Skip to main content

pretend me this

Making: cigar-tin stories. One Panter dessert cigar tin + one painting on its lid + varnish + one previously-published story in a booklet (my own stories, of course) = one cigar tin story. They're meant as fun, decorative, curiosity objects, facing outward on bookshelves or adding life to a coffee table. I will have about twenty of them ready for our late-night opening at Sydenham Street Studios on December 12th.



* * * * *

Watching: Into the Wild, directed by Sean Penn. A sad story about a young man who arrogantly abandons a life lived with others for an idealized version of nature and its wilderness. Sean Penn shows us accidents and misfortune as the reason for his demise, but really he was simply ill-prepared, and so starved to death.

* * * * *

Reading: Batman: Year 100 by Paul Pope. It's Batman re-imagined yet again, and while the story adds no new ideas to the territory (a standard-fare plot about a conspiracy amongst government security agencies), the artwork is tremendously cool in a black-ink kind of way.

* * * * *

Watching: Happy-Go-Lucky, by Mike Leigh. The main character is a woman named Poppy. She's always happy. Always. Steal her bike? Happy. Ignore her company? Happy. Children in her classroom (of course she's a primary-school teacher) who come from damaging homes? Oh well, I'm sure they'll be fine. No matter what happens, Poppy is better than the situation. Let's just have a laugh, shall we? Better yet, not only will Mike Leigh show you the laughs, but he'll stay with the scene for a good ten minutes. Poppy goes out with the girls, the girls dance, the girls get drunk, the girls wobble home, they sit and laugh, and snort, and roll on the floor, and smoke, and laugh, and the scene just goes on and on. Could someone get up and make some fucking toast already? Just give me something. But no, Polly just wanders from scene to scene, and the quips just keep coming and coming. She even wanders into dark alleys at night to talk to insane homeless men. Smart! I kept waiting for Poppy to get paralyzed (there is an extended trip to the chiropractor ... who fixes her back, that's it) or assaulted by skinheads, or break a nail, or something, and there is a tacked-on side-story about a demented driving instructor, but really nothing happens to anyone. Of course, C just loved it (for once being on the side of the critics), telling me that I wasn't sophisticated enough to appreciate a movie about nothing. Verdict? C-r-a-z-y.

* * * * *

Sitting on: our new chair from Scandesign, the taxes from which were paid for by C's friends, as a wedding present. Thanks, guys.

Comments

  1. Anonymous3:41 pm

    Cigar tin stories are fantastic, love them ! Great idea ! By the way, you have been tagged.See my blog :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. I've found that cigar tins like that are the perfect size for safely (and stylishly) toting a good 7 or 8 tampons....in case you're looking for an alterative "market."

    ReplyDelete
  3. Anonymous5:43 pm

    Poppy and Happy-Go-Lucky are AWESOME. D was just sad because nothing blew up, no one got stabbed, and the cab driver story was not tacked on. It was kind of the point. :PPPPPPPPPPPPP

    It's about the hard, serious work of being happy. D, being grumpy, just didn't get it.

    - C

    ReplyDelete
  4. Tin stories.. when the ideas go into smoke. Joking. They are beautiufl and Beautifully executed!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Anonymous10:18 am

    I adore the cigar tin stories... I absolutely do. Beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  6. For anonymous: yeah right. Plus: you are short. So there.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Those tin stories are a really cool idea!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Love the tins; excellent work.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Anonymous3:55 pm

    Hello there :)
    Love the paintings up there, very nice.

    ReplyDelete
  10. cigar tins stories = golden
    jcvd looks like iggy pop.

    paulpope is fantastic. u should check out THE BALLAD OF DR. RICHARDSON & escapo. no no check out everything hes ever done.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

the indisputable weight of the ocean

People are always telling me that my work is too dark. So I've put up this sunnier story, but even it has a shadow, as its original publisher – a fine Atlantic Canadian literary magazine called the Gaspereau Review – is no longer in business. ---------------- It was a simple enough thing and that thing was simply this: Edmund Kelley was a gentleman. Of course his mom called him her 'little gentleman', as in 'Oh Edmund, you are my perfect little gentleman,' which did seem to hold to a certain logic that these type of things often follow, considering her affection for him and the fact that he was, after all, only ten years old. Still, Edmund himself was not particularly fond of the diminutive aspect of that title. Gentleman was enough; gentleman summed up the whole thing rather nicely, thank you. He was definitely a more refined version of your average child. He lived in a state of perpetual Sunday m

Oona Balloona (doesn't care about new tables)

Well, it's Friday, and since I'm pretty depleted in the chit-chat department, I might as well put up some pictures of Ol' Giggles At Ghosts before Grandma starts sending me hate mail. Man, what a goofball. At this rate it's going to be, like, eighteen years before she has gainful employment and moves out of the house. I mean, come on . * * * * * C is especially crazy and frantic today. About two months ago she decided that she no longer liked our dining room table (take that, dining room table! no more BFF for you!). Since then she's switched the dining room and kitchen table (and all the rest of the furniture in the house -- about thirty times, but that's another story) as a provisional solution while she scoured area stores for an upgrade. And she thought she had found one, on Wednesday, at JYSK ( Whatever , I said). But when she ordered it, JYSK called back to say that they were really low on stock, and that the stock they did have was damaged, and

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