Daily Keemo. 9.8.11. It Is Us And We Are Here #1

It Is Us And We Are Here #1
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This is the first of the 99 Series. This number refers to the rest of us who do not make up the top 1% of the world who own the majority of the wealth. I know that number may or may not be accurate but for the purpose of my point it is just fine. This series is to meant celebrate those of us who work every day, doing what we do, carving out our own piece of this whole mess. I can really care less about the other 1%. It's the 99% that matters to me. … Enjoy!

Daily Keemo. 8.22.11. The Intersection Of Then And Now. A Series.

The Intersection Of Then And Now. A Series. #5

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This is the fifth painting in a new series that resurrects forgotten, old photos and brings them back to life with painting. These photos are of complete strangers and have been discarded by their owners and are likely to get passed on to a place where they will be gone forever. Looking at these photos I can't help but think about the people and how some have now passed on or are very old but in all cases they have been disconnected from this particular piece of their past. It is these paintings that are meant to give them a place in the present as well into the future as they take on new lives in a new context. At the very least, these are meant to honor the people in the photos and the time that spans from the photo to now... Enjoy!

Daily Keemo. 8.8.11. Everything Else Was Covered In Dust

Everything Else Was Covered In Dust

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This was her music. She took piano lessons as a young girl. She told me that the long, pasty white fingers of the old woman teacher scared her as she would point to notes on the page in front of them. She told me how she smelled like powder on the bench next to her and her makeup caked a bit in the wrinkles in her face. She told me that over the piano where big wooden utensils that were carved out of wood and they were covered in a layer of dust and that everything else was covered in dust. She told me the piano teachers husband had died long before her piano lessons and you could tell that other than teaching the kids she was very alone. I picture her as a little girl in the late seventies sitting on the piano bench and soaking all this in and filing it away as her teacher wrote "Good" on the top of the page or the "1 & 2 & 1 & 2 &" under the notes. I see her in her childhood handwriting, "Circle all of the F#" and then it scribbled out and makes feel like I am there and we are all there somehow because I know we all have some memory that isnt too far from this one. (maybe just replace the piano lessons for something else) Either way, as she discovered this old book from her childhood and she gave it to me asking, "is this something you can use?" "I would be honored," I said.... So, with that...Enjoy!

Daily Keemo. 7.6.11. It Is Out Here Where I Hear The Music

It Is Out Here Where I Hear The Music

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This is one of those that doesn't have a story of it. It's better if you come up with your own for this one. ... Enjoy!

Daily Keemo. 12.7. Better Than Ending Up In A Trash Pile Somewhere

Better Than Ending Up In A Trash Pile Somewhere

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The paper in this painting is from a book that was given to me a present. A school was closing up North in Marquette, MI and all these books were going to the trash heap and would be gone forever. Someone was nice enough to save one of them and we can now do something with it that will hopefully last forever. (Well, I won't be that presumptuous saying it will last forever, so I will just say it will last "a while longer".) Either way, it is better than ending up in a trash pile somewhere under other books and garbage and plastic and diapers and banana peels and old socks and everything else we throw away because our time with it has come to an end. Well, hopefully, the ending of this school results in a beginning for the rest of us to enjoy for a long time to come.

... Enjoy!    

Daily Keemo. 7.26. It Doesn't Have To Be About The Notes Or The Words

It Doesn't Have To Be About The Notes Or The Words
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This is another one of those paintings that doesn't need a story. It's OK for these to stand on their own once in a while isn't it? Yeah, I think so too. So, let me ask you, Oh where has your little dog gone? ... Enjoy!

Daily Keemo. 12.19. I Can't Help But Imagine

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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Daily Keemo. 12.4. I Just Knew That Is What You Did

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!

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Daily Keemo. 10.23. Three Days, Four Nights

Three Days, Four Nights (a painting for The Castanets because that is what I am listening to)
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Well, I am afraid it is time for a storyless painting. Just art for art and color for color and line for line...Enjoy!

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Daily Keemo. 10.11. Memories Are Made Of This

Memories Are Made Of This
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It is Saturday today and there is music as I write this and there are paints too. The green, red, white, blue and black that you see here and many other colors to my left that are laying and waiting and did I mention there is music? I have the music library on shuffle and up now is Dean Martin and he is singing how "Memories Are Made of This" and what a damn fine song that is to hear right now and I know in the back of my mind that this moment will probably be one of those that gets forgotten when I look back 10 years from now. I suppose that is exactly the reason that I write about these small moments that happen during a day that will be forgotten in between all the big moments and so maybe by writing all these down day after day that Dean Martin is hitting it on the head and memories are indeed made of this...Enjoy!
 

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Daily Keemo. 6.17. Not So Old Time Sake #2.

Not So Old Time Sake
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Wednesday night, listening to Pandora, painting some ACEOs for (not so) old time sake. Listening to a Ratatat station with others like Dosh, The Octopus Project, Mute Math and others sliding through the playlist. This all stemmed from a discussion earlier with 16 year olds after hearing "Blue Monday" and they said, "Who is that?" and I felt old once again and this seems to be happening more and more. The good thing is it was a question of real interest and not one of disgust as in what is this old fogey crap. (I must be doing something right as a parent, right) Anyway, just good fun and good music and a little painting to go along with it all...Enjoy!

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Daily Keemo. 6.12. I Aint What I Used To Be.

I Aint What I Used To Be
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 When I was looking at music selections for a painting and I read the lyrics to this old childrens song, I knew it was perfect for tonight, for this painting. To be honest I don't know how the melody to this one goes. I suppose I could google it and find out how it sounds but for some reason that doesn't seem relevant to where my mind is at right now. Maybe it's the recent birthday or another case of self-doubt that has come around like it does every few months and makes me think that I should leave the painting for those who are truly masters of thier craft or maybe it is just late and I am tired and I know I need to keep working away because somewhere in here is a dream and I don't want to end up like that group of people that has given up their dream because there was always something more pressing and I guess that I could ramble on and on and on about this but when I pause a second and reread these lyrics, I am pretty sure that at this moment, these words say it best:

The old gray mare,
She ain't what she used to be
Ain't what she used to be,
Ain't what she used to be
The old gray mare,
She ain't what she used to be
Many long years ago.

With that...Enjoy!
 

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Daily Keemo. 6.8. All These Things.

All These Things
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  I have started this story 5 times. Really. I guess I'm not sure what is the exact point that I am trying to get across here. The first time was a story about this drawing.  The second was a story about where this great guitar chord card came from that is used in this drawing. (They came from Studio 216. If you are near Dallas/Ft Worth, I highly recommend a visit to the gallery. "tell em' keemo sent ya!") The third was about wonderful people, that do wonderful things and when you see them you can tell they are surrounded by others who enjoy these wonderful people for the wonderful things that they do. The fourth story was about how friendship can span time and distance if you allow it to and how it is possible to understand some people better in a few days than some in a life time. That brings me to this story; The Fifth Story, which I guess is about all these things; friendship, time, distance, kindness, giving, music, people, texas, mail, not to mention Studio 216 and the Granbury Gang and all the other things that connect us and made it possible for this piece to happen. Wow, that sounds pretty lofty and I am not sure what is more abstract; this drawing or this story. Either way, I know there is something here for us all and if we tilt our heads just right, both the drawing and the story make just enough sense, that there really is no abstraction at all... Enjoy!  

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Daily Keemo. 5.25. Last Night As I Lay On My Pillow.

Last Night As I Lay On My Pillow
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I was going to write a bit of a love story to go with this one but then as I read the lyrics I thought they said it much better. So, for tonight's musical selection, we have the first three verses of... "My Bonnie"... Enjoy!
My Bonnie lies over the ocean
My Bonnie lies over the sea
My Bonnie lies over the ocean
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me

Last night as I lay on my pillow
Last night as I lay on my bed
Last night as I lay on my pillow
I dreamed that my Bonnie was dead

Oh blow ye the winds o'er the ocean
And blow ye the winds o'er the sea
Oh blow ye the winds o'er the ocean
And bring back my Bonnie to me

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Daily Keemo. 3.6. Music and Drink. Mmmmmmmmmm

A Night of Cranberry and Herbert
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I feel I have been tucked away at the desk for a long time tonight. I have been sipping on a vodka and cranberry and I'm sure that there is a real bartender name for that drink but it seems irrelevant as I listen to Gwyneth Herbert(Hi Gwyn!) on the computer speakers and think about how simple things can become when you are sitting alone in a room listening to good music and sipping a vodka and cranberry. I suppose sometimes it is just as easy to complicate things in these situations too. For now though, we will keep it simple. As I write this, my phone is ringing downstairs and I know I should answer it (everyone does don't they?) but for now the desk is just right, the cranberry is just right and the music is just right... Enjoy!

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Daily Keemo 11.05 - Music To My Ears

Its Ok To Let The Notes Fall Off The Strings Like Leaves
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This is the third in the guitar chord series. I remember when I learned this chord (and all the other chords that require that you lay your finger across all the strings). I could barely do it. I would strum the chord and it sounded horrible. Those first few days I would strum and get to that last string and it would twang or thud or something. I must have been 14 or so and I think that at the age I was still driven by the idea I was going to be a rock star. The more I learned about the guitar and being in a band and gigs and MTV the less I believed my own illusion with myself as a musician. I was probably 17 or so. (I just don't have that "inner rockstar". It's not who I am) I am pretty sure that every kid who picks up a guitar at that age probably goes through the same progression. With that said, that was the best thing that I could have learned and I think about that often when I pick up the guitar and play it simple and easy with no big ideas and no big dreams and the notes fall off the strings like leaves and it just seem like the way music should be made. I'll leave the other stuff to the real rockstars. With that...Enjoy!

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Daily Keemo 10.23 - Music

Are You Sleeping
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I thought it was appropriate to do her portrait on this music because she is always asleep while I am down here working away on these paints and pens and paper and emails and all the other stuff that gets strung along on this journey. Sometimes, when it gets really late, say 3:00 AM, she will come to the top of the stairs and ask if I am doing alright. Usually by that hour I have lost track of time and it is a good reminder that I still do have an alarm clock to wake up to only a few hours away. It's not long after that, the lights go out over the desk and I slide into the warm bed and feel her lying there, sleeping soundly. Our legs or hand will touch and I always know at that moment that I am the luckiest man on earth... Enjoy!

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Daily Keemo 10.19 - The Guitar Player

The Guitar Player
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I have been playing guitar for many years. Please note, this should not, in any way, suggest that I am a good guitar player. I can play along with most things and fake most everything else. This may help explain the numerous guitar references. (I also picked up the drums a couple years ago but they are just not as much fun to draw. Sorry to all the drummers who are reading.) One of these days I'll figure out how to do it. Anyway, it really is just about the music, regardless of what you play, how you play it, who you play it with or even who you play it for. I guess that it is it...Enjoy! (now where is that pick?) (Story included on back of card)



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Daily Keemo 10.17 - 3 Drawings

3 Lines From Who I Am Listening To Right Now
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I have been listening to them all evening. The entire playlist loaded on the computer has been playing through for the last couple hours. I suppose like most music you either really really like them or you don't. They either move you or they don't. It is less like work when they are on in the background. So, here is to them, for making great music and inspiring many a painting...Enjoy! (can you name who it is? don't google it either. give your best guess. Steve and Kathy, don't tell anyone)

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Daily Keemo 09.26 - Music

Down In The Valley

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I wish I could write words as good as these:

Down in the valley, valley so low

Hang your head over

And hear the wind blow



Can't you hear the wind blow, my love

Can't you hear the wind blow

Down in the valley, valley so low



Have you ever been lonely, lonely

Have you ever been sad

Did you ever really, really want some one

And really need them bad

Bad, bad, bad, bad



It was down in the valley

The valley so low

It was where I held you so tight

How could I ever let you go



I remember the first kiss

Oh, how it filled me so

Now all that I can feel right now

Is that cold wind blow

... Enjoy!

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