The Bunker is a Mess

As I look around the Bunker all I see is a big mess. Boxes piled up in the corner with cobwebs, paint brushes stuck in jars, tubes of oil paint stuck to the shelf because they like to leak, paintings still hanging on the walls undisturbed by months of apathy, trash everywhere.

I hate moving.

The Bunker is my studio in Marin County. It's the size of a one-car garage, finished out nicely by the owner who originally wanted to lease it out as office space. A narrow staircase leads to a basement I use mostly as storage space. It is amazing how much junk a person can collect. I had no idea moving the contents of the Bunker was going to be such a hassle. 

The idea of moving is never fun. It is well known that relocation is a top-three stresser for people, right along with death and taxes. So I know it's going to be a major headache.  

The junk is piling up. I hate moving.

The only saving grace behind a move is that it provides an opportunity to fill up a dumpster with unwanted junk. That tennis ball I saw in the parking lot, which I thought at the time would be a nice desk ornament, goes to the dumpster. The used artist stool, en plein air easel, and ugly second-hand frames are being tossed. The dozen large burlap coffee bean bags I collected from the coffee shop I will keep; they are like works of art, after all. I try to keep in check my tendency to collect junk. It's clearly not working. 

To make the move easier I rented a small storage unit. Storage facilities are creepy. When you visit, it's like entering a mausoleum. Cool, quiet, calm, eerie. We all collect junk we will never use. I think most people are hoarders. They don't admit it. Like me, they hate moving, too. Storage units are junk magnets. 

I'm glad I have the time. Moving is hell when you are under the pressure of having to meet a deadline. I have a three week window to get things done. Time is on my side for a change, if I don't waste it. Tomorrow I'll make another run to the storage unit and hope I have room for that old soccer ball I found while walking a trail in the foothills of Mount Tamalpais.

Seven Things I Learned From My Battle with a Hornets Nest

I spent three days with a hornets nest this week.  Here are seven things I have learned.

1.  Be prepared before going into battle.

Just above my doorway, behind a porch light, in the small hole leading into the netherworld between the exterior siding and the wall boards, I hear them. Buzzing. Thousands of hornets are building a condo inside the wall near my front door. I can hear them moving in. They began attacking me a few days ago as I left the house, swarming around my head. I hate snotty neighbors.

The field of battle. Persistence paid off and I survived.

I knew a fierce battle was about to begin.  I had a can of spider spray I used recently to kill a black creepy crawly thingy in my basement.  I used the remaining spray on this new threat, but evidently spider poison is like dessert to hornets. The buzzing continued. I was pissed. Be warned, spider spray will not kill hornets.

2.  He who hesitates may get stung.

I made a trip to the store and purchased a spray can of RAID hornets and wasps poison. "That will kill the little bastards!" Returning to the field of battle I began to spray the buggers, but forgot to twist off the safety nozzle. Nothing happened. As I hesitated, trying to figure out what I was doing wrong, they attacked! I ran inside the house, slamming the door, cussing my pathetic show of force.

3.  Strength in numbers does not guarantee success.

After twisting off the safety nozzle, I practiced a shot of spray by taking target at the trash can. Yes, it's working now! I'm ready to go back on the offensive. They have me outnumbered but my secret weapon, a spray can full of poison will take them out. You may have more men at your disposal, but I have the fire power.

4.  Watch your ass when fleeing the scene.

Satisfied I was winning the battle, if not the war, I turned to leave. A soldier hornet assassin decided to take revenge on me and targeted my left ear. I slapped the little buzzer but it got away. "Get the hell out of my ear you little fuckterd!"

5.  Spies may live among us.

I won a massive and decisive battle, killing most of the invaders. However, to clinch the victory my plan was to caulk up the hole and seams of the exterior siding, effectively closing off any remaining hornets cowardly hiding behind the wall. It wasn't easy. I had caulk all over the wall and my clothes. I went inside the house to clean up. A very angry hornet followed me in, taking a seat on the rim of my trash can. Die, sucker! "Say hello to my little friend," I said, as I sprayed the hornet with what seemed to be a gallon of wasp poison.

6.  Size doesn't matter.

Bees, hornets, wasps, flies, mesquitoes. I hate them all. They can do a lot of damage. How can things so small cause such problems? I'm not worried about the large dangers in life, like getting hit by a bus or struck by lightening. I'm concerned about the smallest of things. A cancer cell can be really scary. Hornets can all die a painful death, as far as I'm concerned.

7.  Persistence wins battles.

I'm reminded once again that persistence is the key to overcoming most problems. Giving up should never be an option. Also, remember spider spray is only for spiders.

The Idea of Time: How Do You Perceive Time When Looking at Art?

I came across an interview with Christian Boltanski the other day. Boltanski is a French sculptor, photographer, painter and film maker, most well known for his photography installations and contemporary conceptual style. He brought up the concept of time, and it’s influence on art.

“Being a painter means speaking with visual things. But it’s also interesting to note the difference between filmmaking and painting. The question of time is the thing here. When you watch a video piece (or painting) you can stand there for two seconds or two hours—there’s no beginning or end and you can move around while you’re doing it. When you see a film, on the other hand, you sit there watching it from beginning to end. In films, novels, and music there is always this issue of time; when you’re looking at a static image, there isn’t that progression.” 

The idea of time. It raises questions. Film has a beginning and end. Painting does not. I might stand before a painting and study it for an hour, or walk past it after a few seconds. Reading a novel, though, requires an investment in time. Watching a film takes time, too. Films, music and novels have a beginning, middle, and end. The dramatic structure is based on Three Acts, with an arc of movement that progresses over time. A painting is different. It just exists in its own space and time, without past or future. It just is, hanging there on the wall. How does our perception of time influence the way we perceive art? Has the perception of time, the way people use their time and perceive it, changed since the rise of the Internet? How has it changed? Are people less patient?

The study of time in the sciences is continuing. Research is underway to study how we perceive time. The use of language is important. Studies have shown that the words we use, the language we speak, influences how we perceive time. (It could also be the other way around, the perception of time in certain cultures is reflected in their language.) Different languages frame time differently. Swedish and English speakers, for example, tend to think of time in terms of distance—what a long day, we say. Time becomes an expanse one has to traverse. Spanish and Greek speakers, on the other hand, tend to think of time in terms of volume—what a full day, they exclaim. Time becomes a container to be filled. These linguistic differences, according to a recently published study in the Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, actually affect our perception of time’s passage.

I’m interested in how time is experienced in the observation of a painting. Studies suggests that our perception of time is based in memory (Thank you, St. Augustine. Augustine postulated that when we measure the duration of an event or interval of time, it is in the memory.) The assumption is that we measure time by remembering what just occurred, providing a reference for what is happening in the present. “How long have I been staring at this painting? About five minutes? I remember when I first started looking at it. I am now still looking at it. I think it has been about five minutes.”

 All of this makes my head hurt, but it also makes me think: some paintings grab my attention in an instant and won’t let me go. I have to keep staring at them. Conversely, some paintings fail to make an impression on me and I keep walking, never giving them another thought. “Not wasting my time looking at that!” On Instagram and Facebook, this becomes even more profound.
As I’m scanning paintings online, which ones make me stop?

 This brings me to the Internet, and how images of art are perceived online. What images make an impact and stop a viewer in their tracks? What images fail to register at all and barely get a glimpse? Is art perceived differently online than in a gallery or museum? Let’s assume a certain painting in a gallery immediately impacts a viewer and makes them stop cold, forcing them to take a longer look. Post that same painting on Facebook. Does it have the same impact on viewers? How important is context, the venue, the set up, of the art?

I assume people walking into a gallery or museum spend more time looking at art, than they spend time scanning images on Instagram. Perhaps in a gallery, your painting has 1 to 3 seconds to get someone's attention. On Instagram, you have tenths of a second, maybe less. We need more research in this area. As visual artists, we need to know the best way to display our work online, and in the gallery, in order for our paintings to have the impact we desire. Time is of the essence. When viewers online scan thousands of images per second, how do we get their attention?

I also wonder what role memory has in the perception of art, and how it impacts the amount of time a viewer looks at a piece of art.

The Best Advice May Be: Don't Take It

I"m not sure how I feel about self-help books. I've read my fair share. Giving advice is a billion dollar industry and the Internet has made it that much easier for marketing the "how-to" book.  I like reading them. As a writer and artist, the books, web sites, blogs, YouTube videos and social networks provide a lot of information to help me do what I like to do: write screenplays and paint pictures. 

But I can only take so much. What am I really learning?

Alexander Woo, writer and co-executive producer of HBO's True Blood (2008), who is currently working on a series for AMC, suggests "throwing away the book." Maybe he's right.

Sometimes I feel overburdened by advice-givers.

The danger is watching all of those YouTube videos and reading all those blogs is that we might become burdened with a lot of baggage. Our minds may become saddled with systems, techniques, and methodologies like a donkey dragging a cart full of goat dung. I mean really, do we need all the advice?

Naturally, I'm giving advice here: watch out how much advice you take. The hazards of advice-taking are enormous.

The reality is we are unique. I am not like you. I am not like Picasso or Stephen King. I am me. I have my own ways of getting the job done. You do, too! Sometimes we might need to just toss out the self-help book.  Why not watch El Capo on Netflix instead of a YouTube video on "painting like the masters?"

I like what Alex told me, "Instead of seeking out what works in the minds of others, find out what works best for you." We all need motivation. We need to learn new skills and study our craft. However, no one knows me better than me. Right? I like writing and drawing in a journal, for example. That's one way I like to organize my thoughts. You may be different. You might hate the idea of journaling. We have to find our own path. 

We are encrusted by years of advice. Like lumps of clay stuck to our brains, we have been told how to do things right. It's time to free ourselves from the burdens of others telling us the best way to achieve success. No best way exists. It's a myth. 

What matters is my way, my methods, my work ethic. I have to discover for myself the best way to achieve a level of success that is right for me. If I have any advice to give, it's this:  take whatever I write or say with a huge grain of salt. Find your own way.

I Had a Doozy of a Dream Last Night

Dreams can be very strange, as you know. My dreams have overtly weird the last few weeks. I usually don't remember details, but lately I taste them, feel them, live them for a few moments after I wake up. It's odd. I'm not a person who normally remembers his dreams.

The reason may be my diet. I began a lacto-ovo vegetarian diet on June 1. It's a vegetarian diet with dairy products and eggs allowed (I like my cereal and omelets). For the last forty one days I've eliminated meats and sweets form my daily meals and I'm starting to take notice. My sleeping has deepened, my dreams becoming more intense.

I had a doozy of a dream last night. The details were noted in my iPad immediately just after waking up. I didn't want to forget it. These are my notes, just as I wrote them:

white van
blocked path bikes
lawn chairs to the right too narrow , branches left took the right path, cleared the debri
house...can't get the van through the house won't throughbthe kitchen garage door too narrow
we are st u.k.
what to do finally hit me...either go back the way we came, walk out and abandon the van or blast our way through...we can rebuild the house later we were going.
to tear a door down but a mechanical device working the garage door was in the way so we saw it wouldn't work
we did all three, some were sent back, some walked out, i decided to blast my way through
we were preparing to blow the house when i woke"

The dream-narrative went something like this. I was in a white van with a group of men and women. I was with a woman, someone familiar, we were a couple. I remember flirting, touching, arguing. Other couples were with us. The middle of the road ahead was blocked by foliage, thick brush and trees. To the right side, the path was blocked by a bicycle and stacks of lawn chairs. To the left, the path was open but too narrow for the van to pass. Tree branches were hanging down and blocking the way. I tried to drive through the narrow path but the van began to scrape the sides.

(I told you this was a doozy.)

We cleared the right path of the bicycle and debri and continued on. Instantly we were inside the garage of a house and the van was going nowhere. We tried to figure out how to drive the van on through the house. I saw the kitchen and asked, "Will it fit? Can we go that way?" "Not possible," the woman said. "The door is to narrow."

In my dream, my last decision was to blast my way through the house.

Then, one of the men was going to tear down the garage door to allow the van to move on. But I told him it would not work. I showed him the black piping and mechanical works of a gear system attached to the garage door. Tearing the door down won't help.

We were stuck.

At this point I remember thinking, "But we really aren't stuck. We have options. We can either go back the way we came, or abandon the van and walk out of the house and move ahead, or we can blast our way out." Since this was my dream, and I was the one making the decisions, I told the group we were going to do all three things at once. "Some of you head back the way we came. Some of you start walking ahead. I'll blast our way out."

That's when I woke up.

I'm going to state the obvious lesson here, and the reason I wanted to take note of this dream. Whenever we see our path blocked, and we feel stuck, there are options:  we can go back the way came, move ahead by abandoning our current method of travel, or we can blast our way through.

Banksy's Rat Shows Up in Haight/Ashbury This Week

Banksy's iconic rat in San Francisco, 2010. 

I watched a documentary recently about graffiti art, and it's current hero Banksy. His visit to San Francisco in 2010 caused a sensation, albeit a brief one. His iconic image of a rat in the Haight/Ashbury neighborhood was cut out by an investor who wanted to save it from the building owner's paint brush. When the owner threatened to paint over it, or get fined by the city, the investor/savior stepped in and paid to have it safely boxed up and removed. He stored the work in pieces, in his apartment closet.

My question was, of course, "who the hell invented spray paint, anyway?" 

A paint salesman from northern Illinois is to blame. No Ed Seymour, no spray-painted rat. Seymour owned a paint company and had an aluminum coating for radiators he wanted to sell. So like most salesmen, his wife stepped in and told him what to do. She suggested a makeshift spray gun. So, in 1949, Seymour mixed paint and aerosol in a can with a spray head. Suddenly, Banksy's mother must have felt a twitch. 

After Seymour grew a business overnight manufacturing spray equipment and selling it to the auto and industrial-machine markets, the home-furnishing industry took notice. Rust-Oleum and Krylon stepped into the mist.  And by 1973, Big Spray was producing 270 million cans annually in the U.S., according to the Consumer Specialty Products Association. U.S. spray-paint manufacturers produced more than 412 million cans last year.

All of this is to point out the obvious: when you get stuck needing to sell something, ask your wife.

This past week, the Haight/Ashbury Rat reappeared above the Red Victorian, 1665 Haight St. It's hard to keep a good rat down. It's been reported a fake. Evidently it was created by two Banksy fans using a projector.

Banksy's rat, after being removed from it's Haight/Asbury home in 2010..

Five Reasons I Became an Artist, According to Hemingway

I read an interesting passage this morning in Michael Reynolds’ book, “Hemingway: The Paris Years.” As an artist and writer, I like the idea that Ernest hung out with local artists in Paris during the 1920s when American artists outnumbered their French counterparts.

“Hemingway was never a major collector of art, but he bought some extraordinary paintings, finally owning five Massons, an enormous Miró, a stunning Paul Klee, some Fernand Léger sketches and two oils by Juan Gris –paintings now worth at least two million dollars. He may not have been ready for Modernism when he first arrived in Paris, but he learned quickly, buying well with Hadley’s money.
 He not only bought art, he also admired the lives of the artists, their apparent freedom and their ability to deal directly with reality. He admired their life styles, their colorful, paint-spattered clothes. He drank with them in the cafés where they joked with models who earlier that day stood naked, posing in chilled studios. Painters, he saw, remained the local heroes of bohemian life, and from his close observations, Hemingway adopted some of their public behavior for his own persona. At Café du Dome, where, despite the new gaudiness, local painters collected out of habit, Hemingway took his place as one who understood their art and could speak of it easily.”  (Hemingway: The Paris Years, Michael Reynolds)

I’ve often wondered why I love being an artist. What is it about the life of an artist that so attracts me? The painting, drawing, creating stuff? I think Hemingway touched on a few reasons:

1. “apparent freedom” The greatest feeling in life is that moment when you really feel free, unimpaired, without constraints, open to all possibilities and opportunities, with only yourself as master. This “apparent freedom” comes with a cost. But most artists do what they do because they desire to be free and want to express themselves in a personal way.

 2. “ability to deal directly with reality” The job of the artist is to confront reality. They have the responsibility to interpret it, look at it from different angles, manipulate it, control it, change it. An artist has to confront his demons, not ignore them. They must deal with life head on and face whatever consequences come along. They put themselves on public display risking criticism and praise.

 3. “lifestyles, their colorful, paint-spattered clothes” Art is a messy business. A lifestyle based on the fluctuations of income and success are offset by the freedom to be real, authentic, and personal. I remember the day I decided that paint on my clothes was a calling card, a sign that I was a painter.

 4. “heroes of bohemian life” The “bohemian” person in 1920s Paris was considered a kind of gypsy, an unconventional, free-thinker, usually living in poverty and unconcerned about what anyone thought about them. They were free to live outside the “norms” of social provinciality. A bohemian would never be found sitting in an office cubicle, working 9 to 5, with an hour off for lunch.

 5. “he drank with them in cafes where they joked with models” Artists are essentially loners, but loners who need each other. We do like to socialize. I guess it’s because we spend so much time alone. Writing is a horribly lonely profession. An artist is usually working alone for hours in the studio. Part of the attraction of the artist lifestyle is the ability to work alone. So it’s no surprise that hanging out with each other at a cafe is a necessary distraction.

The Canadian Jordan B. Peterson: I Think I Like This Guy

When I heard Jordan Peterson say, "Don't be afraid to speak your opinion," I had to listen. So many people are afraid these days to say what they really think, (unless they are on Facebook.) His take on the idea that words matter and language is what binds a society together is a fundamental truth.

I began doing some research on Peterson and watching him on YouTube. Not all Canadians are silly, and I found this guy quite entertaining, smart, and opinionated. It's refreshing to see someone with a point of view who is able to express it and stick by it.

I've been watching his YouTube video "12 Principles for 21st Century Conservatism" and I admit I'm liking what he has to say. His bashing of radical leftists is on target and amusing. He's no idiot.

He makes the point that the assumptions we have about Western civilization are valid. Who among us wants to live in an Eastern environment under leftist regimes? Anyone buying a plane ticket to Syria to join ISIS? Western thought and culture is popular for many reasons. Peterson outlines twelve of these assumptions in his video. Good stuff.

Let me just mention the first "assumption" he discusses. Western civilizations value the individual. This assumption is valid and one of the reasons we Americans celebrate July 4th each year. Radical leftists hate the individual and value only the group. This has profound implications in how we view the world. The only thing that matters to the radical left is the group. They espouse individual rights only as long as it promotes the group. Black Lives Matter, for example, is a movement for the group, not the individual. Have anyone espouse an independent individual opinion that questions the group, then watch the fireworks begin. The survival of the group is what matters, not individual rights.

Peterson is on target here. In Western civilization, individuals matter.

Stop Setting Goals? Here's Another Approach to Getting What You Want

Setting goals. I've always disliked setting goals. I think it has something to do with control, and my unwillingness to follow the mainstream. In many ways I am a contrarian, a person who relishes in taking the opposing view. If I'm told to go right my immediate question is "what if I go left". I have never liked being told what to do, and I know this can be a problem. In the past, when goal-setting has come up, I've always resisted it.

Then a few years ago I read a book "Stop Setting Goals" by Bob Biehl. His approach is to solve problems, not set goals. He says eighty percent of the people around us dislike setting goals, and if given the choice they would stop doing it. He gives us permission to stop goal-setting  and not feel like we are "second class citizens."

One major problem with setting goals is that most people won't do it. They don't believe it works and have been disappointed with their attempts in the past, so just give up. You say "set some goals" and they roll their eyes. "Been there and done that." Then they feel like something is wrong with them, like they are subhuman. If you ask one hundred people to set a goal, eighty of them will ignore you. 

Biehl breaks down the statistics this way, when you ask a team or an individual to set a goal:

• 80% won't do it, have tried it in the past, failed, and won't try it again
• 15% will do it, they love setting goals and like hitting preset targets
• 5% won't care one way or the other, they are opportunity-seekers and rely on instinct and will never set a goal no matter how hard you try to convince them to do so

Many people are problem-solvers, not goal-setters. They like fixing things, solving puzzles, finding solutions. The problem-solving approach for them makes more sense and frees them from the guilt of not being a goal-setter.

Another approach I recently came across about setting goals involves fighting the "culture-scape" that says goals are somehow magical and necessary in order for you to get somewhere. How can we get anything done without setting a goal? That is a "culturally-induced" question, supported by Western consumerism and capitalism. To fight the culture of goal setting we have to change our thinking.

Ask yourself these three questions, to change your mindset when considering goals:

• "What do I want to experience" in my life?
• "How do I have to grow" in order to experience this?
• "What can I give back" to my community and fellow human beings?

Asking these questions will help us focus on the things that are important, crucial to becoming who we want to be. Instead of setting a goal, you ask "what do I want to experience?" This is an "end", not a "means." It is a result you desire, not a step you must take. Instead of saying "I want to lose 50 pounds", you say "I want to be healthy, and live a long and productive life." Then you consider how you can experience this in your life. How must I grow, what must I learn, who must I seek out to help me? And most importantly, you want to help others, too. How can I give back and serve others who also need help? A goal of losing 50 pounds is a "means" to an end. An approach that focuses on the "end", not the "means", is more motivating for some people and allows them to de-emphasize the importance of setting "means-type" goals. 

If I were to take both of these approaches, Biehl's problem-solving approach and the experience-based approach, and mix them up like a tossed salad, how would that help me accomplish things without setting goals? I'm not sure. It's something to consider. 

Creatures of Habit: Like Me, He Likes His Place at the Coffee Shop

I see him almost every day. When I walk into the coffee shop he is sitting alone with book in hand reading some obscure text. Middle Eastern philosophy, intellectual works I can only guess about. I would guess he was a professor, now retired. He often takes notes on a small pad. He has an iPad, too, and surfs a bit online from time to time. Today he is reading "Kant's Critique of Judgement."

I have never talked to him. Some morning I may meet him. But if he is like me, he just wants to be left alone with his books and thoughts. More than likely we will remain strangers. Which is fine.

I see him every day. Today he is reading Kant.

I have seen him some mornings walking to the coffee shop. He is the first one there and sits at the same table. Like me, he is a creature of habit who likes his place. My place at this particular coffee shop is near the door, next to some book shelves with the windows to my back. I can crack open the window when it gets hot and take advantage of the cool breeze that blows northerly toward the coast. I like my spot. When its not available I sit as close to it as I can, then make my move when it's vacated.

This older man, I'm guessing he is at least 70-years-old, is reading some heavy stuff.  "Kant's Critique of Judgement" (also translated as the "Critique of the Power of Judgement") is a 1790 work by Immanuel Kant. It's often referred to as the "third critique," following the "Critique of Pure Reason" and the "Critique of Practical Reason." The first part of Kant's critique of judgement deals with aesthetics, which is important to me since I'm a writer and artist. Kant discusses four possible "reflective judgements": the agreeable, the beautiful, the sublime, and the good. Deep, thoughtful, intellectual. This guy is obviously a lifelong learner. I am going to make a judgement about this man: it's good, even agreeable, to see an elderly man still reading classical philosophical works. What an inspiration!

I'm no longer a young man. I'm not exactly "elderly" yet, but I can see the years going by quicker and some day I'll be a 70-year-old artist and writer sitting in a coffee shop somewhere having a latte. I hope to God I have the ability to still read a book, to stretch my mind.

When the Bullet Hit My Chest I Knew I Was a Goner

I've done some stupid stuff in my life. My friends and family all said I was a daredevil, usually finding a way to add some danger to an otherwise boring life. For example, I once jumped off a roof into the swimming pool. I've always come out fine. Not even a broken bone.

But this latest incident was a killer, literally. It all began when I met Monalisa and fell in love. We both liked doing stupid stuff together. It was a shared nonsense and funny way to express ourselves. So when I mentioned to her that we should open a YouTube account and become famous, she was all for it. Man, if we could get 300,000 followers I'd throw a party and we both would be rolling in the cash! YouTube makes it possible for anyone to become famous and get rich.

We started off by doing dumb stunts. I'd climb a tree, find a weak limb, crawl out on it and then fall on my ass as Monalisa filmed it. Then we would slice together some scenes from our life together and interweave into these dangerous antics. Fame is only a few months away. That's what we thought. Our YouTube channel was our path to making it to the big time. Others have done it. Why not us?

I told Mona we needed to up the ante. Really do something spectacular. I owned a .50-caliber gold Desert Eagle pistol. What kind of stunt could we pull of with a gun, I thought. Then it hit me. Shoot myself.

I found a really thick book at the library, about an inch and half thick, and decided it could work. I placed the book on a chair in the backyard and shot a bullet into it. Sure enough, the bullet penetrated a few inches but failed to go all the way through it. The size of the hole was huge, some pages torn all to hell, but mostly the bullet just came to rest inside.  So my plan was going to work. I told Mona about my idea. She at first thought I was nuts, but when I showed her the book with the bullet hole in it I was able to convince her it would work. Followers on YouTube would go ballistic, I told her. Just think about the views we would get!

Here was my plan. We set up two cameras to record different angles of the stunt. I would hold a book, at least an inch and half thick, up to my chest. Mona would shoot me with my gun, point blank, about a foot away. We record the entire stunt and post it to our YouTube channel. What a laugh we would have. Watch our Follower numbers go through the roof. Man, I am pumped!

So, here I am now, wondering what the hell was I thinking. Everything was working great. The cameras were all set, Mona had the gun. After a couple of false starts (Mona was a little afraid at first), she raised the gun and pointed at me. I tightly held the huge dictionary to my chest, a Merriam-Webster behemoth almost two inches thick. I told Mona, "Do it. It's okay. I've tested it. The bullet will not go through. Trust me." Mona hesitated for moment then smiled. I love her laugh, and knew this was going to be great. I was excited to be sure, but confident. She raised the gun and pointed the barrel at dead center, right at the middle of the thick leather cover of the dictionary. And fired.

They say when you die you don't remember much about the loved ones you leave behind. That would be too sad for dead people. It would be much better if we were immediately transported to some beach, with a beautiful blue sky and bright sun, a real paradise, a place where you were present in the moment, and didn't think about the other place, the place you just left. But I know different. When you die a senseless death, for no reason at all, you are just left alone. Empty. When that bullet hit my chest I knew I was a goner. Now I'm dead and don't know why.

(Pedro Ruiz, 22, died this last Monday evening, when his girlfriend Monalisa Perez, 19, shot him in the chest. The stunt was filmed for their YouTube channel. She was pregnant with their second child.)

Pedro Ruiz III, and Monalisa Perez.

Automatic Writing, Stream of Consciousness, and 500 Words

I've been reading about Ernest Hemingway's early years in Paris before he became a big-shot. Gertrude Stein was a big influence. She encouraged him to try "automatic writing", the writer lets the words flow from the brain like drops of water onto the paper without regard to meaning or sense. Just let the words that enter your head land on the page.

I was reminded of Jack Kerouac. Kerouac had this way of letting a "stream of consciousness" take over and guide his writing. He would write a paragraph that might go on for pages, hundreds of words flowing out of his mind, often making no sense.

I have also played with this idea. It can be a lot of fun. So today, I'm going to write 500 words "automatically" and see if I can tap into a stream of consciousness. The setting for this exercise is a local coffee shop. I have head phones playing instrumental music, mostly from movie soundtracks via Pandora.

Here goes.
______________________________

Music in my head. My fingers typing, making mistakes, using the Delete. Why the hell can’t I type? People reading, drinking coffee, looking bored. A lady with a blue scarf, no, actually they have turned and it’s a kid, huddled together with another kid. Smart phone. Giggling. School is out. The shade just hit me in the shoulder. Warm. Buzzing noise. Breaks letting their air out. Trucks nearby. A Pepsi truck at the red light, turning, followed by a van with some kind of landscape materials. It’s cooler today. Not so hot. Shifting. Eyes. Shadows. Turning pages. The smell of muffins and burnt coffee. Someone needs deodorant. I hope it’s not me I smell. Music coming and going, beats. Movie soundtrack. I think I’m getting tired. Really? More words. Get the damn words down. Itching. My eyes watering. What the hell? Hard to think. Mom. Where is she? Hemingway said to believe in yourself. Yea. No one else will. Hard to think he was once a twenty year old who had doubts but could at least write. He knew he had to promote himself, take care of himself, believe in himself, because no one else would. Not even Hadley. She had her own issues. She looked after Hem, but still no one can care for you better than you. What was it like living in Paris. I want to go. When can I go? Is it safe? Why not? Find the right time of year so the weather doesn't kill you. Maybe stay there a year. Hem stayed there, but traveled too much. He was barely in Paris the first two years. Just traveling. He and I have some things in common. I was also a journalist, learned the newspaper writing craft. I also like to travel. He was also a fake, like me. At times I feel like a fake. Hem was always playing a role. Me, too. Can anyone really be themselves with another person? Not really. We are alone. No one but us. We are it. Shoes. The floor, twinkling with light and shadow from the morning sun. The feet cross over it, disturbing it. Clutter. My mind is cluttered. 500 words. Almost there but I shouldn’t care. Keep going. What is next? Silly. Goofy. Are people looking at me? I hope not. Leave me alone. All I want is to be left alone. Let me work. Don't mess with me. God people are messy. That lady is eating and chomping her food like a horse. Calm down. Coffee smells pink. Red. Yellow. Horns in my ears. Smiling. Laughing. Coughing. Gagging. The smell of toast or maybe eggs. What to do. Lots to do. Fingers. Lady looking for papers. Dressed in green pants, sweats. It’s too hot for sweats. Keep going. What is my brain telling me? Greys. Black. Artwork. I need to draw something, paint. Studio. Need to work. Money. Earn some money. Who needs money? I like money. Who doesn’t. We must have it to live. Done

(502 words)

Breaking Bad

I'm watching all five seasons of "Breaking Bad" on Netflix. I remember now. I loved this show. The quality of the cast and crew is topnotch. Screenwriters can learn a lot by analyzing it's structure. It's a great story. Vince Gilligan is genius.

The main theme of any great story needs to hit home, make sense, relate to us in some emotional way. We have to feel like it's real. "Breaking Bad" certainly qualifies. We all "break  bad" sometimes and get involved in something we shouldn't. We take a false step and before we know it all hell breaks loose. As I was watching the last episode of Season Two last night, I was thinking about how I have "broken bad" a few times myself.

Here are some reasons I think we break bad, often unintentionally.

1. Bad news. When Walt finds out he has cancer and a couple of years to live, he begins to unravel. Who wouldn't? His life is over, and this realization feeds his downward spiral. His motives are complicated, he's concerned for his family's future after his death, and he's broke. We are more likely to break bad after receiving bad news.

2. Bad luck. Luck is a big part of success and failure. Random events can have devastating consequences. A small dose of unforeseen bad luck can go a long way in making us feel vulnerable and defeated. How many times have we said, "I can't catch a break!" Walt and Jesse are not only the worst drug dealers in New Mexico, they are the unluckiest. Some of the fun is watching these two trip over themselves. Bad luck and breaking bad may be close relatives.

3. Bad friends. It's a cliche, but true: hanging around bad people will eventually rub off on us. Parents want their children to have positive role models. Adults need positive role models, too. We need to be careful about the people we allow into our inner circle. Bad people bring bad influences. We usually don't break bad in isolation. Many times we break bad to be a part of the group. Studies in the cause of riots has shown this. People will behave in ways thought impossible, if given the right environment. A good way to avoid breaking bad is to avoid bad people.  Jesse's young and cute landlord, a recovering drug addict, meets Jesse (bad luck), and ends up dead of an overdose.

While I've never sold drugs, I've broken bad at times. The next time I receive bad news, I'm going to think of Walt and Jesse. Just give me some good news. And with a little good luck and a few good friends, I might even break good once in a while.

Ten Years and Counting: This Blog Has Seen It's Ups and Downs

Ten years ago today I began writing this blog. It began as a travel blog, chronicaling my way to Las Vegas in the summer of 2007. My idea was to unload all my belongings and hit the road. I was restless and needed a drastic change.

I was playing a lot of poker in those days, online and at a casino in Oklahoma just across the Red River. My goal was to move to Las Vegas and play poker and get a Nevada real estate license. I had been a broker in Texas for quite some time so why not take my act to Vegas?

As it turned out I lived in Vegas for a while then hit the road again, eventually landing in Carmel, California. Then it was back to Texas before moving for good back to California in the summer of 2012. This blog has always been there, although months would go by in silence. I was not a serious blogger in those days. I would write for while, then let it go for weeks at a time. On and off like a leaky water faucet, my blogging was not very consistent.

Here is an excerpt from my blog, ten years ago today, as I was planning my move to Vegas:

(Saturday, June 23, 2007) 

 Why am I moving? When it came down to it, I realized I could go anywhere and do anything. I have nothing to keep me here in north Texas. I can just pick up and go. So, I decided Las Vegas would be a nice change. I may not be there long. I could be there until the rest of my life. But I'll always be a Texan no matter where I live, so it really doen't matter. I chose Las Vegas for a number of reasons, not to mention: 
1. the opportunity to grow in real estate investing 
2. the weather 
3. the job market 
4. the card rooms
5. the opportunity to experience life in the world's biggest playground, with all of its evil and grace...a great place for a writer. 

 This blog will be my journey to Vegas.


What will the next ten years bring? Anyone's guess. I hope to do a better job writing about it, whatever happens.

I'm at a Starbucks in Albuquerque, NM, the summer of 2007, having left Texas for a road trip to Las Vegas.

Climbing Mountains, Taking Risks

I've been reading an early play by the great Tennessee Williams over the last few weeks. I often take a break from other books I'm reading and indulge myself in a book of Williams' plays. The first play I'm reading is "Spring Storm."


"Spring Storm"is a play written by Williams when he was twenty-six years old. He was studying as an apprentice and was attending the University of Iowa. "Spring Storm" received poor reviews and it did not receive its first production until 1995 in Berkeley, California. 

In the first act, the curtain rises to reveal a high, windy bluff over the Mississippi River. It is called Lover's Leap. Two old trees whose leafless branches have been grotesquely twisted by the winds are there, along with Heavenly and Dick, two young lovers. They are discussing their future together near the edge of a cliff. Heavenly begins to climb higher up the bluff while Dick urges caution. 

Heavenly's response to Dick is that climbing up the bluff will get her closer to Heaven, where she might even see God. Dick reminds her that people can also fall when climbing, and it might be too dangerous. When climbing up a dangerous cliff you might reach a higher plateau, or you might fall and break your neck.

So when do we take the risk? When do we choose to climb higher up the slippery slope and hope to see God? It takes courage to climb up and see something beautiful. What if we fall? 

The mountain climber Ueli Steck in his native Switzerland in 2015.

Ueli Steck, a famous mountain climber nicknamed "the Swiss Machine", died earlier this year. He was 40 year old. His rapid ascents of some of the world's most imposing peaks made him renowned as one of the world's best climbers. He died in an accident at a camp near Mount Everest on April 30.

Steck was willing to risk his life to climb the highest mountains in the world for his own private reasons. For him, the risk was worth it. Falling was always a possibility. But he climbed. For him the ascent upward was a life and death decision on a daily basis. 

For most of us, taking a risk to achieve something greater is not a life and death decision. It involves risks, no doubt. But our lives are not in danger. Want to write a book? Will you fail? So what? You won't die. Want to go back to school and get a degree? Will it be costly? Will you go in debt? So what? It won't kill you. 

Tennessee Williams set up the play "Spring Storm" in a terrific first act, with risk and danger and darkness on the horizon. Young lovers at odds over their future sets up a dynamic scene. Death, too, is present. What kind of life is it, to take no risk, to play it safe, to not ascend a mountain?



 

Writing a Memoir: How Do I Start?

Today I begin writing my memoir about attending art school in San Francisco. I'm not sure where to begin. For starters, I am collecting my journal entries into one place. Then I'll go through them day by day and try to get an idea of the source material I'll have to help me. God forbid I rely on just my memory. The main reason I journal is because my memory sucks.

I checked sources online for help in writing a memoir. So I have plenty of help. I'll be updating my progress here and at my writing blog at www.AikenWriter.com.

Using Acrylic and Oils in a Painting

The debate continues about using acrylic paints and oils in the same painting. Most of the time, an artist will use an acrylic painting first as an underpainting, then proceed to finish the work in oils. The question is: will painting with oils over acrylics hold up over time? 

Some critics of this practice point to evidence that suggests the oil layer will eventually peel away from the acrylic layer underneath. Acrylics, they say, is still relatively new to the market place and there is no long term history to back up the belief that its okay to use as a layer beneath oils. Others believe it is okay, just as long as the acrylic layer comes first. Painting acrylic over oil is a guaranteed disaster. However, the consensus is still out on whether painting oil over acrylic is advisable. 

Much of the thinking goes like this: we use "acrylic gesso" as an undercoat, so why not also use acrylic paint to get us started? It dries so quickly, it allows the artist to lay down a quick drawing or underpainting and begin work with oils the same day. However, "acrylic gesso" and "acrylic paint" are not the same thing. Acrylic gesso contains additives to increase absorption and provide tooth. Acrylic paint dries to a relatively smooth surface and is not as absorbent. Is it best to stick with oils throughout the process and avoid using acrylic paint AND gesso? Some would say the best ground for an oil painting is lead white.

Staffers at Golden Paints have seen paintings with oil over acrylic layers that have lasted 20+ years without any apparent peeling or damage. However, a more conservative view that errs on the side of caution would promote using acrylic gesso and/or paint in layers as thin and matte as possible. They point out that acrylic paints, in general, are porous enough to provide adhesion with an oil layer. However, George O' Hanlon at Natural Pigments writes "I tend to err on on the conservative side. There is not enough information yet about this practice to make it a 'best practice.'"

As for my own work, I began using acrylic gesso and thinly applied acrylic paints for underpainting. Acrylics are generally cheaper than oils, and they dried so quickly it was easy to get started with oils within an hour. Having said that, it has been suggested that a layer of acrylic needs to be fully dry and free of any moisture prior to applying oils. So I was most likely painting my oil layers too quickly over acrylic. If I do it right, how much time do I really save?

I have changed my approach. I don't want to take any chances. I have switched to an oil-based gesso, like Gamblin's oil ground. I then use lead white and raw umber for underpainting and drawing. They dry quickly and I can avoid using acrylics. 

Crispening: Light, Value and the Background

(from Anthony Waichulis, at AnthonyWaichulis.com)

Often I have seen students work very diligently on a “tonal” subject---only to have an arbitrarily added background or surround adversely affect the vast majority of value relationships throughout. Well---before you throw any ol’ value around your subject you should consider two related perceptual effects that could significantly affect everything that you have done.

In the 1960s, Hiroshi Takasaki from the University of Shizuoka, Japan and the Carl C. Semmelroth from the National Institute of Standards and Technology discovered and studied a lightness contrast effect that they dubbed “crispening.”  This effect was described as an enhanced perceptual difference between samples as their lightness approached that of their background.  In other words, perceived contrast between two similar values may appear greater if they share a background that is also similar.  Let’s look at the graphic to better understand this: If you look at the numbers placed over the 3 strips of value---you will notice that the numbers that near the missing number (the number that matches its background) seem to have a greater disparity (perceived higher contrast) than those that are more distant. For example, the values of the numbers 7, 8, and 9 against the black surround here seem to differ more in value than the 7, 8, and 9 against the middle gray or white.

Later (around 1967), C. J. Bartleson and E. J. Breneman of the Eastman Kodak Company Research Laboratories also documented an effect involving perceived contrast variation observed among areas of different value within an image when the image is viewed against a light or dark valued background. As you might suspect, they dubbed this phenomenon, the Bartleson-Breneman Effect (B-B).

Generally speaking, as a subject's background becomes darker, the  values of that subject appear lighter, darker values are “compressed,” and the grays appear more similar (less contrast). When a background skews lighter, values may appear darker, darker values still tend to compress, and grays may appear to be less similar (more contrast). If you look at the grid of value patches at the center of the graphic, you will notice how the values and their relationships appear different (as described) as the background changes.

​​

Eric Fischl: Notes From a Critique

I recently came by a video of Eric Fischl giving a critique to second year students at the New York Academy of Art. About twenty students had their paintings displayed around the room and Fischl walked among them and did his best to give some advice.

Here are some notes I took from his talk:

1. "What makes a masterpiece?"  Fischl began the discussion with this question. He told the students he saw one masterpiece in the room. I'm sure the students began to squirm, "Is it mine?" Turns out it was this painting, "Auntie", by Aleah Chapin. Chapin's work won the BP Portrait Award in 2012. So, I guess Fischl was right. 

Fiscal told the students his definition of a masterpiece:  when "intention and execution happen simultaneously on the canvas." He mentioned the scientific term "elegant solution." An elegant solution seeks to explain complexity in the simplest terms. For an artwork to have any chance of being a masterpiece it must be simple. The message it conveys may be very complex, but it must reveal its complexity in the simplest way possible. 

2.  In art there is always a dialectic. Dialectics refer to logical arguments. Art needs to make sense. It must have a logical base as a foundation. He pointed to one student's work and said it was unclear, ambivalent. The student failed to make a decision on which way to go. He talked about the difference between ambivalence and ambiguity: ambivalence is uncertainty, an inability to make a choice; ambiguity is a good thing if it intentionally makes the viewer think, reexamine or redefine their assumptions. An artist decides to be ambiguous. A decision is made, an intention is defined. 

3. Modern, contemporary society is a collage, a reality that is fragmented. We are constantly being bombarded by multiple images, especially on social media. An artist decides how to handle these collages:  either by fusing the images together and hiding the fragmentation, or revealing the fragmentation and emphasizing the deconstruction. Many artists, for example, use Photoshop to compose their imagery and reference material. Do they fuse these images into a new reality, or do they expose the fakery, the fragmentation? Do we hide our technique or reveal it?

4.  Fischl encouraged the class by stating "I see a lot of sincerity here." He noted there was not much cynicism. Most of the students seemed to care about what they were painting. No one seemed to have the attitude, "I don't give a damn." 

5. A discussion about sentiment also took place. Fischl defined sentimentality as "unearned emotion." A sentimental painting is "fake" in the sense that it reveals something already known. The highest ambition of art is to "reexamine, undermine, redefine" what is known. A student brought up Thomas Kinkade, who died in 2012, the year this video was taken. Kinkade's work is sentimental, reinforcing what is already known, failing to undermine or redefine beauty in landscapes. 

6. "How do you know when you are finished" with a painting? "I stop being a painter, and become a viewer," says Fischl. At some point in the painting process he stops painting and starts looking, just takes in what he has done and becomes like anyone else who views a work of art. At that point he knows he is close to the end. 

7. Things to consider: balance in the work among the elements, a unifying of the space. Do all the elements make sense, do they seem to logically fit in the same space. Pay attention to artifice and observed reality, and how they relate to one another in the piece. He pointed to a painting of a nude woman with a huge bird sitting on her torso, with its claws digging into the skin. The way the bird and the woman were rendered made them appear as if they belonged in different paintings. The bird was artificially inserted into the space and looked as if it didn't belong there.

Defining Some Terms in Color Theory

RGB: The combination of red, green, and blue light that forms a color. This is also called additive color (when you add more light, you get closer to white) and is what you'll see for digital cameras, televisions, monitors, and anything that emits light in general instead of needing an external light source to illuminate it.

CMYK: The combination of Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, and black ink or paint that will reflect a certain color. This is also called subtractive color (when you add more ink, you get closer to black) and is what you'll see for printers or anything else that uses ink, pigments, or paint. Theoretically Cyan, Magenta, and Yellow components would be enough to make all colors, but it's cheaper and faster to use dedicated black ink for dark colors and shades of gray.

HSL: A way to express a color in terms of its:
• Hue: is it red or blue or anything in between? If you consider spectrum of visible light, hue determines on which point of the spectrum the color roughly is.
• Saturation: Is the color purely, say, red, or is it muted down with some combination of gray? Totally saturated is red, totally unsaturated is gray (or white or black, depending on the…)
• Lightness: Is it closer to white, or closer to black?
You can play with an HSL color picker at MothereffingHSL.
In Photoshop and elsewhere you'll see HSB (for Brightness which is in practice the same as HSV for Value) and HSI, which are both similar but not identical to HSL.

Lab: This is a way to plot a color based on its Lightness, amount of green or magenta (a), and amount of blue or yellow (b), a model that closely approximates human vision. With Lab, you can plot every single color that's possible in RGB and CMYK, so it's useful as an intermediate step in converting digital graphics for print.

Tint: for a given color, make it lighter (basically, add pure white) and you'll have a tint of that original color.

Shade: for a given color, make it darker (basically, add pure black) and you'll have a shade of that original color.

Tones: I see "tones" used to describe ranges of discrete brightness/lightness/luminescence levels in images. You'll also see it used to describe combination of colors. Mariam-Webster gives the example of "gray walls of a greenish tone".

Chroma: Generally this is another term for saturation or a combination of saturation and hue. The Wikipedia article on colorfulness groups chroma, saturation, and colorfulness together as loosely similar, but chroma does have a specific definition in some color spaces.

Intensity: Could refer to the brightness of a color or the saturation (or a combination). Like a soda can could be described as intensely red, or a white point of light would be intensely bright. One quirk of human vision is the Helmholtz–Kohlrausch effect, which describes how we perceive highly saturated colors as appearing lighter.

*It should be noted that "Tone" generally refers to the quality of color, gradients, shading, etc. It also refers to the range of discrete luminance levels present in an image. It is not really another term for tints and shades. Chroma, or Chromaticity, refers to the color "vector", which would be its angle around the color wheel, and its distance from the center of the wheel towards the edge. Intensity generally refers to brightness, and has more to do with the luminance axis (remember, color is three dimensional) than anything.

Secret Lessons from Odd Nerdrum

Some notes from a recent online visit with Dustin Neece. (DustinNeece.com) Dustin has studied with Odd Nerdrum and has some “secret lessons” which he teaches to various groups.

Lesson: work from life.  With photography so prevalent these days, it’s increasingly important to remember that working from life is better than working from photos. It is easy to work from photos, and often the only option we have. But the preference and first choice should always be to work from life. Why is working from life better than a photo? That’s a topic for another blog entry.

Lesson: use a limited palette.  According to Dustin, Odd Nerdrum uses just a few pigments:  a red, a yellow, white and black. This is also the “Zorn Palette” of which many of us have used. I have used in the past Ivory Black, Titanium White, Yellow Ochre, Cad Red.  Dustin points out that the more pigments an artist uses, the more difficult it is to achieve overall harmony. A complex palette leads to complexity in our work. It’s better to keep things simple. Dustin’s palette:  Cobalt Green, Quinacridone Red, Cobalt Blue, Permanent Yellow Light, Cad. Yellow Deep, Black and White. Keep in mind that different manufacturers produce different pigments, so you have to experiment and find the pigment manufacturer you like. Dustin likes Michael Harding Naphthol Red, for example. He buys his pigments from Kremer Pigments in New York. (http://shop.kremerpigments.com/en/)

Lesson: open approach vs. closed approach.  An “open” approach to the painting process means you don't know exactly how you will get to where you are going. You have a goal in mind, a kind of painting you want to make, but you don't have a set of steps that you will take. You want to keep all the possibilities and techniques at your disposal as you work. You don't have a concrete plan in place.

A “closed” approach means you have a way to work and you don't vary your method. You have a certain way of doing what you do and so you do it.  Everything is planned out and predetermined ahead of time. It is a “linear” approach to work.


Dustin suggests, if you want to paint like Nerdrum and him, you want to keep your painting “open” as long as possible. Experiment, play, try new things out as you work. If something doesn't work, scrape it off and start over. Feel free to fail. Look for the “happy accidents” that occur when you work without a net. It is a “non-linear” approach to work. Sure, it involves risk. Yes, it takes time. But the rewards of working this way are enormous.

Lesson: tear down, then build up.  This is the “destructive method” that brings a lot of expression and feeling to the work. Using your hands, sand paper, palette knife, whatever, destroy your work, then come back and rework it over and over again until you achieve what you like. You tear down, scrape off, dismantle a layer of work then apply another layer of work on top of it. Slowly the layers begin to build up. Amazing effects begin to appear as you work layer after layer after layer of tearing down and building up. It’s a great deal of fun to work this way, too. You have the freedom to explore and fail and make mistakes because you know you can destroy it and move on to another layer. Destroy to create. Work in a mental state of “not-knowing” what is coming next.

In this photo of a recent painting, you can see first my initial block-in. I let the layer dry completely, then using sandpaper and my palette knife I scraped and sanded the painting, destroying much of the work I had done. I applied a a subsequent layer of paint next, looking for ways to improve the overall drawing and details. If I desire, I can continue to destroy a layer and rebuild it as I go. Maybe a section of the grey coat needs to be deconstructed and rebuilt. I don't know. That is the point. I don't know. The painting is still "open" for me to continue the process.

I'm Eliminating Solvents from Studio

Artists are continually talking about making their studios safer and non-toxic. It makes sense. Why not have a safe working environment if you can do it? 

I have been using surgical gloves for over a year now when I paint. I mainly do it to avoid washing my hands. Clean up is so much easier when you don't have to wash your hands, especially if you often stop while working (answering the phone, going to the restroom, getting coffee, etc.). I grew tired of getting paint on my hands and having to wash them off each time I needed to take a break. Now, I just remove the gloves. Plus, they are safer. Any cuts or scratches on your fingers allow toxins to enter your bloodstream. Why take the chance? If I feel the need to use my fingers, I just remove the gloves. No big deal. 

Solvents have been used for hundreds of years to clean brushes and thin paints. But they are toxic. They also hinder the binding of pigment to the surface and are not the only way to thin paint. There are better alternatives. Eliminating solvents entirely from the studio is not that hard. Solvents are different from some mediums like Liquin or Oleogel. Solvents break down the pigments and hinder adhesion. Mediums like Liquin suspend the pigments in solution and shouldn't interfere with pigments sticking to the surface. Too much solvent will cause problems in adhesion. So eliminating solvents is a good idea unless you really like the effects of using it in underpainting or in other techniques. However, nontoxic mediums now exists that will do the work of solvents, so why not use them?

What about cleaning brushes? I have recently followed the advice of many artists: I no longer clean my brushes at the end of each working session. I simply suspend them in safflower oil. I also use safflower oil to clean the brushes while working. I use Rublev Oleogel and linseed oil as mediums to help me work the paint. I no longer use OMS like Gamsol while I work. 

For now, this seems to be working for me. I like having a solvent-free environment. If we carefully dispose of our toxic wastes and protect ourselves from toxins while we work, we should be hedging our bets against harmful health issues. 

The Head versus the Heart

In a recent discussion online with another artist about color theory, I was promoting the idea that two kinds of artists exists: those who love the scientific and technological side of the work, and those who do not. Some artists are scientists in disguise. They love to talk about pigments and mediums and theories of color and composition in scientific, logical terms like a CSI unit looking at a crime scene.

On the other hand, many artists are not scientifically inclined at all. They are more practical in their use of materials, and just want to learn enough to get the job done. They don't read books on color theory or delve into the chemical composition of a tube of Rublev Oleogel. They want tools that work and don't give much of a damn of how it works. "Just show me what works," they say.

What I'm writing about here is the head and the heart. In my discussion with this artist about color theory, I was promoting a balancing act between the science of art and the spirit of art. Both are important. The head and heart need to be in balance, I believe. But if I had to choose one over the other, give me the heart.

This artist writes, "There is no real separation between head and heart since, in reality, it is all head. The rest is illusion." I disagreed.

My response.  "The real issue is that much of the contemporary art world doesn't give a damn about skill, technique, or about the issues you and I are discussing. Look at the crap that is selling these days. We should talk about color theory and helping students develop skills, and it is right. But we also must face the reality of the current art market and its de-emphasis on skill-based work. Skill and technique will only get you so far. But show some heart, some backstory, some personal narrative, some personal slant on your point of view, and the market eats it up."

It is an old debate, the role of the head and heart in making art. Is it all "head"? Is our heart really a product of the brain and its activity? Is the "heart" an illusion? Should we talk in terms of the head and heart being separated? I don't know. I'm not that smart.

Organizing My Brain: Planning a Work Day That Makes Sense (To Me)

Being self-employed is great, but it certainly has risks. One of the biggest hurdles to overcome is planning a day of work. With most jobs we know what our day looks like: arrive at 9 a.m., have coffee, say "hi" to the boss, do our work, have lunch, do our work, go home at 5 p.m. However, being responsible for my own schedule, I risk going through the day doing nothing.

As an artist and writer, I am responsible for my work schedule. Being unique and quirky in my own way, I must find a way to schedule a work day that fits me, makes sense to me. We are different. What works for me may not work for you. The goal is to find a schedule that works for me and then stick to it.

As both a writer and artist, I have two jobs. I must paint, I must write. While both are creative endeavors that have much in common, they are also quite different. Painting and creating visual art is both physically and mentally draining. After a long session at the easel, I am physically tired and mentally drained. Writing, however, tends to make me mentally alert and drained without the physical pain. After writing for a few hours, I often feel the need to do something physically active, like riding my bike or taking a walk. After painting in the studio, all I want to do is rest.

I am faced with scheduling a work day that needs to address my uniqueness, the way that I like to work. For now, I am trying this: I am splitting my day into two parts. I reserve my mornings for writing and reading and research. After lunch I paint, draw, create in the studio.  I am finding that if I keep my two jobs separate, art and writing, I have a better chance of staying on track.

My writing workplace is often this coffee shop.
Today, the scene is pretty hectic, being Friday.

For the longest time I was approaching my work day like a day off. That is, I had no real plan or idea of what I was going to do that day. I would write when I felt like it, then paint. I might go through a day and not paint at all. I might go three days without writing and just paint. While this might be a fun way to work, it can be counterproductive. I have goals to reach and a business to run. I cannot afford to just work when I feel like it. I have two jobs, both very demanding and both requiring discipline. I have to paint and write each day, even if I don't feel like it. I have to remind myself that I have two jobs, not hobbies.

When deadlines call for more attention to a particular project, then I make adjustments. But I still need to pay attention to both jobs and not neglect one, because of the work required for the other. For example, I have an art fair on my calendar in two weeks. The temptation will be to focus on preparing for the fair and neglect my writing. But this is a problem. I might need to cut back on my writing schedule, but I must not neglect it. I still need to write, even if its just for a few minutes.

I have never liked working for someone else. Being self-employed is a choice I made and I know it has risks. Scheduling my work day is a continuous struggle. Switching gears between art and writing is not easy, but necessary. I have two jobs that both require my attention. Organizing my scattered brain is a constant problem, but I'm trying my best to make it work.

Online Print Houses

I have been looking at online print houses to order high quality posters of my digital art, and it's not easy. I first went to Mpix.com and ordered a 24x36 full color poster. I receive it yesterday and was disappointed. Their "low weight paper" is just awful. They offer no other papers. My total cost was $37, which included basic shipping. The low quality paper is just a deal-breaker. I will not use Mpix for my poster prints.

The next site I visited was PosterPrintShop.com. I ordered today a 30x30 customized poster with a high gloss finish. Total cost to me was $43, including shipping. I am hoping the quality of the paper stock is much better. Once I receive it, I'll let you know what I think. I am impressed at the easy user-friendly interface this site has to offer. It was a quick and easy matter to upload my image, crop, and place the order. They test the quality of your image and give you an idea of how large a print is best, given the size and quality of your image. I have found that an image of at least 2400pix is necessary for a 30 inch print.

I also visited FineArtAmerica.com. For quality poster prints, this site is also limited and I was unable to crop my uploaded image on the site. They only offer standard sizes and one kind of paper. So far, this site doesn't seem to be what I'm looking for.

I went to VistaPrint.com and ordered a 24x36 glossy poster. I will be eager to see the quality of this one, too. Total cost was $42, including shipping. They only offer standard sizes, and card stock is only available for an 11x17. They do have a useful cropping/editing interface that is helpful.

These are the images I am using as test cases for posters. I am developing a series of digital prints to sell as posters, if I can just find a good price for a quality print on a paper stock that is better than a roll of toilet tissue.