Daily Keemo. 01.15. My Night On Earth (in 4 acts)

My Night On Earth (in 4 acts)
Click

Act 1: Years ago, I gave up caring what people think about me and my art and my words because they are mine and it is me and it is what I do and it is what I am. There would be no purpose to all of this if it was for any other reason. It really is that simple.

Act 2: I was working on the king painting and the dog was at my feet and I put a pillow behind me in the chair because my back is still in bad shape three months after hitting that tree and yes I took a pain pill tonight not only for the pain in my back but for other reasons, I suppose.

Act 3: It was late and we were talking about life and people and art and I remember saying to her, "It doesn't matter what art is, it just matters to understand that all rules in art are self imposed." It sounded good at the time and it sounded like I knew what I was talking about but I know inside that I am learning just like everyone else.

Act 4: Don't look for answers from people who don't ask questions.

Daily Keemo. 01.11. Portrait Of A Man Calling From Detroit

Portrait Of A Man Calling From Detroit
Click

He drove up from down South and he had made it Detroit and was at a mall buying a Red Wings jersey. That is when he called.
"Hello," I answer. (I didn't recognize the number)
"Hey Man, what size jersey do you wear?" He says.
"What?" I say.
"Jerseys, man. What size? It's Jack!" he says loudly.
"Umm, I don't know, I don't wear jerseys," I reply. There was a long silence.
"Hey man, I'm coming to see you tomorrow! I need a couch for a little while I get on my feet. Maybe a month. Two, tops! Now, what size jersey do you wear? I want to buy you a jersey."
"I don't wear jerseys," I say.
"Everyone wears jerseys!..." While he went on talking, I replayed the all the things that had happened in the past and all those things added up to the reason we hadn't seen each other in 10 years and as he talked at me on the phone, I knew I couldn't do it because I knew he was running from something because he was always running from something. I hated to say it but I did.
"I'm sorry Jack, I can't do that." I said.
There was a slight pause and then I could no longer hear the mall crowd in the background as the phone went silent.

Daily Keemo. 01.03. There Was Nothing To Mix With It

There Was Nothing To Mix With It (portrait of guy at grocery story in Gaslight)
Click

There was nothing to mix it with so I ran to the store to get some tonic and a lime and while I was there I figured I would grab some crackers to go with the cheese and olives and all the other good stuff she picked up at Russo's on 29th St. As I put my stuff on the belt in the lane, I look up to see that the guy in front of me is frantically patting the pockets of his pants and checking his coat for his wallet but he is not having any luck and I look down and see a six pack of beer and a bag of chips that is waiting for someone to pay for them. It is at this point that we all realize that he obviously is not finding his wallet. I can honestly say that I have never found myself in this situation but it is indeed one of those situations where you have to stop and ask a little something of who you are and what is important to you and frankly, it is not that hard to put yourself in his shoes and feel a bit bad. I push my stuff forward into his and say, "I got it," while pointing to his beer and chips. "No, you don't have to do that," he says. "Ah, it is no big deal. Don't worry about it." I say. "Really?" he questions. "Yes," I say. We made small talk while the cashier rang everything up and he seemed like a nice guy and we headed in different directions and as I walked out into the Michigan cold, I couldn't help but think that we are faced with things all the time that should make us pause and ask a little something of who we are but it just never seems to work out that way and in the end it isn't good for anyone until we do.

 

Daily Keemo. 12.31. Because The Devil Is A Devil Only If You Make It So

Because The Devil Is A Devil Only If You Make It So
Click

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!

 

Daily Keemo. 12.29. Not A Day Of Words

Not A Day Of Words
Click

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!

 

Daily Keemo. 12.24. It Is For Her I Will Paint A Queen

It Is For Her I Will Paint A Queen
Click

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!

Daily Keemo. 12.22. Somewhere Between Sad And Melancholy

Somewhere Between Sad And Melancholy
Click

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!

Daily Keemo. 12.21. Sometimes Paintings Are Just Paintings

Sometimes Paintings Are Just Paintings
Click

Sorry, there no story with this one. Sometimes paintings are just paintings...Enjoy!

 

Daily Keemo. 12.20. It's Not The Real World In The Photo Of Him On The White House Lawn

It's Not The Real World In The Photo Of Him On The White House Lawn
Click

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!

 

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)
Click

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!


www.KeemoGallery.com
Keemo on Facebook