Death Mask

 

 One could say I'm little late to the game,given that we are almost nine months on since Covid 19 first swung it's scythe from East to West, before settling permanently like some festering Quatermass, washed up by a dark tide on US shores. In a year so defined by it's casualties, there strikes me that no better image encapsulates it's pall than "Triumvirate"-a piece from my Theothanatos series from a decade ago.

 

Resurrected from my own archival boneyard, the biomorphic trinity of bile tinted skulls, grins wider than Conrad Viet , like some grim, gloating totem of tautology.

Doom wear, sported on this occasion by my lovely wife-Lani, and emblazoned with a symbolic reminder of why wearing masks are so necessary in the first place.

They're available for $20 a piece from my store along with signed prints of the original.

Triumvirate Face Masks

Triumvirate Signed Prints

 

 

Living Proof

It’s true, April had a few momentary troughs.  And a very rain sodden May more than it’s usual grays.  Except to say-my demise greatly exaggerated-I haven’t disappeared into the downy dumps of the usual post show funk.

I mean can anyone feel dour when sitting opposite this daily vision of morning loveliness?  And if my wife Lani seems otherwise occupied, it gets pretty damn exciting when you realize what she is engrossed in.
About which, more details to follow.
What else?

I’ve been silently plotting, quite literally as I begin writing duties on an art book titled Trinity, which will be a collected volume of the three series, Purgatorium, Paradiso’s Fall and the upcoming Infernal, which I am hoping to release in time for the next show I am preparing for in 2021.

And finally, it’s been a long time coming, but you may have noted that my store is now at long last, up and running, and includes a wide selection of original art, signed prints and art catalogues, with more to be added, so keep a keen eye for updates and you know, support living artists.

SHOP HERE

Paradiso’s Fall Opening. Artist Reception-March 9th

So you do a show, and of course you hope that somehow the planets will align. That people come and like what they see. That your work will connect with the visitors, and hopefully make a few sales, cover your costs, and if it all falls short of your hopes, then you’ve still done the graft at the end of the day, because the doing is ultimately the reason for the season.

Except, after years of accepting your lot-when it goes beyond that, when your hopes are surpassed , it can be every bit as paralyzing as disappointment. Which is why it’s taken me over a week to to say that I’m feeling flabbergasted-humbled-incredibly blessed.  The friends, the visitors, the collectors, my fellow artists, the curators Jeremy Schott and Jeremy Cross, my wife Lani…my mad gratitude.

You can see previews of the show Here
Paradiso’s Fall closes at The Dark Art Emporium- March 30th.

 

 

With Vincent Castiglia

With Evgenia Golik

With Tatomir Pitariu and Bill Shafer of Hyaena

With Chet Zar

 

With Lani

In Praise of the Art Widows.

On the last leg, literally.

 Eleven down, final canvas in progress.Hard to believe.

That's the penultimate piece above- 'Space enough have I, in such a prison'-which like the titles of all the paintings in the series-is a line from the Tempest. 

Been watching umpteen adaptations, and the Derek Jarman one is still my favorite-like a Dorothea Tanning in chiaroscuro, it has Jack Birkett as Caliban, and a winsome Toyah as Miranda. 
This is my version of Miranda...whats that? Looks like my wife? I won't have it - any resemblance to Lani is purely coincidental. 
Actually, that's a lie, Lani is in all of the pieces, quite simply because whatever sun that has risen or set in the studio, it has done so with her blessing.  

Never a hint of complaint, grievance, or resentment for that other bedfellow, for our muses are like mistresses that we spend our hours bewitched and infatuated by.

For all the "oohs" and "ahs" doled out for those concubines gazing from walls throughout history, the Art widows of the world are the true goddesses.

Introducing Skyflower Creations by Lani

Often beyond the confines of my studio, accompanying the sounds of my own cursing, the voices in my head and whatever happens to be on my playlist, can be heard the diligent chug, chug, whir of my wife sewing.

 For let it be known, and make no mistake about it,  that Lani is the true accomplished artist in this household.  

 For years, I've watched in awe, as she manicures the most delicate cloth with silken thread and animate it into being, and often at shows, the last thirteen Halloweens, daily living-I have been the beneficiary of her remarkable gift to give fabric character, as have countless others. Costumes, contemporary clothing, a dizzying gamut of ingenious adornments,  no longer shall she be silent all these years, because her talents now have an online presence:Skyflower creations.

 Follow the thread- thread and her luxurious needlework by subscribing to her blog.

SKYFLOWER CREATIONS BLOG

The Bride

My wife-Lani-is a huge fan of the Bride of Frankenstein, and so as a surprise gift for the holiday's, I painted Elsa Lanchester in her most iconic role.  

 As you can see she was very happy with the results.

The House of the Future Show

Don't really know where to begin telling you about Saturdays show. I could tell you it was like PT Barnum on LSD.

Or that it was like the entire San Diego underground had converged on a house on a hill and held an end of the world party.

Or that I'd wandered down a weird rabbit hole, dream,vortex, but no...NO!!...none of that really cuts it.

Maybe it was that holographic Dali clock, warping time, but as trite as it sounds, at times if felt like being submerged in a bizarro dream.

One where I talked at length with legend Selwyn Lissack, the designer of Dali's clock,who had me on the floor with anecdotes about meetings with the surreal grandmaster.

Or one where I bumped into my wife's beautiful cousin Juju Namjai, and discovered that she was in fact this incredible, talented, sensual lead singer of a band called Orchestra Mustachio.

In fact, it was a night of old friends...

Except I wasn't dreaming, because I captured some choice shots before my camera died. I only wish I had more.

Me with two Legends Patty Rangel, Selwyn Lissack

Lovely Alisha, one of my buyers.

My gorgeous wife sitting on what we called the 70's porn couch, wearing a top she designed as a homage to the surreal expressionist masterpiece-Bride of Frankenstein.

The incomparable Juju with her band, wearing make up inspired by Dali's Mae West painting.

Some thank you's in order-Ian Ashley and her husband for hosting the extravaganza, Dennis Batt and everyone from San Diego Visual Arts Guild who organised the event, as always my extended friends and family who came out in support of my work and everyone who had such great things to say about my art.

Lani Inc.

I've heard it said somewhere that behind every good man is a better woman. Certainly that's true of my wife-Lani.

I realize I don't acknowledge it enough, but not only is she my greatest champion, but she has supported my flights of fantasy unstintingly, some times in the face of possible destitution.

At Art events she is my eternally patient companion, standing by my side whilst my attentions are diverted by the throng before chauffeuring me home at some ungodly hour. She never complains.

On days when I am floundering, she elevates my diminishing spirits with belief in myself again.

I am beyond lucky.

This weekend was fairly revelatory about a few things, and at her suggestion, we have decided that Lani will be taking an even more active role in my career and shall now be representing me.

Two heads are always going to be better than one, and my time and focus is better served in the studio, than haggling with dealers and seeking out new walls to exhibit from.

I shall still be blogging here regularly of course, so no change there, but there may be additional updates from her too, which will be fun.

So in the spirit of our new arrangement, I did as I was told and retreated to my studio, and christened my brand new easel.

See what you think.

Cracking nuts

Was going to wait 'till it was dry and I had a proper scan, but since the wife is passed out on the couch and I'm done clicking through my usual distractions, then bugger it.



Its just a study in oil-a warm up, a meagre apéritif, but why paint a ballerina?

Why not?



Actually if you want context (and no, I've not seen Black Swan) there is something to preface this.

When I was a mere tadpole, I swore down blind that one day I would marry a ballerina. Possibly this was the result of watching a tellyplay of 'The Nutcracker' every Christmas, but regardless, I realised there was something beautiful and pure, that bespoke innately to my prepubescent mind.



Of course I didn't marry a ballerina...although I kind of did.

When my wife was a mere cygnet, she took ballet lessons and was eventually brought to bear at the ripe old age of six, to play a doormouse in-yes you guessed it-'The Nutcracker'.



Life...it's all about the arc's and where you find them.



Then again, it could all just be a bloody shambles.



More soon.


 

Head Candy-Bill Bixby goes to Monterey

Took a few days out to throw a shindig for my wife's 30th.

I've never thrown a party before, less hosted one, and hadn't anticipated the mountain of organization involved one iota, less the whole yard looks like it might as well be on Mars factor.
All told, judging from the merry throng and the lateness of the hour, I believe it was a success.

So first day back at the Art thing, should have been a cinch, except I discovered that The Alternative Cafe gig isn't in LA, but Monterey.

I'm not kidding.

Geography, was never a strong point at school.

Some quick thinking and a swift rejig made the shipping option a lot less lofty (by over a hundred nicker), but I'm afraid that I've had to supplement the monster that is 'The Valley'.

Thematically it works much better for the cannon of 12 pieces for Alternative Cafe, but my intended vision for The Hive shall definitely miss 'Triumvirate'-the piece I traded it for.

To that end, I've started a reprise of that work, but with the difference that I am approaching it more as a somber lament, rather than with the stark rawness of its former incarnation.

Sunday is final delivery date.

I swear I am Bill Bixby from the show-The Magician, pulling all kinds of rabbits out of hats.

Here's not a rabbit, but my pinhead cat Ronin, magically appearing on my head.

Head Candy-Personal Preferences

Billy Bragg rather than Morrisey
Max Ernst rather than Salvador Dali
Charles Bukowski rather than Henry Miller
Goya rather than Gainsborough
The Jam rather than The Specials
William Burroughs rather than Augusten Burroughs
The Kinks rather than the Beatles
London rather than LA
George Gershwin rather than Irving Berlin
Hunter S Thompson rather than F. Scott Fitzgerald
Sean Connery rather than Roger Moore
Kate Bush rather than Patty Smith
Egon Schiele rather than Gustav Klimt
Tea rather than coffee
Miles Davies rather than Coltrane
Janes Addiction rather than Nirvana
Pacino rather than De Niro
Mods rather than Rockers
The Tempest rather than Midsummer Nights Dream
Richard III rather than King Lear
Christopher Marlow rather than Shakespeare
White album rather than Sergeant Peppers
Johnny Cash’s version rather than Trent’s
Gaugin rather than Van Gogh
Guillermo Del Toro rather than Tim Burton
Low rather than Ziggy Stardust
Night rather than day
Felix the Cat rather than Mickey Mouse
Wine rather than Beer
John Steinbeck rather than Mark Twain
The woods rather than the ocean
Frankenstein rather than Dracula
Calvin and Hobbs rather than Peanuts
Rita Hayworth rather Marilyn Monroe
Harold Pinter rather than Alan Bennett
Alien rather than Predator
Peter Blake rather than Andy Warhol
Science rather than religion
My wife rather than anyone.

Happy Birthday my darling x

Gough Medicine-Five Years

"An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For, lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate."
To his Coy Mistress-Andrew Marvell

Happy Anniversary to my Beautiful Wife, Lover and Best Friend

Photo: Artists private collection.

Head Candy-a blind man looking into the night sky

Exploring the dark alleyways, sometimes its all too easy to lose yourself rifling through the trash. As an artist, nestling in the shade of yourself, its a double edged sword you run the risk of impaling yourself on continually.The very act of it is diminished constantly by the need to make a living.
So,for a few days this week, I was in the foulest of moods-raging at the moon and the sun and the world like a demented blindman shaking his stick at the night sky. It's the sitting for days, naval gazing in the suffocating seclusion of my studio, and I could well have done with the perspective of a walk in the open air. Instead I elected to stand in the fish bowl of a live painting event at the Belly Up. I daresay I played the artistic stereotype to a tee that night-prowling like a tiger before my easel-all furled brow and whiskey chasers.Afterwards, as I sat grimly in the car ride home, feeling merely like some anecdote on the night and bemoaning my lot and the fact that such events aren't exactly garnering sales, my ever wise and beautiful wife reminded me what a lucky S.O.B I really am.
With my head stuck so far up my arse that I could see my breakfast, I had completely neglected to consider the legions of people (mostly female and lovely) who had traveled out to see me, and watch every stroke. Or that the event was for charity-Save a Breast foundation, and that a room full of people had bought raffle tickets in the hopes to win my art. Or how happy it made my friends-the organizers that I be involved.
Or even the not too small matter that I got to eat a delicious meal in lovely company and dance with my equally lovely and delicious wife.
So thank you all-you are truly the lights in the black curtain of my sky.Being an artist is somewhat like a religion, it can provide sanctuary, hope and solace, but can also be like a fog misguiding your every move.
Sometimes, I forget that its just enough to be who I am, where I am right now. Thats enough to ever hope for, and I do well to remember that.

Head Candy-the elevation of nothing

According to Rolling Stone, John Meyer is the master of the low brow Twitter bon mot.
Ricky Gervais meanwhile, thinks its undignified for adults.
Me-I'm just not so self obsessed that I want to constantly elevate the mundane minitue to the status of "event", so I'm afraid my twatting days are destined to be stillborn.
I will however tell you nuggets such how besieged I am by irrational melancholy when it rains for three days. Or how the seafood at San Diego's Oceanaire restaurant is so succulent it ought to be R-rated. Or how intoxicating I thought my wife looked tonight, and how I wondered what she sees in me.

Do you get a complete picture of my day? Is it all encompassing or just merely one facade of a multi facet?

Watching Sophie Calle on Ovation today, I was left with the notion that the currency of art has become like that of a Twitter apeterif. Trying to redefine the diminutive and trivial to relevance. A momentary sketch of the moment, enigmatic- perhaps, insubstantial-certainly.
The elevation of nothing-rather like this post.
Here are sketches from the last few days.

Showboat-putting peices together for Mosaic

With days to go before delivery of around twelve pieces, here is the flyer with the details for the Mosaic Show. Grand opening is on Saturday the 16th January, and I do so hope people will come that night. I sent out around fifty invitations to people I know through Facebook, but still have to send out a newsletter. time willing-I also want to put together a catalogue as well as replenish my inventory of prints.
Added to which I am working on a commission, which my beautiful wife-Lani, helped me with, by sitting for me for some sketch poses-it will be a relief to have something to show the client tomorrow.

Artifact-tales of an Antiquarian-Lani

The muse is eternally intertwined with the artists existence, the role of the model, more than a mere object of infatuation, but a rumination of melancholy, for a beauty that is forever fleeting and technically unattainable. It embodies all the vivaciousness of life through the imagination.

I have painted my wife-Lani,on multiple occasions-always recasting her as some mythical paean to the ethereal qualities of her beauty and my love for her.

The most successful of these pieces, I think was 'Secret Rendezvous' painted in 2005. My first ever piece painted in oils, it was steeped in the classical traditions of Pre Raphalite painting-and the enigmatic portraits of Elizabeth Siddal, whereupon Lani was Guinevere, returning from an assignation with her lover in the forest.
Her torn petticoat on bramble thorns alluded to some of the disapproval we were suffering over our relationship at the time.

Its a piece I'm still quite proud of, and I regret having sold it, as it captured something of a true essence of my wife's mystical beauty.