Just Because
Asking Myself That For Years
One of the Hemsworth Brothers?
Hey Daddy
This is One of the Reasons I Stopped Painting
I mean, other than the obvious reason I give people; that the Muses have permanently left the building.
Digital art is something that's fascinated me since its infancy. I suppose I should have tried to get into it back in the day, but I never seemed to have the necessary computing hardware or the funds available to purchase a digitizing tablet which was a requirement to do anything serious. (I mean, have you ever tried drawing with a mouse?) Now that I do have the means to get what I need, I'm so hopelessly out of touch with the medium that I get flummoxed by simply opening Adobe Illustrator. I have a very basic knowledge of Photoshop – mostly photo retouching and creating simple, text-based images, but nowhere near the level of expertise used to create the images above.
Also, my particular painting style is now a filter available through any number of graphics programs, so…why bother?
A new initiative at work—being pushed by the new boss—is professional development. Before COVID hit and the world shut down, I was scheduled to take some beginner Illustrator classes, but that fell by the wayside. Now, apprently it's not considered "essential to my job," so it's not happening.
So if push comes to shove and there's no way of avoiding training, I'm going to opt for some additional Microsoft fucking Sharepoint crap since our entire web presence is based on it and my immediate supervisor—who has a hard-on for the platform—insists on assigning me tickets related to it because I "need to get up to speed."
Yeah, whatever.
Speaking of that, as of our last team meeting in regards to this initiative, I'm supposed to be focusing on my personal "career trajectory." Honey, my career trajectory consists of getting the fuck out of there and retiring in something like 945 work days.
Yes, I'm counting.
Sorry, I didn't mean for this to turn into a work rant.
(BTW, the artwork above is by Tim Razumovsky.)
Wall Art I Didn't Know I Needed
A Near-Perfect Evening
Just Desserts
Martindraws
Just Because
So That's What the Kids are Calling It These Days
"My God, It's Full of Stars!"
Not the Same, But Still Welcome in this House
I drove back down to Tucson yesterday (a horrific ordeal in and of itself which I'll spare you; suffice to say I should've stayed home). I bought two "new" Miles Thompson gargoyles from the seemingly one venue in town still selling them. I'd bought the originals in the late 90s/early 2000s at Antigone Books on 4th Avenue, but when I called yesterday to see if they were selling his work the girl who answered said she'd never heard of him. So hrmph…
I was assured by the store owner where I bought these new masks that Miles is still very much alive and well (albeit 75 years of age now), and is still producing work. I mentioned to her that Miles seems to have no online presence beyond this shop's website, and she said she's been wanting to get him to set up online and his response has always been "I don't want to become my work."
As an on-and-off again artist, I can relate. When I paint, I do it for me, not to make money. If it was my sole source of income I'm sure I'd come to hate it in short order, something I have a very hard time imparting on my friends who tell me I should be painting more. It's not like you can just summon the Muses, after all.
I am reasonably certain I rescued all three of the original masks from the house, before the restoration companies came in so they have to be somewhere, but I'll be damned if I know where. (I did easily find one of them.) Perhaps now that I spent way too much on replacing them (Miles' prices have gone up in the last fifteen years, go figger), they'll finally reveal themselves.
I suppose I could always cuss out the Prop Master for not having those particular props ready for these scenes in my life. Maybe that will cause them to magically appear?
A Proper Ornithopter
Because god only knows if we're ever going to see Denis Villeneuve's vision…
Girls in the Windows
"In 1960, while a construction crew dismantled a row of brownstones right across from my own brownstone studio on East 58th Street, I was inspired to, somehow immortalize those buildings. I had the vision of 43 women in formal dress adorning the windows of the skeletal facade.
We had to work quickly to secure City permissions, arrange for models which included celebrities, the demolition supervisior's wife (third floor, third from left), my own wife (second floor, far right), and also secure the Rolls Royce to be parked on the sidewalk. Careful planning was a necessity as the photography had to be accomplished during the workers' lunch time!
The day before the buildings were razed, the 43 women appeared in their finest attire, went into the buildings, climbed the old stairs, and took their places in the windows. I was set up on my fire escape across the streeet, directing the scene, with bullhorn in hand. Of course I was concerned for the Models' safety, as some were daring enough to pose out on the crumbling sills.
The photography came off as planned. What had seemed to some as too dangerous or difficult to accomplish, became my fantasy fulfilled, and my most memorable self – assigned photograph. It has been an international award winner ever since.
Most professional photographers dream of having one signature picture they are known for. Girls in The Windows is mine."
Girls in The Windows. Ormond Gigli, 1960.
This really spoke to me.
Just Because
This image has always appealed to me. Unfortunately I can't find a high-resolution copy worth printing and framing.
Many years ago I had a past life regression. The vision that came to me was stepping off an egg-shaped shuttlecraft into a deserted field of waist-high grass. In the distance there was a single tree, and beyond that, rolling, forested hills. I was part of a galactic survey team and we'd just touched down on a previously unmapped planet. It was my first surface recon mission and what struck me was how green everything was—because apparently wherever I'd called home the vegetation wasn't green. I was dressed in some sort of white leather-like suit with a simple breathing apparatus attached to my face. As far as I could tell, I was human (or at least very human-like). I didn't actually see my face at any point, but I had two arms, two legs, and five fingers on each hand. I got nothing more from the regression than that, but it kind of shook me nonetheless.
I interpret this picture as the crew of just such a mission aboard their main starship.
And If You Had a Bad Week, Just Let Me Touch Your Cheek
Inside a Globular Cluster
Since I was a nerdy 12-year old just venturing into amateur astronomy (and having just read Isaac Asimov's Nightfall—great short story, horrible movie) I've wondered what the night sky of a planet inside a globular cluster would look like. Glad to have found this picture, as it seems I wasn't the only one who'd been wondering.
Triptych
Stranger? Things
I don't see anything strange going on here…
Trip To The Mesa Arts Center
Because we needed to get out for a bit…
Not The Ancient Egyptian Gods
But very well could be. From Magic: The Gathering (Amonkhet Expansion)
Just Because
Music of My Muses
Since we're on the subject of Philip Glass…
Many years ago I put this CD on one afternoon and as this particular track from the disc was reaching its crescendo, I was moved to begin a painting. I was lucky in that I had a blank canvas available and almost before I knew what was happening I was on my feet and sketching. After a years-long absence, the Muses had returned—in force—and they weren't taking no for a response.
This is the result:
"I May Not Know Art…"
But I know what I like!
Body of Work
I used to paint. A lot.
My earliest recollection of putting a brush to canvas was in high school, although it wasn't until years later that I began to do it with any sort of seriousness. Like with so many other things in my life, the arrival of Star Wars is what lit the flame. A lot of my sci-fi work also served as illustration/inspiration for that never-completed always-in-progress novel I started in my 20s.
After my move to San Francisco in the mid 80s, I was surrounded by all sorts of new…ahem… "inspiration" that prompted not only new subject matter but a completely new style altogether.
My last work was the portrait of Ben from ten years ago.
For some reason the Muses have sequestered themselves out of sight after that was completed, but as I've written before I'm not too worried about their absence as I've had long dry spells before, only to have them broken with a tsunami of new work. Maybe this coming year will bring that tsunami, because I'm tired of friends saying, "You're so good! Why aren't you painting?" and I have to explain that it's not just a matter of sitting down and having inspiration magically appear.
So here, with apologies for the low quality of some of the photos (and to be honest, some of the actual paintings themselves) for the first time ever, my (nearly entire) body of work. You'll notice some common themes repeating…
There are maybe a half dozen others done over the years that I never got photographs of because they were early works and given away.
I Used to Sketch
While searching for the photo of my painting Not Even Death Shall Part Us for the previous post, I ran across a bunch of other stuff.
Okay, I know they're not fine art, but at the time (I was 20 or so) I was very happy with how they turned out; now doubly-so because I know I didn't lay anything out first. I just grabbed a pen and started drawing.
Artistic ability may indeed be a gift, but I know this much: if you don't use it, it deteriorates over time. Take this from a guy who really hasn't produced any art in over ten years and is now almost terrified at the thought of drawing anything.
Just Because (NSFW)
