Art Show on a Table,2

 

Art Show on a Table, 2

 

 

 

 Art Show on a Table

 

 

Cardinal Woman

Cardinal Woman

Ink jet print, 12/2013

 

 

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

 

 

 

Pajama Friday at Barnes and Noble

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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









 

 

 

 



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

Poppies

Inkjet print, 2011

 

 

 



 

Three Eyes

Inkjet print, 2011

 

 

How have I Offended Thee?

Let Me Count the Ways

 

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

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

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

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

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



************************************************************************************
 

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

                                                                                                                                        

Dear Janet, 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

You are doing it all wrong!

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

Sincerely yours,

The Voice of Reason

 

 

 ***********************************************************************************
 

Lets Paint

Conspiracy of the Gods

 

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

 

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

 

         

How Have I Offended Thee

part two

 

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Phoenix Dance

Phoenix Dance

 

 

Phoenix Dance

 The Persistence of Symbols of Rebirth 

 

 

 Phoenix is the comeback kid of mythology.  Phoenix is the rebirth and resurrection bird of persistent worship.  She lives a thousand years, for a thousand years she soars and sails, she surfs, on streams of cool clear air.  After an eon of living, her clock runs down, and then she fulfills her destiny to crash and burn.  From the purification of fire, from the ashes of her own autocremation the Phoenix is reborn to soar another thousand years. 

 

Lets face it y'all, life is hard.  Sometimes it seems that all is lost. Failure and exhaustion, are universally a part of human existence. It is a wheel, a roller coaster, an enlightening adventure. Success and joy, failure and defeat.

 

The wheel of Fortuna turns round and round.  We go up and we go down. We all know, there will be change, sunshine; before a driving rain. Light and dark, day and night, Our spirit, engaged will take a flight.

 

When we crash and burn,  we NEED to see the phoenix at the end of the tunnel. Hope keeps us going.  Hope is the sperm of rebirth.  DNA is in the egg and the egg is in the DNA. 

 

At the bottom swing on the wheel of Fortuna cycle, we may be crushed or we may tap into rebirth.  Mind, body and spirit are resurrected with the will to soar.  The ashes of defeat contain the diamonds of a comeback. 

 

 Phoenix analogies, regeneration myths are found in all cultures, world wide.  Universally cosmologies offer a resurrection from the ashes of failure story.  Russians, Native Americans, Turks, Pacific Islanders, Tibetans and Japanese offer regeneration mythologies.  The crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus also mines the human need for reinvention. 

 

The emblem of the Phoenix has been used frequently in  literature and movies.  Ex: " Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix."  Drug rehab facilities are named Phoenix, because even Lindsey Lohan may grab the reins of the marvelous Phoenix and rise to a pristine palace of potential.  Technologies and rockets are named for the bird of rebirth.  The rocket is in our soul, keep hope.

 

Universally throughout history, there is a cavernous human longing for the hope of rebirth.  The persistence of resurrection myths demonstrate the persistence of the human need for a comeback.

 

The Making of Phoenix Flying Dance

 

I finished this digital image today.  I am excited to see how the print will turn out.  I would like to further develop the image into an oil painting. I can not promise you that this will be created, because I have a lot of images in the pipeline.  Paintings are circling in my head like helicopters over Louis Armstrong airport after Katrina.  (Yea, I know, I used this metaphor already, but I like it enough for repetition.)

 

For reference, I harvested the ballet dancer image from the web.  In the tossing of the dancer image from web site to search engine, and all around the world, for forty times or more, the name of the exquisite dancer and the name of the master photographer, who captured her flying leap, frozen gracefully for all time in midair, have been, regretfully, lost.  Thus, it is called an orphan image.

 

 I changed the low rez web picture digitally. It has been totally painted in Photoshop.  Colors, lines, shapes, all have been interpreted.  If anyone can supply me with the names of the artists who created the image, I will be grateful to know and publish the contributors names. If the artists object to the mess that I have made of their beautiful creation, then I will destroy the pictures. 

 

Nothing is created in a vacuum.  Artists do not just pull a full blown creation out of the isolated personal cerebrosphere.  Inspiration comes from imagination, from experience, from nature, and especially from the creations of other artists.  Each artist interprets, creates, art from the soup of all that is.  There is a current of development flowing through all work. Artist have been borrowing from each other since the second fertility goddess was carved with stone from stone. And, there is persistent cross fertilization between the various artistic disciplines.  How blessed we are, to be able to stand on the shoulders of giants. 

 

Before digital painting, before web images, I scoured galleries, art museums, and books, with hungry eyes.  I now delight in the banquet of beauty and inspiration that I find so easily on my computer.  (But will never replace the nirvana of seeing an actual paint and canvas masterpiece.)  Artistic options, like the options of most other endeavors, have been expanded by the flickering pixils museum in a box.  Just as the new technology of photography fired the imagination of the impressionists, giving them the theory of broken light/broken color, in the latter decades of the 1800's, current technologies fire the creative edge of art today. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



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?