A Hero of Our Time

Just recently read the book "A Hero of Our Time" by Mikhail Lermontov. It was a great book, here's an excerpt from the end of the book that I found interesting.

“Observe my dear doctor,” said I, “that without fools, the world would be a very dull place… consider: here we are, two intelligent people; we know beforehand that one can argue endlessly, about anything, and therefore we do not argue; we know almost all the secret thoughts of each other; one word is a whole story for us; we see the kernel of our every emotion through a triple shell. Sad things seem to us funny, funny things seem to us melancholy, and generally we are, to tell the truth, rather indifferent to everything except our own selves. Thus, between us there can be no exchange of feelings and thoughts: we know everything about each other that we wish to know, and we do not wish to know anything more. There remains only one solution: telling the news. So tell me some piece of news.”

N'es pas?

the smiling mortician.

"The world is a beautiful place
To be born into
If you don’t mind happiness
Not always being
So very much fun
If you don’t mind a touch of hell
Now and then
Just when everything is fine
Because even in heaven
They don’t sing
All the time.

The world is a beautiful place
To be born into
If you don’t mind some people dying
All the time
Or maybe only starving
Some of the time
Which isn’t half so bad
If it isn’t you.

Oh the world is a beautiful place
To be born into
If you don’t much mind
A few dead minds
In the higher places
Or a bomb or two
Now and then
In your upturned faces
Or such other improprieties
As our name brand society
Is prey to
With its men if distinction
And its men of extinction
And its priests and other patrolmen
And its various segregations
And congressional investigations
And other constipations
That our fool flesh
Is heir to.

Yes the world is the best place of all
For a lot of such things as
Making the fun scene
And making the love scene
And making the sad scene
And singing low songs and having inspirations
And walking around
Looking at everything
And smelling flowers
And goosing statues
And even thinking
And kissing people and
Making babies and wearing pants
And waving hats and
Dancing
And going swimming in rivers
On picnics
In the middle of the summer
And just generally
‘living it up’

Yes
But then right in the middle of it
Comes the smiling
Mortician."

-Poem 11. From 'Pictures of The Gone World.'
How I love Lawrence Ferlinghetti...

b l o o d l i n e

I have a deep appreciation for old photographs. These are some photos of my Grandma and Grandpa Jac on their wedding night, and the one of the children is my Grandpa and his siblings - my great aunts. Mmm Ancestry!

Home - Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

Mmhm - This is good stuff. Take a listen.

they.

Watercolor&ink on watercolor paper. 3x5inches

Dreams - for Mike.

My friend, Michael Boerboom, and I decided over break that we were going to swap artwork. Mike is an extraordinary artist who specializes in ceramics, photography and mixed media. I’ve never really made a piece specifically for someone before, so this was my first shot. Mike told me that he wanted a painting that included a full nights worth of dreams. So, I decided to draw upon my own dreams for this. The man having the dreams is the dream keeper. The four boxes each represent a separate dream I’ve had. Low left box - I had a dream that I was a small ant trying to make it cross country, but the humans all around me were so big I was afraid of getting squashed. Upper left box – I had a dream that I had a light inside my throat. The whole world was dark, but when I opened my mouth, light would pour out and illuminate everything. Upper right box – I had a dream that I was floating naked on a lily pad down a river. Low right box – I had a dream that I was down south, stuck in a sand storm and when I opened my mouth to yell my tongue got stuck in the wind. These women dressed in 1800’s clothing grabbed onto my tongue for traction. My trade is nothing compared to what Michael gave me, but here’s his link - http://www.facebook.com/pages/Michael-Boerboom-Visual-Arts/172084332816577 check him out. Mike – this one’s for you my friend. Acrylic and mixed media on canvas.

they.

Here's some more of my 'they' paintings. Watercolor and ink.

Realms

This is the painting that I've been working on for months, that I've been promising to post. It has been a long time coming with this one - I got the idea months ago and I've put hours into it since I started. This is a painting of a woman floating in a sea of letters. The words that are lining the rays of sunshine are hard to read from the pictures I took, but they say:
"If you find me in the sky
I shall be like a bird.
If you find me in the sea
I shall be like a fish.
If you find you cannot discover me
It is because I am permeable to the realms."
It's something I've written myself. I originally was going to put lyrics up, but I figured it was about time I wrote something of my own. Another detail hard to detect from the picture I took (apologies for the poor camera work) is that the book the woman is holding says 'they.'
Acrylic and mixed media on canvas. Don't know the dimensions. Big.

they.

So I got this super cool stamp from an antique store this summer up in northern Wisconsin. It says 'they.' I've been using the stamp to create different sketches of people incorporating the word 'they.' It's been fun, this is one of the watercolor and ink sketches I did. Something freeing and completely un-serious.

awake my soul

One of my greatest joys in life is discovering new music. I'm not kidding. I was driving home from class the other day, in a bad mood, and on the radio I heard this song. The lyrics were incredible, the voices incredible, and I found my mood brighten immediately. Song is called - awake my soul, by mumford and sons. I wanted to find a video of the song and post it, but alas there is no music video - only homemade slideshows to go along with music which clearly wouldn't do it justice. So instead i'll just post the lyrics. This is the stuff of the heart - listen to it.

"Awake my Soul" - Mumford and sons:

How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes
I struggle to find any truth in your lies
And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know
This weakness I feel I must finally show

Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all
But lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall
Lend me your eyes I can change what you see
But your soul you must keep, totally free
Har har, har har, har har, har har

In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love, you invest your life
In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love, you invest your life

Awake my soul, awake my soul
Awake my soul
You were made to meet your maker
Awake my soul, awake my soul
Awake my soul
You were made to meet your maker
You were made to meet your maker

(ps. apologize for StIlL not posting any of my artwork, it's been a crazy busy semester, but I've got two paintings i'm currently working on. I'll get them up soon. Hopefully.)

Gang Aft Agley

The poem "To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough" By Robert Burns, has been circling in my mind for days now. I remember going over this poem in High School when we read the book "Of Mice and Men" by John Steinbeck, but it never seemed so relevant to my life as it does now. I'm posting the translated version of the poem, because the original is in old English, that is hard to depict what is going on. But there's a phrase in the poem - "Gang aft agley" that through translation means the best laid plans, often go awry. I think that is brilliant. The poem itself is brilliant, but it's this phrase that to me, has the most meaning. So here's the poem. Also, I realize that the whole month of October has nothing of my own posted. I have been working on a few things, I just need to photograph them and get 'em up. Stay posted.

Small, crafty, cowering, timorous little beast,
O, what a panic is in your little breast!
You need not start away so hasty
With noisy scamper!
I would be loath to run and chase you,
With murdering plough-staff.

I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth born companion
And fellow mortal!

I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;
What then? Poor little beast, you must live!
An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves
Is a small request;
I will get a blessing with what is left,
And never miss it.

Your small house, too, in ruin!
Its feeble walls the winds are scattering!
And nothing now, to build a new one,
Of coarse grass green!
And bleak December's winds coming,
Both bitter and keen!

You saw the fields laid bare and wasted,
And weary winter coming fast,
And cozy here, beneath the blast,
You thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel plough passed
Out through your cell.

That small bit heap of leaves and stubble,
Has cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,
Without house or holding,
To endure the winter's sleety dribble,
And hoar-frost cold.

But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

Still you are blest, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!

egon, my hero

I have come to the conclusion that Egon Schiele is one of my favorite artists. Next to Basquiat, i've got to say Schiele makes top 5 fav's for sure. In fact, i'm currently working on a painting that was slightly inspired by this picture. Check him out if you've never heard of him before. His stuff will change your life.

slice of life

So. I’ve been really into poetry lately, and I’ve just recently discovered this phenomenal poet named Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Take a bite of this slice of life…

Poem #8 from “A Coney Island of the Mind.”

In Golden Gate Park that day
A man ahd his wife were coming along
Thru the enormous meadow
Which was the meadow of the world
He was wearing green suspenders
And carrying an old beat-up flute
In one hand
While his wife had a bunch of grapes
Which she kept handing out
Individually
To various squirrels
As if each
Were a little joke.
And then the two of them came on
Thru the enormous meadow
Which was the meadow of the world
And then
At a very still spot where the trees dreamed
And seemed to have been waiting thru all time
For them
They sat down together on the grass
Without looking at eachother
Ate and oranges
Without looking at each other
And put the peels
In a basket which they seemed
To have brought for that purpose
Without looking at each other
And then
He took his shirt and undershirt off
But kept his hat on
Sideways
And without saying anything
Fell asleep under it
And his wife just sat there looking
At the birds which flew about
Calling to eachother
In the stilly air
As if they were questioning existence
Or trying to recall something forgotten
But then finally
She too lay down flat
And just lay there looking up
At nothing
Yet fingering the old flute which nobody played
And finally looking over
At him
Without any particular expression
Except a certain awful look
Of terrible depression.

And another one. Ironically also titled #8 taken from “Pictures of the Gone World”

It was a face which darkness could kill
In an instant
A face as easily hurt
By laughter or light
“We think differently at night”
She told me once
Lying back languidly
And she would quote Cocteau
“I feel there is an angel in me” she’d say
“Whom I’m constantly shocking”
Then she would smile and look away
Light a cigarette for me
Sigh and rise
And stretch
Her sweet anatomy
Let fall a stocking.

One last one. Poem #1, also from “Pictures of the Gone World.”

Away above a harborful
Of caulkless houses
Among the charley noble chimneypots
Of a rooftop rigged with clotheslines
A woman pastes up sails
Upon the wind
Hanging out her morning sheets
With wooden pins
O lovely mammal
Her nearly naked teats
Throw taut shadows
When she stretches up
To hang at last the last of her
So white washed sins
But it is wetly amorous
And winds itself about her
Clinging to her skin
So caught with arms upraised
She tosses back her head
In voiceless laughter
And in choiceless gesture then
Shakes out gold hair
While in the reachless seascape spaces
Between the blown white shrouds
Stand out the bright steamers
To kingdom come.

Anyway, those have been a few of my favorite. Check him out if you like what you see. Goodness he’s great.

untitled-mirror self

Charcoal on newsprint. 18"x24"

fool

This was my summer project. I have hated this painting at times, and I have loved it at times. It has layers and layers of paint due to my indecisiveness. I started it in May and I finished it a few weeks ago. This is a painting of an acrobat who is trying so hard to get everyones attention, but instead just looks like a fool. Oil on canvas. 3x4ft.

hat rack

I'm not much of a sculptor, but I took an art 3D class in high school and loved it. I decided to make a hat rack out of old silverware. I got the idea from something I saw on line where this woman made really awesome things out of vintage silverware. I melted the metal with a torch and shaped them with tongs.

an assortment of diana

Another successful role of film from my Diana Mini. This roll is all over the board, some from my family vacation, some from lounging at Spencer Lake, and some in my own back yard. Enjoy.

R E P E N T

This is a piece I did early this summer. Inspiration came from a bible passage. It says that if a shepherd looses one sheep in its heard, he will go out and find it. So this is a painting of a wandering black sheep. The words in the sky say 'repent.' This is bad photo quality, but it's the best I could do for now. It's acrylic and mixed media on canvas roughly 3x4ft.

frivolous!

A little over a week ago I took a camping trip with some of my best girlfriends at Governor Dodge State Park, and the week following that, a vacation with my family in Seynor Wisconsin. Needless to say, it was the highlight of my summer. Of course my Diana Mini came with me, and here are some pictures from my frivolous trips. Also, I was certainly pleased, this was the best roll of film I've developed yet! Enjoy.