Babee Hapee

Babee Hapee

Here is a smile for your day.  Put it in your pocket to keep it handy.

Audrey Ascending

 

Audrey Ascending

What is Inspiration?

This is a px of Audrey Hepburn in clothes and a setting similar to traditional Christian Mary pictures .  I am wondering if people find this px inspiring?  Are the clouds and halo inspiring?   Mary has been a subject of art for close to two centuries. By substituting Audrey's face for Mary's face, the legend of Mary is removed.  If the legend of Mary is divorced from the gilding, the clothes and environment of her traditional paintings, does the px still inspire?  Is it the visual effects that inspire, or is the inspiration derived from the belief thoughts assigned to Mary?

Celebrities are our current idols.  We have a vast pantheon of revolving deities.  A few like Audrey have survived for over fifty years. Mary has been worshiped 40 times longer than Audrey.  Still, maybe Audrey inspires you.  She inspires me to work at being classy.  But, I still reserve the right to be tacky,  if the mood hits me. 

 Speaking of tacky and celebrities, please, Dear Goddess, deliver me from the Kardashians and Paris Hilton.

Humans have a need to be inspired, because, as you may have noticed, life on Earth can be tough.  When the going gets rough, you want to believe in something.  

In a documentary about George Lucas a fan told him, "Thanks for giving me something to believe in."  That surprised me.  I thought,  "This guy's belief system came from a science fiction film??? Oh wait, he was talking about The Force.  Of course, I believe in The Force."  This fan illustrates the human need for a belief system to explain the phenomena of life on Earth.

The comedian W.C. Fields said,  "Everyone should believe in something, I believe that I will have another drink."  Hey wait,  I also, believe I'll have another drink.  

Classy, inspiration, and another drink,  maybe I will survive life on Earth for a few more years.  Put that in your survival pack.

So, we have three references in this px:  1)  The legend of Mary.  2) The clothes and environment that Mary's stylists, many stylists, thousands, over the centuries, have developed, and 3) Audrey Hepburn.   Which of the three elements makes it inspiring?

 I would like to hear what people think about this px.  I am aware that some people will find this picture sacrilegious.  I would especially like to hear from my Christian friends and relatives.

If you have been following me you may have noticed that I am confused.  And, I want to know if that is a problem?  

I have more questions than answers.

Two other facts about me that may account for my current artistic subject matter. 1)  My muse compels me to do things that my rational mind understands to be, perhaps, counterproductive. And, no, I do not think that I am hallucinating.  Well, that all depends on your definition of hallucinations.    2)  I was raised by fanatical Christians who beat the hell out of me.  Oh wait,  here I am a grandmother, and I still want to raise hell. I thought that they beat the hell out of me.  But, I still get notions to raise Hell.   It is stressful to be so confused.  I thought that God told my parents to lay onto me with belts and other instruments of red ass because I was so bad. This experience alone may explain a lot about me.

 Next fact about ME;  I now have a good supporting peeps.  Maybe, I am doing something right.  I dont know what.  Maybe, LOVE.

I am still trying to decide what..."I believe IN....."

Here is one thing that I believe:

If anyone ever tells you that you should not ask questions,  you should  turn around and walk away quietly, and with dignity, and a swan neck, and do not go back.  

QUESTION EVERYTHING!

Am I putting the apostrophes in the right place?  Hey,  I have questions,  talk back to me. 

I like to prune bushes.  That is easier than making art on canvas.  Thank you, Goddess, I have a lot of bushes. Thousands.  Pruning relaxes me after a hard day on Earth.

What do you like to do?

Rosie, Roller Girl

Rosie, Roller Girl

This is a new 24M Photoshop painting.  The inspiration came from an "orphan" vintage photo.  Called orphan, because the provenance has been lost.  The original photo amazes me.  It is a black and white recording of a euphoric girl. What is her story?  Where is she now? A bit of intense past tense has been preserved. The back ground looks like a bombed out city, with piles of masonry rubble.  

I imagined a story for her.  I think that the picture was taken in a European city just after WWII. Rosie was born in a bomb shelter. She came into a world where the air reeked with  fear and death.  The bombs fell everyday until almost everything was destroyed. Fire and grief rained from the sky.  Anyone could die at any minute.  For Rosie's first few years, she lived in hell.

Just when it seemed that the world would and should end, when every soul was bruised or broken, when  depression and dread were a daily diet,  then, D-Day dawned. The good guys won. The adults celebrated,  the horror was over. There was a rebirth of Hope. Mom found skates that fit her daughter.  The new skates were the best thing that ever happened to this precious child.  She could zoom.  So this is how pleasure feels.

 Original Photograph

In my picture of her, I put her in a rose bower, because she has been with the disaster rubble for long enough.

. 

I worked on this digital version over a period of a few weeks.  I would like to do an oil painting version.  It takes me varying periods of time to do a canvas painting.  I have been working on "Mary and Krishna", for six weeks, hope to finish next week. Then I will photograph the finished painting, tweak it again in photoshop, and publish it. The digital version is already in this blog.  I like the circularity of repeating favorite images in pixels and paint, paint and points of light.

  Several digital pictures are completed for every canvas painting that I have the time to do.  The digital px's serve as detailed plans for the oil paintings.  I have more images than time, they hover overhead, as numerous as copters over Louis Armstrong Airport after Katrina. It is nice to be able to choose the best image.

I have been practicing Photoshop for eleven years.  I have been painting all my life.  Photoshop is a medium that offers some versatility that does not happen with real paint. You can make new versions without destroying the old versions.  I  get excited when I print out a new pixel px. It is a better experience to see it on paper than on a monitor.  Oil on canvas is even more immediate and more intense than the prints.  

Oh, that business, my family apology, in my last blog. Not sure I want to air my dirty laundry publicly.  Can I erase it? And the apology?  The children say they do not read my blog.  Most likely they are wary of being embarrassed.  They should be concerned,  I am not finished paying them back for throwing raging baby tantrums in Walmart yet.

We had a wonderful 4th of July.  The food has been so good.  The place is looking wonderful.  The creek is cool for swimming.  

Elizabeth Taylor, Gazing

Elizabeth Taylor Gazing

 

Liz Taylor Eyes

 

I distorted her face, but I think that she is still recognizable.  I say that she is gazing, but that is too soft a word  to describe her penetrating  eyes.  She is sizing things up and holding her ground.  She says,  "Dont mess with Liz."  I think that she could vaporize you, just by turning  the electricity up one little  notch.  She was a real bitch in "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof".  I would rewatch that film tonight if I had it. 

She is a Medusa, you can almost see the snakes!

I had trouble finding my inner shark.  People were running all over me, I had to learn to stand my ground. Maybe that search is why I made this picture.

An Event at the Ice Cream  Place

Recently Dave and I were waiting for our ice cream orders. The sun was too bright for comfort, but in the shade of the restaurant porch it was lovely.  Sitting at the next picnic table from us was an adorable family.  A young Mommy and Daddy and a beautiful girl, about 10 months old.  The child was sitting between the two parents on the table, playing with car keys.   She gurgled with happy.  She put the keys in her mouth and her father took them away.  Baby went from happy to throwing a hissy in less than ten seconds.  She cried a few minutes and Daddy gave the keys back. She put the keys in her mouth, and he took them away.  There were several repetitions of: playing with keys and happy, keys in mouth, keys taken away, loud screams.  Father was embarrassed by the crying and soon let her keep the keys just to avoid a scene.

 Did she get bad germs from the keys and get sick?  Daddy was trying to protect her and teach her.  Or, maybe the germs on the keys stimulated her immune system. Children need to be exposed to some bacteria, this causes their body to create immunity that will be with them all their life. It is hard, sometimes impossible, to know what is right.

Driving back to our Dauphine Island Cabin, Dave and I talked and agreed that it was wrong to aggravate Baby with the keys. She was too young to learn to keep things out of her mouth.  Infants are hard wired to put everything in their mouth. If I remember right they are only ready to learn to keep things out of their mouth at three or four years old.

 If they had been really super doooper parents they would have brought a chew toy for her. They would have been acquainted with developmental stages.  They were loving, attentive parents, out for ice cream.
Their mistake was small, and may not have much effect on the growing human. But simple, innocent interactions like this, if repeated,  may have long lasting consequences for the child. 

This is a small incident, the parents were obviously doing the best they knew how.  Parents make mistake like this every day.  No one knows exactly the right way to raise a child.

Once, I remember thinking, perhaps when I was in my forties,  I thought, my parents made me neurotic, and I am making my children neurotic.  I mean, no one is qualified for such a serious job.

 I have many pleasurable and informing memories from my childhood.  My parents were loving and took their parenting responsibilities seriously.  They wanted me to turn out well so they raised me up according to strict Christian ethics.  Daddy had a good Air Force job.  We traveled and saw the world. We were part of the military, fighting for right.

I went to 13 schools before I graduated high school.  I never belonged,  in the north they called me a southern rebel. The war between the states was still in collective memory, that explains the rebel part.  In the south they called me a damn yankee.  Damned, because the north won the war. My accent was always wrong.  I was in fifth grade before I realized that the north won the civil war.  My father's family remembered the boys that fell in that war.  The boys were heroes.  Talking about the loosing part would have subtracted points from their hero status. Hell, they just did not want to admit that they were losers.

My mother was relatively attentive.  My father was gone away on Air Force assignments.  I was born about 1 month before the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Did I, on some level feel the screams of the victims?  Like Jung, I believe that we are all connected.

My mother and father were loving and relatively attentive.  They were sure that they knew the right way to raise a child.  The Bible told them what to do, people are born into sin and it must be whipped out. They were not confused, they had certainty.  They had hard and fast rules.

I was a relative attentive parent.  I made many mistakes that my children must try to sort out.   I really wanted to be a good Mom, but there was a lot of static. I was not sure what to do. I was confused. I just wanted to break all those damn righteous rules that I was raised with.

I made many stupid mistakes.  I am sorry.  This is my public apology to my children. I am sorry.

 I am still trying to get things right.

But back to the family on the porch.  They were loving and attentive, just uninformed.  If it is this easy to make a parental mistake, no wonder that we are all screwed up.

Excuse me!  You are not screwed up?  You are insulted that I would include you in with the confused masses of the world.  Your parents did everything right, or  you have overcome their stupidities?  Well, good for you dahlin' I hope that hasnt made you judgmental and superior. Arnt you the epitome of perfection.

We must examine and accept our own faults so that we can understand the faults of others.  Compassion for ourself and others is the basis of learning real love.

It is so disappointing to realize our human  condition of not knowing. We want to know,  "Where did we come from? Where are we going? Why are we here?".  This is a quote from Gauguin.  We ask questions and want them answered.  We NEED to know. This is the attraction of religion.  The preacher tells you exactly what is right.   Uncertainty is just feeling ignorant. But there are no concrete answers.  We are left with just the consolation of appreciating Mystery. 

Enough blathering.  I will sign off now.  I hope that you have a stellar day.

The Contemporary Arts Center, NOLA Now, Part II The Human Figure exhibit, curated by Don Marshal,  last night was fun, inspirational and nostalgic.  Inspirational, because I always want to see what other artist are doing.  Fun, for the people watching.  Nostalgic, because it reminded me of my wonderful bad old days,  the 80's.

Art openings are see and be seen social events.  Steppin' out,  stylin',  making a fashion statement.  The fashion choices making a life style statement. Dave and I saw flocks of punks, bevies of sleek lesbians, pods of posturing artists, video camera faced recorders,  aging flower children,  fashionistas, and that slinky black clad group slouching toward alienation.

I saw only a few people that I knew, in contrast to my bad years when I ran with a pack of socially inappropriate high jinxers. When everyone worth knowing knew everyone worth knowing.

Hot children in the wild New Orleans night, exploring the Bacchanalian side of life.

I ran into old eighties friend Kenny Harrison,  the wonderfully adept Times Picayune artist.  He was clad in a good ole southern seer sucker suit as was George Schmidt.  Kenny introduced us to the artist Jim Dine, his name was familiar to me, but I had to Google him to see how famous he is.   

I spend most of my time like a hermit in the woods.  In my old age I seek peace and quiet, the better to contemplate messages from my muse.  The better to commune with mother nature, which is necessary for my sanity. Going to New Orleans, to an old stomping grounds place, is a big stimulating contrast. 

Oh, oh, oh, back in the bad old eighties, we had some legendary escapades.  I Belonged, belonged to a tribe.  The Contemporary Arts Center was one of our play houses.  A dusty warehouse, it was unkempt and unpolished. I sometimes did studio work there.  Messed around with Sandra Blair (Kween of Krewe of Klones) and created happenings.

 The core of my tribe were The Hemorrhoids, you heard me right, The Hemorrhoid Marching Club.   Our uniform consisted of long john underwear dyed purple,  a hemorrhoid donut pillow as a hat, and an enema bag filled with cocktails hung around the neck. Purple ostrich feathers and purple satin and sequin capes were optional.

Once, at the CAC, The Hemorrhoids danced on stage with Professor Longhair percussing the piano.  We were having so much fun, acting like fools, that they had to run us off the stage for the next act. 

Someone once asked me,  "Why were you called hemorrhoids?"  I said, "Because it is disgusting",  wasnt that obvious, self evident? 

When you slaughter that part of your social mask that maintains "good taste" a bigger world opens up. Boundaries are broken, it makes you more free. You have many more choices.   You can suck cocktails out of the business end of an enema bag.  I guess most of you may, understandably, reasonably, not get it.  I was raised to be a Southern Lady, I needed to bust that constrictive mold.

I am currently reconsidering "good taste" and allowing it back into my mode of operation.  Now I do it by conscious choice,  previously it was a conditioned habit.   Also, I am a grandmother, so I suppose (I am not sure) that I should set a good example, what ever that is. 

Of course my picture,  "Portrait of Charles Neville", is the best in the Human Figure show.  There is a lot of inspirational art work to see.  Two stand out amid all the static.  Under the heading, "I wish that I had thought of that first", is Jane Talton-Ayrod's "Odalisque Plastique".  A satirical redo of a classic odalisque, showing a Barbie doll lying voluptuously on a divan. Behind her, an Aunt Jemima doll (no un P.C. intended) displays a bouquet of flowers from an admirer.

Under the heading,  "I wish that I could paint that well" is Michael Deas oil, "The Frayed Dress".  Michael Deas also sent me to Google for research.  A New Orleans royalty of art, his work is amazing. He has created many impressive portraits for the USA postal system stamps.  Seeing his website, his picture of a woman holding a torch for Columbia Pictures, reminded me again of the bad old eighties.  Through purple clouds of smoke and time, I remember being at Molly's Irish Pub, with my tribe, about 1am, one steamy night.  A man brought in this beautifully rendered painting of the familiar Columbia Pictures logo updated. He had just finished it and wanted to show it off.  Now,  I know that man was Michael Deas. He wasnt quite on my radar before, how could I have missed him?  There are so many creatives in New Orleans.

Time brings interesting changes.  I, previously a tacky trollop galloping with a disruptive bunch of hooligans, now, a sometimes tasteful, usually well behaved grandmother traveling quietly with my third, and best husband, sweet Dave. The Contemporary Arts Center, previously a disheveled playhouse for unruly artists, now, an orderly, structured, architecturally interesting place of recent political upheavals, that is strangely familiar/unfamiliar. 

Peace, Love and Art,  Janet

Charles Neville Communications

I am so delighted that Charles Neville answered my open letter.  Charles is the much loved Grammy award winning  saxophone musician. In a city bountiful with musicians, he is New Orleans musical Royalty. His album "Diversity" is phenomenal.  The best way to hear him and the bro's is when the Neville Brothers close the annual New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. 

This is what Charles wrote:

Dear Janet,
Your painting is wonderful, full of wonder and quite beautiful.  You really captured something of the Spirit of the "Mystic" Charles Neville. I would love to have a copy, if that's possible.  I'll be in N.O. for one day in late June.  I'll get to the C.A.C. then.
Thanks,
Charles

I wrote back:

Dear Charles,
Yesterday I mailed out four prints for you.  The prints are made with archival paper and ink.  ....
Thank you very much for your kind e-mail regarding the portrait.  I hope that you do not mind if I quote you in my blog and on other internet entries.

Art is communication between individuals.  As humans we speak, we gesture, we touch, but we never really know what is in the mind of others.  My art documents the introspections of my cognitive processes as I muddle about, trying to understand what it means to be a human on Earth.  Our communications demonstrates this process.

ART IS THE SHORTEST DISTANCE BETWEEN TWO MINDS

Your art, music inspired me and about a million other people.  I responded with a portrait, which speaks to you.  We craft verbal communications, and share them with others.  We are trying to close the gap between human minds. 

Have a blessed day,
Janet

See my web site and blog which illustrate my quest.

Charles wrote back:

Thanks Janet,
I looked at your website and liked everything I saw.  The crying baby was my favorite.  Thanks for thinking of me as being a subject.
Charles

Charles Neville, Open Letter

Charles Neville Portrait

36"x48" oil on canvas

An Urban Shaman

Open Letter to Charles Neville

Dear Charles,

I hope that you like your portrait.  I took liberties while painting it,  hope you don't mind.  In order to paint you,  I wanted to know about you.  I reviewed times past when our paths crossed. We met only once, that was in the early 90's at a spiritual retreat.  And, back in my bad old days, the 80's, in New Orleans I saw you and the bro's many times. At the best damn bad place on the planet, Tipitina's, with the sweat dripping off the walls. To research for the px, I surfed the web to gather some info and images of you. I found a snippet of information and some low rez publicity px's.

So, really I did not have a lot info to go on.  Not to worry, under informed?, not a problem.  I just used my hyperactive imagination.  

 

The cool hat and tie dye t-shirt, came from publicity stills attire.  Of course, there had to be your magic wand, sexy sax, close to your heart.  The mustache, which reminds me of a Chinese monk, is exaggerated,  because it looks so effin awesome.  High cheek bones reveal your Native American genes.

 I studied the low rez images of you harvested from the web, and converted the blurry face to paint on canvas.  Time consuming, fun and satisfying work.  While painting, stories floated on the screen of  my mind.  I saw you as mythic man,  a heroic urban shaman. A powerful explorer of life on Earth  An adventurer on the highway of consciousness.

There had to be a gator in the px.  He is your totem, a spiritual animal power partner. Gristly Gator, the mighty, mighty Honey Island swamp beast,  the cohort of Loup Garou,  is your unseen supporter. Do you sense him?

I had painted St. Louis Cathedral previously, so, it went in the picture as the spirit of New Orleans.  Radiance from the crosses borrows technique from Van Gogh.  The crosses are a salute to the many righteous people who gather solace and joy from churches.

After painting for a while, I looked at the px and saw that the Cathedral looked Gothic.  Kinda spooky.  I was mystified by what I had painted. The dark blue arches looked like ghosts.  They reminded me of Edvard Munch's "The Scream" painting.

Just as an aside, I have frequent arguments with my muse, my artistic inspiration.  My intention is to paint pictures filled with light and love (and a bit of humor).  However,  dark images sometimes creep into the paintings.  I blame this on my muse, she takes over my brush.

The Cathedral,  supposedly a beam of hope, looked like a set from a cheap horror movie.  Then I saw the justice in this. The horror stemmed from millennia of  abuses perpetrated by organized religion.  So, I was OK with St. Lou as painted.  The good side represented by the radiant crosses, the bad side showing up in the creepy ghosts.   

St. Louis Cathedral is reflected in your glasses.  The glory and horror is in your eyes.  This is the experience of your soul.  

There is a water fountain in front of St. Lou.  Maybe, this signifies the baptism of the spirit.  Or maybe, I am reading too much into it.  Maybe, it is just a beautiful picture.

This portrait will be exhibited at the New Orleans Contemporary Arts Center, for seven weeks.  Opening reception Saturday, June 23.  Closing reception, White Linen Night, Sat August 5.

Thanks, Charles, for this picture.  It was a joy to paint.

Sincerely,

Janet

MARY, MOTHER OF GOD

I am confused, is that a problem?

This ancient picture was recently discovered in catacombs beneath the Galilee Chapel of Tears. It is painted on tanned goat hide and painted with  pigment of  huckleberries. Professor Doctor Fulloshoot placed the time of its creation in the early thirteenth century.  He states that the realism of Baby God is unusual and amazing for that time period.  

Mary looks like she is resigned to caring for this cranky Baby God.  She is looking patiently out of the picture, saying,  "Can you believe this little tyke can make so much noise?"

 Poor little Baby God, crying at the top of his lungs.  I wonder why?  Is he pissed because, now he has to spend some time on the planet that he created.  Or maybe he is angry because he is in a human body?  He made the Earth, way back in the day.  You have to give him credit for making a wonderful globe.  He thought up some fantabulous critters,  like tigers and rolly polys.   He created awesome things like mountains, swamps, and beaches.   

He also created humans.  They say that God does not make mistakes,  but that is just  spin, a claim instigated by his publicist.  

Humans did not turn out so well.  They are almost totally irrational and self serving.  Their emotions run amok and cause them to act stupid. They are always trying to improve social organization but the race just continues to create chaotic communities.  In their petty, but deadly, never ending wars they destroy nature. They refuse to learn the ways of peace.   Rampant greed impedes learning cooperation.  You know, they just stomp on each other every day.  They kill each other like flies. The only thing that they do better than killing is reproducing, infecting the earth like fleas on a mangy dog.   

God realized that humans were deeply flawed.  His spinmeister released a statement blaming the hominid disaster on the female human. Her name was Eve, she was blamed for the whole fan hitting disaster.  The devil made her do it.  The mother of the human race fed Adam a bad meal, and women have been blamed for every hiccup since that time. Adam and Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and that is how they got so screwed up.  However,  I want to know, what was that tree doing there, in the first place?  The Garden of Eden, it was suppose to be a perfect garden, but it grew a tricky Cassandra tree. Isnt God the original source of human curiosity?  Didnt he know he made critters that want to taste everything?  It was blamed on the serpent.  So,  who is this serpent devil?  Why did he fall into evil?  I mean, if God is so almighty almighty why cant he keep these things under control

Spinmeister concocted a scheme to redeem the stupid race.  God should go to earth in a human body and make a grand gesture of sacrifice, to show them the right way.

God impregnated the pure Virgin Mary, then he was born to her.  So he was his own dad.  To avoid confusion his human incarnation is usually called Jesus. 

Baby God is crying because he realizes what a mess he has gotten himself into.  He is a human, for Gods sake!  Buffeted by hurricanes of emotions and desires.  He makes plans that go awry.  He doesnt even know where he came from, where he is going, and what he is suppose to do while he is here.   God's spinmeisters, AKA prophets, lay down a lot of rules but people are not very good at following rules.  Maybe they dont really believe in the rules,  maybe they suspect that the power freak humans, (Kings, politicians and Popes) are continuously concocting ways of controlling communities. 

So, Jesus was birthed and he grew up. Then he bummed around the Holy Land, talking to everyone that he could get to listen.  He was kind of like Socrates who also tried to teach people and was rewarded with a drink of poison.  Yea, the people killed Jesus.  They dont even know a good thing when they see it.

So, just in case you were wondering, that is why Baby God is screaming his head off.

WASABI

WASABI WITH POSIES

WASABI WISTFUL

WASABI

This Geisha like creature looks elegant and sweet, but her name tells you that she is also spicy.  Her dragon companion, declares,  "Dont mess with Wasabi."  A Photoshop painting which I may use as a draft or sketch for a painting on canvas. 

Madonna and Krishna, detail

Madonna and Krishna, detail

Recently completed painting.  Christian Mary with baby Hindu God Krishna.  For Mary's face I used Elizabeth Taylor for a reference.  For the background I used a NASA photo.  For Krishna I used a traditional Hindu picture.

Madonna and Krishna

 

Madonna and Krishna

I completed this painting today.  The background uses a NASA photo for reference.  What a cosmic image!  Literally and figuratively COSMIC.  Awe inspiring. The Hubble photographs show us the real meaning of awesome,  a word we carelessly throw around to describe well made scrambled eggs, or the latest trendy outfit.

  Here we have a Christian Mary image, holding the baby Hindu God Krishna.  This is a mash up of  cosmic references.  Mixing it up. Mashing and smashing our preconceptions of religion.

OK, I confess, I dont know what I am doing. I am confused.  I follow my muse.  I hope that she knows what she is doing. I hope that her mind is clear and sharp.  I hope that she can focus, because I go off on tangents, have trouble staying on target. 

I paint pictures, then, in order to get the px's "out there", must concoct some words describing the picture's intent. I try to formulate words to support the picture. 

The intent, the concept, is nebulous, ethereal, airy. Beyond words.

Mother and Child.  Sacred Madonna and precious baby.  Universal, persistent images. A theme used world wide from the beginning of time. A theme that speaks to our deepest psychological needs.

Our need for soothing, protective, all giving love. Our longing for a mirror that tells us that we are perfect. Deep down, this is what we all want.  Lotsa, lotsa LOVE. Attention feeding our self esteem until we feel perfect.

Off on a Raging Tangent

Some New Age patter tells us that, really, we are perfect, we just will not accept our perfection.

But, if we are honest with ourselves, we know that we are just as human crazy as our neighbors.  I look at my looney self, I see my disturbed friends, I watch emotional wrecks on TV.  What the frazzle is going on here?  

I see the economy, more people homeless.  New college grads, burdened with debt, unable to find jobs. I see the economy traumatized by greed.  I see corrupt leaders.  

I see endless war.  I dont understand why we are always at war. I dont get it. It disturbs me to be a citizen of such a war mongering nation.

 I see a world that is complicated beyond comprehension.

I see religion.  I see the Catholic church with mind boggling riches and priests that fuck little boys. I see the history of religion.  The Inquisition.  Ghastly torture.

 I see endless wars fought over different religions,  each side with God on their side.  I see church ladies who think that they are righteous and snub teenagers who cant find a their way.  

I see people who think that they are perfect and better.  People who will not examine their own real souls. People who maintain self righteousness through self ignorance.

I see ministers, preaching rules that do not help people find a good life.  Preaching belief systems that just do not apply. 

I see nature attacking humans,  how many tornadoes?

I see a world so crazy with mass psychosis that we are unable to define "sane and healthy".

(What IS the good life?) 

I see all this shuff,  but I want to be happy, so most of the time I practice denial. I just ignore the bad , and go about my small, sweet life.

"I see trees of green, red roses too

I see them bloom, for me and you,

and I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

 I see sky of blue and clouds of white

the bright blessed day and sacred night

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world."

Louis Armstrong

Mother Mary Comforts Me

MOTHER MARY COMFORTS ME

This is a mixed media painting on canvas. The title comes from the Beatles song.

Monkey Cowboy

Monkey Cowboy

Show down in the French Quarter. Lucky Dog is about to get a free ride to Boot Hill.


I Am Confused, is that a Problem?

I have been using the question, "I am confused, is that a problem?" as a personal 'catch phrase' when I meander and twine with the internet.

Before I read a certain book, I didnt really know what the phrase meant, because I was, you know, confused.

The saying does express something that I feel about life, art and personal philosophy. I do not intend for the phrase to have a negative interpretation. It sounds negative, but I saw it as somehow positive.

Confusion is generally seen as a state of mind to be avoided at all cost. Even delusions are preferable to confusion. When we dont understand things, we invent explanations. NOT KNOWING is usually experienced as an uncomfortable state of mind.

In the movie, "Empire of the Sun", a doctor yells at the protagonist, "Stop thinking so much. You think too much." Eureka. Hmm, is that my problem? Maybe, I think too much.

I thought, Maybe, I will read some philosophy, maybe that will help with the confusion.

Soon, the book, "A Parliament of Minds", came my way. I bought it for twenty five cents at the Franklinton Public Library. They sell donated books, when there is no more room for books on the shelves. I love coincidences.

Printed in 2000, by the State University of New York Press, it is a book of relatively current philosophical thinking.

So I read it. And now I will quote from it.

This statement comes from David Rothenberg, associate professor of philosophy at the New Jersey Institute of Technology.

Philosophy doesn't make you settled, you know. In that sense it's different than meditation; it makes you more and more confused and through that confusion you can be much more alive and sort of wonder about the world. You know, wonder is the best thing philosophy has to offer. You have to wonder about this amazing planet, this amazing place where we are, and not get bored and not think there are too easy answers. Just keep asking, keep exploring.

Rothenberg expressed what I had sensed in my muddled, thinking brain. The concept has been there, in my cranium vault, it took Rothenberg to give me the words.

I had thought and thought, going in circles, back tracking, jumping forward, interweaving and tangling, untangling, and retangling.

Eventually, I arrived at an acceptance, even a celebration, of not knowing. I embraced mystery.

John Wayne Moses

John Wayne Moses
The Persistence of Worship Art Series

Through the ages humankind has venerated deities, celebrities, and rulers. There are historical streams of worshipful entities who display similar characteristics. The characteristics stay the same, but the entities change. I have been working on a series that explores the persistence of character streams that people worship.

After doing a Bacchus image of decadence. And painting images of Mary, representing compassion. And a Venus Sex Goddess image. Something was missing. I had done all "soft" libertarian images. My cosmogony needed balance.

I thought to balance things with this John Wayne, Moses, Sky God image. A disciplinarian would add needed weight to this art series. All that yin needed some yang. This image stream of masculine rulers, goes all the way back through Zeus to the Etruscan Sky God, Tinia. I associate this worship stream with rules, law and discipline.

Moses handed down the law. John Wayne was an alpha 'good guy' character who tromped the 'bad guys'. I associate Sky Gods with authoritarianism. Rule breakers are punished.

I will refrain from writing about how my father experiences relate to this subject. OK, I will just say, that Daddy Dearest liked John Wayne. Also, Father handed down strict law and meted out lots of punishment.

But, hey, you guys, you alpha males, hey! A few laws and some bit of discipline go a long way. You guys are control freaks. Hey! loosen up! Lets dont have any more rules and laws than are necessary for keeping people from hurting each other.

Apologies to Michelangelo for borrowing his Moses statue. I hope that he is not turning over in his grave, when he sees what I did with his beautiful art.

Silver Creek Garden Notes

It is getting warm to hot here. Temperatures in the 80's. The amaryllis that Lois gave me is blooming, red with creamy stripes. I take as much time as I can outside while the weather is beautiful. Mornings are perfect, in the 70's. I have a new raised vegetable bed with good soil that I have planted. Bunching onions, edge the bed. If you manage bunching onions well, you never have to buy them, or even plant them again. They are very low maintenance. Also planted peppers, tomatoes, rosemary, thyme, basil and parsley. The bed is only about 48 sq ft. I plant everything on top of each other. Most of the property here floods once or twice a year. In addition most of the property is shady with forest. There isnt much room for a sunny bed.

I am planting a hydrangea bush by the porch steps. So exciting. The blooms are stunning fresh and obtain a special fragile, faded look when dried.

Happy Spring,

Peace, Love and Art,

Janet

Zatay, Goddess of Art, Music, and Spring

Zatay, Goddess of Art, Music and Spring

Spring is popping here at Silver Creek. The huckleberry bloomed and has lots of tiny green berries. The wisteria is blooming. violets, Carolina allspice, snow drop, all are blooming. The trees have that beautiful spring yellow green. I want to garden. I had lettuce over the winter. The fig trees are hanging on. We are making a new veggie bed.

The last flooding of the creek broke down the beaver dam. The frogs sound like a bell symphony.

If you are having nice weather, I hope that you have time to enjoy it outdoors.

Angelina Jolie as Medusa

"Snake Mandala", by M. C. Escher

Angelina Jolie as Medusa

So, here is Angelina Jolie as Medusa. Medusa, with her writhing snake hair. This px popped into my TV monkey mind a few weeks ago as I was trying to fall asleep. While waiting for sleep, I watch the Art Chanel of my brain. Over the week, the px kept creeping into the screening room of my head. So, yes I thought, I will paint this.

But, I addressed my Muse, I do not understand the connection between Jolie and Medusa. You know that the picture should "hold together". It does not have to be rational, but it should have an irrational harmony. I like px's with somekinda meaning.

Also, I think that I should paint px that are full of light and love. Confucius say, "That which you give attention will increase." I want happiness to increase. Those snakes, they are not pleasant.

And, what, I said to my muse, is the connection between the movie star and the ancient Greek mythological woman? As usual, my Muse won this disagreement. As I painted the px, I began to see that there is a connection between Angelina and Medusa.

Angelina can vaporize bad women, evil men, robots, monsters and the living dead. BUT-- Medusa can turn anyone that looks at her into stone. Angelina, you may be bad, but Medusa is the baddest of the bad. So, I began to see the connection. Score one for the unconscious mind, or the collective unconsciousness, my muse, or what ever it is that provides the slide show of art that my mind exhibits.

Medusa, a Greek Goddess, or chthonic monster, (deities of the underworld) was, is, celebrated as a guardian and protectress. Kind of like Diana, the huntress, but more scarey. Kind of like Angelina but badder.

So, here we have women warriors. Protectors, Guardians. Kick ass females. These image help us to fight for a good life. Help us cut down, drop, any thing, or anybody, that would interfere with creating a Life of Peace, Love and Art. By bringing these images into our consciousness, we have role models for fighting for right.

To make this px I gleaned images from the web. I am omnivorously foraging the web for images that help me to express my quirky take on life. I downloaded a few images of Angelina, a few of Medusa, and about a dozen images of snakes. Two of the images illustrated hundreds of snakes all knotted together. The snakes freaked me out. Even tho I have killed snakes with a machete here in the Louisiana swamp, I downloaded so many snakes, that it was creepy. I put all the images together, via Photoshop, into what I think is a beautiful picture. I found the image by Escher towards the end of working on the px. It works beautifully as a sort of crown.

In the process of making the picture, I thought about accessing my inner protectress and guardian. I hope that you too, will find you inner warrior.

This is what Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell were talking about. Ancient myths that resonate with us, as we try to create a life, ancient times and now. The challenges of life as a human on Earth, remain the same. For all the change zooming at us at a zillion miles per hour, it is reassuring to remember that the basics never change.

Take a look at the Widipedia entry, "Medusa", to see the full story about this interesting chthonic
Goddess.

Peace, Love and Art,

Janet

Foot Bridge

FOOT BRIDGE

Evonne and Yvette purchased the first camera that they ever saw. In 1888, the camera was an exciting novelty displayed in Evan's General Store. They saw it in the store. They had heard about cameras, new fangled contraptions that captured a visual moment in time, freezing it forever. They admired it in the store. That night they chirruped in their private musical language about the new invention. Their talk is translated here. "We can stop time in its tracks", Evonne exclaimed. "We can still the slipping away," Yvette said. "We will purchase it tomorrow", they sang.

Their older brother, Emmett said, "You cant work that newfangled contraption, you two are just air heads. You will never be able to make it work."

The twins ignored the insulting remark. Emmet was always trying to put them down. His sarcasms went in one ear and then evolved, in the crystal mist of their heads. "Poor, dear Emmet, he really is trying. But he has a long way to go", the girls sang.

Behind the plantation mansion, to the west, there was swampy forest acreage that was not suitable for growing cotton. A wooden foot bridge crossed over a bog to a light trace of a path. The forest was said to be haunted. People said that a giant hairy wild man lived there.

Estelle, mother of the twins, died during their birth. Her blood leaked out, followed the babies out of her body. The double childbirth was the crowning achievement of Estelle's life, there was no need to go on after that. Her vital fluid slipped away. The twins did not need her. Servants cared for the two infants. The twins did not need anyone but each other.

Over the years, the father, Esau, occasionally saw the girls in the dining room. When Esau was home from the hunting camp, or home from doing business or dissipating in New Orleans, father and daughters happened to be taking meals at the same time. He noted that they were healthy and happy. Except for the unusual heads, they were normal.

One time, after he had been at the hunting camp for three months, in New Orleans for six months doing business and another six months doing dissipation he came home. His sweet strange twins were eighteen years old. Surprised, he was, to see that they had turned into young women. "I should have obtained tutors for them years ago", he thought. "Time just slips away."

The servants and town people considered the girls strange, but sweet. Once the people got used to the bubble heads, they realized that the girls were pretty. And that weird singing was beautiful.

Evonne and Yvette were happy to be left on their own. From the time that they first learned to walk, they spent hours alone together, in the forest, beyond the footbridge. Once they were gone for three days. The cook happened to notice that she had not seen them, that they had not eaten for three days. The kitchen gardener was sent to find them. When he saw them coming back, over the foot bridge, they seemed to be levitating. "But", he thought, "sometimes my vision is blurry".

Emmet was wrong, they were not air heads. Their minds were clear light. Cloud free. No shadows. Their minds were gently humming with the atmosphere of immediate intimate impressions.

Emmet was a block head, a normal person, his brain constipated with notions and resentments.

They took the camera to the footbridge behind their house. For the twins, the wooden walk way was a bridge between two different ways of being. A short stroll over the bridge was always a clearing remedy for the occasional heavy concepts that were impressed upon them from the world at large. In this way they erased unwanted thoughts. They could control the data in their brains and maintain a Zen calm.

In the end, ironically, Emmet was correct. They could not make the contraption work. They aimed and pressed the button. The negatives were mailed to New Orleans to be be developed.

The photographs arrived back by mail. Evonne opened the mail with keen anticipation. Yvette carefully removed the photographs from the box. Together the twins gazed at the beautiful photograph paper, which had a satin finish. They saw white. Softly shining white. Simultaneously they said, "Ahhhh-haaaa". Yvette said, "It is so beautiful". Evonne said, "This is perfect!"

Emmet stomped into the room. "So, your photographs arrived, let me see." He snatched the pictures. "There is nothing here, no picture, blank white."

"We know, they are perfect," the twins chimed.

One last time, the twins strolled over the footbridge to another reality. They evaporated. They slipped away. Their bodies were never found.

Mother and Child

MOTHER AND CHILD

MOTHER AND CHILD

This painting, as you can see, is heavily influenced by the Christian Mary and Jesus. It is an updated version of the historically popular image. The mother here, looks like a model with exuberant, fan blown hair. The baby is mischievous and spunky. He is a hand full, looking for trouble.

I think the halo, a kaleidoscope of comb like sea shells, is beautiful. In the background is a Gothic church, another allusion to Christianity.

The painting is called "Mother and Child", because my intention was to represent universal, ideal mother love. The picture references Christianity, but portrays, not specifically Mary, but the yearning desire for a loving mother. It serves as an illustration and receptacle for our human longing for unconditional love. Mother Mary and Child pictures are a personification of human needs. They are a concept made visible. The concept that is illustrated is that vacuum in our minds, in our spirits, in our physicality, that desires unconditional love. It is the vacuum within, the yawning hole, the deep void, that is seldom satisfied.

When people worship Mother Mary they may internalize the love that she signifies and experience some relief from the desperate desire for love. Compassionate love Goddesses are universal. In China she is Quan Yin, in Tibet she is Tara. These images used as a spiritual practice can facilitate blissful meditations.

The archaic Italian word madonna was originally a formal address to any woman. (Wikipedia)

Lately, the past year or so, my art has been exploring, "the human need to worship", Historically humans worshiped deities, currently many worship CELEBRITIES. Humans have a worship need. A psychological need for a bigger than life entity. We need heroes to identify with, to emulate, or in order to express deep psychological issues.

Lead by my muse, my art work has been exploring the persistent attributes of worshipees, a term that I have coined to group deities and celebrities together.

My picture "John Belushi was the Human Incarnation of Bacchus", draws attention to the hedonistic characteristics of both these entities. They are a sublimation of our wish to throw caution to the wind and embrace decadence. We enjoy Belushi acting like an undisciplined slob. Watching "Animal House" satisfies our desire to eat, drink and be merry, but, with out the hangover. Bacchus, as the patron God of Mardi Gras, permits unrestrained acting out during a prescribed period of time. After the holiday most of us return to sober work a day behavior.

"Oprah is the Reincarnation of Cleopatra", correlates the Queen of Egypt with the Queen of Television. And plays on the exotic African similarity. We desire the power of Oprah and Cleopatra.

Many of you may note the influence of Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell. I read these authors a few decades past. Their theories sounded a note of truth for me. Their principles have been deeply entwined in my personal belief system. They expressed these concepts much better than I can.

This series of art has afforded me much food for fantasy, contemplation, and expression. I am curious to see where it will lead.

Peace, Love and Art,

Janet

(File under the "I am not going there category": what happens to people who emulate Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton. Both got their start from a sex tape. Both are now famous for being famous. Both have no fear of being tacky.)

Oprah is the Reincarnation of Cleopatra

OPRAH IS THE REINCARNATION OF CLEOPATRA

Maybe, I am loosing my mind? I am seeing things, are these episodes hallucinations or visions?

(Do you know the difference between a psychotic and a psychic? Answer: The psychic knows who to talk to.)

It happened again, another visitation. This time I was on the back ten acres of our land, across Gold Creek, an area which is almost a wilderness, rarely visited by humans. I had a kukri with me. A kukri is a quality type of machete. I carried it, just in case I ran into a wild hog. I could use it for protection. Heehee. Like, I could stop a 300 pound muscle pack of charging hog. Anyway, I was kind of prepared, and the kukri helps cut through the tangles of vines.

I crossed over Gold creek, wearing my leopard print rubber boots. Made my way through thickets of brambles. Admired the landscape, which is making a wonderful recovery after being cut for timber eleven years ago, before we bought the property. I love seeing the land recover as nature does her beautiful work. There were many deer tracks. I startled a doe and a fawn, and watched them sprint away. They move with dance like grace.

When I got to the sandbar area, I sat down, to take a big refreshing drink of mother nature. Silver Creek is constantly changing. Sandbars appear and disappear. One year a magnolia tree had eroded to fall over the creek. In the spring it was dazzled with big creamy magnolia flowers. The next year, it had been washed away by seasonal floods.

I was sitting there, on the sand. Listening and watching the currents of water. And then...A woman appeared to be walking on the water. Coming toward me. I was not that surprised. I knew that it was just another visitation from the spirit world.

It was easy to recognize Cleopatra, because, she had assumed a Hollywood version of her image. Who knows what she really looked like, back in the day, because there has been so much spin put on her image. She has been idealized and glamorized by painters and sculptors and movie makers, since her ancient Egyptian rein. She never goes out of style.

Her manner was gracious, and, I knew that I would follow her regal request. She commanded that I paint a picture of her, illustrating her two most famous incarnations. Paint her as Cleopatra and Oprah, the Queen of television, all in the same body. "The people need to see this. I want them to know that I have been working for the betterment of humanity, through all my incarnations, for as long as humans have been on earth. It will give them hope. And Isis knows, they need hope, in times like these."

"And, please, dear Janet," she continued, "tell them that all women are Queens. (And some men are also Queens). Tell them to own their power. Tell them to get off their butts and create a Queendom, of peace, love and art."

I protested. "You are so beautiful. I am just an artist of lowly talent. I cannot do you justice."

"You may be right about that," Cleo said, "but, you are the best I can find, talent has kind of gone down the drain, these last few years. So you MUST paint it!" She is such an alpha female.

So here is the picture. It came out a bit better than I expected. Hope you like it.

Milton Glaser

I first became aware of Milton Glaser in the early 80's, when he was a judge of an art show for the Contemporary Arts Center of New Orleans. Mary Strasser helped with my entry which was an assemblage sculpture. A department store manikin torso, painted pearl white, wearing a tie. I sewed faux pearls on the tie to spell the words "Well Hung".

I recently watched "Milton Glaser, To Inform and Delight", a documentary that I obtained from Net-flicks. Glaser is the originator of the "I Heart NY" icon. Which has seeped into our culture in a gazillion permutations. An icon which permeates our culture so deeply that it seems surprising that one man started it all.

He is the artist of the psychedelic hair Dylan album cover, and many other familiar images.

Here are some quotes from Glaser that come from the documentary:

"I do not want to be encapsulated in a style."

"(Art) History is not the enemy. You can use anything as raw material to make anything."

"...not about the differences in (cultural art styles) but their commonalities. Whatever we learn goes into the next project. I do not see them as separate things but as a continuum. "

"Artists provide that gift to the culture so the people have something in common."

"I believe in the intersection between religion and belief and making art and building community. Even tho it has not coalesced into hard belief. I think you have to hold your beliefs lightly."

Watching the documentary, I was impressed and inspired by Glaser's balance of idealism and practicality. His wonderful personality shined through the film. He was both modest and owned his huge contribution to humanity.

Check it out, "Milton Glaser, To Inform and Delight".

John Belushi Bacchus

John Belushi Bacchus

I was lying in a hammock, under the grape arbor, when John Belushi appeared before my wondering eyes. Belushi announced that he, before his death, was the human incarnation of the GrecoRoman God Bacchus. In his inimitable humorous manner John explained that he had resided in human form on earth to liberate people from the oppressive restraints of the powerful. "I symbolize all that is dangerous and unexpected, that which escapes reason", he said. "I am the protector of those who do not belong to conventional society. I have supported liberation in many guises since prehistoric times. In the fifteenth century I incarnated as the painter, Carravagio. In that life, I was notorious for brawling, and I was criticized for using a beautiful, famous prostitute, Madelena Antoguetti, as a model for The Virgin Mary."

Belushi continued, "As Carravagio I painted a picture of Bacchus or Dionysus, would you, Janet, please repaint that picture for me using my Belushi face?" I protested that I was not competent to repaint his masterpiece. "I am sure to butcher your awesome painting, I am just not as talented as you were." John/Carravagio, agreed that since he was the greatest painter of all time, he did not expect me to attain his degree of perfection, but that he would settle for my poor efforts.

So here is my modest attempt to do as he requested. I sincerely apologize to Carravagio for this desecration, but how could I resist the charming request of John Belushi?