The Story
I lay on the floor and think of
the past and
doubt my place
in the present and
wish that there were
answers written in
the cracks across the ceiling.
Self doubt is change
dressed up in
the clothes of yesterday.
.
I lay on the floor and think of
my flight that leaves soon and
wonder what really happens in the open air
up that high.
Self worth is self doubt
dressed up as
someone else.
... Enjoy!
The Story
I lay on the floor and think of
the past and
doubt my place
in the present and
wish that there were
answers written in
the cracks across the ceiling.
Self doubt is change
dressed up in
the clothes of yesterday.
.
I lay on the floor and think of
my flight that leaves soon and
wonder what really happens in the open air
up that high.
Self worth is self doubt
dressed up as
someone else.
... Enjoy!
The Story
This is the next painting in the cowboy series. To be honest I wrestled with even selling this painting. It is the first one in a while that I really wanted to keep. I even know right where I would hang it. However, I have long thought that holding on to my own artwork prevents me from moving forward and trying new things as painter. So, dang it, it has to go. I know that may sound silly but it seems to work for me and as a painter it is usually more about the process of painting than where the painting stops but this falling cowboy has it's hooks in me. So long, Cowboy. With that... Enjoy!
The Story
My entire life I have been an insane dreamer. I don't mean like a flowery, head in the clouds kind of dreamer but I mean real sleeping dreams. The kind you have when you have a fever but I have them all of the time. They rarely make sense and often I am aware that I am dreaming or everything is so real in my dream I think I am awake. I won't bore you with the details of last night's dream because frankly if I tried to write about it, it wouldn't make a bit of sense to anyone. There was one thing or person however that stuck with me long after I awoke and that was the man who was really a reptile but was really a man and at different times he would become more of one or the other and we would have conversations and in the dream I did not think it was odd that he was like this, it was normal and our conversations where normal and I learned things from. I am going to stop there because if I go on it will make less and less sense and really the important part as far as this portrait is concerned is that it is him or it or the words we shared that is this portrait and everything else will fall into the void of nowhere only to resurrect itself on some other evening while the rest of the world is asleep...Enjoy!
The Story
There words are nothing more than just that. Words. There is no music in the air tonight. Only the sound of these keystrokes on this paper and the dog scratching on the floor by my feet and papers rustling as she goes through a drawer looking for something. I am looking for something but it is not found in the drawer. I know because I have already looked in there.
There is still only the sound of these keys and nothing more.
I think of the man in the wheelchair who asked us to get the cup out of his wheel and he had to be cold going around the city in just a t-shirt. You could see the drink in his eyes as he talked to us. As I think of him I am certain that he has forgotten about me and the cup and the cold and the talk and it all.
...Enjoy!
The Story
There are days
that I want to be more than
I am
and
at the end
of those days
I never feel good
about
wanting such things.
There are days
that I want to open up
the top of my head
and peer down in there
and see if
there are answers
to my questions.
There are days
that I simply
am
and everything is in
balance and it
is these days that
make the others
days
just memories.
Enjoy!
The Story
There is one and
there is one and
there is two and
there is us and
then there is one and
we cast a shadow on where
we have been and
then there is
us.
Enjoy!
The Story
I am reminded of a movie I saw
when I was much
younger and
lively and
the imagery is vivid but
the people and
the words and
the sounds and
everything else
is almost
gone
forever.
... Enjoy!
The Story
I could paint every single day with no problem. It seems like no matter what shape the mind is in, I can move the colors. Words, on the other hand are another story. They just don't come every night and I'm afraid tonight is one of those nights!
Enjoy!
... Enjoy!
The Story
This is the next painting in devil series. It is also another that is on a page from the religious pamphlet that I found from 1870. It just seems somehow fitting that devil series is making an appearance on these pages of an old religious pamphlet. I am guessing there is some room for dialog there but on this occasion I think I will just let the artwork hold up my end of the discussion.
Not to mention, I just love the picture of the octopus.
... Enjoy!
The Story
You never know what people are going to like or dislike with a painting and one of the first lessons you learn is to just not think about it. It doesn't matter anyway. Most of us know that is true with just about everything. You do what you do and that is what you do and you never know people are going to like or dislike about it. It doesn't matter anyway.
What does all that have to do with this painting? Not much really. It was just what I was daydreaming about while painting it. That's all.
And to be honest, it probably doesn't matter anyway.
... Enjoy!
The Story
This is probably as close to a self portrait as I have done. Even though, after a couple of drinks I might argue that all of these are self-portraits to some degree. The strange thing is I am not wearing a green shirt, my skin is not a bright yellow (it's usually a shade of pink) and my eyes are not a firery red. The part that is the most accurate is the top of the head being wide open so that we can all peer down into it and yes, most of the time it is just plain darkness and when you reach down in there it will be a mystery what you might pull out. With all these differences though, it is the sum of these parts that make the portrait. Similar to pointillism, it's when you step back and take in the whole that it reveals itself. Also, after the above mentioned couple of drinks, I would argue that is the same for each one of us. Under a microscope our individual pieces don't reveal the secret of us. It is only the sum of the parts that reveal our mystery and display our being.
... Enjoy!
The Story
I look around this room and there are signs all over the place of the people who move about this house. There are hats and there are earphones and two watches and a phone and business cards and an empty water bottle and a box of tissues and a checkbook and handwritten notes in her handwriting and mine and there is a lamp that is on and lamp that is off and
there are signs of people everywhere and it is strange that I most often I find myself alone in here with these things and did I mention there are pictures on the walls of dead people who still hold a place in my heart and
there are signs of people everywhere and that is how I know I am home.
... Enjoy!
The Story
When I travel I carry a little pocket (big pocket) sized drawing notebook, so I can doodle and scribble and write and jot down notes and ideas and words and poems and more sketches and most of these items find there way one way or another into other paintings or stories and I was flipping through my current sketchbook I thought, "Why note post one of the original pieces right from the book?". Well, I couldn't think of any reason why not to so here is one of the pages from when I was out in Seattle this past summer. (Can't you tell from those mountains in the background?)
... Enjoy!
The Story
These are the next two paintings in the devil series. That's right, this auction is for both of the paintings that you see here. There is no big back story on these two. Just that I was working away on the series and these two were sitting next to each other on the table drying and they looked like the belong together. So, you could say they were born this way. Anyway, here are The Devils Blue.
... Enjoy!
The Story
My head has been in the cloud of HTML and PHP and CSS for the last few weeks while I straighten out the website and in between those acronymns there has been little time for art and color and words and thoughts that bend and sway as they move around your head. The language of acronymns cannot do that as the rules are strict and when you break them, they are indeed, broken. Well, the site is done or at least done enough to get back to the paints and the words and the color and the thoughts th that bend and sway while painting pictures of people who are like kings and kings who are like people.
…Enjoy!
The Story
The purple paint is still drying and the Austrian composer, Johann Hummel, is in the air and it is No 5. in F sharp and before that is was Tchaikovski and before that it was Chopin and before that the paper was white and there was nothing.
The purple paint is still drying and I am thinking about how I might answer questions for the upcoming interview that is supposed to be centered around the business of art or the current state of the art business or something like that and to be honest I think it is much easier to talk about all that stuff than it is to try and explain everything behind all the color and line and words and why it all comes together like it does.
The purple paint is still drying and I am alone in this room like I am every night at 2:00 AM and I catch myself staring at the wall in front of the desk and am thousands of miles away from the black chair I am sitting in and Hummel has been replaced by Alexander Scriabin (no. 2 in G sharp minor) and I slide off the chair and lay out on the wood floor and just listen with my eyes closed.
…Enjoy!
