Three Graces, Good Vibrations

Three Graces, Good Vibrations

digital, 12/14/19

 



Tina Turner, Feral

 

 

 

Tina Turner, Medusa

 

 

I watched a Tina Turner biography on the tube, and realized what an impact she has been in my life. I saw her perform twice, in the mid 70's.  It was at a low point of her fame when she played small venues.  Richard, who is now my ex and still my friend, and I saw her at the elegant Blue Room of the old Roosevelt Hotel.  Seated at tables, sipping vintage wine, the audience listened politely to her snarling trumpet voice.  Now I ask you, with all due consideration:  What kind of robots listen to Tina Turner politely?  I was the only person who stood up and danced merrily. 

 

 A few weeks later, Richard, friend Bob Stout and I saw her at a dark club in Metairie.  She was an explosion of female power.  The sound waves coming from her were arrows solid matter. Her presence, her movement was monumental.  There was dancing in the aisles.    

 

Shooting out from Tina were waves of palpable energy which pulsated through my mind and body and endowed me with super powers.    She was an inspiration for my inner feral, which awaits even now, decades later, downstairs from my usually polite personality, for a situation which calls for snarling and striking. 

As Tina sang, "You better be good to me".
 

These two pictures are large digital files produced in Photoshop.  I created an acrylic on 16"x24", Arches paper version of the "Tina Turner, Feral" picture.  Next I plan to paint the Medusa picture on paper.  I exaggerated her snarl, the asymmetry of her mouth.  Her eyes came out wise and kind.  Working with her amazing and beautiful features for several weeks was an additional power infusion to my being.

 

 

 

Close Ups of Tina Turner

 

 

 

 

 



Sandra Blair, A Time Warp Portrait

 

Sandra Blair, A Time Warp Portrait

 



A few weeks ago Sandra posted an 80's photo of herself on Face Book. The wide shouldered dress reminded me of pictures of my mother from the forties.  Sandra and I FB chatted.  I quipped that with Photoshop, I could put my mother's 40's hairdo on Sandra.  She said, "Oh, do it, that would be so cool!"  I thought about doing the px for a few days, because I knew, that once started, it would be a time commitment to complete.  Soon, I knew that I wanted to do the portrait. 

 

Why do art??  There are many answers to this question.  One of the most compelling is curiosity to see how the picture will develop.  There are surprises involved in working a picture.  A hundred small decisions, color, line, texture, and composition decisions add up to something that has never been seen before.  If the inspiration is viable then the time spent crafting an image is rewarded with a beautiful NEW creation. 

 

Sandra Blair was organizer and the sizzling Queen of Krewe of Clones for about seven years in the 80's. Krewe of Clones was a large and popular artist Mardi Gras marching parade connected with the Contemporary Arts Center.

 According to my understanding, the Crewe of Rex (the oldest Crewe) was established to parody the royalty of Europe.  Krewe of Clones was established to spoof Crewe of Rex. And now, Crewe de Vieux has inherited the out of control satire mantle of Krewe of Clones.

 

 What a wonderful decade the eighties were for me and mine.  We, an excitable pack of good friends and family, hot children in the city, were the "Hemorrhoid Marching Klub", creating costumes and mobile "sculptures" for the parade!  Why?, you may ask, as many other baffled people have questioned, did you call it "Hemorrhoid  Marching Klub?  The answer is simple, "Because hemorrhoids are disgusting".  Yes, that was the decade when I learned how to avoid "good taste".  When I graduated from being hemmed in by appropriate behavior rules, a bigger world opened to my consciousness.  This gave my art the freedom of a rebel, made me a committed nonconformist supported by a band of unruly misfits.   

 

I am sorry Mother, and I apologize to my loving Aunts,  you taught me well, but I had to escape the prison of being a good girl.  Decades have passed, if you, careful teachers and role models, are still turning over in your grave, then you must be very dizzy.  But, I imagine that you are looking down from above, lounging on a cloud, wearing elegant angelic palazzo pajamas, flipping through the channels of your descendants (the saints and the sinners) reality shows.  I imagine that you "get it" now, that you understand why I needed to explore outward from the strictures of good breeding.

 

Sandra Blair, as Queen of Clones, was chief guide to the outer limits of wicked bad taste. Costumed as an over the top drag queen, she broke every rule in Miss Manners' stuffy book. She created her own blow your mind costumes.  Crafty woman, that Sandra.  

 

Somehow it is ironic that I would mate my mother's 'every hair in place' do with the face of the Queen of Divine Bad Taste.  Now, this is art, mashing up seemingly antagonistic elements.  And, this, is another good reason to make art.  Sometimes creating helps me to reconcile antagonistic elements of my life.  Better than therapy.  Better than chocolate.  Almost better than sex.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sandra Blair in the Eighties

Isnt she beautiful?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Let's Gossip Barbie, 4

 

Elizabarbie

 

 

Let's Gossip Barbie, 4

A short story in four parts

 

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

  

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

 

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

 

 

 

 the end

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Guano Crazy

Skull Clown

Digital 2550X3330 pixils

 

 

 

 

 

GUANO CRAZY

 

 

 

You may or may not have noticed that I have that, rather epidemic, disease called Irony Disorder.  I do hope that you picked up on the irony, because other wise you might think that I am Guano Crazy.  I am rather off beat in the head, (a touch of ADD, Attention to a Different Drummer),  you know, just the normal confusion of living in an upside down culture.  Slightly demented but not Guano Crazy. You believe me, don't you?

 

There is normal crazy and Guano Crazy.  Guano is bat shit, it collects in the bottom of bat caves and makes excellent plant fertilizer.  I try to avoid the bat shit crazy people, because, crazy is contagious.  Having a few crazy as feces, work mates, neighbors, family members, and living in a social milieu of folks just hanging on by their fingernails,  means that I do have contact with rather high levels of psychosis.  When the stress level gets toxic, I get in my car, drive around and scream. I stay on roads that I know well, without too much traffic.  That is pretty effective, it lets off steam and in the car I will not disturb the neighbors.  I reserve the screaming for when I need to exhale some very unbalancing vibrations.  For just plain, I cant take it anymore crazy, I work in my garden.

Well, at some point I realized that I had to put up with some guano or I would be really lonely.  What is the point of being sane if you cant share it with anyone?  You believe me, don't you?  Mostly I am happy.  Positive thinking with a healthy sprinkle of denial helps.

The one thing that I really do believe in, the one principle that clarifies my mind, is the  practice of compassion.  I think too much and cant really pin down any other ideal.  Compassion says it all for me.  Simple but not easy.  If I find myself being judgmental, I think about all my stupid mistakes.  I have a more than few memories that put me right in my place.  That place not being very high on the well adjusted list. 

It is spring here in the Louisiana boonies, so far in the sticks that we pipe out sunshine.  I over ordered from the plant catalogue.  So, I must get dirty almost every day, to get seeds and baby plants  in the ground before it gets too warm. My garden is where I feel most peaceful. 

Oh, wait, I remembered another principle that I Believe In.  That makes two principles.  I try to practice gratitude.  I do have so many things and people who make me thankful.

 

 



Victory

 

Two Riffs on Winged Victory of Samothrace

Recent digital paintings



Victory!  Victory! Winged Victory makes visible the elation of overcoming obstacles.

The beautiful statue of Victory of Samothrace celebrating the Greek Goddess Nike, is justifiably one of the most recognized and admired art works in the world.  In the Louvre she is stunningly placed on a majestic marble stair landing. She can be worshipped from a distance, from below and from above. Look at the movement of her.  Stone made into ideal flesh and blood.  An emotional epiphany.  She is both gliding, flying and at the same time grounded.  I am grateful to be able to compose a riff of this beauty.  It is a pleasure to study her masterful drapery, and her body language. Spending time, painting her, stimulated my mind to contemplate the delicious promise of victory.

 

Victoire de Samothrace

Photograph of the stature in the Louvre

 



 

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.