Every day is an adventure if you open yourself to it. And that day we were both open to it. So, as we walked down Walnut Street in Philadelphia, we found ourselves drawn to the activity and, subsequently, the art of one Damian DeGiosio as he sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, a series of tiny paintings displayed around him on pieces of cardboard. But it was not the cardboard he was painting on. It was matchbooks. Each one had been carved, cut, painted, drawn upon, and collaged – cityscapes and landscapes, mostly. And in each, the matches, themselves, figured prominently in the composition. We were fascinated by the tiny worlds he’d created from something that usually gets used and then tossed away. Of course, we just had to bring a few of them home. Here they are. You can read more about and from him at the URL below the last image.
A make-over for the door to my studio. I was going through some of my stash in the basement when I came upon a couple of old painted canvases from maybe 25-30 years ago, and it struck me that sections of them would look good on the outside of the door to my studio. Box cutter in hand, I went to work cuttting out a couple of smaller rectangular pieces from the larger stretched canvases. Then I grabbed a bucket of matte medium, a large brush and a roller and went to work gluing the sections to the door. What fun! This is a work in progress and next I’ll be painting the abstract shapes freely drawn with a broad-tipped sharpie around the edges. Who knows what else I may add before I proclaim it finished. Never fear. I’ll keep you posted.
Many years ago, while at brunch with friends, I uttered the line that was to become representative of my peculiar sense of humour: “If I had meditated as often as I have masturbated, I’d have become enlightened by now.” No doubt, this line will be the first one spoken in my eulogy many, many years from now. But until then, I will wear it proudly as my newest t-shirt design now available from redbubble.com. And you can too! Check it out HERE.
The Artist Standing Motionless
I never expected to be the one. All my life it has been someone else called upon to stand motionless. Mind you, I had no trouble doing it. It was actually quite easy. In fact, I still have the nagging feeling that even if I had not been called to this task, I would have ended up standing motionless somewhere else. There would have been no image captured, and certainly there would have been no media coverage, but I would have stood. And I would have known.
Bleeding-heart liberal, and proud of it! The giant corporations won’t be satisfied till they “own” all the water. So, if my being against that makes me a bleeding-heart liberal, then so be it! Cut open the chest of a consevative, and you’ll find a ticker tape.
Rebellion and revolutionary thought and action is what moves the human race forward. If kids growing up didn’t question their parent’s ideals and attitudes and methods, and feel that they could do it better, we’d still be in the Stone Age.
As some of you know, my friend and fellow artist, Robin Hotchkiss, died recently even as preparations were being made for a retrospective exhibit of her work. This painting is one of two that we loaned for the exhibition, out of the dozen or so paintings by Robin in our collection. Photo was snapped by Ann Keech, the exhibition’s organizer out front of the home and studio I share with my wife, Betsy Alexander.
Some people call me stalker. Some folks call me creep.
If you could live inside my head, you’d never ever sleep.
It’s not that I am darker, at least not more than most.
It’s just that I own who I am. I’ve friended all my ghosts.
Come midnight as the world retires, I’m up, shaved and showered,
Then out the door and down the street, to claim my favorite hour.
Tween 12 and 1 my blood grows hot, my eyes and ears grow keen.
I’m just a monster on the prowl, a mad man dressed in green.
I stalk the trash that others toss into boxes, bags and cans.
A bit of string, a barbie doll, or a photo of your Gran,
And when my bag is ladened with treasures all un-new,
It’s home again to rip and tear, to drill, and paint and glue.
Lyrics © 2015 by Burnell Yow!
Inspired by a project I completed a number of years ago. It was called Fifty-Two Collages In 52 Weeks.