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