Are the vistas of my mind a twisted labyrinth of death valleys, dark caverns ruminated by brittle skulls phantasms and ruin? At times, it seems that way,and yet so incongruous today was the flash of the surface reality. I guess I spend so much time in my head, that the palms and warm salt air of Pacific Beach seemed like some sort of Epsom salt to the congested warehouses of my mind. Whilst the rest of the world freezes beneath the third Ice Age, I spent my morning, killing time on the way to see a client, sketching through crinkled eyelids at the sun. The legion of honey skinned girls riding beach cruisers on the boardwalk, or walking rats on a leash. The old queens aging disgracefully on roller blades-it all seemed so reassuringly, superficially normal. I do not take enough time just to be. Talking of brains that hurt like a warehouse, this geezer turned 63 today. For thirty years, he's been the soundtrack and aesthetic yardstick of my life, and although these days he's probably best known as that old bloke who stole 'the Man who sold the world' from Kurt Cobain, he also made some of the most influential and groundbreaking music that shifted the soundscape of contemporary rock forever. Mssrs Gaga & Lambert would not be a blip on the radar without this guy. Here's a little known nugget from the sixties, written whilst Ziggy was still in utero called 'Conversation Piece'
Found my second wind today, and spent the afternoon in the seclusion of my studio, working up a new skull piece. I've wanted to put the stark white of bone against a blood crimson background for a while-it has a Valentines chocolate box appeal I guess, so I'm calling it 'the Kiss of Death.' However, three days in, and I've been neglecting my daily sketch, although preparations have been so frantic, I've barely been able to doodle on a post-it.Suffice to say that they shall be reinstated tomorrow.
Here is a picture of my cat Ronin then, looking like butter wouldn't melt in his maw. Would you believe that this is the same cat who terrorizes his sister Pepper, steals my brushes, walks on my wet canvases and laid a sloppy stank egg on my rug yesterday morning? Snow white demon from Hades on cocaine.
Speaking of lethal white powders, I am told that my hometown is currently in the grip of a suffocating blanket of ice, not felt since the bitter winter of 81. Undeterred, my heavily pregnant daughter-Emma-, trekked an hour through the tundra to her art college to discover it closed before walking back. It alarmed me terribly when I found out, but that's the kind of tenacity and determination that little girl is made of-she reminds me so much of myself, and I am incredibly proud.
Tomorrow I ought to be able to complete the new piece, before the weekend and our next stop at the Hive in LA.
Following a few last minute touch ups, tweaks and a peddle to Aaron Bros for frame clips, the (partial) sum total of three years work, lines the wall of my hallway, awaiting transportation to Mosaic. It's always oddly unnerving letting them out of the house, but of course 'letting them out' is entirely the point, and rather like dutiful little soldiers,one hopes that once on display, they will hold fort. I'm hugely excited by this showing, I think the company is stellar, and I owe a huge tip of the hat to my bud and fellow artisan Mark (Jesinoski) for inviting me.
Tomorrow however, the business of business, shall be my return to normalcy with a withering plop.The immediacy of looking for some more regular and steady source of income, bares it's sneering face again-at least whilst I'm touting around looking for illustration work. Let the fun times roll.
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.
I'm finding real gratification in my proliferation at the moment-I don't see too much of compromise to quality either, if anything the reversion to acrylics just allows me the luxury of revision quicker, and of course the fluidity of painting faster gives the line a freshness that perhaps I've been missing with the meticulousness of oils.
The fervor I'm feeling with my work again, is as addictive as any drug, its euphoric and misleading because I know the downside to the natural chemical low after a period of creativity. I need to manage it better and work it to my advantage, because I can't afford to be thrown to the mercy of a mood regression. Still, I've not been this prolific in a long time-perhaps I am realising that with less time ahead than behind me, I can no longer afford to fuck about-time is simply running out, and I have wasted so much of it, lost to the contemplation of predicament, when I should just have worked through it.
Tomorrow, I am working on publicity for the show on the 16th, along with a commission and speculating a new piece-busy as a proverbial bee then.
I didn't sleep well last night-around four hours in all. The rest of the night I tossed and turned, my brain overloading on gristle, like a meat grinder choking on offal-the neurotic paranoia of every interminable, awful endpoint. The silence of the universe is amplified by sleep deprivation, convincing you that a terminal empty existence awaits you if you don't just get an hour. I look like shit, and it shows in my daily sketch-the bags under my eyes hang like a turkeys wattle. I tied it together with the remnants of yesterdays scrawl- three enticing beach 'babes' flying into the sky on a magic beach towel. Feeling like a Romero castoff, it was the best I could do.
All was not lost, I worked into the evening last night on the piece for the Hive-it's coming along splendidly, and a good solid eight hours willing, I ought to be able to complete it tomorrow. I'll post the resultant when I do.
The first day of the new decade has gotten off to a grand start-best laid plans have secured a commission, the new piece has already garnered interest from two potential buyers, and I have another featured exhibition confirmed for March-bringing the total to four big showings this year.
The first begins here in San Diego, from January 6th at Mosaic gallery/wine bar, with an opening reception on the 16th. So far, I shall be showing around ten pieces-perhaps more depending on if I can squeeze another piece in beforeWednesday.Mosaic Gallery at Mosaic Wine Bar 3422 30th North Park, San Diego, CA 92104 call: 619-906-4747 I am also showing at the Hive at the group show in LA again this month, opening on the 9th.The plan is to paint something this weekend, so I have my work cut out for me already. Details to follow.
Today we took the opportunity to enjoy the California winter sun, at beautiful La Jolla shores. In between reading chunks of the Gonzo biography my wife bought me, I sketched the collected throng of afternoon bathers, although the crisp breeze made it too cold for actual paddling. From our house this evening, there was the most breathtaking blazing sunset and as Lani made hotdogs and chile fries we listened to 80's tracks, and I felt blessed by the beautiful, awesome simplicity of it all-this first day of 2010.
Here's Perfect Day by Lou Reed with a great animation:
