You don’t have to explore the Web very long to discover a site that’s distinctive, substantive, and full of talent—
Jeffrey Luke’s Brazil Diary is one of them…
Archive for the ‘Art’ Category
The world of Randas Batista
Tuesday, March 15th, 2005One Earth Tour comes to Danville
Wednesday, March 9th, 2005The rhythmic perfection and exuberant athleticism of the KODO performance at Centre last night was powerful, mesmerizing, and deeply satisfying. I knew the word “Kodo” from my book by Kensho Furuya (Kodo: Ancient Ways— Lessons in the Spiritual Life of the Warrior/Martial Artist), but I wasn’t sure whether it literally meant “Ancient Ways.” The KODO artists boldly but reverently exalt “Taiko,” the traditional Japanese drum, which is the ancient symbol of rural Japan. Their musical interpretations connect at a fundamental human level that must be experienced to fully appreciate.
Trivia: What television theme features the Taiko? Answer.
They see a plate of them and weep
Friday, March 4th, 2005Spent three hours today in front of a hot griddle at Kentucky School for the Deaf making pancakes for the Danville Rotary Club. Once a year I adopt my little-known identity as the greatest fried-foods artist since Neolithic times. Usually this annual fundraising event is scheduled around the middle of February, which enables me to show off by making heart-shaped pancakes. This year the timing was off, but did that stop me?
Modesty eludes me when it comes to my Rotary pancakes. I suppose they can only be described as perfect. Just ask any of my numerous pupils (the community’s best and brightest). That they hold me in total, ring-kissing awe on this particular day allows them to act like they don’t know me the rest of the year.
As far as Dana is concerned, it just makes me smell like grease.
Ah, the sorrow of genius…
Houston, we have a countdown
Sunday, February 27th, 2005The realization hit only yesterday. There are four graduations in the Clan later this spring! Cosmosaics? Cosmoramas? More Grandy-bo variations? Something new? I’d better plan ahead this time…
Various & Sundry, part seven
Tuesday, February 22nd, 2005— Surprising as it might seem, I never read H.S. Thompson. Maybe it was because I had a back-stabbing co-worker in the 70s who carried on a lot about how great a writer Thompson was. Either that or I just couldn’t get past all the Ralph Steadman, which has been a bit of a mystery, since Steadman’s work was mildly influential for me at a certain point in my development as an illustrator (even though I found something fundamentally revolting about his style).
— Brendan’s new Idiotcam archive is positively super-dooper! Now I have only two major goals left in my life: building a home in the Knobs and making it into the exalted Plastic Mullet Series.
— Something about Mombo’s tribute has really sparked some childhood memories. For some reason I got to thinking about one of the most brattish (perhaps the most brattish) thing I ever did as a child. I was pretty young, so my recollection is rather hazy. I don’t think it was my birthday, so it must have taken place at Christmas. I do remember that I’d been agitating for the only toy I desperately wanted—a firetruck. My parents must have been anticipating the delight that would certainly result from their big surprise. Or maybe it was my Uncle Don who was behind it.
There it was! A bright red steel pedal-car-style fire engine complete with little wood ladders and a silver bell!
I threw a fit. Weeping dramatically, I let it be known that I was totally disappointed. How could somebody have gotten it so utterly wrong? That’s not what I wanted. What I wanted was a little firetruck that I could take out to the sand pile and play with! It was a bitter tragedy. No, it was the end of the world!
I don’t know how much longer it was before the replacement arrived, or what mixed emotions my tantrum must have triggered, but the Tonka fire engine eventually appeared, and it was a beauty. It even had a red hydrant that connected to the garden hose to supply a realistic fire-fighting stream. I have no recall as to what my reaction was. I hope I was appropriately grateful, but I may have just accepted it as merely just and overdue.
Both toys are long gone. Did the pedal car end up at the home of a cousin? Whatever became of the little fire engine? Either toy would be a valuable collector’s item today…
Go fly a camera
Thursday, February 17th, 2005Aerial photography with a kite? Professor Charles C. Benton (College of Environmental Design, UC Berkeley) has definitely got it down. Or should I say up? Check out his cool site.
Departure of another giant
Friday, February 11th, 2005That Arthur Miller was a great artist, there is no doubt. Great artists have the ability to touch countless lives far removed from their own circle. Miller’s enduring gift to me was creating the role of Abigail Williams when I was one year old, so that nearly 20 years later I would have my peak experience with live theater, as I watched my sister deliver her astonishing portrayal of the seventeen year-old Puritan girl on stage in Evanston, Illinois. Even now, I’m still thrilled by the memory.
Gone too soon
Wednesday, February 9th, 2005Danville lost another fine man this week, my friend Morse Marcum. If Dadbo had grown up in Kentucky, he would’ve known all the things Morse knew. We had many enjoyable lunchtime conversations about wildlife in the knobs, tobacco, timber, horses and mules… But there was one specific interest that only we seemed to share among locals: murals. Every time Morse would visit a town that had a mural he would bring his excitement to me and we would brainstorm about creating a mural in Boyle County. But we never found a patron. Rest easy, Morse. If I ever get to do another mural, I’ll surely dedicate it to you.
Various & Sundry, part three
Tuesday, February 1st, 2005— Month of January workout totals: Swim-7; Bike-4; Run-3; Lift-6.
— Well, it’s the day to do that “first of the month” stuff: Total and evaluate the fitness workouts; adjust engine coolant and steering fluid levels; scan the hard drives; polish the cutlasses; check the hams.
— Bob and Meg sent me an article about John Evans (clipped from The New York Times) and his 37-year daily collage project. Synchronicity: Bob said that Meg had shown it to him on the same day he received my note about how I’d made the decision to gain control over my hand-made greeting card habit. At my 50th birthday party Bob suggested I scan my cards and publish a book. I’ve taken his advice on the scanning part. The article mentions that nobody was interested in doing a book on Evans because he wasn’t famous. After a publisher finally decided to produce one, he now admits it won’t make any money. Strange parallels. Like Evans, I’ve also had the recent urge to get rid of stuff, especially after helping to sort out some of the accumulation at the house that Joe Wood built. I might as well do it while I have the desire. It’s not my typical mode. But like Evans said, “What if my daughters and my wife had to deal with all this?”
— Josh has been staying in Kuwait and was scheduled to arrive in Iraq this week, so I wrote a note to him last night, thinking that he’d get it the first time he had a chance to check email after he got settled. My hope is that the atmosphere will have improved, now that the election has taken place, and that more Iraqi citizens will cooperate with the interim government and the coalition to provide information about extremists. Nevertheless, he’ll need to stay “on guard” for the duration of his deployment. I do look forward to hearing from him soon.
A visit to the cellar
Monday, January 24th, 2005After the open house for David’s retirement from National City, Dana and I had dinner at Freddie’s with David, Lee, Gary, and Trish. Afterwards we regrouped at the Town House for dessert, so I opened the 1997 bottle of Nichelini Cabernet, which had been waiting patiently for a celebration. My goodness, it was even better than I was expecting. RWB certainly knows his wine. We all enjoyed a welcome break from recent tensions. David asked me to show Gary and Trish my first wood engraving, and so I made my typical awkward attempt at juggling personal pride and sincere humility. You’d think that by now I’d feel more natural when it came to discussing my art.
Deep sigh
Tuesday, January 18th, 2005Today’s Anacrusis story made me think of seeing Ben Shahn’s work for the first time as a callow teenager, when I took the Famous Artists School’s home-study Course for Talented Young People and discovered the concept of creating artwork in service to the advancement of social justice. The whole idea seemed so phlegmatically self-evident at the time.