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the answer    Which I don’t have. Have never had. Just places and stations, one after the next. Along with thoughts like, If I can just get past this, or Why isn’t this working?, or Not you again, or Not for me. Not now. What we do to find places of safety. How far. How surprising people are both in their generosity and enmity. Motives like comic balloons floating over their heads, only you can’t read the words. My grandfather used to say, See and be seen. But what and by whom. And what dreaming.   an original mixed media painting on heavy archival paper (rag)  22 x 30 inches a fictional portrait, like an icon (think: the major arcana from the tarot) or archetype   meant for a frame, but there is a punched hole at the very top centre which allows it to be hung as is (when framed, this would be covered by matte)    i don’t usually paint this large on paper, as it passes the framing costs onto the client, but at the same time it allows the initial purchase price to be lower   mailed/ship
Recent posts
I no longer watch Survivor (too fast, too many idols and twists, too removed from the original game) but I was a fan for a long time, and various memories come to mind from time to time. One such memory is a scene from Season 19, Samoa , where Jaison, a law student from Chicago, talked about how rough conditions were (at the time he was sitting on the beach in the rain, and it had already been raining for days), and how times like this were what he called "The Man Test". I sometimes think of this when I'm having a difficult day, especially pain-wise; I tell myself that it's just another day, another Man Test. Anyway, here's hoping for a few less Man Tests in 2024. And Happy New Year, everyone.

some paintings to keep you company

  at the stations of seeing ; mixed media on cradled wood panel, 24 x 30 inches.   $350 local.     At the Stations of Seeing I expected something on the level of poetry moving the machinery within but instead it was wreckage and difficult instructions Recursive Procedures for Life Structures and that sort of thing. IF—THEN—ELSE where the option is optional CASE, which is multi-situational DO—WHILE the function is zero BREAK and LOOP again and again until failure. please CALL, if you can, or while you are still missed. . . . I went away for awhile, for various reasons, and now I am starting to come back. Where I finally end up is anyone's guess, but one of the stations on the path of that return is a willingness to sell my art again; this post is about just one of the larger paintings I currently have for sale for clients and customers in the Kingston area. A good place to start. The prices for these works are lower because the transaction is personal, easier — come by my stud

draw things, paint things, write things, make things ... number 265 ... the costume

The ultimate, hidden truth of the world is that it is something that we make, and could just as easily make differently. — David Graeber Good morning, Every once in a blue moon I like to post a Tinyletter here, in this dusty, disused space, just in case someone happens by. Because, in many ways, things have not really changed. I am, as I often was when I wrote to this blog more frequently, still confused. And vaguely despairing. What, exactly, is happening? Why have airports become stations of anarchy, and why have airlines gone into the business of cancelling a third of the flights they’ve sold? Why are emergency rooms no-go zones, and how does a Western country in the modern world — one that largely defines itself by its universal healthcare — fall into failure when it comes to the simple arithmetic of providing enough doctors, nurses and beds? Certainly, let's blame the pandemic, even though the patient seems to have been sick for years. Some people answer that it&

draw things, paint things, write things, make things, number 233 ... anarchists in decay

  the fire never worried me / original art object / mixed media painting on an obsolete Verbatim Rewritable 1.3 GB Optical disk / 5.25 x 6 x 0.375 inches 

Goodbye, Ava

I have many fond memories of what this blog used to be, but at this point that's all it amounts to: some kind of archive. Which is fine. It can serve as an album, of sorts. But I'm still making things. Here is where you can find my work now ... Etsy / / / Tinyletter / / / Wordpress / / / Society6 / / / Redbubble / / / Pinterest / / / Instagram ... and to any readers from the past, thank you.

sleeping in your car (quiet piano) / / cigar-tin stories one hundred three

It's 6:02 in the morning. Lately I've been getting up at 5. I used to get up at 5:30, but then I thought,  Well, I'm getting up this early anyway, why don't I push it a bit to get more done? It's not like I'm here for my looks.    In how many ways do you flinch when someone starts telling you how tired they are? Or how busy? At this point I think most people avoid even saying it. I think  distracted  or  disjointed  or  slightly unraveled  would be more accurate. I am most tired when I wake up. Yawning and yawning. There's two other points in the day –– early afternoon and just after supper –– which might as well be filled with smoke bombs for all the seeing and thinking that gets done.   I used to work with a guy who would go out to his car to have a nap in the backseat over lunch. This worked not only because he was very tired but also because he was a small guy. Could just curl up. I think he packed a blanket. Sometimes he would go to the gy