Frenetic Art Making Patterns, or I suck at painting Orchids

My art making can best be described as a frenetic, jump start/stalling, hectic making. I will have the sudden irresistible urge to make something or just get an idea on paper or canvas. When I do, the process seems to flow so smoothly and almost issue and hassle free. With this in mind, I have a canvas panel I have been working on for a while. I was doing some experiments with layering, stenciling, and stamping. Besides the fact that I think I am in love with stamping, and stenciling, I was finally happy with the ground I established for the most part. It is a bad imitation of one of those faux prints you find at Bed Bath & Beyond. It is so tacky and cliche, and I can't really help but like how it looks. In my art making process, I determined that it needed something soft and organic to counter all the hard-edged lines. The prints and stamps have these lovely baroque style curves, but the edges are so clean. After looking through some images of flowers, I determined Phalenopsis Orchids were the way to go. I started setting down the forms for the petals and the under painting for all the lines, and I have come to the determination that I suck at painting orchids. I'm so out of practice at painting flowers, but I suppose that being out of practice implies that there has been practice prior to this attempt at painting orchids. I have never painted orchids before. i think I might have to go with a different approach with this endeavor tomorrow morning.

Pastor Terry Jones is a Coward

Pastor Jones from Gainsville Florida has sounded a rallying cry against Islam in his profound and lamentable ignorance. He plans on staging a Qoran buring rally on September 11, 2010. Jones believes that the now renamed Park 51 Place Muslim Community Center, formerly called Cordoba House is an affront to the September 11 Memorial which is under construction at Ground Zero.

Pastor Jones and his congregation burning one-thousand Qoran's on September 11, is not a defiant act against what he perceives to be a tyrant religion, but at best an act of cowardice, and no matter which way you look at it, an act of sacrilege. He and his church's actions will endanger the lives of US troops overseas. The troops will be the ones to suffer the worst of the consequences for Pastor Jones burning the Qoran. The fact that he thinks this is a defiant act is beyond me. There is nothing brave, or profound about this. It is disrespectful, bitter, hate-filled vitriol. Jones and his congregation will not face the worst of the consequences. They will not have to face the people of Afghanistan and Iraq, and pretty much all other Muslims. He will not have rocket-propelled Grenades launched at him. He will not be shot at, or have fire bombs hurled at his vehicle. Muslim people overseas will not understand Freedom of Speech that is written in the Constitution. They will see a hateful American man descrating a Muslim Holy Book, as representative of American Sentiment because he has the right to do so. He will not have to endure what will happen to the troops overseas if he goes through with this.



That terrifies and shakes me to my core in a way that words fail to truly express. The most concise and articulate thought I can state is "Pastor Terry Jones is a coward."

Inspiration Strikes

There is a cast relief sculpture which I have been working on for a while now. The piece emerged by accident and was spurred to fruition by sheer visual interest. It is a cast of my left arm up until the wrist. It is completely white, except for some off color pieces of plaster gauze which dried a different shade of white than the rest. It is a very cool looking piece. While I did not know what it needed to be finished except for maybe a coat of acrylic paint to even out the coloration, the artwork needed a context. I found one: The story of Sgt. Gary Yoakam. Sgt Yoakam from Ohio lost his left hand in a rocket propelled grenade attack while on patrol with Charlie Company, 3rd Battalion, 327th Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division. While I am certain that there are many other injuries where soldiers have lost a left hand, Sgt Yoakam's story is the one I know, and the context which brings work of art to life.

Private Art Lessons....

Recently a friend of the family had asked me to do a private lesson with his 9 year old daughter since she had shown some interest in the arts. I thought it would be an interesting idea so I went along with it. The little girl was really sweet and very smart. However the experience was a little marred by her dad. He had a preconceived notion of what his daughter should paint and strong-armed the lesson more than I think I should have allowed. However I did not want to sour the relationship my father has with him. He wanted maybe too much at once from an hour and a half of painting. He wanted a landscape painting to put up in his house painted by his daughter, which seemed to be the more pressing goal for him, then getting his daughter interested in the arts. I set out my paints and all the necessary materials ahead of time for the lesson, which included an image which I thought was complex enough and interesting enough to challenge the girl. An Arthur Carles painting "An Actress as Cleopatra". We ended up digging through a Vincent Van Gogh book of my father's finding something which both the girls and her father agreed upon. A Still Life with Sunflowers. The little girl matched up all the colors and I showed her how to mix different acrylic paints to get different tones. She was really smart and more focused than some of the students I teach through the after-school program. It was a pretty cool experience overall. Her painting looked pretty good as far as color matching and technique went. I'm sure that my pushing her to do just a little bit more and more certainly helped the painting look as good as it did. She told me she would certainly love to do more painting in the future. Ofcourse she is still at the age when she will try anything without the proverbial defeatist "but I'm no good at that" which plagues most youngn's.

Better late than never, or I am feeling really honored and really humbled

I needed to get a little bit more grounded and centered before I wrote on this....

Friday I had lunch with an old friend of mine from my Army days. He was one of the people I deployed with back in 2005/06. Back in November he had sent out a mass message via facebook requesting school supplies which his psychological operations teams would be passing out to struggling schools in Baghdad and the surrounding areas. Seeing an opportunity to help out, mainly because I could and I had the means to help, I forwarded the message to my friends. I asked permission to send out a similar bulletin at the elementary school where I was teaching an art class after school. The Principal gave me the green light, and asked for a message which would be published in the next school bulletin, going out to the parents. By December, I had a drop box in my classroom and little did I know that I was mobilizing a great deal of people to help out with this request. In mid-December I picked up all the supplies from everyone. I made three stops across the city, and basically filled up my car. Some of my friends who did not live near me asked for a mailing address where to send the supplies. Some people mailed me money to help cover shipping costs. When everything was collected and inventoried, I had way more school supplies than I could afford to ship all at once. I was floored. I also felt like I had maybe taken on something which was significantly bigger than myself. I figured out what I could send and slowly mailed off several boxes at a time until everything was in Baghdad.
Skip forward a few months, and we get to this past Friday. My friend wanted to take me out to eat as a "thank you" for sending so many school supplies. I told him that he did the bigger job, I would to eat with him if I could buy him a few beers. So at lunch, his girlfriend was there, and she was overseas as the Operations Sergeant for the company. At lunch as we caught up as to how much the Camp Liberty had changed and how much it hadn't. We caught up on what we were up to in our respective lives. They told me they had something else for me as a token of appreciation for having sent so many school supplies. They presented me with a certificate, and the American Flag that flew outside of the Psychological Operations Task Force-Iraq Command building. I immediately felt the corners of my eyes burn ever so slightly. I thanked them for their appreciation, for the appreciation of the 16th PSYOP Battalion. A frikkin' Battalion!!! I was fighting tooth and nail not cry all out right then and there. There is no feeling so humbling, so grand as knowing that a Battalion appreciates what you have done. I think back on it, I didn't do anything really grandiose... not on my own. I mailed needed school supplies which I stored in my workspace for months. School supplies that a large group of friends and strangers helped contribute. I didn't do it all on my own. They deserve my gratitude as well.

Arguably against my better judgment

A documentary recently caught my attention. "Restrepo" is a feature length documentary about a 15 man platoon located in the Korengal Valley of Afghanistan. It chronicles the boredom and terror that is war in conditions which very few people in the United States have to deal with, lest imagine. It is brutal and honest, and does not include the opinions and thoughts of anyone not at Restrepo. My experiences with the military can be described as "blessed" as best. I did deploy, but did not have to deal with as much crap as other soldiers. In the proverbial, implied contest of "who had it worse" I will lose to nearly any other veteran. However, I know people who did have to deal with harsher realities of war. I know what it did to them, and as a result I can empathize and relate maybe a tad well. I may not know what they went through, but I can relate. I know the movie will be fascinating and well worth it, but... do I actively seek the heartache?

Update of sorts

It has been close to a full month since my last update.
My car has broken down several times and been fixed repeatedly. It has had a multitude of issues and i think I have sank far more money into it than I care to spend. But whatever keeps it running.
I will be leading a Vet Art Project session in a few weeks. I still have not gotten the materials completely ready yet. I should be staining construction paper this week. The seminar I will be leading deals with the paranoiac critical, subconscious exploration (to use a different term). I might have to ask for more oil pastels for people to work with since I only have so many materials at home.
I attended a tattoo expo and gleaned new ideas and new insights as far as what artwork I want to put on my body, as well as what artwork other people want me to design for them. I promised a friend of mine a design last year and I have yet to come through with a coherent plan. Ideas however do not blossom overnight.
In the realm of fitness, I am still struggling with what can best be described as involuntary exercise bulimia. I had mentioned before that my elected workout routine prompts weight loss which could be detrimental to my health in the long term. I'm generally healthy, but I would not necessarily label myself "fit" in spite of other people's assessments. I'm still trying to find a balance. In my efforts, I have determined almonds, sunflower seed nuts, and peanuts are crucial.
Lastly, my studio space has been reorganized. I am still struggling to find a balance between organized presentable storage and production, and usually when i reorganize everything, I teeter too far into either realm. I haven't had a productive binge as of late. However I have found that my culinary skills as a home maker are actually pretty good.