More scribblism

The Accident 5"x 7" ink and watercolor

Microscribblic 7" x 5" ink and watercolor

What can I say about these except that I am indulging all of my artistic impulses.  I've got to feed the muse!

The first one remained unfinished for a long time.  I began the "eruption" part and stopped before it became too regular and did not know what to do next.  Then, wouldn't you know, I had a dream.  In the dream I drew or made a ruler-straight segment with irregular notches in it.   Extending from the segment came a pipe-like structure that curved.  I knew I would have to use it somewhere, and last night I realized that this was the place.  Then I finished it up.

The second I drew a while back, and resisted coloring it. I still resist. I like it in black and white.  I was thinking of my oldest son's laboratory - he's a chemical engineer, working on his doctorate.  (Oh, sorry, that sounded like bragging and paternal pride - how on earth did that slip in?!)

On the Way to Somewhere

"On the Way to Somewhere"  14"x 14" acrylic on canvas

There are two family members that I always show my work to.

The first, my valued critic - who brutally tells it like it is every time, and so helps me improve my work - loved this one.  

The second, when I texted this image to her, did not respond for a good forty minutes.  When she finally did, it was with the word I was fully expecting.  "Interesting."  

She went on to say, "The man is scary looking.  Don't like this one as much as the one you gave me."  

She was referring to the other recent abstract that I posted in my June 29th post, here.  She loved that one. The funny thing is that my valued critic hated it.

So if I can imagine that each of these family critics represents 50% of the population, then I have 100% covered, don't you think?

After All These Years

Watercolor on 14" x 11-3/4" Daler-Rowney Langton Prestige NOT paper
"Life As a River"  (Click to enlarge)

Here's a tale:  Burger Chef was a chain that pre-dated the biggies, Burger King and McDonalds.  At our local Burger Chef, on A-1-A in the city of Satellite Beach on the Space Coast of Florida, the manager Bill M. didn't really know how to control the place.  The assistant manager would be running to the grocery store once or twice a week to buy something he forgot to order, like hamburger buns or meat, for example.  And the place wasn't doing well.

When McDonald's finally came to our small town, it stood only a block away from Burger Chef.  That was when Bill M. decided that it would be a good idea to buy the Burger Chef and turn it into his own place.  Now if Burger Chef wasn't doing well then, let me tell you, Bill's Big Burger wasn't going to do any better.  It failed within months.

But while Burger Chef and then Bill's Big Burger existed, my best friend Jeff and I worked there in high school.  Great fun.  We were good kids, but had our moments.  Once we showed up together drunk and sang "Cheeseburger in Paradise" throughout our shift.  Everyone stayed out of our way.  Another time we were closing the place together and started randomly throwing cleaning fluids into the mop water.  When a white poison gas wafted out of the bucket we fled the place in stitches.  Then there was the time that Jeff and I challenged two ladies that worked there to a tennis match.  We were good, but not at tennis, and we bought them their steak dinner.

I have a terrible memory.  Big chunks of my childhood, and of my life through high school and beyond is absent from my mind. So if you measure the days that I remember from my life then I am really 19 years old.

Yeah.

But I remember this:  Jeff and I hung out together, listened to music together, did side jobs together, went to each other's houses constantly, yearned for the company of the Scorpionettes (the objects of desire of all healthy young male citizens of Satellite High School), worshipped the Muppet Movie, and spent hours talking about life and everything else.  And so much more.

We grew to respect one another, and I knew him as a soul with a heart of gold.

So what happened?  What often happens.  We grew apart.  He went his way, I went mine.  Life got in the way.  It's only natural.

So it was a surprise when Jeff contacted me and said that he had been following my blog.  He said that he liked the two abstract pieces that I had done, which you can see here and here.  The first, "Organic/Inorganic" was my response to the news that a close family member had cancer.  It dealt with invasion, injustice, and vulnerability.  The second, "Mortality" was my response to the death of my employer of eleven years.  It portrayed the passage of life.

I considered them a series of two.

Now there is a third.

Jeff asked me to continue the series with a piece that would portray the "fragility of friendship,"

This was different for me, and quite difficult.  Whereas the others had sprung unbidden (one was actually from a dream), I had never attempted to intentionally portray a concept abstractly before.

This is a semi-abstract piece, I suppose, as I've used the analogy of a river for the lifeline.  This is consistent with the nature references in the other pieces, and it has the flowing and directional qualities of the others as well.

Each tributary represents the encounter with a new person (they with their own lifelines as well), and each adds a pattern which the main lifeline carries with it.  So by the time this life reaches a ripe old age, the pattern is very complex.  The person carries the vestige of all of the experiences and encounters he or she has had to some degree or the other.  The person is far more sophisticated by reason of these encounters than at the beginning.  These encounters have impacted the person.

I like the analogy of the river (and I toyed with many visual concepts), although it is not the most original, because it so easily illustrates this concept but also because I could visually represent by the land between, that the individual's environment (whether physical or through major life stages events) changes over time as well.

So thank you Jeff, for stretching your old friend just a little bit further after all these years.

Improv

East Meets West, 10" x 8", 140 ' Daler-Rowney Langton Prestige NOT paper

Improv.  Hey Man, that's where it's at.

Yeah.

I've had many interests - music, art and writing among them.  But an aspect common to all that I have admired is improv.

Bluegrass and jazz, even classical, for example.  They have this in common.  They start with a theme, then the touch of the individual musicians are brought to bear.  The theme is squeezed and stretched and twisted and turned.

I painted this watercolor in just that way.  I perched in front of a building that, by the way, looks nothing like this, and outlined a few of its parts.  Then I began to improvise.  I drew lines that just felt right [yeah] in that they were visually pleasing to me geometrically.  And then I started to paint.  Aside from the awnings that really were pink (I think), everything else was improv.

So this painting is semi-abstract.

Take it away Allen, your stroll is different than mine, but oh so beautifully described..

[Note:  This is not read by Allen Ginsberg.  It is read by a gentleman named Tom O'Bedlam, who goes by the handle "spoken verse" on You Tube.  You can find other readings by this fellow, who probably comes from the North Midlands of England, here.]