“He was a Dutch mouse, and lived in a windmill with a little girl named Marsha. The windmill belonged to Marsha’s father and mother, but Mr. Poof belonged to Marsha.”
– Rena & John Jacob Niles, Mr. Poof’s Discovery
I’m marveling at Wesley’s masterful graphic illustrations for Larkspur’s newest title. There was a time when Gray was “holding auditions” for a backup engraver. I’m proud to say that I was someone who got a tryout, but Joanne earned the gig (and soundly, too). If Bates can bang out 18 wood blocks for one tale, surely I can create nearly that quantity of collage miniatures by June. (Does that guy over there walking toward April have a starting gun in his hand?)
Today’s sight bite— The image of a mouse, printed with superb artisanship, —c-l-i-c-k— emblematic of a literary partnership that I’ve had the great fortune to observe with intimacy, awe, and gratitude.
“To plead the possibility of the merely possible, losing in the process all right to insist on the desirability of what would be better, is finally to lose even the possible.”
– Wendell Berry, That Distant Land
Spent most of the day on the Hoover job, and I realize how rusty my graphic production skills have become. I’m also fully aware of my meager attainment in the starting-vegetable-plants department, compared to how James has perfected his pre-garden methods. Faced with big decisions about my deadline for the Berea Learnshops (which were canceled two summers in a row because of infection concerns) and the Al Smith application. If you think about it, life is a four-period ball game. After coming of age, I spent the second quarter as a design professional and the third making a transition to collage artist. Well, I’m getting closer to entering the fourth quarter. Shouldn’t I have figured out by now what the essence of that will be about? (It has a heckuva lot more to do with the natural world. I know that much.)
“He and I hold some different views, which can be painfully stark these days; at the same time, I will always be a person shaped by his art, and by our love for one another.”
– B C Adkins
I stumbled upon Brendan’s gesture of sharing a link to my process video. His “rollover aside” both melts and pierces my heart. (Perhaps that’s as accurate a description of real love as I will ever come up with.)
Today’s sight bite— Searching through my little movie, frame by frame, —c-l-i-c-k— until I finally discover an image of me working outside that is probably better than all the other photos from the past five years.
“All has changed, thanks to Trudeau and Freeland setting precedent that a so-called Western G7 democracy can seize its citizens’ bank accounts with no due process and no appeal for the crime of demanding the reinstatement of their civil rights.”
– Mark Jeftovic
I think that the fitness matrix of the “March Ex” has fallen apart {that’s not what Ex(clusion) was supposed to mean}. Other progress is being made. I swapped out a couple collage artworks at CAMP. The article for CC:Mag is about ready to be released. Preparations for the coming season of plein air work is coming into focus. Garden preliminaries are seen through. Backyard agenda is at a resting point. And there are still 13 days of the month to transpire. Make the most of them!
“Some of us, like me, are addicted to truth, logic, and commonsense. We make those who’d rather turn away from the blazing fire of truth uncomfortable. So be it. Are you standing up for what you believe in on a daily basis? Are you looking evil in the eye and refusing to back down when it rears it’s ugly head? Are you a conduit of good? Are you in the asset column or the liability column for your loved ones and community? Do you protect or do you need protecting? Are you a warrior or a victim?”
– Ted Nugent
I spent almost five hours in a chair, wrestling paragraphs about my collage artwork into a first draft for Dana’s able editing. I don’t know what the publishers of Contemporary Collage Magazine are expecting, but I’ll be submitting a profile of myself as a landscape artist (and then we’ll go from there).
Today’s sight bite— A split-second flash of brilliant crimson, —c-l-i-c-k— as the male cardinal flees a nearly finished nest in my topiary yew.
“You only regret the workouts you didn’t do.”
— Joe Rogan
Hoov wants me to get involved in his club-jersey project. This is a good reminder that there will always be unexpected things pop up, whenever I allow available time to contract unnecessarily. We had our aborted farm run this morning when Joan had a bad tire intervene south of Danville. My manual labor helped only so much, until Dana provided the brainpower to move us promptly to “best-case scenario.” If I don’t jump on this mild weather (and a bicycle, of course), I may not get in a ride for a few days. It’s March. Where’s the commitment?
Today’s sight bite— As flat as a left-rear tire can get, —c-l-i-c-k— before the realization hits: if I can’t loosen these lugs, there isn’t much I can hope to do.
“If you believe that the West can craft sanctions that maximize pain for Russia, while minimizing financial stability risks in the West, you could also believe in unicorns.”
– Zoltan Pozsar
It was a full day that included our trip to Lexington with Marty, visiting the toy show and Kentucky Crafted Market, along with a couple of nice meals. The best part was seeing grandson and grandmother having such quality time together. I came away from the market more convinced that I wasn’t working hard enough, plus the idea that more “prepared papers” are the way to go. Shocked to learn that Joanne P also hadn’t sold a single piece through Artrepreneur. I grabbed a bit of my own quality time with Terie and Marty when I delivered the big lad home. Afterward: the season-four finale of “Mrs. M.” I was enthralled by Tony S’s brilliantly modulated acting and how integrated it was with his incredible breath control. What does any of this have to do with the March Ex? Very little. Tomorrow must be a day of dedicated re-calibration.
Today’s sight bite— After a fruitless search through the floor of tables at the Lexington Figure Fest, it appeared as though the site was devoid of vintage plastic men, ’til I spied a container of odds and ends, —c-l-i-c-k— with the only “oldies” to be found, including some Hong Kong soldiers, three China martial arts fighters, and one M.U.S.C.L.E.!
“Synthesis demands regard for complexity.”
– Peter Gay
I began the day with the delivery of Cummins Ferry Falls to Lin B, who, with his purchase, had helped “save” the opening night for CHANGE OF SEEN (along with the delightful appearance of Janice and Matt!). I got to see Lin’s acquisition from Asia — a maximalist mixed-media interpretation of the “Smoky Mountain” trash heap in the Philippines. As one of the only representational collage originals that I’ve ever seen, I found it inspiring. There is still so much for me to learn as a paper artist.
Today’s sight bite— The collage-with-gouache masterpiece, —c-l-i-c-k— impressive in scale, imagination, and fluency — the Manila-based artist unknown to my hospitable friend.
“How sad in our blinkered arrogance that we go across the globe to the tribal Third World to teach the impoverished a supposedly preferable culture and politics, while at home we are doing our best to become a Third-World country of incompetency, constitutional erosion, a fractious and politicized military elite, and racially and ethnically obsessed warring tribes.”
– Victor David Hanson
The last thing I would think is that Ukraine or any other part of the world does not have the rightful destiny of self-determination. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a self-evident truth. But that’s a far cry from jumping into immature, self-righteous posturing or following the drumbeats that would move us toward another proxy war. I happen to be keen on the benefits of Western Civilization, and I won’t apologize for it, nor deny that its finest fruit is American Exceptionalism. But that’s also a far cry from endorsing the ulterior motives of the ruling elites, and how they use secrecy, lies, and propaganda to perpetuate their relentless exploitation and lust for control.
Today’s sight bite— A full conference table of plein air artists, —c-l-i-c-k— the overwhelming majority of whom decided not to wear a face mask.
“Thank God there’s no justice in this world.”
— Tim Considine, on the undeserved richness of his career
Nearly anything that promises forward progress requires a period of rest, and this is clearly a recovery day. Got a few things done outside before the rain blew in. Chipping away at a new miniature keeps an element of intuition in play, but no major advancements have taken place in the studio so far this month. Dana and I cleaned the living space and the corresponding boost in “vibration” is always a welcome result. A wave of well-being marks another Sunday here at the Town House, and I’m feeling especially thankful.
Today’s sight bite— Bricks and broken rubble strewn along a flat ditch, —c-l-i-c-k— as my project to extend a paved walkway out to the birdbath resumes for 2022.
“Many called former U.S. president Barack Obama the ‘greatest gun salesman in America’ due to his support of strict gun control measures. Similarly, I believe Justin Trudeau will be remembered as the greatest Bitcoin salesman in Canadian history.”
– Frank Holmes
I don’t know what I’d be thinking today, with the dismantling of my CHANGE OF SEEN exhibition, if much of the artwork was not on its way to a new venue, thanks to Kate S of Arts Connect. My first all-collage landscape show is over, and I have much more for which to be grateful than any justification for critique. Beyond multiple deficiencies in the venue, I am enormously thankful to have been offered entrée to the Lexington art scene. Meanwhile, the war against Ukraine continues, with no ceasefire on the horizon. Yes, he is “Vladimir the Terrible,” but that is no reason to escalate a conflict that could bring catastrophic harm to the American people, far out of proportion to our interests in Eurasia. Too many are needlessly playing with a fire that could burn millions. Shouldn’t our leaders be brokering a peace, instead of throwing around gasoline?
Today’s sight bite— Driving along Clays Mill to check out my favorite chinkapin oak, —c-l-i-c-k— as grand a spectacle in the nude as he is with a full set of leafy clothes.
“After witnessing the extreme bias of mainstream media in covering the Canadian convoy over the past month, Children’s Health Defense decided to step in to offer people a truthful accounting of the progress of The People’s Convoy here in the United States.”
– Mary Holland
This entire annual winter project started as a time-oriented experiment, and I mustn’t forget that, nor the importance of the clock in boosting diligence. Circumstances cannot be the only driver. I made more progress on the backyard path. Not sure why that effort has taken an early front seat, but the mild weather is an undeniable catalyst. It’s good to have a daily reminder of concrete accomplishment, like last year’s miniature-each-day ritual. The evening closed with the Wayne White profile, Beauty is Embarrassing. His story makes me feel a bit lazy and unimaginative. Just the prompt I need to pick up the pace tomorrow!
Today’s sight bite— An obstreperous crow on the library window ledge, —c-l-i-c-k— validating or rebuking my belief in the augury of birds.
Immense thanks to Brett Henson, John Hockensmith, and Kate Savage for bringing this video to fruition! For anyone who wants to discover a bit more about my plein-air approach to making collage landscapes.
Certain things have a logic for me that probably make no sense to anybody else — a cropping of Marty’s Nineteenth Cosmosaic posted on the observance of the original moon landing.
Humanity’s “First Man” and my own “All-American Boy” seem like a fitting juxtaposition.
“When fascism comes to America, it will not be in brown and black shirts. It will not be with jack-boots. It will be Nike sneakers and Smiley shirts.
— George Carlin
I first noticed the statue in McDowell Park about the time I started to walk around Danville after we got the Town House. There was something about the artistic interpretation that appealed to me — not entirely realistic, but only slightly abstracted from life, perhaps like the way I might draw something. I reacted to it as sculpture before I thought much about it as a Confederate symbol. Eventually I did draw it. I don’t remember the year, although I could look it up. At any rate, it was a long time before tragic events were used as an excuse to denounce antique works of art. As soon as they were condemned elsewhere, I thought, “Danville seems immune to such things, but it’s only a matter of time before that statue becomes a target for destruction or removal.” My recent conversation with a local artist has informed me that the day has finally arrived. The decision to spend a lot of money to truck it off apparently has sparked a firestorm within the church congregation with jurisdiction over the statue, which is probably about a hundred years old. I once heard that it’s the northernmost Confederate memorial, but I can’t see how that would be possible. It is understandable that with the Perryville Battlefield only a few miles away, and the history of the conflict’s effect on Danville, that there would be a monument here to honor dead CSA soldiers. More than that, it is a work of art. Period. It was created as such, and is part of of American, Kentucky, and Danville history. It makes sense to preserve it, to conscientiously interpret it, and to put it into the context of the times. Some are certain to have found it offensive, most likely from the time it was erected, and I can respect that, but it is very dangerous territory to use that as justification for the censorship or desecration of art. The whole thing brings a wave of sadness over me. I doubt that those who oppose the decision will successfully swim against a strong tide of political correctness. When the relocation takes place, I hope it ends up north of town, over at the Danville National Cemetery, near the graves of southern men who were buried far from their homes.
Each time the Taliban or other radical groups obliterate Buddhist artworks deemed objectionable, it would appear to a reasonable person, on the face of it, as an abomination. When art historian Robert Hughes describes Stalin’s repression of the Russian avant-garde after 1930, he writes that, “as a wholesale trashing of a civilization, only Hitler’s demolition of the German modernists compares with it.” Although I’m not holding my breath, it will remain my hope that American culture warriors with a self-righteous upper hand are not embarking on an enterprise that people in the future will classify as yet another ideological outrage.
