Diego Daily Diary

2012-01-26T22:15:00.001-08:00

Pretty Lights - We Must Go On (official music video) from Pretty Lights Music on Vimeo.

2012-01-21T19:30:00.000-08:00

Hey before January is over I'd like to wish everybody an excellent 2012. May it be all that it's cracked up to be. Stay alert!

2012-01-21T18:45:00.000-08:00

Here's a little shrine I made a few years back for my friend. I tied copies of every friend I met at his house, put them in zip locks and tied them to this tree in his garden - all waving goodbye in the wind.

2012-01-21T13:17:00.000-08:00

This is my design for a garden terrace in Hillcrest. I pretty much have sold her on the window frame elements: the arch is a long shot - and the tiger.

Imagine tea here with your friends. A taste of Versailles with cakes and music.

Very little gets done these days as no one wants to spend money - especially on the arts.

My friend just sold a $4000 painting for $600. I worry about her throwing herself off a bridge. A beautiful bridge would be in Balboa Park but who wants to die in lanes of traffic.

I know an artist from the dog park who drove his dogs to Tuscon and then did himself in with a gun.

I'm too excited to see the outcome of all the 2012 hoopla. It's hard to make plans beyond that.

2012-01-21T13:15:00.000-08:00

The Whale Story from Tess Martin on Vimeo.

2012-01-05T22:14:00.001-08:00

Jeff Harris: 4,748 Self-Portraits and Counting from We Know Music on Vimeo.

2012-01-05T22:01:00.001-08:00

Time is Nothing // Around The World Time Lapse from Kien Lam on Vimeo.

2012-01-05T16:51:00.000-08:00

Earth | Time Lapse View from Space, Fly Over | NASA, ISS from Michael König on Vimeo.

2011-11-18T09:46:00.000-08:00

2011-11-18T09:43:00.000-08:00

2011-11-18T09:06:00.001-08:00

http://vimeo.com/7982814

2011-06-11T18:31:00.000-07:00

2011-03-15T22:28:00.000-07:00

Throw Down Your Heart

2011-02-26T22:26:00.000-08:00

My friend Paul giving it his all.

2011-02-18T10:45:00.001-08:00

Weaver Street Toys

2011-02-18T10:40:00.000-08:00

2010-11-24T09:40:00.000-08:00

RED SAILS INN on Shelter Island

Just completed yesterday with shots of Sambucco chilled at the bar after loading the equipment. Great food and patio dining and huge credit to share with my friends who have been looking out for me over the years.

A chance encounter with Dennis Conner and we will be working together next week on a project at his new gallery at the end of the point. I said we should do a commemorative mural of The Americas Cup. He said nobody is interested anymore. His assistant was polishing up his trophy and I thought I'd really like to find a wall five stories high at least and paint that thing. Anybody that knows me from school days knows I can do killer chrome. Is it illegal to post a wanted ad soliciting donations for such a project? I asked the folks at the Port District if I could hit them up for funding for my brilliant ideas and they said NO. It's got to be their idea, their organized competition, their jury who trashes 99% of the submittals. No ART beggars nocking at their illustrious doors. Think of how beautiful this City could be if I could have my way with it.

2010-11-08T09:30:00.001-08:00

2010-10-15T11:50:00.001-07:00

It was rather like a forced-on numbness of spirit. The long, long stress of a gale does it; the suspense of the interminably culminating catastrophe; and there is a bodily fatigue in the mere holding on to existence within the excessive tumult, a searching and insidious fatigue that penetrates deep into a man's heart, which is incorrigible, and of all the gifts of the earth - even before life itself - aspires to peace. J. Conrad TYPHOON

We survived together the great hurricane Dennis of 1986 - four days off the coast of Nicaragua.

We should have heeded the warning - the mass parade of dolphin headed south. Thousands of them leaping and spinning giving a wide berth to what was coming. The next evening that first big swell. Many of us huddled together watching a matinee couldn't help but jump from our seats - the cadence of our rhythm broken. We surfed that one massive rouge wave gentle in its passing but the effect on our nerves was dazzling. Something was amiss.
We were two days out of Alcapulco and headed for New York to be part of the Liberty Celebration. That harbor to be full up with mega yachts and high dollar attendees for what was to be the biggest fireworks displays outside of China. The owner a restauranteur bought Wildcatter (once owned by Al Capone and used in the Great Lakes as a rum runner during the Prohibition) which lay derelict in San Diego harbor, hired Nick to oversee its retrofit, most of which was done in Ensenada Mexico. Things there happen manana style and our departure was late into the hurricane season.
Riding out a storm at sea is a surreal experience. We were on a constant rollercoaster thirty-five foot from crest to bottom where what they call 'Hotels' broke over the bow. The hours pass slowly and the wind howed. Nick stood sentry in the wheel house. His hand on the telegraphs as he felt the minute he walked away we took a bad roll. It was his will that kept us pointed to the best advantage to survive each wave.
It was impossible to sleep, nowhere to lie safe. Some of us lay spread out on the floor together, arms and legs splayed to keep from rolling. No one ate as cupboards were drums of dishes broken and churning. Refrigerator a dangerous missile thrower of jagged mayonnaise. Cheerios and flat tins of Coca Cola would spew back up and fly across the deck to mingle with the flotsom and jetsum in the surf.
The nights dimmed the view but the sounds of its fury never left you. Ones soul is jarred loose and drifts out beyond the railings and I could see our battered hull from ever vantage point. From far below I could visualize clearly the dark mass with a white of thrashed propeller tail. From the side a profile of regal beauty descending over a crest like a train into a canyon. From the air I saw the whole plane of frothing green. A sea struggling to find its center. Chaos of regulated pits and crowns. Our tiny vessel plugging along and forced into it by our Captain. The night he cleared the bilges I bathed his blackened body, wiped his eyes of grease, sent him back to his duty. Crew surfed plywood across table saws to fasten up windows. Human barriers broke down and kindness and concern filled us up.
At long last Corinto and a feast that I knew had been played out in history as long as men have been traveling at sea. A survivors bounty and cheerful celebration. Slowly the spaces between us filling once again. Phobias towards lesser things washed away. One walks away a changed person. A kinship towards your mates, a stronger back.
We never made it to New York. All Nicks crew threw their belongings onto the dock when he was relieved of his duty. That brought him to tears.
In those hours a decision to be made. From whence to travel. A return to San Diego and a career as a painter. A sensible choice.

Maid of Nazareth - An invitation to tour the coast of Scotland.
It will never happen but I know in his heart the offer of a precious gift.

Big Rock Candy Mountains

2010-10-03T09:46:00.001-07:00

2010-09-29T12:58:00.000-07:00

Recognition of the cosmic order of things. Graceful, complex, dynamic, unfolding of time. Beautiful in it's orchestration. Emotions, needs, wants, desires confounded with this earthly realm. Waves of conflict, trauma, bliss and art - beauty, death, hunger, satiation. Comings and goings of people, seasons and tides.

Chaos and grace, fear and laughter, decay and bloom, win, loose, feast and famine,

Raise a glass ! !

2010-09-25T16:01:00.000-07:00

Nick is ready to cast off.

On the journey of a life time.

2010-09-09T22:42:00.000-07:00

2010-09-06T08:29:00.001-07:00

2010-08-26T09:03:00.001-07:00

2010-08-24T08:01:00.000-07:00

Skirting through summer without making much art. Waiting for the right conditions - erroneous!! Perhaps come fall and darker days I will long to turn on the big lights, crank up the tunes and stir up an aroma of turps.

Without a venue or a market in which to entice the public, to engage in viewing, purchasing - it's sometimes a tiring affair. For what do I strive to create beauty, challenge my creative skills, prove to myself and to the world that ah - this is my calling, my purpose. Some people might just be sick to death with such demonstrations of. Enough already Linda - go get a real job - who do you think you are.

2010-08-09T08:50:00.000-07:00

The world is aching for art and stories that remind us of our great capacity to love and feel. This is a great time to celebrate your imagination, and claim its power to shape your life.

Gave a tour yesterday of the mosaics I did at PP's house. People get their feelings activated here - marvel, wonder, giddiness. It is impossible to not feel good around such grand expressions of pattern and color. Went to the Hillcrest City Fest, ate street tacos, rode a Whirlygig, watched the costumed people parade around and Chocolat for desert. Late into the night - Mad Men with Peeps and Marcel in from NYC.

Today I will exercise my imagination and embellish the renderings for Aero Auto to it's max glorious stunningness cause I know the stars are with me.

2010-08-08T09:32:00.000-07:00

Two of the seasons best sculptures. Love Love Love Summer! ! !

2010-08-08T09:29:00.000-07:00

This be the second.

2010-08-08T08:43:00.000-07:00

Great Art = Genius

Good Art = Near Genius or Near Beer Talent is not a dependable tool for advancing. Perseverance beats talent over the long haul. Flawless creatures would not need to make art: Batman throwing pots, the Madonna painting plein air.

Art has to do with overcoming things. Making art provides uncomfortably accurate feedback about the gap that exists between what you intended and what you did. Even failed pieces are essential. Art transcends what you do and represents what you are.

Troubles - routinely fatal to art making - confront your troubles. Learn how not to quit. 90% of art majors quit after 5 years. Fear of what you might be: a hack, a fake, a copiest! Art is a high calling. Historically there were robust institutions - church, clan, ritual. Artists doubted their calling less when working in the service of God. Today - no one feels shored up. Artists work in the face of uncertainty - no audience nor reward. Nourishment comes from the work itself. From Art & Fear - read it.

Basically - we think of a million and one things we need to get done before we allow ourselves the time and space to do the thing we love the most. When we're old and grey what are the things that we will be most proud of. A clean sink, organized drawers or a stack of drawings. Get Going!

Here's to all you folks who are about to launch on their journeys to Burning Man. Come hell or high water I'm going next year.

2010-08-07T10:02:00.000-07:00

I had a dream once that I was vacationing on a space hotel. I was floating outside painting daisys on the side of the capsule all the while my relief rocket inched its way towards me. I could see the curve of the earth and the brilliant blues of the seas. Clouds swirling around and the glow of many sunsets. Obviously at 455 degrees below zero painting is a dreamers fantasy. Perhaps in a future life there will be some new fangled way to throw heat onto the subject.

Mars would be fairly tolerable especially if you were raised in Siberia and were use to such extremes. Forget staying on the moon - colder than dry ice. Pretty difficult to enjoy a cocktail at the end of the day.

I believe earthlings are a barbaric bunch. We war and kill, abuse our children, cage our animals, incarcerate way beyond reason, eat crap, throw away our lives in front of TV, hoard too much stuff, think way too much of ourselves, hold grudges, lie, cheat, neglect our elders and lack the ability to keep our big blue home ship shape. We are coming into a pressure cooker of time in which much is at stake. Relationships are pushed to a wall, the environment is slimy and clogged, the atmosphere choked with dust and radio waves. Earth deserves a good shake and purge.

The aliens are maybe waiting around to inhabit the earth after such a cleansing. We'll probably be too lazy to figure out how to claim our birthright to earth. Many will just surrender and get on board some massive people transport devise believing it will take them to a new planet - one that has been nicely preserved only to find they're going to purgatory where it will become the law that ones days will be spent scrubbing and cleaning, offering apologies, atoning for transgressions.

2010-08-04T08:25:00.000-07:00

This is a painting I did for a Rancho Santa Fe client with a massive Renaissance style home. It is eight foot square and hangs in the entry hall which is bigger than most peoples living rooms. It is called The Allegory of Love and loaded with symbolism. The naked foot, wreath, branch, dog, giant orb, horn - like poetry the artist orchestrates the visual plane. We may not know the specifics of what it all means but definitely it is a crowning moment and testament to something sacred.

As is typical with RSF residents - a huge dangling carrot was hung. Deals and bargains arranged as there was volumes of space to be filled. Even after this demonstration of skill this gentlemen started begrudging that a lowly artist should be making so much money off of him. He should have other artists - not just Linda Churchill's all over the place. To find something like this in a gallery he would be paying twenty times the amount of money. And I made it to fit his very specific proportions. I created massive still lives born of the Renaissance that spanned his ornate carved fireplaces. Huge Italian landscapes that filled the vaulted space of his living rooms. A gorgeous faux carved stone wine vault. It all looked so fabulous but this man was not happy. He acted as though I had conned him. I suggested ornamenting his kitchen ceiling which was vast and seen clearly from the sunken living room. That's when he put his foot down - enough! This is a man who owns a pharmaceutical company - profiting vastly from the legal trade of drugs - he really didn't like me very much in the end. He was a very important man in his own estimation. I did my best to make his surroundings appear far more rich than his neighbors. The dangling carrot - always elusive - the finale of the master bedroom suite never to be realized. And of coarse never a referral or reception to introduce me to his realm of other wealthy people.

I suppose I could advertise my talents in that district as there are so many of these kinds of properties there. But I am way to sensitive to subtle aggressions. I am pretty certain that had Nick been around smoking cigarettes in the back ground, assisting with the installations this guy would have loved to throw his money our way. In business it's a mans world. I just keep doing the best I can.

2010-08-04T08:18:00.000-07:00

This is one of my favorite little paintings. I am aboard a ferry in the late afternoon after a weekend on the Isle of Wight - south coast of England. The water shone like mercury and I was deep in the blissful days of Nick. In all the shuffle of surrendering my possessions I know not where she is. Sail Away!

2010-08-04T08:17:00.001-07:00

Abraham: RAMPAGE OF INVINCIBILITY - Esther & Jerry Hicks

www.youtube.com

2010-07-25T22:31:00.000-07:00

Keeping my eye on the seasons circles.

2010-07-25T22:20:00.000-07:00

Sculpture building with spare time and farm parts. David Baze liked to quote me - 'Hey, let's go build something'.

2010-07-25T22:05:00.000-07:00

This will be the summer I get back into body surfing, reading under beach umbrellas and drawing clusters of people lathered up in oil.

What I did on my summer holiday.

2010-07-25T21:41:00.001-07:00

I traveled 3400 miles and fantasized about painting all the lovely vistas. I settled for photography and sometimes right out the window. From dry waves of grain to the tallest trees of the Redwoods, arched bridges over rivers, pebbles in a stream. My heart leapt at so many visual pleasures. I dreamt of being Maynards wife, a partner who relishes the details of a landscape, enough to work it out in paint till it's magnificence is caught. Second to painting is swimming in it. A book I read years ago - a couple who toured Europe collecting swimming holes, naked of coarse. So much to take in and so little time.

2010-05-22T11:18:00.000-07:00

Icelandic volcano effects. Found on art blog while still in bed on a Saturday after two martinis. Felt an earthquake about 30 minutes ago. Found epicenter on line to be Calexico. Took a quick look at psychic predictions - May is loaded - and June. Which all led to Bermuda Triangle phenomena, Australian doodlers, crop circles most recent. All good stuff for avoidance of what I should be doing - painting a utility box out on Shelter Island or just painting in general. Have not set up my palette in my new digs just yet. Had a vision of working outside in the orchard ala Van Gogh style. Really go with the whole insanity profile. Told my dinner date last night that I wasn't really suicidal - just at a place where nothing much matters. Holding out for unique experiences and surprises. Small pleasures mean a lot. It's a wonderful world, mysterious in its delivery. Watching from the sidelines for awhile.

2010-05-12T14:20:00.000-07:00

One of about thirty paintings I did for the plein air exhibit at Marston House. It's the abandoned Ruben E. Lee which I considered part of SD historical architecture (the theme of the show). Sold one - didn't see very many people walking around with frames under their arms. Art as entertainment is killing us.

2010-05-12T13:47:00.000-07:00

Swept away in this raging river and intend to ride it out as trying to hold on only causes gulping of lots of stuff coming at me. Trying to enjoy the scenery, keeping my head above water and not letting panic be the overriding emotion.

I have a couple of irons in my fire that if burned out will set me into launch mode. National Parks here I come. An endless road trip painting as I go till a safe haven makes itself known.

Wailing Hearts

2010-05-12T13:41:00.000-07:00

2010-01-18T09:10:00.000-08:00

Dancing at the Elks Lodge with some North Countians - music was danged good and the hacienda facade made for fiesta frolicing.

2010-01-18T09:08:00.000-08:00

Evening Tides of Santa Monica

2010-01-18T09:06:00.000-08:00

Marble Palace for Perfect Placements

2010-01-18T09:03:00.000-08:00

Tiny Crystal Figurine on Luminous Stage - Lovely

2010-01-18T09:01:00.000-08:00

Leafy Gold Crowns - always a favorite.

2010-01-18T08:58:00.000-08:00

Getty gaga with Natasia and WINE.

2009-12-29T09:58:00.000-08:00

What's a Xmas holiday without a bit of shopping in a gold mining town with a lunch box full of turkey sandwiches and homemade chocolate chip cookies, Sees, and oh yeah - apples. Don't remember if we ate the apples. Old Highway 49 that skirts the lower Sierras is so vintage Victorian, cowgirlish western, road trip dripping, Disneyland facade of false authenticity. I bet anyone who steps into a creek to shovel some stones around would have the butt of a shotgun behind the ear in no time. The hills are heavily populated given the traffic on a Sunday afternoon. No doubt the ground is still giving it up although no one talks too much about that. I would love to read about the history of gold - just how much has come from where and who has it now or where did it sink waiting to be discovered again. There are two miners in my family. I have some small treasures from their exploits - locked in safe deposit box of coarse just in case anyone tries to scope me out . . . .

Well - must get up and make my way up a local mountain and work off my holiday pounds. Have a splendid New Year Celebration everyone. And many good days after that as well.

2009-12-19T22:32:00.000-08:00

My kind of club.

Red for the Holiday Theme.

2009-12-13T09:44:00.000-08:00

My Current Palette

on a rainy Sunday.

Magnetic Movie made by NASA Lab

2009-12-11T08:36:00.000-08:00

2009-12-08T18:22:00.000-08:00

This is a project I did for the Irvine Company which sits in a narrow court yard of a residential complex. It is 6 feet tall and the big sky helped to open up the space. The flipped image is one of my favorite Photoshop tricks. Thus blends the perfect marriage of murals and fine art - painted on Alumilite and with Nova Color pigments it will last decades.

2009-11-30T19:40:00.000-08:00

2009-11-30T15:28:00.000-08:00

Cirques in Town

2009-11-30T15:27:00.000-08:00

PCH

2009-11-30T15:25:00.000-08:00

View from Topanga

2009-11-30T15:17:00.000-08:00

Masami Teroaka at Bergamont, Mor York Gallery on York in Glendale and Thiebaud at Pasadena Contemporary Museum .

Art Attack with Sandra

2009-11-26T12:18:00.000-08:00

I think we need to bring back Sunday dancing in the Park with bands and banners and twinkle lights. Balboa has plenty of outdoor venues that would suit such an occasion and I'm sure there are plenty of musicians that would love such an opportunity. I for one would be there.

Happy Thanksgiving Everybody

2009-11-20T16:34:00.000-08:00

ODE to Jean Claude -

she died last Wednesday. Not Nice!

Here I am with my two good buddies in NYC. We walked the Park at midnight while it was snowing. Sort of got lost as we realized there were no more street lamps nor Gates and it was very dark and rocky. We were doing exactly what our parents told us never to do. All traffic was stopped for the event with only horse and buggies allowed. I knew JC and Christo were out that night seeing their brilliance in that new light and ambiance. I received an email later confirming that indeed they were taking it in and appreciated the praises. The cabies said that the whole city was abuzz with art talk - not such fervor since 9/11 - thus shows you the power of art.

I visited the Umbrella Project years before and never drive that pass without re-seeing it in my minds eye.

My father was considering driving us all up to Marin for the Running Fence - oh how I wish we had done that.

2009-11-20T09:43:00.000-08:00

In the Torrey Pines

2009-11-11T22:30:00.000-08:00

Botero is at the Bower Museum where I enjoyed a lovely lunch with Kate and Mac. Mac and I have big tree passions in common. And books - we both love books. They don't own a TV. I never watch mine. They don't indulge in wine for lunch while working. I do. They have seen a whole lot of the world. I want to. We got a lot of things sorted out. I just love Kate and Mac. So nice to meet happy couples.

2009-11-11T22:05:00.000-08:00

Working the late night shifts with long lost Jan Ford. Everything is outlined with a 3/8ths brush and requires 3 coats. Each of the five stacked lobbys are visible to the world so we may get invited back to do them all. Maybe I'll just bring my laser pointer and a beach chair and conduct or spend the day by the pool or catch the hotel shuttle to Disneyland like most of the other guests. Negotiate a bonus incentive if she nocks it out in a week. Yeah - that's the ticket. Actually I wouldn't want to miss out on the testosterone contact high. Cowboys, Carpenters and Captains - my favorites!

It was a blessing the projector fell while I was maneuvering it around as I'm certain Jan would have crumbled under the stress of it. Luckily everything is available in the proximity of LA. Cha-ching! ! !

2009-11-08T19:53:00.000-08:00

Forgive me Father for I have worked on a Sunday.

A little trompe loeil Italian terrace scene near the Park. Oh they were so overjoyed and just in time for the holiday season guest parade.

2009-11-08T07:16:00.000-08:00

On Being Busy

When do you pause?

When do you paint or pant?

When write family, loll on moss,

hear Mozart

and watch the glitter of the sea.

Yahoo it's Sunday - if I could get away with it I would spend my day doing militant murals dowtown. A long dotted line painted on the side walks then climbing up walls and bursting into shattered colors organized into recognizable images, then continue on to something that looks relatively ugly only to paint it beautifully. No interruptions, no one telling me to stop that. An assistant would be nice who drives my car and keeps handy all the tools I would need. Various sized brushes, some rollers and trays perhaps, loads of dust cloths cuz everything down there is probably pretty dirty. Hate painting on dirty surfaces. Anyway I would tackle a few retaining walls, lots of suffering planter boxes, utility boxes, a parking lot, neglected store fronts. Patterns, scenes, shrubbery or simple gradations of color. It would be my contribution to the betterment of quality of life for those who work in that environment. Of coarse not many people would agree that what I was doing was acceptable. A committee would have to assess the value and process the concerns of the citizens and re-adjourn to discuss the latent affects or the encouraged responses of other artists and how it was all going to get managed and who will be hired to monitor further militant painters to constrain their actions to within defined parameters perhaps within the barrios only and steered clear of predetermined eloquent architecture.

In other words it's a one shot deal - get in - get out and do it stealthly as it's not likely the City has the funds to pay for such committees and monitors and those who would want to be apart of an approval of images process.

I was approached by a woman, while working on the Point, to paint utility boxes for a stipend of $200. The boxes she offered me I thought to be in inferior locations given the fact that I had just created a master work of art in the neighborhood. Then it occurred to me that this amount of money would not keep an artist afloat for a day. Her position is probably salaried and her job description is to find willing artists and put them through the approval precess as all images have to be processed. What if - in a perfect world - the Port had hired one talented artist to paint all the boxes - keep said person afloat for perhaps five years at a reasonable salary. Veto out the other person who is the facilitator and creator of nothing.

If they think they are doing a good thing by giving us such opportunities I challenge all to consider how far $200 gets you these days. Pay a water bill, fill a gas tank, buy lunch. Two days effort to do a good job, another day for drafting out sketches. That's 24 hours divided into $2oo equalling $8.33 an hour. I could probably survive if it was an everyday gig and I lived in an SRO. As for exposure - have you ever seen a motorist pull over and seek out a signature on a custom painted utility box?

What would Michelangelo do - get a real job? Become a tile setter, a waiter in a pub. Perhaps he gave sexual favors to wealthy patrons. Hey that's the magic word - PATRON. Anybody out there sitting on a wad of cash that wants to see immediate results and garner massive gratitude. Like HGTV we could find floundering small business and offer them a make over. Revitalize our inner city. Does not a fresh coat of paint invigorate your chi? Or lets just find big walls and turn them into fabulous vistas. Let's start a new Renaissance - mimic the Medicci's. Come on - let's make something cool happen.

2009-11-03T20:33:00.000-08:00

Valley of the two Suns.

2009-11-03T20:30:00.000-08:00

Flipped Bliss

2009-11-03T20:25:00.000-08:00

Taquito culprits!

And a great loss of guacamole.

2009-11-03T20:04:00.000-08:00

Making my way home from a nice afternoon on the roof deck of Tower 24 or 3. Kitty and Bill are in from Colorado and we are enjoying the surf together - doing pretty much fuck all - as Nick use to say. Kitty had her taquito snatched right out of her hand by a sea gull - that was something. And it had been years since I did the roller coaster. I walked this stretch of beach a little tipsy and singing ridiculous songs made up in my head as loud as I wanted as no one was around. I'm not a shower type singer - I don't know what made me do it.

2009-11-02T20:49:00.000-08:00

Shelter Island on a warm November day.

2009-11-02T20:43:00.000-08:00

Multiple Infinities

2009-11-02T20:41:00.000-08:00

Seascape

2009-11-02T20:37:00.000-08:00

View of the Hotel Del

2009-10-29T18:51:00.000-07:00

And now for my next project - an otter on a utility box. Such scale extremes in this business. Glad to remain in the marina vicinities, nosh on sea food and enjoy the winds whistling in the wires.

Facing the harsh realities of lifes uncertainties is always more pleasant in the company of dear friends.

Teetering on the brink of loosing my house of twenty two years I crave a steady coarse of familiar bonds. I'm sure I could have played many things differently in my life but all in all I've no regrets. Don't look now but here comes the seventh wave.

2009-10-29T08:53:00.000-07:00

The Howling Wind

2009-10-28T19:30:00.000-07:00

This portion of the mural is finished. The wind is howling today. Made for a nice walk along the seashore.

28' x 64'

2009-10-28T19:08:00.000-07:00

A day at the museum with Heidi and KK - featuring The Calder Jewelry. His wife has or had my same initials and there were several pieces I could legitimately wear.

Great quote from David Yurman - My wife is my muse. Since she is an artist, I look for unusual things, such as artifacts, rare art books or great paper for her to draw on. This year I designed a one-of-a-kind Madison watch with canary-yellow diamonds - her favorite - on a black satin strap (price on request).

2009-10-20T08:28:00.000-07:00

After work I take advantage of the location and hike the loop out Shelter Island. Always a spectacular sight to see the cruise ships slither past the Point. And then my mural with the lights shut off. It will be a sad day when the scaffolds come down and our physical contact is severed but also great happiness to have given her life.

2009-10-17T13:50:00.000-07:00

This is our spot on the Trinity. Every year the high waters rearranged

the sand bars and the configuration was entirely new. The diving rock on the right burned hot in the summer sun. Excellent for roasting your bones if you stayed in the cool water too long. You can barely see it but there are stones below the surface maybe 10 to 12 feet down. Diving for white rocks was a common game and running across the bottom with a big one in your arms another.

In the late afternoon the breeze whirled slow circles of leaves down the gorge. Pollywogs could be found in shallow pools and a fresh spring to drink from was nestled in the ferns. Gramps often left a watermelon there in case we couldn't last to supper. Of all the things we miss of childhood I am convinced it's unanimous we all miss the Trinity. Going back individually never quite feels the same as it's the voices of others that makes the place.

Never a broken bone or terrible fall or near drowning occurred. Danny sliced his leg once wipping his blade on his leg while cleaning fish. Standing in the shallows once I got caught in quick sand up to my knees but everyone said it was my imagination. Gramps handed me the end of his pole and said just lay into it. Pulled downstream and there was nothing to it.

And all the while I was having fun I was dreadfully homesick. I looked south over the mountain and grieved even when I was a young adult.

2009-10-17T13:29:00.000-07:00

Rebecca - the youngest and the only one to birth twins. The last one in our home town and I'm sure that does not sit right with her. She and mom were very close, seen often cuddling during movies. It's as if she finally let her guard down and said hell with it, I'm going to enjoy this one. By then everyone was on their way out putting their energies in other places besides rivalries.

All loving gestures were keenly observed and precious to me. Watching people kiss is an all time high. I've heard many people say they don't know it. Never saw their parents kiss or hug. Perhaps this could be another coarse for reentry to Earth - Affection 101 - the art of showing people how much you love them. I suppose it's a learned skill. All that cuddling made it an obvious thing to do with her grandson. Hours and hours of just being close.

2009-10-16T14:44:00.000-07:00

Another flip for your viewing pleasure.

I think the fascination is a right brain left brain synchronization. Feels Good!

2009-10-16T13:37:00.000-07:00

A favorite quote... "Send me some sample boards in a sort of latte color, but with a bit of ecru or one of each. Perhaps they should read toward putty, you know, like parchment, but not lineny. Do not make it too camel or vellum. Try one in ecru and sand. While your at it another in sisal or fawn. Make sure it doesn't go oatmeal, nougat or raw silk. I hate those colors. They are so eighties. Shell, suede or wheat is OK. Can I get them tomorrow?"

....... Anges Liptak, decorative painter

2009-10-16T13:00:00.000-07:00

To celebrate Halloween - introducing Me and My Seven Sisters of Which I Am the 7th. Special thanks to my friend Kitty of Colorado as she purchased the little characters on Tijuanas Revolucion Blvd on one of our many South of the Boarder Tours. She knows most of their names and stories by heart - without a chart. Of coarse I would be the one in the gold glitter gown cause I'm her favorite. Shadow box compliments of IKEA.

2009-10-15T13:32:00.001-07:00

2009-10-15T12:54:00.001-07:00

Sounds like fart soup.

2009-10-15T11:28:00.000-07:00

Back Out Research - is it copying or is it sharing?

I should get up and try moving around. I should make my own dang video.

I should make original art and sell it at interesting prices.

I should be more charming and popular. I should floss more often.

I should stop bleating about how weird life has become.

2009-10-15T11:25:00.000-07:00

It's hard to decide which I like best the image or the sound????

It's decided - the sound - must memorize this song.

It will greatly enhance the road trip of my life.

2009-10-15T10:57:00.001-07:00

Firekites - AUTUMN STORY - chalk animation from Lucinda Schreiber on Vimeo.

2009-10-15T10:26:00.000-07:00

I am getting all these videos from one blog called ThingsILikeToLookAt.

They're all worthy of sharing.

2009-10-15T10:20:00.001-07:00

2009-10-15T10:05:00.001-07:00

2009-10-09T10:35:00.000-07:00

For some reason I don't have my sister Geraldines graduation picture. I asked her for it and this is what she gets for not responding. It's yuky to be left out so I'm hoping she'll comply with my request. I don't have the official ones for Gail or Charles either.

My friend Dale says he keeps a notebook so that he can keep all their stories straight. It's hard enough just remembering their names. He'll use home towns as a reference. "Oh - she's the one from Mississippi." Helps put two and two together.

Just so you know - Mom and Dad are Gerald and Patricia, Gail Irene, Judith Lynn, Thora Catherine, Mary Ann, Geraldine Patricia or Geri Pat, Cynthia Jean, Daniel Gerald, Linda Joan, Charles Vernon and Rebecca Sue.

A short quiz later in this journal. Don't get me started on all the grandkids. Facebook has been a very helpful tool in getting them all on one page.

2009-10-09T08:25:00.000-07:00

This is my Grandpa Church - Commander of the Coast Guard Station at Humbolt and Master Gardener at Willow Creek. This guy had fruit trees that could make you weep. He took us kids in every summer. Worked us hard but then we played for hours on that gorgeous of rivers The Trinity. On occasion we'd get pulled out of bed in the dark of morning and off in the truck we would go up the logging roads that wove the Alps of Northern California. We had such great adventures and all the while he would be pointing off in the distance at some big bird on a limb or bear tracks or the tail end of a mountain lion as it scurried away. And within miles of our return to the house we all hollered Hey Gramps - Turn Your Hat Around which meant we want to go really fast. In the back of a truck 30 miles an hour seemed like an out of control slide.

They sold that ranch when they felt too old and needed access to better health care. My Grandfather sat in a hospital bed as a double amputee for eight years. He begged to be taken out of there. I'm convinced if he had known his route he would have preferred a massive coronary on B Deck with the melons and not be discovered for weeks. HealthCare ShmelthCare - this is a lesson to be learned for us all. Who wants to vegetate in an environment where you never get to see the stars or the seasons or hear birds or the distant swells of the sea. We ought not to fear death so much that we put ourselves in these kinds of states. You know how it feels after having a cold and you get yourself out of bed and start moving about newly invigorated. Well the opposite is the life draining experience of never getting out of that bed and then slithering into that satin lining of eternity. Resist at all costs. Go out with a bang - smiling!

Everything from his estate was divided between his two sons. Since my father died on Xmas day that puts my StepMother in charge and she says she wants to take a year to decide. We are all on pins and needles wondering. Three houses full of antiques, photos, guns, rings, trophies, cameras, journals, paintings, needle pointed stools, figurines, medals, bibles, tools, chaise lounges, a quiver and bow. She could haul it all off to Mexico if she so chooses. I told him to write a will. There may be one. It's not the getting of things that is important. I just know the contrast of feelings when something is given and when it is not. That feeling will stay in our guts for ever. A voice from beyond the grave 'Here baby, I wanted you to have this'. If silence is all that comes the effect will be brutal. Ten children left dumbstuck. Any semblance of cohesion in the bonds of heritage, heirs to our humble histories, chewed up and cast aside as unworthy children. It comes with the territory of growing up in such a large family. To be singled out as special was a constant issue. Heaven for bid you should have something more than the others. The daggers would fly. Jealous rivalries plait our very cores. If you got a pat on the head the others lined up 'pat me too'.

We discussed long ago his writings. I told him I would take them as far as they could go. "Who do you want to play you Dad - Michael Cain, Sean Connory, Jack Nickalson?" It would be amazing to hear it all from his perspective. What did he think of us, what did he crave or lose in life? I will not beg for these journals. The fire will go out in my desire to write this story.

I am at a stage in my life where I am letting go of things. It's not the things that I want from him. More than anything I want for the others a gesture. A gift from him that I know will be cherished way beyond it's intrinsic value. A pleasant closing of a chapter - I so long for it to end that way.

2009-10-09T08:10:00.000-07:00

This is my Grandfather Early - one of the kindest souls that ever walked the planet. When he was widowed Francis came along post hast. She was very keen on hoarding every conceivable asset for her own daughter. Thus the acres of redwood trees that surrounded my Great Grandmothers spread were timbered. A beautiful patch of land that was home to the Hendersons, Earlys, Bugbees, and Churchills is barren and one woman holds the wealth that was gleaned from it. It is so hideously wrong and could cause such incurable insanity if one thinks about it too much. I don't even know Francis daughters name - in case I wanted to seek her out and give her an Indian burn on her arm.

2009-10-09T08:04:00.000-07:00

This is my Aunt Irene. She shot through to the other side Monday night - 10.5.09. She and my Uncle Scunkle left the beautiful green of Eureka to come live in the valley to be near our family. That's proof of love man. One of my favorite books God Winks talks about synchronicity and how God is winking at us and the more you get it the more it happens. Lovely Aunt Irene winked at me all the time. She was just a happy hearted soul.

2009-10-09T07:56:00.000-07:00

This is my mothers high school picture. I just heard last night that she assisted my Aunt pass over. Irene kept saying 'Pat's here'. I asked my little sister Rebecca if she has had any encounters of a supernatural kind. She said no. We both agreed that we really thought we would have because she was into that kind of thing. No doubt she was a consummate prayer and she is out there rallying for us. She also played by the rules so perhaps it's frowned upon to poke the veil.

I MISS YOU MAMA!

2009-10-07T17:06:00.000-07:00

One of my own mosaic projects. San Diego Home & Garden did a 7 page spread and then didn't post my contact info. For an artist struggling in this economy that was like a bridge collapse. Just take me out and shoot me!

2009-10-07T14:41:00.000-07:00

2009-10-07T13:57:00.000-07:00

You see this image all over San Diego as the greatest tribute to the fishing industry. I for one am voting for the tuna. Apparently there are no more big fish in the sea - tuna, salmon, bass varieties. Meaning none of these animals grow to adulthood. The whole idea of catch and release is cruel. How many times does a fish have to fight for its life with a hook in its jaws so that mankind can get its rocks off. If it takes three guys to reel in a big one I call that cheating. I wish we could all just step off the planet for about 50 years and let things come back into balance. Then everybody takes a course in Earth 101 before being granted reentry. How to be a proper guest, how to not take more than you need, how to make it a mutually rewarding experience for all. Mostly how to create and have fun without stimulants, machines or domination over others.

2009-10-07T13:55:00.000-07:00

The Used Muse