Belushi Bacchus

Oil on canvas, 36"x48", 3/13/2013

 

 

 

 

 Belushi in Paradise

 

John Belushi does not live here anymore.  He moved to Heaven on March 5, 1982.  He enjoys Paradise better than Earth, but at times, he misses the sweet exciting static of Saturday Night Live.  John's special powers are his mesmerizing dancing moves and the ability to zapp his enemies with humor until they fall down in helpless hysterics. 


All the Gods and Goddesses from all times and localities live together harmoniously in Paradise.  All live peacefully except for the gods of war.  Tlaloc, Athena, Muhammad and Jehova and their ilk find many enemies with which to tangle. The Holy Spirit, Zeus in the position of CEO of Heaven, commanded that the warriors are only to war with willing participants.  "Leave the peaceniks alone".  Also the warring area is restricted to the Jousting Arena.  No trees, art museums or other environments will suffer from the devastation.  War in Heaven is in one significant aspect different from war on Earth.  No one dies.  That's right folks!  No grieving moms, widows or orphans left behind.

The Greek god of wine, Dionysus lived many hedonistic years on Elysian Fields Avenue.  After about two thousand years of burning the candle at both ends, he outgrew self indulgent behavior. He made an afterlife change and began a rigorous meditation retreat with Sidhartha Guatama Buddha. The pantheon position of  Holy Wild Liberator was left vacant.  John was ecstatic when Zeus elected him to the position. John took the Roman name, Bacchus. 

You can see that Belushi has been buffing up at the Olympus Health Club.  Elvis, looking very fit himself, is his trainer. Elvis, as the manifestation of the Hindu God, Hayagriva, looks more handsome than ever with a horses head.  His sexy snarl and molasses voice have not changed.

 John is in training for another Mission from God.  The Holy Spirit has commanded this mission:  Bacchus shall refrain from meddling in human affairs for most of the year.  He is allowed to incite hedonistic behavior only for Mardi Gras, and maybe important birthdays and maybe big celebrations.  Bacchanalias are to be restricted primarily to holiday bashes.

 Humans need to be goal oriented and guard their chi most of the year, so they should worship Demeter, whose powers are, giver of food,  mother goddess, nurse, moral justice, and legislator.  She presides over sacred law and occasionally enacts divine retribution. Hmm, divine retribution, that means if you are really bad she will get you.  Don't piss off  Demeter.

The Holy Spirit named these new behavioral guidelines, "The Balanced Life".  He encourages humans to express their orderly, socially responsible side, and only occasionally let their wild side out of the basement.  

This picture has captured Belushi Bacchus one evening just as the party is just starting to roll.  He is tweeting, "Hot blooded humans invited now to the Burning Ends Festival.  6969 Desire Street, NOLA."  Phrasing his invitation in euphemistic code so that only the cogniti  understand.

Painting the Picture

 

This image has been my friend for more than a year now, giving me plenty of time to think about what it represents.  Deities may be seen to represent certain human needs, desires.  They are guiding stars.  The Greek deities are known for bad behavior.  Bad God, bad God.  (Isn't the similarity between dog and god funny?)  Zeus and Venus are known for their erotic episodes.  Zeus raped Leda.  Cronus ate his children. They meddle in human affairs and cause chaos.  Greek gods, along with most all gods, encourage war,  they order their humans to kill the infidels.  In most wars both antagonists claim to have god on their side. 

 

Note to self: focus, focus.

 

This picture started as a digital image.  I used Caravaggio's masterpiece as a model.  It is a humbling activity to redo a classical painting. Trying to paint after a master artist makes me aware of my limited skills.  But the act of copying parts of the masterpiece challenges me to improve.  Redoing a classical picture is like a performer singing, reinterpreting an old, much beloved song.  I make an interpretation of an ever popular picture.  So much classicalism is relevant today, some basic human attributes do not change.  To make the painting "now", I add current props.  I doubt that Carravagio ate bananas (are they from South America, which was not yet exporting to Europe at the close of the fifteen hundreds) .  The banana is a Warhol reference.  Parts of the drapery reminded me of O'Keefe. 

 

Speaking of Bacchus, Wikipedia says,  He is also the Liberator (Eleutherios), whose wine, music and ecstatic dance frees his followers from self-conscious fear and care, and subverts the oppressive restraints of the powerful

In Freud speak Bacchus is lord over the id.

 

I began the oil on canvas painting about six weeks ago. To begin,  I printed out references,  my digital Bacchus, Caravaggio's masterpiece, pictures of John Belushi, and some chest shots of hunky males. The canvas was preprimed and stretched.  I sketched in the major lines with conte crayon.  I did the first coat of paint with burnt sienna acrylic paint.  Switching to oils, the color was deepened and blended (which is a specialty of oil) and I painted details.  Belushi's chest hair was styled by Dancing Brush. Some areas got pattern rather than realism. In a few spots I used the tiny sable brush.  I photographed the canvas and put it back in photoshop.  I touched up the photo, because I am not such a good photographer. I rock with photoshop.  The oil paint is drying now.  I want to change some things, but, at some point the work must be abandoned.

 



 

Kindred Spirit

 

 

 

 Circus of the Moon

Digital Painting, completed about a year ago

 

 

 

KINDRED SOUL WITH A THOUSAND EYES

On Monday, the first day of the work week, when I valiantly try to pull myself together, and when I try to organize confusion and rectify regression,  I phoned Hughes Net tech support.  We had been unable to get on the internet, something wrong with the connection.  We were unable to find out the latest exciting adventures of Kim Kardashian and Paris Harlot.  We were unable to buy more stuff,  from the comfort of our own home. I think that there is a little space left where we can stuff more stuff in the closet.  We were loosing track of our Facebook friends, what were they having for lunch?  Did they take a picture of their shrimp and oyster po-boy?  This was serious, something must be done.  

After finding the Hughes phone number, dialing, navigating the labyrinth of which button to push, getting a real person to talk to,  validating that I am really myself, being transferred, validating that I am me, being transferred, and assuring that I am still myself (by this time I was beginning to wonder if my multiple personalities were acting up again), I connected with Gandhi on the phone.  Gandhi is not his real name, I am sorry to say that I did not catch his name, but we will call him this most honorable of names. 

As I followed his directions, Gandhi, in his beautiful voice, walked me, patiently,  through various computer maneuvers. I followed directions and was soon ready to test the internet connection.  As my phone partner and I waited for the home page to open, I asked him,  "Where are you?"

"India."
"I am in Louisiana" spoken with the imperialistic assumption that he knew where the disaster and corruption state is located.
"How is the weather there".
"We have had too much rain, but I think that the sun is coming out.  Early spring is here, the huckleberry is blooming".
"Do you like nature?", Gandhi questioned.
"Yes, nature is important, it feeds the soul.  OK, the home page has loaded".
"OK, now see if it can pull up a web page."
I think, click for a web page.  Then say, "I am pulling up Wikipedia."
"That is unusual, not many people use that site".
"Not everyone is curious". I laughed.
"Ahh," he paused, " my father taught me,  'A person is born with two eyes, but, if he is curious and if he reads, then he has a thousand eyes'".
I thought, I processed words until the concept dawned, "That is wonderful,  I want to tell my children about that".
"I told my daughter, but she didn't listen".
"Some things are the same, the world over".

Wikipedia loaded.  We rang off with sincere thank yous.  I felt a bit warmer and happier. I wished that I had caught his name. I thought about the distance between us, and the differences in our situations. I thought about our voices traveling thousands of miles instantaneously. It was a chance, ephemeral meeting of kindred souls.  I wished that I had asked him to pull up my blog. If he left a message, then we could continue the dialogue.  I wished that I had said, occasionally, maybe, I wish, you/I speak wisely, perhaps it will come back to the children, in a few years, when they are ready.  See, you remembered what your father said.

 Jagger Devil

 

 

 

 

 

Mick Jagger as the Devil

How convenient it must be to believe in the devil!  To have a locked closet in the dank basement of your brain, where you banish all that you think is wrong.  Deny that it has anything to do with you.  How satisfying it must be to package evil in an isolated box that you can hate in all your self righteous holiness.  Yes, what a good idea.  A great idea. What a concept, what a neatly organized system.  I think that I will believe in the devil. I believe!  Eureka!  My mind is so uncluttered.  The confusion has lifted.  Hallelujah!

 

 

 

 

 



 



Idealist

Enlightenment

As I look and move on the Earth, I see beauty in nature.  Coming forward is the idiosyncratic Zen nun version of my being.  My eyes receive the gifts of strong trunked trees, filigree leaf patterns, dappled sunlight. My eyes are small, but my sight is large.

Idealist

An unrepentant idealist, I mingle with fellow humans, I receive my daily programing from the fear box. And I want to know, "Why are we so screwed up?".  Idealist, that I am.  Seeing potential for productive, creative existence on Earth.  Longing for peace and harmony.  I dare to wish for enduring happiness. What could we accomplish if we were truly sane?  What if we cooperated?  What if we raised our children in safe harmonious communities?  What if we did not have to whore for the almighty dollar?

How much human labor actually contributes to the well being of people?  And how much labor is just miserable slavery?  How many of us are bean counters?  Why do we need so much insurance?  There are more bookkeepers than organic farmers.  Health insurance salesmen make more than the nurses that actually deliver the care. Well, I really dont want to get into an extended rant right now.

If we could focus on raising our children to fulfill their potential for the highest and best good of all, we would have a better world in only 20 years.

Call me an idealist.  Some will call me a fool.  Why waste my brainwaves on the impossible? 

I should turn on the TV, there is an acute need to update my programming.  I should go shopping.  Get a bunch of new stuff.  Max out the credit card.  Renew the stress of debt.  Then I will be willing to do whatever useless shit the boss master tells me to do.  Then will you call me a fool?

Little Ole Man

 

Little Ole Man

 

 

 Sourpuss

 

 Here sits the pensive child.  Two years old, he has been on Earth for 730 days. He suckled mothers milk, then was prodded to graduate to  cows milk in a cup.  Perhaps suckling is the most comforting of human activities.  Could it be that in his short life he has already lost the most satisfying gem of experience?  Did he find nirvana at his mother's breast?  He will have no memories of very early age, but may spend the rest of his life with nameless longing.

 

And before that, before the breast, floating the womb, what were his feelings?  Is it true as Otto Rank theorized that uterine life is blissful, that the pain of squeezing through the narrow vaginal cave is the original fall from grace?

 

The ground of the px is a tangle of twigs.  A map of life full of dead ends, cul de sacs, and proceeding the wrong way on a one way street.

 

Over his right shoulder levitates the cherubic Balloon Girl.  Yes, there it is, love and joy, awaiting the right time, the right action, the right person, the right mental attitude, and a lot of luck.

 

Woman Poem

The mouth of her womb

her pleasure center

is a bleeding wound.

 

Each of us entered Earth

through this door.



 

 

 

 

 The little Ole Man, seven hundred thirty days his handlers have molded his behavior. 

 

 Looking like a wise and discouraged old man.  Looking thoughtful, pensive.  How many lives has he lived on this twisted planet?

 

 

America the Beautiful

America the Beautiful

 

 

This picture is a visual metaphor for the unrecorded collateral damage caused to Americans by American war.  Bombs bursting in air.

In this picture, a cherubic brother and sister walk through a heavenly landscape.  Overhead insectoid helicopters threaten to spit death.  Usually, our death machines spray brown people.  Here we see blue eyed, blond children to illustrate that when America goes to war, we also damage ourselves. The unseen damage done to returning soldiers and their families can be as great as the war kill body count. Domino effect collateral damage is not factored into the official war losses.  Soldier suicide rates are high.  Who is counting the suicides that occur after discharge?  Widows and fatherless children suffer immeasurable damage.  Post traumatic stress disorder in soldiers emotionally cripples  the men for the rest of their lives and distresses their families.

This visual metaphor works for me and I hope that it works for you. 

I must thank the amazing British graffiti artist, Banksy for this inspiration.  Thanks Banksy!

I think that really civilized people would find ways to solve problems without resorting to barbaric war. 
 

The body count is only a small part of the expense of war.  Money is the smallest part of the expense.  Unrecorded collateral damage to the "American conquerors" is horrifying.    The domino effect of collateral damage, applies not only to the country that is invaded, but also to the invaders.

 

My hairdresser, Angelle, is a foster parent angel.  She took in a one year old baby, call him Sam.  Sam's father had been deployed to Iraq.  After his military service,  Daddy returned home with an intact body.  One week after discharge,  he blasted a terminal gunshot wound to his head.  Sam's Mommy, in hellish grief, turned to crack.  Using the drug she created for herself a hell on earth.  She found this drug hell preferable to the hell of grief over the senseless death of her husband.  Sam ended up in foster care.  His only stroke of luck was to get Angelle as his foster mother.  Sam was developmentally retarded, from sharing two levels of hell with his Mom.  It took months of Tender Loving Care from Angelle to help him trust again. 

 

Daddy did not show up in the body count.  Mommy was not counted.  Even with a good foster mother,  Sam will have emotional challenges that last his entire lifetime.  These tragedies do not show up on any balance sheet.  But, they are the heartbreaking domino effect, collateral damage cost of war. 

 

This is a clipping from Wikipedia:

       U.S. Army report indicates military veterans have double the suicide rate of non-veterans, and more active-duty soldiers are dying from suicide than in combat in the Iraq War (2003-2011) and War in Afghanistan (2001–present).^[11] Colonel Carl Castro, director of military operational medical research for the Army noted "there needs to be a cultural shift in the military to get people to focus more on mental health and fitness."^[12]

 

This bears repeating  "More active duty soldiers are dying from suicide than in combat in...current wars."  WHY? What does this mean?  Young men enter military service to patriotically fight for their country.  Next they commit suicide.  What happened?

 

Mental health?  Does the Colonel mean that you should have a good attitude to kill?  How does that work? 

 

I just do not get it!  Why do we have endless wars?  None of the answers make sense to me.  There must be another way.

 

Do we war for petroleum?  Disgusting reason.  Then let us stop all the caffeine fueled driving around in circles.  Do our cars run on blood?  The blood of murdered enemies?  The blood of our soldiers? The collateral damage blood?

 

They tell me that Saddam Husein had to be killed.  I don't get it.  How many lives did it cost?  Husein murdered his own people and raped the environment.  For nine years we murdered Iraq people and sent our sons to death and raped the environment.  Are we the good guys?

 

Then there is the argument that we must  show strength in order to scare off the bully countries.  Something like that.  How is it worded?  Is this true???  We out bully the bullies? Is that a sane intervention?  What about the tactic taught in good martial arts classes?  Just having the strength is enough, it is not necessary to use it.  We are not really civilized.  We are barbarians.  We are not very highly evolved.  Really civilized people work out their differences without resorting to violence. 

 

We patriotically protect our way of life, they say, that is why we bomb brown people.   But, we are over consumers, wasteful and arrogant and our children are spoiled.  We protect a way of life that uses resources like tissue paper.  Our homes are constipated with consumer goods produced by slave labor in third world countries.  Our greed knows no bounds. Should people die to support our gluttonous way of life?

 

Don't get me started on a rant.

There must be another way.

There are some good things about America.  Good people.  Beautiful scenery.  Free speech.  I am exercising my patriotic  right to free speech.  I love my country but hate war.

 

 

OK,  I must go now.  I am going shopping, even though I already have too much stuff.  I dare you to open my closet doors.  Don't forget to wear a helmet for protection when all the junk falls out.  I must have the very latest T-shirt and jeans. My old jeans are so last year.  I will max out my credit cards.  It is the American way.  I am a good patriotic consumer supporting the economy.  The debt that I incur will insure that I continue working my bull shit job, and continue contributing my stressed filled labor to the American way of life.    Wrong.  Ironic black humor.

 

America the Beautiful.  Where is it?  How does it work?  How can we make it better?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Madonna for Primates

 



Madonna for Primates

 

 

 

Detail

 

 

Finally, a compassionate mother goddess for gorrillas and apes.  Animals have rights too, you know.  They have needs and emotions similar to humans.  No longer must they settle on worshiping a human Madonna, finally they have a representation from their own ethnic group.  A gorrilafication of their deep need for unending, all accepting mother love.   Apes, gorillas, and even monkeys, can meditate on this image and feel their hearts expand with the warmth of perfect love.

 

All they need now is a primate friendly church.  You may send a donation for the Holy Gorilla Tabernacle of Devine Primates Building Fund to my address.  Be generous. 

 

This is the digital picture that I am working on now.  Madonna for Primates, continues the themes, the series of Mary is My Muse, and The Persistence of Worship.  Religious mashup is the name of the game.  I am really trying to be respectful of religion, but the devil made me do it.  I mean, I think that a lighthearted approach to religion is helpful.  No disrespect intended. 

 

This px continues my artistic research into deep religious needs.  It illustrates that love is cross species.  Love flows through all cultures, ethnic groups, and many species. 

I have seen a mother cat hug a kitten.  The kitten was separated from her mother for about twenty hours. You could see that they were joyful to be reunited.  Mama cat lay on her back, with baby on her stomach, she hugged the child to her chest.

 Dian Fossey and Jane Goodall taught us much about love in primates. 

 

 

 When painting,  I continue to chase beauty.  The hues here satisfy my hunger for color.   The shapes compose interlocking circles, similar to a spiral.  You may see spiral composition in some of my other pictures.  Madonna, roughly a pyramid shape, is stable, grounded and protective. 

 

Halos, as I have mentioned before, offer room for poetic license.  Madonna Primate wears a halo which is a translation of the famous rose window of Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris.  The top of the background borrows from a Clarence John McLaughlin photograph.  The bottom of the loosely interpreted jungle scene uses a vintage botanical print for reference.  This was a beautiful print until I started messing with it.  You can still identify the Venus Fly Trap and Pitcher Plants. The smiles of the mother and child are entirely my fault.  No one else should be blamed. 

Hey yall,  leave a comment, I want to know what you think.  Hate it? Love it? Indifferent?  Please let me know how you react to my babbling and dabbling.