Consider this sound art..

"Talk Talk," 2011, a/c, 14" x 11"

"Hello America," 2011, a/c, 54" x 54"

The studio is slowly flooding, though I use that word lightly. Water is seeping in slowly. You can't hear it. I am using the studio garbage can and the Rubbermaid step stool as a marker. Currently about 1/3 of the garage studio floor is wet. In the kitchen, the NOAA weather radio is on. You are listening to NOAA all weather radio, the voice of national weather service. all hazards. I like the traditional male robot voice. When I turn on the weather radio, I forget, or get too lazy to tun it off. It repeats for hours sometimes, droning on and on about flood levels and high winds and thunderstorms. Background ambiance. In the back of the house the clock radio went off. NPR the news. More weather. The clock radio  is done. The voice of the weather is barking out the flood levels of various rivers and streams. Turn around. Don't drown. At 22 point zero feet. Wind advisory from 9 am to 7pm this evening. Tornado watch. smith dixon watch area weather condition noaa weather radio 9 am objects. 57 miles per hour.

A Post about Green, dedicated to Mondrian.

There are several theories as to why Mondrian did not use Green.

Theory 1. Green reminded him of an unsuccessful part of his life as a painter.
His abstracts were not selling and he had to do paintings of flowers.
He hated doing these floral arrangements and decided never to use green again.
http://www.snap-dragon.com/MondrianRefs.…

Theory 2. Green reminded him of a part of his life he did not like.
This site thinks it’s because he grew up in the Dutch countryside, and was thoroughly sick of trees and of green. He'd had it up to here with all that.
http://frank-davis.livejournal.com/93191…

Theory 3. He had a red-green color blindness.
There is a red-green type of color blindness and perhaps Mondrian did not see or use green well.
http://www.ralf-dahm.com/index.php?id=44

Theory 4. Green did not fit his human-made reality:
“PHILOSOPHIOCALLY AND ARTITSICALLY MONDRIAN CREATED AN ENTIRELY HUMAN-MADE REALITY. TO MONDRIAN, RED, YELLOW AND BLUE WERE THE ONLY COLOURS, APART FROM BLACK AND WHITE. MONDRIAN AVOIDED THE USE OF THE COLOUR GREEN, BECAUSE OF ITS ASSOCIATION WITH NATURE.”
http://madamepickwickartblog.com/mondria…

Theory 5.
Maybe it was subconscious and even he didn’t know why he developed this emotional reaction to green.
“Later in life, some say he developed an intense dislike for the color green. He went out of his way to avoid trees and painted the leaves on an artificial tulip in his studio white.”
He would trade places if he had a seat that looked outside.
http://www.centralptonews.org/CESCAP/Art…

source: "Why Did Piet Mondrian Hate Green? - Yahoo! Answers." Yahoo! Answers - Home. Web. 26 Apr. 2011. .

We had severe storms last night. I need to remove myself from the city's code red alert notification. The phone rings with an automated message telling me abut tornadoes and such in my area. I thought this would be good, but in the middle of the night when the phone rings to let me know about thunderstorms, I think it's a bit overkill. I had trouble going back to sleep, especially since for some reason they called twice.

I'm almost finished with a couple of small proposals. They should have taken no time at all, but I become very self-critical about selecting work, as though it's an end all thing. Usually, I try and access the mind of a committee. What would be pleasing to someone else? Is is big enough for them to think it's "serious"? Are the pools and flowers too morose, and what about the flowers in and of themselves? Awhile back someone made a small slam against flower paintings suggesting that their gallery was too refined to show flower paintings.  I guess irony isn't dead if you've never heard of it and I guess if you're not ironic, you risk being an amateur. Context is a funny thing. I finally decided to pick my favorites, figuring that my intro letter covered my schizo approach. Sometimes I love being me, but sometimes it's like being a tetromino in a Tetris game.
Today is a studio day.

I'm pretty sure while I've been writing this, the grass grew another inch.

A little advance press....

“Everything’s Coming Up Roses”

Upcoming Gallery exhibition @ WG News + Arts / 50 – 52 Dobbin Street / Brooklyn, NY 11222

OPENING RECEPTION: Friday, May 6, 2011 6-8 pm

Claudine Anrather / Dawn Arrowsmith / Luisa Caldwell / Rebecca Graves / Mary Addison Hackett / David Kramer / Cati LaPorte / Norma Markley / Mery Lynn McCorkle / Marilla Palmer / Gary Petersen / Roland Reiss / Greg Stone /

Curated by Luisa Caldwell and Mery Lynn McCorkle

Gallery Hours: May 7 – May 28: Open Saturdays 12-4 or by appointment: (917) 304-6213 / (917) 656-6048 / (706) 528-2306 /

Flowers have a mixed heritage in the arts. On the one hand, they have represented lofty emotions (Shakespeare’s “rosemary is for remembrance”) and sexuality (O’Keefe). On the other, they are pretty, a suitable subject for Sunday watercolorists. They are a perfect metaphor for the half empty/half full debate: it all depends upon one’s viewpoint.

For contemporary artists, both viewpoints tend to be highlighted simultaneously. Flowers in the 21st century have come to represent consumerism, modernism, environmentalism, to reflect our architecture, our psyche, our utopias, allowing the artists to pry a more positive outlook out of misfortune.

The thirteen artists in this May show expose a wide range of interpretations revolving around the word “flower.” Luisa forms flowers with commercial labels. David shows how they are employed as an advertising tool. Cati miniaturizes them into stamps with a contradictory message. Norma creates them out of dance steps. Rebecca uses them to symbolize the transitory nature of life. Gary explodes them into abstraction. Roland embeds them in modernism. Dawn teases them out of the web of LA street maps. Marilla concocts them from mushroom spores. Claudine explores the dissolution of forms. For Mary Addison, they are a juxtaposition of southern decay and play. Mery Lynn fashions them out of glitter. Greg burns them into being.

***

I'll have two watercolors in this show. I'm titling them now. I did them over the winter. I was going to leave the works on paper untitled, but that doesn't seem right. I revisited Ruskin, my go-to guy for nature and painting.

AND on the other coast, roughly around the same time, I will also have 2 watercolors/gouaches in this show.

INCOGNITO Saturday, April 30, 2011, 7 – 10 pm Doors open at 7 pm sharp Santa Monica Museum of Art's highly anticipated annual art exhibition and benefit, INCOGNITO, will return for its seventh year on Saturday, April 30. INCOGNITO features original works by 500 contemporary artists. (For the list of participating artists, please scroll down.) From sophisticated art patrons to first-time collectors – all guests are encouraged to trust their instincts to guide their selections. Each 8" x 10" work is signed on the back and artist identities are revealed only after purchase. Hundreds of artworks are available for only $300 each.    Food by Lene DJ Set by Enorbito and Ganas of Mas Exitos and a wide range of libations INCOGNITO PARTICIPATING ARTISTS (As of April 20) Luciana Abait, Lillian Abel, Kim Abeles, Lisa Adams, Nick Agid, Cathy Akers, Cynthia Alexander, Terry Allen, Jami Allen-Snyder, Sophia Allison, Melinda Smith Altshuler, Fumiko Amano, Michelle Andrade, Eleanor Antin, Carolyn Applegate, Skip Arnold, Charles Arnoldi, Alejandro Artigas, Joshua Aster, Chad Attie, Donald Baechler, Hilary Baker, John Baldessari, Glen Baldridge, Devendra Banhart, Miyoshi Barosh, Ray Barrie, Kelly Barrie, Lyndon Barrois Jr, Judith Barry, Gary Baseman, Edith Beaucage, Martin Beck, Drew Beckmeyer, Tina Beebe, Quinton Bemiller, Billy Al Bengston, Jodie Berry, Guillermo Bert, Everitt Betsy, Brian Biedul, Joe Biel, Heimir Bjorgulfsson, Dan Bohbot, M.B. Boissonnault, Lauren Bon, Derek Boshier, Janet Bothne, Katy Kristin Bowen, Astrid Bowlby, Mark Bradford, Leonardo Bravo, Brian Bress, Stephanie Brooks, Kimberly Brooks, Calef Brown, Edgar Bryan, Elizabeth Bryant, David Buckingham, Bruce Busby, Nao Bustamante, Kristin Calabrese, Huguette Caland, Jo Ann Callis, Jane Callister, Clayton Campbell, Giorgio Carlevaro, Barbara Carrasco, Karen Carson, Richard Carter, Jamison Carter, Carter Carter, Enrique Castrejon, Xavier Cázares Cortéz, Corinne Chaix, Matthew Chambers, Emilio Chapela, Jeff Charbonneau and Eliza French, Daniel Chavira, Nicole Cherubini, Marc Chiat, Tofer Chin, Maximillian Chow, Mary Christiansen, Greg Colson, Jeff Colson, Brian Cooper, Michael Coughlan, Eileen Cowin, Lori Cozen-Geller, Liz Craft, Steve Craig, Thomas Alan Cronk, Hugo Crosthwaite, Daniel Cummings, Jay Davis, Tony de los Reyes, Mara De Luca, Michael Dee, Steve Degroodt, Tony Delap, Ann Diener, Guy Dill, Tomory Dodge, Mimi Drop, Anna Dusi, Mark Dutcher, Addoley Dzegede, Mari Eastman, JonMarc Edwards, A. McLean Emenegger, Elizabeth  Enders, Noah Erenberg, Sam Erenberg, Timothy Ernst, Merion Estes, Ned Evans, Kirsten Everberg, Bart Exposito, Brian Fahlstrom, Amir H. Fallah, Mollie Favour, Carolyn Fernandez, Bruria Finkel, Chris Finley, Kim Fisher, Ed Flynn, Kianga Ford, Simone Forti, Andrew Foster, Brendan Fowler, Jona Frank, Jonah Freeman, Bryan Freeny, Terri Friedman, Sarah Frost, Gajin Fujita, Caroline Furr, Joe Fyfe, Francesca Gabbiani, Charles Gaines, Steve Galloway, Harry Gamboa Jr., Corina Gamma, Gary Garay, Helen K. Garber, Helen Garber, Rico Gatson, Jordan  Gaunce, Megan Geckler, Alejandro Gehry, Lisa Borgnes Giramonti, Milton Glaser, Shirley Glass, Sayre Gomez, Marcelino Goncalves, Yolanda Gonzalez, Joe Goode, Penelope Gottlieb, Rives Granade, Tim Granlund, Alexandra Grant, Cameron Gray, Phyllis Green, Mark Steven Greenfield, Maria Greenshields-Ziman, Alvin P. Gregorio and Donald Fodness, Margaret  Griffith , Iva Gueorguieva, Mary Addison Hackett, Nancy Jean Hancock, Lynn Hanson, Willie Harris, Kira Lynn Harris, Joseph Hart, Adam Harteau, Karen Harter, Doug Harvey, Michael Hayden, Edgar Heap of Birds, Drew Heitzler, Wendy Heldmann, Matthew Heller, David Hendren, Roger Herman, Pixie Herms, George Herms, Juan Carlos Muñoz Hernandez, Katie Herzog, Gilah Yelin Hirsch, Susan Holcomb, Loren Holland, Violet Hopkins, Channa Horwitz, Brad Howe, Bettina Hubby, Salomón Huerta, Dusadee Huntrakul, Eva Hyam, Alex Israel, Patrick Jackson, Mac James, Max Jansons, Michael Jantzen, Ellen Jantzen, JC Jaress, Carrie Jenkins, Sara Jerome, Butt Johnson, Robert Johnson, Vincent Johnson, Vincent Joliet, Michael Joo, Jow, Sharon Kagan, Cindy Kane, Yoichi Kawamura, Veronika Kellndorfer, Mary Kelly, Brian Kennon, Steve Kim, Soo Kim, Linda King, Bill Kleiman, Patricia Knop, Christof Kolhoffer, Alice Könitz, Olga Koumoundouros, Thomas Kovachevich, Greg Kozaki, Joyce Kozloff, Marcus Kuiland-Nazario, Alan Kupchick, Robert Kushner, Aitor Lajarin, Suzy Lake, Wes Lang, Lauren Lavitt, Tom  Leeser, Rick  Legorreta, Anthony Lepore, Les Levine, Joshua Levine, Robert Levine, Sharon Levy, Won Ju Lim, Clarence Lin, Jed Lind, Martin Linss, Chris Lipomi, Littlewhitehead, Annabel Livermore, Jay Lizo, Karen Lofgren, Peter Lograsso, Caitlin Lonegan, Andrea Longacre-White, William Longhauser, Mara Lonner, Renée Lotenero, Richard Louderback, Jean Lowe, Justin Lowe, John Gilbert Luebtow, Heriberto Luna, Mela M., Kim MacConnel, Nancy Macko, Christina Madans, Constance Mallinson, Daniel Maltzman, Becca Mann, Summer Mann, Mirabelle Marden, Ana Marini-Genzon, Adam Marnie, Amanda Marsalis, Luigia Martelloni, Taras Matla, Jake Kean Mayman, Yassi Mazandi, Kim McCarty, Robin McCauley, Mercedes McDonald, David McDonald, Kelly McLane, Michael C. McMillen, Rodney McMillian, James McNulty, Blue McRight, Jacob Melchi, Robert Mellor, Adrian Meraz, Thom Merrick, Christopher Michlig, Tom  Millea, John Millei, Brad Miller, Allison Miller, Greg Miller, James Miller, Robert Minervini, Robin Mitchell, Ginette Mizraki, Chuck Moffit, Bobbie Moline-Kramer, Nancy Monk, Lester Monzon, Mary More, Jim Morphesis, Joey Lehman Morris, Rebecca Morris, Aaron Morse, Ed Moses, Andy Moses, Brian Moss, Mario M. Muller, Thomas Müller, Manfred Müller, Doug Murphy, Hillary Mushkin, Marcel Nagy, Barbara Nathanson, Chris Natrop, Tucker Neel, Charles Nickila, Jessica Nicol, Leonard Nimoy, Danial Nord, Yarg Noremac, Laurie Nye, Chris Oatey, Matthew Offenbacher, Saelee Oh, Yoshua Okon, Patti Oleon, Chris Oliveria, Pat O'Neill, Catherine Opie, Ed Osborn, Kaz Oshiro, Ruby Osorio, Gina Osterloh, John Outterbridge, Edward Carlo Pacio, Gary Palmer, Liga Pang, Christopher Pate, Izhar Patkin, Joan Perlman, John Pestoni, Renee Petropoulos, Raymond Pettibon, Margaret Pezalla-Granlund, Ave Pildas, Paul Pitsker, Allie Pohl, Bruce Pollock, Vanessa Prager, Lori Precious, Astrid Preston, Stephanie Pryor, Yuval Pudik, Antonio Puleo, Rosamond Purcell, Jonathan Pylypchuk, Michael Queenland, Bill Radawec, Ibojka Radawec, Leta Ramos, Joe Ray, David Reed, Miles Regis, Lucas Reiner, Rob Reynolds, Dan Rider, Ellwood T. Risk, Lynn Robb, John Robertson, Walter Robinson, Steve Roden, Michael A. Rosenfeld, Rachel Rosenthal, Melanie Rothschild, Kathy Rudin, Allen Ruppersberg, Ed Ruscha, Eddie Ruscha, Sharon Ryan, Lezley Saar, Alison Saar, Gwen Samuels, Adrian Sanchez, Ruth Sanpietro, Julião Sarmento, Debra Scacco, Larry Scharf, Lothar Schmitz, Kim  Schoenstadt, Barbara Schwan, Josh Schweitzer, Chloe Sells, Lisa Semler, Shelter Serra, Claudio Sgaravizzi, Tom Shannon, Brian Sharp, Jim Shaw, Peter Shire, Fran Siegel, Elena Mary Siff, Richard David Sigmund, Simmons & Burke, Doni Silver Simons, Kristina M Simonsen, Anna Simson, Alex Slade, Rena Small, Barbara T. Smith, Alexis Smith, Ali Smith, Joe Sola, Mariangeles Soto-Diaz, Brad Spence, Dante Spinotti, Jeni Spota, Zack Stadel, Andréa Stanislav, Randi Malkin Steinberger, Jennifer Steinkamp, Gretel Stephens, Coleen Sterritt, Mary Clare Stevens, Whitney Stolich, Roni Stretch, Dean Styers, Don Suggs, May Sun, Tamara Sussman, Henry Taylor, Ed Templeton, Masami Teraoka, Samantha Thomas, Mickalene Thomas, Mark Todd, Timothy Tompkins, Anne Troutman, David Trulli, Brian Tucker, Carrie Ungerman, Kaari Upson, Bob Van Breda, Alison Van Pelt, Jennifer Vanderpool, Vasa, Sage Vaughn, Ariane Vielmetter, Tyler Vlahovich, Catherine Wagner, Keith Walsh, Gary Ward, Esther Pearl Watson, Mary K. Weatherford, Marnie Weber, William Wegman, Roger Weik, Trine Wejp-Olsen, Jennifer West, Brett Westfall, Pae White, Ben White, Brian Wills, Fred Wilson, Lyn Winter, Steven Wolkoff, Eve Wood, Suzan Woodruff, Leslie Yagar, Rosha Yaghmai, Bruce Yonemoto, Liat Yossifor, Kent and Kevin Young, Brenna Youngblood, Buzz Yudell, Robert Rahway Zakanitch, Eric Zammitt, Christine Zelinsky, Jody Zellen, Bari Ziperstein, Pippi Zornoza. INCOGNITO 2011 COMMITTEE Price Latimer Agah (Committee Chair), Claressinka Anderson, Michael Briggs, Charlotte Eyerman, Veronica Fernandez, Alexandra Gaty, François Ghebaly, Justin Gilanyi, Heather Harmon, Karyn Kohl, Bettina Korek, David Montalba, Bruce Samuels, MD, Colette Shelton, Dr. Leigh Silverton, V. Joy Simmons, MD, Lia Trinka-Browne


I will be time-traveling and astral-projecting the next few weeks.

Culled from the interwebs...

Some quick picks from Two Coats of Paint...

 Albert York, "East Hampton," 1960, oil on canvas, about 10 x 10."

Iain Andrews, "The Eat Me," 2010, acrylic on canvas, 500 mm x 600 mm 

 Katherine Bradford, "Ferry," 2010, oil on canvas (detail). 16"x12" 

 Susanna Heller, "East River Drop," 2008, oil on canvas, 45 x 50"

http://www.twocoatsofpaint.com/2011/04/rochelle-feinstein-painting-isnt-enough.html

and some random picks from my tumbler likes...

http://nicodimgallery.com/beta/artists/adrian-ghenie/

http://boyonlife.tumblr.com/post/4643290184/erik-olson

Not a Creative Post Title

It's funny. No actually it's not. Sometimes people assume when you're glum it's because you need new ideas or are uninspired in the studio. People rarely assume it's the opposite- that you have a lot of ideas and a lot of work, but that the lack of a venue or captive audience suddenly makes you question what's the point, and you realize it's like running a long-distance race without a finish line— and that buying materials to make paintings without a show lined up is either like putting money in the bank or burning cash in a bonfire. I began making small paintings a couple of years ago as a conceptual investigation on abstraction and scale, but it was also the result of a bit of self-betrayal. After a show that seemed to have a positive response, I was angry at the large work for going back to storage. I am prolific in the studio, so the thought of only producing enough work for a show and calling it quits until I have to make work for another show is incomprehensible to me. Scaling down seemed to be a way to satisfy the need to make work and to make peace with renting a 5' x 10' storage unit.

I convinced myself that small was the new big. I was engaged with the intimate scale, the tiny brushes, cradling the canvases as I painted, trying out super expensive paint brands, linen—all of it really, but something was missing.

I don't know how not to paint. I feel rather grateful that for the most part, I am easily sparked by ideas and able to get distracted indiscriminately by a 1" piece of lichen or a broken twig, household objects and decaying architecture, or technology and science fiction. I used to take being an artist for granted and on occasion have bought into the argument that art is a merely a luxury good, but lately when I listen to the news and all the insipid backwoods political crap going on in the world, I suddenly feel how important it is to make art, like maybe I'm doing something to offset evil and stupidity. I guess that's enough for today.

#1. This one is almost done, still eyeing a few places though. Yes, it' a diptych now. 

#2. This one is in progress. It's at the middlebeginning stage, I'm guessing. Things are forming and beginning to take hold.

#3. Freakishly accidental rainbow fro resulting from the first wash. 

I guess more than a few of us are thinking like this lately.

I stole this:
“You see I done get too old to get a job. Now I really got to stay with the music.” — Howlin’ Wolf (Chester Burnett)

I stole this too:
"Never give in--never, never, never..."—Churchill

I skimmed this:
http://www.edwardwinkleman.com/2011/04/how-do-you-get-to-carnegie-hall-or-when.html
-but sometimes I feel like these discussions are written for people who are more concerned with how their obit will read than the present moment.

But what do I know. I'm trying to make peace with a few things.  Either way, it's a strange time. You look back and see all the choices you made. Some good, some not so good. I used to be a firm believer in the Universal Theory of  Self-Correction. I just made that up, but it sounded good so I Googled it and it seems there really is a

A UNIVERSAL PRINCIPLE OF SELF-CORRECTION,

though it's a principle on Boolean Algebra and and mine's a theory on life suggesting that whatever unwise, inept, or rash and insane choices you erroneously made would eventually even out for the good. I'm not so sure any more. At this point I am primed to go into an Existentialist rant or a

Huge small digression where I inexplicably rant about academic drawing: 

I still think it's funny and kind of sad that people seem to think that drawing something representational is the true measure of being a good artist. Some well meaning civilians popped in my studio the other day. In progress were the current abstract paintings. I was impressed that my visitor explained my work to her friends by telling them that they're about my day to day life, but I was deimpressed when she quickly added that I could paint things in the real world too, couldn't I? I quickly answered "Yes. It's called a commission and I get paid upfront." I should have said "No," just to be difficult, or see how awkward the conversation would turn, but I liked my guests, and did not feel like being ornery. But really, what was the point of that query? Can I charge double? Imagine the tables are turned. You see a figure drawing and you say to the artist, "But you can make random marks look easy as pie, too, can't you?"

In reality no one has ever asked me to paint anything realistically, so it's kind of a moot point.

[There's a bit of a leap in the plot here, as I deleted a couple of paragraphs where I come across as somewhat grumpy and a malcontent.]

...So after looking back at all the hurdles and congratulating yourself for not giving up because you didn't know any better, you look at how far you've come and think, whoa, if I was doing now, and knew now what I knew then, then like that billboard by the interstate apartment complex, If you lived here, you'd be home by now. * 

*Should I ever have another solo, this is in the running for being a show title. 

(Okay, so the billboard reference, in case you've never been on an interstate and seen one, is a billboard advertising an apartment complex right off an interstate exit. I assume it is aimed at people who are stuck in 5 o'clock traffic, meaning, something like, Hey, you in the car- why waste all your time in traffic when you can live by the freeway?) Obviously it's a memorable piece of advertising, as I have remembered it for more years than I care to remember. Periodically, I also find it useful as a zen metaphor.

[There's a bit of a leap in the plot, here too. Same reason.]

So I came across LaRose's post  and realize that when I get down, I've torture myself with self-doubt and ideas of getting a job doing something I'm ill-qualified for, or going back to school for my PHD or a second masters in something obscure and expensive, but then I draw a blank, and I don't really mean it. If I didn't love painting and working, I could justify it, but I can't justify it. But like the other day for instance I got a quote for framing a tiny painting- $60. That almost did it. I also have to plan ahead and order my supplies online now: Major inconvenience. Hat trick-the gallery representing my work in Los Angeles where I had my last two solo shows has decided to wrap things up at the end of this year and I am located 50 continents away and immeasurable fathoms under water. I exaggerate when I'm surly. My point being is it's time to cowboy up again. 

And yes, I painted twigs and flower petals on a dress the other day. I spilled something on it and was going to make it a studio dress, but suddenly decided to go spring after the recent paintings... Yo Etsy. 

Book and Movie Recs

I've been catching up on the outside world. Quite possibly, I'm way behind the curve but I highly recommend these.

An Object of Beauty by Steve Martin
Seven Days in the Art World by Sarah Thornton

Jean-Michel Basqiat: The Radiant Child by Tamra Davis
Exit Through the Gift Shop by Banksy

Nuts and Bolts

Anatomy of a Painting.

UPDATE: 

To quote Churchill, "Never give in--never, never, never..." I say this because essentially during my darkest hour, it occurred to me that maroon was evil and that cherry blossom pink was my savior. 

Phase 4.

PROPOSED save. I usually do NOT go photoshopping around my paintings, but I was desperate. We'll see how close it comes out in real life. I should move on, but obviously I can't. Acrylic is suddenly the bane of my existence.  Blame it on the materials. This is like watching a train wreck in slow motion isn't it? To me it is. 

Phase 3.

Phase 2 was too locked in. Although raw and slightly primitive, it felt too 1980. I wasn't happy with it. I thought about my gesso issue and thought maybe adding some white drips up top would add another layer  of both meaning and paint to it, but then I kept making more marks. I obliterated the marks, and made sweeping seasick green strokes, giving it some sort of quasi-uniform coverage on the right. I wiped that away, almost immediately and reworked back to Phase 2, but of course, you can never go back, so I added the sea sick green AGAIN. Knowing I was trying to preserve Curler Head there in the middle, which is always a mistake-you can never preserve one area of a painting- It's always the kiss of death when you do- I transformed Curler Head into a bouquet of Curler Head. I added the blue ribbon because I felt like it deserved to win first place. I titled it, "I'm Sorry, It's Over," for obvious reasons. 

Phase 2.

After much refining, I thought I would call it finished here. Still raw, but structured. I titled it Curler Head during this phase. 

Phase 1. 

For a day or two I thought I would call it finished here. It was rough and awkward. 

Disaster

I should not have gone to the studio today. I went in and tried to make it better, the one I thought was finished. For whatever reason the more I worked on it, the more it annoyed me. I'm in a bad mood. It bugged me. Too clunky. Too art brute. Colors too dirty. I should leave them alone after working on them a few hours instead of trying to make them rigorous and tough. Sadly they are without purpose. These are the misfits. In all honesty, that is what they are. I should still love them. Sometimes it helps if I turn it upside down at this point....

Arts at the Airport. Nashville Int'l Airport.

That's me at the end of the ticketing lobby. The iphone lens makes them look smaller than they are in real life. I was surprised at how much they carried the wall space in spite of their size (66" x 54" each).

L. "She grounded her ship and surrendered" 

R. "Mystic Hovercraft"

How to Amuse Yourself on a Plane, installation, variable dimensions.

I've always liked automatic vending machines that rotate.

carpet

I worked on an iphone sketch while waiting for some folks to show up. 

Nature and art meet once again.

Found limb from yesterday's storm. It spoke to me. It said, "Take me to your porch and consider suspending me from the ceiling or cast me in bronze. Dealer's choice."

Lately.

I was going to ditch this blog in lieu of another site to keep non-art interested parties away from my personal life, but my other blog doesn't lend itself to being chatty. I don't know why the difficulty with persona transition.


It's a pretty day here. Yesterday I went to a funeral service for a neighbor. I've noticed that since my mom's death almost a year ago, I feel rather stoic about death and stuff. It's unfortunate. I catch myself not wanting to think about these things as celebrations of life. I've become cynical. I reflected back and wondered if in the hurry of it all, I put enough words in my mom's obit, if I honored her life enough within a two-hour visitation and graveside service, or if I just fumbled through it. I suspect the latter. At the reception afterward I was talking to a striking older woman- striking, because I liked her hair. White on top, strawberry blond on the side. Coiffed. I think about these things now. How should I dress when I'm 70, 80, 90. Should I do something dramatic with my hair? I've got a few more years before I put this into play, but as part of only child syndrome, I've always related well to adults older than me, no matter what decade of my life I am in. Twenty years seems to be a good number. I suppose at some point I could anticipate that people twenty years my junior will relate to me, though I do not know. The woman excused herself from our convo by telling me and another guest that she was volunteering for the Tea Party. "They're doing wonderful things," she said. She had a dreamy look on her face as she said this. I honestly thought I had misheard her, based on her use of the word, 'wonderful.' She was gone by the time I recovered, so I didn't have the chance to ask for clarification. I suddenly felt like I was the new neighbor in a Stepford Wife novel. 


I've been listening to Steve Martin's "An Object of Beauty" in the studio and wondering why audio books in the studio never occurred to me before. In the last ten years, I've read maybe 10 books for narrative pleasure. Everything else has been scanned or skimmed for information. The audiobook slash studiowork combo is good. There are many reviews available and since my qualifications as an avid reader aren't vetted, I simply enjoyed it from the perspective of being in a parallel universe. The timeline fits my own relatively well since I was in grad school in the 90s' which is where the novel begins. It's narrated by Campell Scott, but kept reminding me of an LA friend's deadpan voice. One of my favorite snips of dialogue was from fictional collector, Hinton Alberg: "You know what I thought when we bought the house in Montauk? Walls! More walls! You know what I think when I think when I buy a car? No walls. No goddamn walls."  I laughed out loud at that. I learned a few years ago that some collectors hang art on their ceilings, canted. I have never visited a collection like this, but a woman who owns a couple of paintings of mine said this is what they do when they run out of room. I've tried to picture it. I doubt my version is accurate. I'm curious, though.


I am slow to change. I know this. It's rather characteristic of me. I've been here 292 days. The other day, I thought maybe I was waiting for a pardon or early parole. I'm sure millions of people pick up and move their lives every day without missing a beat, but I am not one of them. {Full story deleted. Let's just say I am still adjusting.}


I took a break to see if it was as warm outside as it looked. Yes, it is nice. I walked out to the pool yard to see what the dog was barking at. Nothing, really. I went in. It's really got potential as a place to sit and relax on a sunny day- once I throw the mosquito dunks in the standing water at the bottom of the pool. I was trying to size up the effort involved in dredging and draining the pool. It's full of dead wet leaves and muddy water. I saw the turtle from last spring. It's eyes were closed and it looked a little crustier for the wear. I read about turtles hibernating so I figured it had a 50/50 chance of surviving the winter. I threw a small twig nearby and it did not stir. Dead animals freak me out, so I wasn't sure how I was going to accomplish getting it out of the pool. I moved on to another ADD motivated task. I found a long pole and started scraping back the dead leaves from the perimeter. The turtle was suddenly alive and well. He dove for cover and moved out of harm's way. I think he may be a snapper. He has a sharp beak. I need to buy tall galoshes. I saw some at my local hardware store. I'm not going to clean the pool today. I will cut shrubs however. I checked out Seven Days in the Art World. I think I'll read that by the pool/pond/wetland. 

Right now, what I'd really like is an almond croissant from a coffeehouse I worked at in the late 80's in Hyde Park, Chicago. I forgot the name of the coffee house, but I also associate it with the Smashing Pumpkins for some reason. Someone knew someone etc. Party, blah blah I can't remember. 


The painting at the studio feels like it's shaping up into a painting that I at once recognize and at once do not recognize. It feels good to work large again. It's been two years. Significant changes in those two years include my eyesight. I have to wear glasses to see things up close, but not far away, my large brushes feel funny, and since my palette table is here at the home studio, I am using makeshift palettes and working on the floor at the other studio. Small, seemingly insignificant details that affect my process.


This portion of the painting reminds me of Thomas Hart Benton. Don't ask. It just does. 

This is the painting  as it stands now- almost. I extended the maroon stripe across the center. I hope it worked. I did it on the way out and can't remember. 

I notice the similarities in my paintings and nature all the time. I rarely talk about these specifics as they require a leap of faith and I am not commenting on anything incredibly heady or intellectual. They simply are there. They are part of my vocabulary. I suppose I could talk about communication or crossed paths, but I prefer to ponder those things later. 

Dogwoods. I was listening to the An Object of Beauty and heard the dialogue above, about "wall space," when I stopped to snap this dogwood. In fact, in order to accurately quote the line, I had to mentally retrace my running route via tracks on my ipod. 

 I may write more and update later. Maybe this will be a Sunday blog.