quake

Now I am shaking like a leaf--and when I look in the mirror, a white, chalky face looks back at me. I am hoping short day as I am really quite done in/

Hopefully, more later.

back to our plateau


We had a nice easter dinner with the senior Cassettis and their interesting friends, Jim and Barbara. Even the youngers liked the conversation. Plus, Jim has a great deal of experience in asian culture and I am hoping that he can point up some cool stories (Hindu) that could be a platform for the Hartford children's book with Betsy and Ted Lewin.

R had surgery (outpatient) on his head this morning. Alex is shaking like a leaf with a fever (I just had to go be bossy with him in the bathroom--"do this, drink that, eat this, lie still, wear this" "are you feeling this way, are you feeling that way, are you cold, are you hot, are you going to throw up?" "Drink this. eat this". I am a real shrew. Spaghetti for everyone tonight. We all need to be comforted.

The new construction is progressing quickly (2 bathrooms, a closet and a laundry room carved out of a 1/2 of K's room (20' w x 10' space))--The pvc is in place, the framing in place, R is pencilling in closets and doorways to be cut out of the lathe and 150 year old plaster. Sad--but necessary to make this house functional (read, saleable). In the huge space, there is only one bathroom upstairs, and one down.. and given the entire space under the roof (including the apartment wings) is 8M sq ft. It looks like an error in the lack of amenities that most people expect in buildings of this scale. So the new bathrooms and the powder room we are putting under the stairs are significant changes that will be noted (somehow 2 new furnaces, storm windows and doors, cleaned chimneys (read 8), and a new roof isn't even noticed. That gets you to square one/ ground zero. These are the things of note. K is thrilled to have her own space for bathing...and it will take the load off the one bathroom we have that never seems to get dry. Ah luxury!

Must go to boil the water (and tear the sheets?)

Peace be unto you.


I am so dumb. Truly. Prior to going to Texas, I didn't give it a minute's thought about how the culture might be, what the customs and approaches were like and I was caught surprised. Truly surprised. From the crusaders flag, enormous (or perhaps just the description, Texas sized), red and white with a story tall letters spelling out JESUS to the shopping center sized churches to softball ads promoting community (seemed as it they were going to talk about special programming at the YMCA) with the close of the ad promoting thus and so Baptist Church--I wasn't in "Kansas" anymore (or maybe I was?). While I was getting my big gulp of caffeine, there was a table of ardent looking people settling in to have a nice big breakfast, when they joined hands, bowed their heads and had a chat with the Big Guy. They don't do that here. And, prior to the Rodeo, there was a schmaltzy "God Bless America" presentation with flags and galloping horses with everyone standing (as if it was the pledge of allegiance) in respect. Then, on to the rodeo prayer. Heads down--AMEN. whoa. Then there were the crosses. Crosses with Milagros (love that) but then on cowgirl hats, pocketbooks, big honking pendants around the necks, emblazoned in silver foil applications across tight tees, on spangly belts. Now, I cannot say if that is specifically religious as Madonna brought the cross back to being something cool and not overtly "my first communion"--but somehow with this set--fashion is pretty much middle of the road (not Madonna) so there might be some symbolism there. I was afraid someone would find out that I was not "golly,gee gosh" and that hell and damnation awaited my beyond the door. But you all know that. No news there.

I have asparagus, gloriously thin asparagus to steam and cheese to arrange as there are Easter festivities to join. The table is set with my giant folkloric bunnies (blue and white), my two steuben bunnies designed by R, and more jelly beans than you can count. The snow is receeding. The lake is rising. I feel hopeful that things might soon (at least in a month) begin to green up. How lovely would that be? Easter is a good day to think about renewal, change and the cycle of life and living. I have much to look forward with my work, my life with the nearest and dearest, and the hope that our 600 daffodils will crowd our tabletops and vases for a fragrant progression into Spring.

Happy day to you all.

Remington. Forget Russell





I know, I know...I should not be so judgemental. I know there is room in the world for everything but I pick Remington. For me, forget Russell. I love Remington for his use of color--the broad brush strokes that create these vibrant colors in the backgrounds like PINK or Orange to go with the figures that radiate blue. I love how graphic his lights and shadows are--no midtones in the rendering of fabric...just color broken into two fields using thick paint to build up a texture to take care of the lost midtones. I love the gesture of his paint--the expression of the subject--sometimes charging down the plain on unleashed horses--controlled bedlam. Sometimes a rider and horse at peace--waiting for the next chapter to begin. The figures feel natural within their frames--with the environmental stuff making up simple blocked out shapes on the canvas to create the atmospherics. There is a wonderful energy to the figures--where they breathe in their space. Russell's figures are not relaxed, but posed within the picture frame--iin a stiff and sometimes contrived way that seems uncomfortable and cold. His subjects do not invite you in--to live in their space but allow you to peer into the frame to see their world, but not to live it.Somehow, Remington can, by putting his viewer at ease, allow the viewer to go deeper, to feel more with the subject--slathered with his remarkable brushwork, energetic color and design. Some of the backgrounds are patterned in a way I wanted to consider the field pattern an entirely other painting within the painting.

All images and details are from the Amon Carter Museum, Fort Worth, Texas.

Gary Myrick: the 1957 Cadillac



Gary Myrick honed his skills working at Six Flags drawing portraits day in and day out. He transitioned to becoming a courtroom artist on contract with a local tv station. He would set up shop in the courtroom and try to create a story through his images--thinking about sequencing and how the news uses images to frame up the newsbite. He would work with the video crews on how to shoot, light and frame the images as he had this in his background as well--taking the delivery into consideration in the selection of colors, backgrounds etc. He worked in Texas but also had opportunities to do national jobs. He was involved in the Paula Jones case as well as that of the Branch Davidians. It was insightful to hear him talk about the first hand news as he experienced it and the reporting on the radio and how often they did not match. He was intrigued by this work, loved it --as he used his skills as an artist to be a journalist to tell the stories visually and engage the new audience in a way beyond the audio. My sadness in hearing him speak was that essentially, the courtroom artist role has changed now that photography is allowed and he has not taken his skills to morph into more pure journalism, writing and reflecting on his observations (of which there are many and are colorful), or transitioning his abilities into story boarding, graphic novels or something else. He has stopped this work and will do it if asked...but certainly without the regularity of the past. He is an interesting artist--and part of a visual tradition of reportage--I have to believe there still is a place for visual interpretation of events--it's just that it may be a stretch for Gary to go there--to explore a new avenue, a new use for his pointed wit and observational skills.

The image of the big red head was of a defendant in a trial that Gary got in trouble for by referring to her as the "1957 Cadillac". Perfection.

Is it day yet?





In Here at DFW early (5:00 a.m.) after a shared ride with two classmates from HAS to the airport. Everyone was early, so we pushed off a little early as I guess we all are twitchy to make our connections to send us back to the country (New Hampshire, Ithaca and north of Burlington, VT). This is a beautiful airport with clear signage, a link service and plenty of coffee shops (not open to my chagrin), They have this wonderful vending machine of stuff you really want from ipods, Bose headsets, battery chargers, ancillary computer batteries, personal dvd players. It is a true splurge machine. Only downside is if you don’t have the itunes thing going on your computer, the only good of buying an ipod at the airport is that you flaked on a birthday, and a new nano or shuffle would fit the bill. Did I mention that I wish there was coffee?

It was a late night yesterday with our visit to the Fort Worth Stockyard Rodeo. It felt less like something produced, but more like the truck racing or my favorite, the demolition derby we have in Tburg. Admission was $20 a head and we were admitted to a hundred year old building (which they proudly announced many times last night), with nice woodwork and a sprung ceiling, the ring with combed dirt—all in darkness. The only light was on a tractor with a device similar to what we use to smooth out the baseball fields at our home games. But there it was, all in it’s glory, the brilliant blue tractor, the zamboni of the rodeo world. We found our orange seats and were told by Murray, that we were free to wander. I am kind of kicking myself with the choice of camera. The toy, point and shoot, that really works in the available light environment needed to have a much, much faster shutter speed to get the right pictures—but my plan was to work with other stuff for the project other than a close-in rodeo depiction. The light levels even when they pumped them up, were abysmal. And so we waited until just about 8 for the antics to begin.

First off, all the cowboys and girls seem very young, very lanky, --essentially a co-ed sport like cross-country running. I expected to see A and his compadres just around the corner as these cowboys were hanging out in the same way. The horses were wonderful. I had forgotten the wonder of the working horse—and how these noble beasts who had sculpted bodies with bumps and valleys describing bulging muscles much like Barry Bonds. I loved how they backed up, siddled and really were in tune with their riders—attesting to the strength and skill of the riders (all of it being so cool in the saddle—no juking, no nervousness, as natural as walking-- it was all so subtlely in the legs) and the sensitivity of the animals dancing with their riders—leaning into the sport of either speed (with the flopping barrel racing gals) or pulling back with the calf/ cow roping. I just have to face it, I love horses—(not enough to own one, but certainly to admire them). There were some real honeys there—palaminos and this paint with a white braided mane (with the perfect neck and proportions) I could have cried. Compared to the massive horses K rides (which I adore too…so much so that for a birthday, Amanda and a friend rode the biggest horses at the Cornerhaven Farm over to the Camp House to wish me an equine birthday!), these small, smart horses are toylike, but amazing iin their true partnershp with their riders. As you could gather, I loved the horse event just for the opportunity to watch these excellent riders working with their horses.

The bull riding was more about the prep. The cowboy (who Jim O’Brien properly pointed out now wear hockey helmets) is lowered or gently engaged on the beast with his buddies above him—helping, holding, supporting—to get him ready for the moment. Once the gate is opened, often it is within seconds that the cowboy has been dumped and the thrill is to watch him try and not get either gored or trodden on by this energetic bull who, to be honest, just wants to get out of there. And then, the mother thing happens and I want to crawl under my seat for the Roman empire moment of watching this person who WANTS to be there, get battered by a bull. My great, great grandfather, John Appleton (a member of one of the two civil war “Glory” regiments from Boston, Harvard graduate who was assigned to watch over Jeff Davis as he was a “gentleman; settled in Greenbriar County WVa after the war was over and ran a hotel/spring until he met his maker by being gored by a bull). What horrors. And people love it and laugh. It could be your kid, husband or brother. I don’t get it…but I am a northern wimp. So, what do I know? Maybe a tolerant thing to say might be “pursue your bliss”. However, how is it that someone decides that this (bull riding) is the extreme sport they must engage in? Or is it a point of pride for a family? Or are they all greek and they have been bull dancers in their families? What is the motivation? What is success? Where’s the fun?

The rodeo clowns were okay…but I loved their makeup…kabuki like. There might be a picture in that.

There were two kid events which were very cute and very funny. Gerry (with a G) Hampton turned to me and proclaimed it the best of the whole rodeo, describing it as “an easter egg hunt gone wild”—He nailed it. First one was for kids 12 and under. They pumped up the music (bizarrely, the tune “YMCA” by the Village People, which I am always stunned that this is “fun music for families”—but who am I?) and all the kids came into the ring and formed a line with half the kids facing one way, and half the other). At the proper moment—a little calf is let into the ring and the kids start running for the beast. They ran and ran, trying to get a ribbon off the back to be the winner. All these little people, tiny cowboy hats, boots and bandanas scrambling for the little cow, the being who had my sympathies in this exchange. The crowd loved it. Then a little later, a smaller set of kids ( I think it was 6 or 7 and younger)—same line-up only running after a mother sheep and her fleecy white baby lamb. The sheep almost won this one except they kept the gates closed (not fair in my book). Again. More hysteria from the crowd with the camera flashes popping like Christmas lights.

The rodeo was local culture. It was pretty much hokey pokey, but this is what I am used to and like. No polish, all edges. Families and bakesales—everyone there for the fun of being there. It would be cool to see a really “professional” rodeo—a more NASCAR event (as the advertisers are car, tractor, boots, and agricultural equipment)—but as we were in Cowtown, it seemed like the right thing to do.

It was bittersweet saying goodbye to my hosts, Doug Anderson and my new colleagues at Hartford. I am heartened by their spirit, intelligence and unbelievable talent/abilities and am looking forward to my two weeks in July with the edge that I have a peek under the tent insofar as the people, expectations and a new slant at my work. It is welcome work and I feel that I have a place within this group and can contribute. I will only get as much from the program as I put in—so work lies ahead.

I just got to Philadelphia. Slept the whole way—I hope not with my mouth open…but it was one of those blackout sleeps that you really cannot comport yourself the way you would like. Coffee has been drunk. And I am sitting on a radiator as the quest for a place to plug in manifested itself in my perching on a radiator with my bags all around me like a street person. I missed a bit on Gary Myrick so I will give you a brief next.

final day: Jack Unruh, the real deal




Basically, Jack Unruh preached the value of pursuit your bliss. Amen! Find what you like to do, find things that give you passion, find a life you enjoy and fuse them together. And he does. His signs for his garage sales (which sound like they are worth the trip as he has art too!)--are a "find the artist"/identify the artist poster that the winners get a $200 credit to the sale. Jack loves what he does, and it shows. My key take aways were related to his design--he uses silhouettes and detail in a very discriminating way--letting the places he cranks up the focus to take the punishment for the rest of the picture--allowing for white space; he uses handwriting and handlettering to be part of his design (I should stop shrinking from that...I do have that in my quiver and have kept it there); He designs his borders and backgrounds to tell part of the story--but it seems they are considered as separate elements (in some cases) shifting the perspective, size relationships and placement to suit the design; and to consider the relationships of things (use scale, placement and added elements to help tell the story); enhance the story (or add to the story). Sometimes he just literally tells the story and zips it up with his color/detail focus or sometimes he puts his Jack Unruh spin on it.

As with all of the illustrators of this week, Jack is an absolute peach and home run. However, in his case and that of Ray-Mel Cornelius, there are solid take aways/ things I have been intrigued by that I want to start working with relative to my work. And for that, I am grateful to have been given the chance to come by the gracious Tinklemans for inviting me to come to Fort Worth as a preview of the fun to come.

Face the Sun Forever




Top and Middle (detail)
Marsden Hartley (1877-1943)
American Indian Symbols, 1914
Ammon Carter Museum
Fort Worth, TX

Bottom:
Wil barnet (b. 1911)
Self Portrait, 1948-9
Ammon Carter Museum
Fort Worth, TX

From the descriptor panel:
Marden Hartley drew inspiration for this painting from several sources: mysticism,German folk art, and the avant-garde theories of Europe's most progressive artists. He emplyed abstracted motifs derived from American Indan culture: medicine wheels, tipis, shields, cheif's blankets, and warbonnets, fashioning them into schematic designs of bright, glowing colors. He wrote to his American dealer, Alfred Stieglitz: " I Find myself wanting to be an indian--to paint my face with the symbols of that race I adore, go to the West and face the sun forever--that would seem the true expression of human dignity."

These paintings are total kicks in the booty (along with Remington, the Grant Wood they have and totally from another planet, Stuart Davis).

musing


This painting is from photos taken of Muff and Real Musgrave's collection. The image is by Jim Christiansen, a celebrated fantasy illustrator who has been recognized as a “Utah Art Treasure,” one of Utah’sTop 100 Artists by the Springville Museum of Art and received the Governor’s Award for Art awarded by the Utah Arts Council recognizing the significance of Christensen’s artwork to Utah’s cultural communities. He was inducted intothe U.S. Art magazine’s Hall of Fame. Jim and his wife, Carole, co-chair theMormon Arts Foundation. Muff always got a painting from Christiansen for Christmas until he became fully recognized and collected--stopping that tradition.

I learned that there is a category of illustration called "Decorative Illustration". I think that is what I am....and I find it somehow reassuring that my work fits into a type--as SU promotes painters--and if you don't fit into the schema for painting, you are left hanging. I should google this to see if there is anything out there that speaks to this tradition. Hmm, let me see--Here's a nice link to a page that speaks broadly about illustration:

ILLUSTRATION. In a general sense, illustration (or the art of representing pictorially some idea which has been expressed in words) is as old as Art itself. There has never been a time since civilization began when artists were not prompted to pictorial themes from legendary, historical or literary sources. But the art of illustration, as now understood, is a comparatively modern product. The tendency of modern culture has been to make the interests of the different arts overlap. The theory of Wagner, as applied to opera, for making a combined appeal to the artistic emotions, has been also the underlying principle in the development of that great body of artistic production which in painting gives us the picture containing "literary" elements, and, in actual association with literature in its printed form, becomes what we call "illustration." The illustrator's work is the complement of expression in some other medium. A poem can hardly exist which does not awaken in the mind at some moment a suggestion either of p icture or music. The sensitive temperament of the artist or the musician is able to realize out of words some parallel idea which can only be conveyed, or can be best conveyed, through his own medium of music or painting. Similarly, music or painting may, and often does, suggest poetry. It is from this inter-relation of the emotions governing the different arts that illustration may be said to spring. The success of illustration lies, then, in the instinctive transference of an idea from one medium to another; the more spontaneous it be and the less laboured in application, the better. continue>>

I spoke to Murray and Doug Anderson about the dream project, the first project we have that could evolve into the thesis. Taking the idea of working on a series of illustrations that might be able to be used on a series of old time cds seemed to be okay as long as I didn't start working on it--the rules are to just think about it, do some reference work and (they didn't say it) relax. I figure this could evolve into a thesis. I do not want to find myself up against a thesis striking out with the topics without any shepherding like the SU thesis was. I would really like to be able to embrace it and drill into it... I just didnt have the chance to emotionally engage in the material from SU and would like to be able to do this. Murray pushed it a bit making it about the images--instead of looking at the end application, what is the imagery--and I think Americana might be the big rubberband that wraps this whole concept. Americana with a fresh look-- Time to start thinking. No sketching....maybe a thumbnail>?

Billy Bobs Texas: a Hub of Fort Worth's Stockyard






A requirement of the Texas trip is to go to the largest honky tonk, Billy Bobs. Billy Bobs Texas is the Disneyland of all that is Western-as their website sums it up:
With 127,000 square feet of space, which is nearly 3 acres inside and 20 acres of parking, for entertainment and events, Billy Bob's has 32 Max individual bar stations, country music's biggest stars, Live Pro Bull Riding and a Texas size dance floor for everyone to enjoy.

Once again, it's big. Their gift shop sells all sorts of stuff from hats to cross bedecked teeshirts and bags, to anything with a cowboy boot on it. They have pool, gambling, dancing, bars,live bull riding, stuffed bull riding (for a picture)--"the photo bull" and much more...down to a music hall of fame and some terrific bios with pics of their favorite barrel riders or rodeo stars...(getting me much more excited about tomorrow night). The big fashion look beyond the boys in their hats and boots were these spangly belts (western style ) that the chickaritas cinched around the requisite jeans and low cut tops. Wow! I hope they don't pack that stuff when they come to Manhattan---It might not work so well out of context.

The Lone Star beers were cheap and it seems that one or two of them were being consumed. I cannot even begin to imagine the scene that goes on on the weekends there. A buck to get in. A beer for $1.75 and all the music you can consume...with gals in tight stuff with spangles and lots of lip gloss and plenty of handsome tall drinks of water--twirling and two stepping into the wee hours. Wowza.

It's late. Good night!

Day Four: at home with Real and Muff Musgrave


We were taken by bus through the beautiful golden landscape to a floridly named Flower Mound to visit Real and Muff Musgrave. They had invited us to see their house, see their work, and have a lovely lunch on a large deck overlooking all sorts of trees just ready to burst with blooms (albeit, the holly bushes were glossy and gorgeous). We were greeted at the driveway by both of our hosts and made immediately to feel at ease and welcome--by explaining what we were going to do and then eating lunch with us. It was so cute the way they had tablecloths on all sorts of different sized tables and brilliant parasols with little golden dangling charms around the edges just to make it even more a party. There were stacks of examples of their promotional print pieces, their newsletters and cookbooks all surrounding the promotion of the centerpiece of their success, the Pocket Dragon.

The Pocket Dragon evolved from Real's work in college which manifested itself in inflatables--18' dragons and large drawings of dragons that Real showed in galleries to great effect. When Real and Muff decided it was time to go to Europe, they parked their beloved small, brown dog, Flower with Real's parents and flew across the big pond with $800 with the plans that they would stay as long as the money lasted. While they were there, Real drew dragons, small dragons on paper that fit right in your pocket. A Pocket Dragon was born. The spirit of this little creature was as Real said, as if the world was viewed from the view point of their little dog, Flower, and how Flower would respond to or interpret situations. The dragons took on aspects of Flowers personna from gesture to the floppy ears. When they came back, the two Musgraves formed the team to bring Pocket Dragons to the world of collecting and collectables.


Real muses on his recent retirement from a life of creating thousands of these dragons, their whimsical packaging somehow linking books, candy and cookies to the creatures, print, and the care and feeding of their fans (who, I was intrigued to find out was a broad demographic from kids to parents to grandparents--here in the US and in Europe), 104 animated television shows, and the care, maintentance and strong guidance of their brand. This is where Real and Muff (Muff is a nickname derived from a childhood moniker spun from Little Miss Muffet) really, for me, stand out. They are totally true to their brand...saying no to big money, challenging and pushing back to make sure their dragons are of the right spirit, the right quality, the right design--not compromising or giving in to short term gains. Real said that he and Muff could not believe that they fell into a life where they were able to make these dragons and with their fans, have people who were actively interested in their lives, the lives of their pets and the simple doings that made up the Pocket Dragon myth and legend. But it did happen--down to fans sending them boxes of cookies in the mail, banana bread, muffins and afghans crocheted with Pocket Dragon imagery in a rainbow of colors...letter and notes to Real and Muff as if they were (I guess they are) family.

From rencentral.com:

The couple's first dog, Flower, with her loving, mischievous nature inspired Real during his life-size dragon period. Her expressions and antics later formed a basis for the persona of the Pocket Dragon. "Flower had an intense love of cookies and chocolate in general," Real states reflectively. "Whenever you see a Pocket Dragon hiding or sneaking a cookie, that's Flower. Every time she did something it sparked an idea for me. When Flower passed on, I thought my career was over because I couldn't imagine doing it without her. Little did I know then that she was secretly training a couple of cats to take over."

Muff and Real love their cats, who have become their muses since Flower. The cats have inspired thinking, dragons and their poses, and have on occasion, suggested things about the design of aspects of the dragons to Real by example and gesture. Real mentioned that he was struggling with the design of the original group of Pocket Dragons as their eyes were drawn and needed a great deal of skill to paint in the final production of the pieces. He was thinking about that when one of their ginger colored, male cats (Muff confirmed they were the cats they liked (as did their vet) as they are filled with antics and personality) brought Real a struggling mouse. The cat leapt up onto his drawing table and left the stunned mouse for Real to pick up and observe as if to say, "there..look at this mouse...the idea for the eyes are there". After Real thanked the mouse for it's assistance, he put it out of one door and the cat at another. Problem solved. The cats have their own protected outdoor space called the "Kitty Palace"--a contained outdoor room that would protect them from coyotes. The Musgraves have, in their retirement become involved in the local SPCA and were raising money with hard bound, self published (I think) books on their retirement plans and with little buttons. Real cited that he has had a career making money for himself and others. In this next chapter he would like to make money to benefit others--and I think the Flower Mound SPCA may be a beneficiary. And why not? Real and Muff's cats have been a source of humor, inspiration and central to driving their business. So why not give back? It seems very right.

In celebration of their retirement, Muff and Real invited 10,000. people to a party at Flower Mound. Here is what happened (from dragonsintheattic.com>>). My goodness, these guys do not do things by halves. I am exhausted thinking about it...the strangers, the pizzas, the cats, and so on.

I like Real's drawn work the best. His illustrations have a sweetness and an aspect that somehow reminds me of Maurice Sendak. With Real and Muff's beginnings at Renaissance Fairs, their interest in that slice peeks out of his work--but it's charming and not cloying nor does it feel like Dungeons and Dragons. I guess one might term it more fantasy.

The Musgraves are wonderful, kind people who have had great success pursuing their bliss--winding their love of books, cookies, chocolate, cats and the wonder of life into a world of imagination and whimsy. Bless them. They are an inspiration to seek out what you are good at and lean on it--making the most of it with integrity and common sense. They are illustrators, marketers, character developers who know who they are, and what represents them properly. They put their beliefs to the test and end up able to sleep at night after doing the right thing because, its right.

A tiny selection of the unbelievable work of HAS Students






Images shown:
Landscape: Ron Mazellan
Portrait of Lori Ann Levy-Holm: Chuck Primeau
Angel: Greg Newbold
Bear: Jacqueline Decker " my belly button broke into a smile" Murray T.
3D Postcard: Lori Ann Levy-Holm

There was a critique yesterday of the work completed to express the Pasadena area/ Pasadena trip that the Hartford students took last fall. Every single piece was wonderful--each showing each student's skill, his/her personaliity and helping them evolve. Many of the students tried new things, new media, new approaches and leaned into the assignment to terrific results. The critique was interesting for me--as I nervously scribbled notes about new techniques, new ideas, things to try, things to think about, turning ideas on its head. The bar is high (as you can see), the talent diverse, the work interesting. I cannot imagine doing everything to keep up with this pack. The larger class dynamic is going to be great.

an aside



I can't get over how almost barren even the populated areas are here in this town. Seems very stripped down, stark. Hollow... empty...However, because the weather protects the older buildings and they seem almost new...the bricks are still sharp, detail maintained. The Stockyard was a bit of the shockyard as I mused outloud to Gerry, asking dumbly "are these guys in costume?" referencing a pack of men in cowboy hats, boots, belts, vests...the rig...and Gerry's response was that " no, that's what we wear here". The Texan version of Trachten. If you are proud, you wear it. I love the range of hats and boots from the flat brims to the real live ten gallon hat. From white boots with turquoise trim, brown boots with kiwi trim, or elegant snakeskin ones with tips that could kill cockroaches in corners. You wear your pride--and I guess, this is the piece that gives some soul to this austere environment. Peacocks on the plains.

Day Three: Ray-Mel Cornelius, pride of Texas



Ray-Mel Cornelius is an illustrator who grew up on a ranch outside of Dallas. He was surrounded by a landscape that has influenced his life, his work and his vision. He was raised by a father who, with his friends, would "be strapped to a 500 pound animal to chase a 500 pound animal"--an environment he was more an observer versus a participant. However, the landscape called to him:" I was surrounded by this massive landscape...I could see from horizon to horizon...I spend most of my time surrounded by this landscape". His love for landscape has shown itself in his commercial work but has expanded into his gallery paintings, which I think is a mode that speaks to his love and joins it to a brilliant palette. Ray- Mel recognizes that illustration is a struggling business. Gallery painting became a necessity --but personally, I feel that the necessity is a place that he can expand his love of landscape, his love and pride in Texas, and those images that capture Texas such as livestock, and his cowboy paintings. I throughly enjoyed Ray-Mel Cornelius, his relaxed personna, his beautiful work and his love of where he lives and what he does.

Fish do Fly





Flying Fish
2913 Montgomery St
Fort Worth, TX 76107
Menu>>
(817) 989-2277

Trust Carol to ask around at the hotel to see where the locals eat and end up finding a gem of a place. Flying Fish is one such place. Imagine a place that you can eat a MUD BUG? Ever eaten them? Imagine> ? a Bug>? I have, though not tonight. They are crayfish or as I was raised, crawdads. They really are more bugs. We all had great food with great ambience along with their wall of Basses--and a sort of friendly bunker interior. Just perfect. Way more perfect than any white table cloth place. The grilled food was beautiful. I had catfish which was perfect and M. contented himself with a lovely plate of crab legs. And, nothing was going to break the bank.

The Fort Worth Telegram in August, 2007 said:

This hopping seafood joint is already making a splash

BY JUNE NAYLOR
SPECIAL TO THE STAR-TELEGRAM

The minute you walk into Flying Fish, you know owner Shannon Wynne has spent a lifetime of weekends at the lake. The inside of this busy seafood joint carries the vibes of his favorite catfish shack and a well-loved lakeside cabin, as the walls are covered with bass and other fish trophies. There's even a marina element, with a big vintage Evinrude sign dominating one wall.

Wynne -- who grew up fishing at the lake on his family farm but now has his own place on Caddo Lake -- found plenty of Cowtown pals who share his fixation on relaxing waterside escapes: At eye level alongside the booths are photos of Fort Worth folk with their own fishing tales attached.

Apparently, everyone in town has caught the fish fever, too, judging from the crowds that spill out on the porch every day at noon and for the dinner hour. The only way my gang has been able to eat there in under an hour is to go either before the lunch rush or after the supper crush.
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--see, can't Carol pick em>? Top drawer!

Day Two: Hartford in Dallas: Jose Cruz

Jose Cruz was, for me, the big surprise of the day. We were warned about possible antics, possibly stuff "going down" and we didn't get it. Last time he visited the SU group, it was with a gold luchado mask (what is not to love?)--so he, in a sassy repartee with Carol T was asked "What else can we get you, sir?" "hookers." "Without the mask, I cannot perform". But he did...opening with "I am going to bore you with some really bad slides>" They weren't bad. And they were of the images that speak to him--which, as we got further and further into where he is going now, I went from polite to paying attention. His inspirations range from George Hardy (need to dig on that one), Robert Williams (see below), George Powell's puppetoons, and the collection of wonders he discovers in antique/ flea markets which he cleverly opens his presentation by showing the object of inspiration and the image (s) derivative of it. Lots of crazy deco toys from Felix the cat to roboty-little guys to animals. Interestingly, a lot of the same type of inspirations, the divine Chris Spollen uses in his earlier pix with the hotrods etc. but colored and textured in the mid-late eighties memphis palette (def memphis--not as sweet as Michael Graves took the aesthetic).

This earlier work was very simple in pastel colors with a single layout (a square floating in a rectangle with a border that reflected the proportions of a polaroid picture). He used light, medium, dark> no shadows> because as he said," shadows make work and you can't work quickly. " The old time is money thing. He is friends with Danny Pelavin--and has learned a great deal from him--from Danny's style, composition and integration of type. He did this work for quite a while until he took a trip to Mexico. " The water looks so soft, you want to jump in." He said that he was told by a person that swimming was not a good idea despite the beauty of the water because of the sharks." Jose turned around and was confronted by this sign:

He was struck with the simplicity but the corroded//eroded aspect of this image that it was aesthetic changing. To Jose Cruz, it was monumental. And from that, he started seeing more signage and stencils and street art "someone was doing graffiti with the Jesus thing" (see below) Its interesting that it hit him--because the Date Farmers were struck by the same imagery which has bounced into their work--driving a crude, hand made quality that I think Jose Cruz is seeking. Different results--but very similar starting points. I don't think he knows about them--it would be cool if he did. Cruz sites Keith Harring's work which he has pulled inspiration relative to the use of patterns and texture as well as the creation of a personal symbol program (such as Harring's Radiant Baby) which Cruz has established--a sperm symbol signifying himself/ masculinity/testosterone and a one eyed creature. I couldnt really fathom the other symbols, but I am sure if you got into it with Jose, he would be able to talk to it. He also started cutting his canvas up (not literally, yet) in black and white--again symbolic of polarity, positive and negative. He started to really pare his work down and was inspired by old advertising art of the 40s(?). Keeping it simple. He would look for cuts "Small ads are small art. Blow it up really big." Keeps the detail to the minimum. He works in squares again, only 2'x2', 4'x4' or half 2'x4' on beautifully screwed together plywood panels with wood spacers. The slides dont show it, but he works his backgrounds with type, collage, drawings he sands away to expose what is there. He applies all sorts of stuff from Melagros to Barbie torsos (which all, to me, seems very predictable)--but the black and white stuff is sensational. Finally, he is letting his emotions surface on these canvases with funny, dirty captions that somehow seem a bit sweet given the boy we are allowed to see through his toys, his pain and the way his art is helping (I believe it helps him) him, giving him a visual diary, a mirror to his feelings. These black and white, "Insult Paintings" are a nice ending for our talk about Jose Cruz because through these images, I feel that he is letting go a bit--seeing the art, and perhaps channeling this energy and bottled anger to create finally, in a way that reflects his vision,up bringing and his place as an artist. He seems very happy in this world of art--answering his own visual problems--talking to us about his worries, sadness and negative energy. I appreciate his ability to get it all out, and use his art to see himself more clearly--and be able to talk about his world, his life, his lost loves, his daughter and the women who have scorned him. It would be nice if he liked himself a bit more...and know that we do...and he doesn't have to try so hard. His work, intelligence and humor is something to admire. He is on a journey that I hope leads him to a happier space. He sure is working to get there.




Day Two: Hartford in Dallas: Don Punchatz, the Godfather of Texas Illustration

Don Punchaz studied cartooning at School for Visual Arts in NYC. He had a few animation/cartoon oriented jobs right after school to end up for four years in Pittsburgh as an Art Director for clients such as Westinghouse, Stouffers frozen foods, Iron City Beer (he directed the flip top program for the R-on). He did a few small paintings and posted them in his office. An agent saw the work and encouraged Don to put together a portfolio and get the work out. So, he added type and created book jacket covers which started to roll in. Not only did Don do the illustration, but he acted as the art director/type designer as well--and did much of that for his career. He is very inspired by art with primitive roots or primitive in general such as the Egyptians, Fra Angelico, Giotto, Rousseau etc. and their influence is more apparent in his earlier work.And from these book jackets, a career of work for science fiction/fantasy began (along with work in editorial inspired in style and touch from this sci/fi/fantasy work). Don got associated with Harlan Ellison and has done his book jacket covers and inevitably selling the artwork to the writer. he has a similar relationship with Philip Jose Farmer and of H.P. Lovecraft. He did a beautiful album cover for Tomita with images of mermaids and sea related creatures.

I was struck with how clean and interesting his work became when he broke with the comfortable world of aliens and space creatures like the images I am showing below. The Nicotine Monkey was purchased outright by a physician from Waco TX with a medical illustration/arts gallery. The client produced it as an edition of posters which have sold well--and the physician entrepeneur has shared some of the proceeds with Don. I love the tweaky, pointy, scarey quality of the little monkey--a monkey who might work for the wicked witch of the west, poised on the victims shoulder--really giving him little choice than to light up and draw in the nicotine. The calm blue background and palette suggest that there is no hysteria to this little occurence, but something that happens on a regular basis.


The next image was a limited edition poster Don illustrated for the Minneapolis Zoo "You are the Heart of the Family" with the only significant requirement being that he put at least as many animals in his image as Dick Hess did the year before. The horse was done for a Scholastic Books project that my seat mate, Greg Newboldquietly said that he too, was in this pub. I like this real Texas horse with all the accoutrements from the cherry red bridle studded with beautiful metals, the softness of its feathery mane, it's velvety muzzle and the quiet demeanor he sports. This is no carousel horse, but a magic horse out of a tale who might talk to you, or whisk you away to another magical place.

My favorite piece was a freebie that Don did for a printer for a calendar. He was assigned the astrological sign of taurus and produced the image below. According to Don, the printer called up with one request--and that request was that maybe he could do something about so many frankfurters. So, Don changed the image, getting rid of the offending hot dog...and away they went. This is the unadulterated image. A joker in the crowd wanted to know how the cow looked without a tail.

Don Punchatz is a gem. His quiet way about just making pictures, one after the next--capturing a niche, expanding into others and supporting a world of new guys coming up. He makes a bow in the Jose Cruz presentation--and our own fellow student, Michael Wimmer, did detail work on some of the images he showed us. Don is a giver--of his work and imagination forming an artistic link with the world at large by establishing a strong brand and image for his friends the writers while inspiring others to join him.

what if?


I was fiddling around prior to Jose Cruz and was taking bendy pictures of my sketch in my sketchbook. This is something worth thinking about as a way to change out an idea prior to taking to illustrator to cut the image. Hmmmmmmm!