Friday, January 28, 2011

Daily Keemo. 1.28.11 Wrapped His Neck Like A hug

Wrapped His Neck Like A Hug

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I ran into him out front of the store and
we talked out on the sidewalk and
it was cold because it is
always cold here at this time
of the year.

We made small talk like
people do when they don't see each other
very often anymore and
we were both agreeable and
smiled a lot more than usual.

He asked how my father was and
I realized it really had been a long time since we
caught up like this.

"I haven't seen him in 8 years and
it is best that way," I replied.
There was an awkward silence
he too realized it had been a really long
time and
we went on for only a minute longer and
he reached his hand out and I shook it and
as we walked away with our back to each other
I couldn't help but think that
his scarf wrapped his neck
like a hug.

... Enjoy!

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Sunday, January 16, 2011

Daily Keemo. 1.16 I'll Take The Hall Pass And Never Come Back



I'll Take The Hall Pass And Never Come Back
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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!

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Monday, January 10, 2011

Daily Keemo. 1.10.11 The Details Are Not Important

The Details Are Not Important

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Inside there are
things that the
outside
is better off not
knowing about.

the details are
not important.



... Enjoy!    
    

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Friday, January 7, 2011

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Daily Keemo. 1.5.11 For Now I Will Just Be

For Now I Will Just Be

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I'm sad.

I wrote the story to this painting and then walked away. I didn't save the file before I walked away. I don't know what I was thinking.

I'm sad.

It was actually a nice story and was tender and honest and then I walked away not thinking and when I came back the screen was blank and all the words were gone and that was it.

There is no sense in trying to rewrite it. At least not right now. I will attempt the story again later when the time and the words are right. For now though, I'll just be... sad

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Sunday, January 2, 2011

Daily Keemo. 1.2. Water Into Wine (on paper from 1870)



Water Into Wine (on paper from 1870)
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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!

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Saturday, December 25, 2010

Daily Keemo. 12.25. It Probably Doesn't Matter Anyway



It Probably Doesn't Matter Anyway
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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!

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Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Daily Keemo. 12.22. The Dissection Of A Portrait



The Dissection Of A Portrait
(and other reasons to think about the sum)

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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!

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Monday, December 20, 2010

Daily Keemo. 12.20.10 Shadows On Faces On The Walls Of Memory

Shadows On Faces On The Walls Of Memory

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We were talking and we got on the subject of childhood and he mentioned that when he was a kid he had a favorite white bear that he dragged around everywhere. He slept with it and watched TV with it and ate breakfast cereal with it while reading the back of the box.

All I could remember was that on the wall in my room where two big carved wooden indian heads that eyes stared down at my all night long. I remember asking my mother to leave the door open a bit to let the light in. However, the little bit of light coming in would make the sharp features on the face cast ominous shadows and look even more menacing.

I am fairly certain that at the time I would have happily traded the Indian heads for a soft white teddy bear. However, these days, I am not so sure.

... Enjoy!

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Sunday, December 19, 2010

Daily Keemo. 12.19. Signs All Over The Place



Signs All Over The Place
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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!


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