Because The Devil Is A Devil Only If You Make It So
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A painting without a story is an invitation to make up your own or you don't even have to do that if you don't feel like it. Just look at, mull it over, like it, don't like it, whatever you do is up to you. With that ...Enjoy!
Not A Day Of Words
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I don't have much to say right now. It is raining outside and the snow is disappearing and there is Christmas music playing downstairs and these keys feel foreign at the moment as if my hands are telling my brain that they need to be elsewhere. It is not a day of words but a day of color and portraits like this with heart bursting and wine and people and a head cloudy with the memories of past holidays like this one....Enjoy!
It Is For Her I Will Paint A Queen
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She always tells me that I don't use enough purple. It is true, I don't. However, for her I will. She also tells me that I don't paint enough Queens. It is true, I don't. However, for her I will. (She was referrencing a series of queens I painted, when she was a little girl) She says she has been thinking alot about things lately. Thinking about things in a way that she had not been thinking about them before. Things that didn't have meaning before, now have taken on new meaning. As time moves forward, she is moving forward and the world is opening up in ways that were unimaginable to her just a couple of years ago and being so close to someone who is on the changing tidal wave of youth reminds me to keep my own world open and allow myself the pleasure of having things take on new meanings and it is for her that I will use purple and it is for her that I will paint a queen. ...Enjoy!
Somewhere Between Sad And Melancholy
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I know that I sometimes share things in these stories that are not the most uplifting or they sometimes dwell on the places in life that exist somewhere between sad and melancholy. We all visit that place from time to time and as I write this I can't help but think that it isn't even necessarily that of a bad place to be from time to time. (It is just important that you don't stay there for too long) As I have mentioned before, I get a lot of letters and email from people that open up and share stories with me in return. Many of these stories make me realize that no matter how many bumps there may have been in my road, many others are 10 times more so and in comparison my path is as flat as glass and as tranquil as holding hands. These are the stories that really make my heart burst. Not only for what these people have gone through but that they would consider sharing with me and it reminds me that these portraits and this art is not really about the colors and lines but about the connections between people and time and healing and growth and existence and in all of that is meaning and in the end it is the painting that is least remembered...Enjoy!
Sometimes Paintings Are Just Paintings
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Sorry, there no story with this one. Sometimes paintings are just paintings...Enjoy!
It's Not The Real World In The Photo Of Him On The White House Lawn
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I have this crazy cold and my head feels like there is a small volkswagon parked in between my ears and on top of it all I had to go to the optometrist and get my eyes checked because I always seem to keep putting it off. (Sidenote: My optometrist is the nephew of the late President Gerald Ford and in his office is a picture of him as a kid on the white house lawn. He might be one of the nicest men I have ever met. The eye doctor, that is.) Anyway, back to this portrait. As I sat in the waiting room, with the VW parked between my ears, this guy to my right starts commenting on our new president and let's just say his view could not have been more opposite than my own view. The cold medicine was running thick through my viens and as I watched his mouth move, the words bounced off my glazed eyes like birds flying into windows and I just kept wishing they would call my name and they eventually did and I as I walked away I could hear him turn to the person on his other side and continue the conversation right where he left off with me and I couldn't wait to get to the room with the old black and white photo of the doctor as a boy on the White House lawn and take out my contacts and have the world be a complete and invisible blur....Enjoy!
I Can't Help But Imagine
(or more reasons to create your own life with your own hands and own mind)
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I have this old songbook from the early 50's. It was saved from the dumpster at an old school that was closing in the Upper Penninsula. (I know someone who happened to be there when they were cleaning it out.) The book was actually still being used in the music class up until they closed the doors of the school. She said that there was alot of old books and other things that were still being used but they just didnt have the money to keep everything up to date. (That eventually grew into not having enough to keep it open). When I look at this old song book though, I can't help but imagine all the boys and girls that sang from and read this closing page which was meant to be inspire the kids to keep moving forward with their study of music. I also like to think that maybe it really did inspire some of the kids and that they are now grown adults inspiring others with their music and that somehow these old music books aren't all left for the trash or to end up being just part of a painting that doesn't want to let it all go... Enjoy!
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Portrait of A Corporate Citizen
(or more reasons to create your own life with your own hands and own mind)
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To be honest, the story that I want to write for this painting, I can't. Well, at least I shouldn't publish it here at this time. I pride myself on being pretty open with all these words and sometimes there are things that I can't be open about because it impacts me and those that depend on me in a way that is greater than the result of what is ever generated here. Is this being less open? Does it impact any artistic merit that may exist? Well, with my stuff, the answer is no. All of these paints and words are really just a snapshot of this moment and just like any snapshot, you don't always get the whole story but you take the information you are presented with and fill in the gaps as you feel in order to connect with it some way. It's kind of like seeing old photos of people that you don't know. To some degree it is not that difficult to find something to relate to when you look at them even without any information at all. I think that is how it is going to be with this painting. A title and an image and enough information here to make it possible to fill in the gaps....Enjoy!
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It Is Only A Matter Of Time Before The Cold Wind Blows Again
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We were in the city. It was Friday and it was cloudy and it was cold and the buildings stood up around us like trees without leaves. When we turned down some streets the wind blew down on us and we pulled each other close and I was glad the doctor gave me that medicine for the pain in my back so I could do this all without agony as she put her arm tightly around me. That is the only to walk in the city. Your arms wrapped around someone and all the other stuff is wrapped up in that embrace as well, but you don't talk about that stuff but you both know it's in there. You then turn another corner and the wind is not as strong and you loosen your embrace a bit but not quite all the way, because you really don't want to and you know it is only a matter of time before the cold wind blows again... Enjoy!
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It's All Floating Around Up There Up Above The Eyes
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I have been working on the book most of the evening and feel like I have kind of run out of words for the day. Well, maybe not ran out of them but more of ran out of the ability to piece them together in any way that might be worth a damn. I suppose it is a good thing that I have the paints. I guess as long as I don't have painter's block and writer's block on the same day, it will all turn out just fine. Either way, everything is a bit scrambled up top and everything is floating around up there above the eyes and I suppose it all works it way out of there sometime and somehow but until then I guess it just this painting and these words....Enjoy!
I Just Knew That Is What You Did
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I remember being small and looking up. Standing there in the rows of wooden church pews, surrounded by adults and everyone was singing and looking straight forward. Everyone took their singing very seriously. I would look foward too but my eyes only made it as far as the back of the person standing in front of me. I remember the songs clearly to this day. I would follow along in the book and watch the notes move along with the music on the paper. I remember the smell of my father's cologne. He only wore it on Sundays. There was no reason for him to wear it the rest of the week when he went to work at the factory. The other days he smelled of dirt and metal and cigarettes. On Sundays, as he sang, he smelled only of cologne and cigarettes. When the songs would end everyone would sit down and my feet barely hung off the wooden pew but I could see what everyone was looking forward at but I could never really figure out why. I just knew that was what you did and that is what we all did and we did that year after year and until eventually there was no more of the songs and the pew and stink of cologne and cigarettes and it is all much different now except I never stopped looking up and I am still wondering why there is still the need to take this all so serious...Enjoy!
