so forth and so on

rich nature

 

 

 

I have been so lucky to vacation at Gulf Shores since I was a kid and my uncle had a cabin there. 

 

Returning there at intervals has been a high light of my life.  I still play in the surf. 

 

 

A memory cherished.  I, the child, immersed in the boundless water, rocked by the surf.  Joy, nerve tingling joy, leaping in the ocean,  playing with my sisters and cousins. Sun so bright, bathed in light.  Enlightenment.

 

Also, I distinctly remember, the seventh and most powerful waves.  I, the child me, tumbled tail over head, in the turbulence.  Legs scraped by the sand.  Beach pizza legs.

 

Sleeping, big family snoring, windows open, in the surf song night.  The child tossing, sleep disturbed by sunburn lacerated with sand.  Misery.

 

Next morning, return to the rocking waters, joy, ecstasy, outweighing misery.

 

 

 

This last week they, the family, told me not to swim in the Gulf.  "Beware of sharks, stingrays and jellyfish!"  Sandy sunburn did not stop me then, these sea dwelling creatures will not keep me away now.

 

My mature adult sensitivities are different than childish nirvana.  But, floating and swimming in the waves,  I get a small taste, a faded reminder, of how it felt to be young and holistically immersed in a peak experience. 

 

 

The last day Dave and I walked the western tip of the Gulf Shores peninsula. Where the Mobile Bay and the Gulf meet. Waters there form a rich ecological zone, where currents collide and churn the water.  We dodged blobs of stranded jelly fish on the shore. 

 

That west tip must be the best shore fishing spot around, because fisher people were there with colorful day camp carts, coolers, striped umbrellas, cell phones, lines and bait.  We chatted with the fishers,  "You catch anything?" they were delighted to show the creatures that they caught.  A twenty five pound black drum;  a shark, small, about a three footer;  and a stingray, beached by a line, the fisher extracting the hook from it's strange mouth with plyers. 

 

Hmmm, all those nasty creatures are there at the western point.  In a short walk we saw all the biting, stinging life that THEY warned me about.  I will not swim there, but a bit east on the Gulf where it should be OK??

 

 

 

 



Elizabarbie and her Dragon

 

 

How to read the short story, "Let's Gossip Barbie"

 

To read the short story in order, you must scroll back to "Let's Gossip Barbie, 1", and scroll forward for each installment.  If I were more tech savvy, maybe I could make a more convenient arrangement.  Oh well, sorry.

 

Have a wonderful weekend, Janet



Let's Gossip Barbie, 4

 

Elizabarbie

 

 

Let's Gossip Barbie, 4

A short story in four parts

 

 

 

There she is, sheee's back.  Look, Piffle Hilton, what did I tell you?  She is loaded, I mean her three bearers are loaded, with stacks and stacks of sacks from Sax's and boxes from Fetishes R Us.  What an addicted shopaholic.  She has not one iota of restraint, so vulgar. 

 

Barbie, dahlin, I am so flitter flattered that you made it back.  Kissy, kissy. Don't you look fantabuloso?  What wretched excess treasures did you score today? 

 

 How is Ken? (snicker, snicker).  Dahlin, I saw him last night on The Nine Inch Dolls Real Reality Show.  He was not looking so good.  Did he survive?  What happened?  One minute he was himself, handsome and studly, then, in the next shot, he was blowing barf bubbles.  OMG, he got food poisoning from the gold plated carrots?  You don't say (hee-hee).  Did any of the other doll stars get sick?  They all looked OK except for the occasional laser saber wounds.  And, poor Lucy and Desi are still in the hospital. Elvis and Marilyn were stuck together, like dogs, but Lincoln hosed them down, so that it came out OK.

 

 Have you seen GI Joe lately?  No?  But, he was at the party of the century last night.  I saw him on my 555 inch HD, the EavesDropKam caught him with sizzling eyes, you were right there, I know that you saw him.  Oh, now you remember, you did greet each other briefly?  (wink, wink).  Don't worry, I can keep your secret.

 

Sorry, you must leave so quickly.  Don't you want some coffee?  Did I say something wrong?  Oh, I understand, your bearers are tired.  You must take your loot to your closet before it goes out of style.  Sure, see you soon.  Lets do lunch.  Kissy, kissy.

  

I got a text on my phone. Suddenly, my day was brighter.  Hee-hee, a GI Joe booty call! Whooopeee.

 

 Puffball Hilton, sorry, dahlin, so, I gotta go now. It's time for my mani-pedi.  See you soon.  Lets do lunch. Kissy, kissy.

 

 

 

 the end

 

To read the story from the beginning go to "Archive", then "July", then  "Lets Gossip Barbie, 1".

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lets Gossip Barbie, 3

Caffeinated Barbie

 

 

 

Prozac Barbie

 

 

Let's Gossip Barbie, 3

A short story in four parts 

 

Now listen Partie Hartie, never mind, I can see that you are tweeting about your fabulous life. Whatever.

 

Pussy, when I saw Ken blowing bubbles in his barf, I was soooo grossed out.  He is soo disgusting, to think I used to think he was hotsy. 

 

Camera man #3 turned and focused on the city block sized bed with a canopy made from the foreskins of whales.  He captured Elvis and Marilyn banging like baboons, but the screen swiftly switched to the Kitchen Kam. 

 

Loopy and Desi were standing on a pile of rubble with their hands on each others throats.  Did you know that dolls turn blue when they are strangled?

 

On the Immaculate Konception Kam the anniversary guest were undulating in a daisy chain.  OMG it was the grossest thing that I have ever seen.  I hate orgies, bodily fluids are slimy.  

 

The screen was twitching from one cam to another,  there were so many exciting things going on, the editor didn't know where to focus.  No one could write this shit.  It has to be real!

 

But the most interesting sight, listen up Pissy Hellion, EavesDropKam focused on Barb and Joe looking at each other with sizzling eyes.  The camera actually caught beams of electricity shooting between the two.  Then, wait til' you hear this! 

 

Barbie mumbled, "It is time for my mani-pedi", and slipped out the back door.

  

GI Joe mumbled, "It is time for my shooting practice", and slipped out the back door.

 

WHAT do you think about that,  Paris the Heiress?  Princess Hasbeen? I saw it with my own eyes.  They are doing it like dingbats.  It was right there on the screen anyone could see them sneaking out, making a stealthy amorous exit, with poor Ken dead to the world upstairs, dreaming of the third level of hell/heaven, one, the other, or a mash up of both in raging psychedelic technicolor . 

 

Anyone could see it. Barbie and Ken!  All the mainstream newcasters have ignored this story.  Mattel has bribed every news person between here and Mars.  Only the Natural Inquirer has been righteous enough to cover this tale of two nine inch dolls.  The Inquirer even ran a picture of them sexting.  You should see this,  look at my phone, here he is, GI Joe in his turbid toreador outfit with a tassel dangling from his tallywacker.

 

to be continued.....To continue reading the story, click "Newer Post" at the bottom of this entry.