High Watermark

This marks my fiftieth post! I’m pleasantly surprised. I had a class at BSU that required me to blog regularly. It was very unnerving. I can speak in public without a moments notice; but ask me to put those same thoughts on paper, not only will it cause me to go into a complete tail spin, you will not see your paper for weeks. I’ve over come a great deal of that anxiety with this project, and accomplished creating a forum for my thoughts and art work. ~ So cool, here's to another fifty! Thanks for your support. I've posted a new blog header; among other things, Georgia's picture has got some bling!

Words and Colours

Ask anyone that knows me, I don’t spell well...at all.

I speak like English is my second language.

Oh, and don’t get me started on grammar and punctuation.

All that being said, I like words.

Words are like colors…there are millions of them,

and each have there own special place.

Here's one of my favorite words:

Bewilderment:

confusion resulting from failure to understand

Baffled, mystified, at a loss, or uncertain

"He sits in his car, lost in his bewilderment"

I think if today's word was a color is would be aquamarine.

New Favorite Lyrics

Hey, did you hear about the one that got away,
they say he looked left,

she turned right-meant to be together but not that night,

it's when fates running late,
we tend to make mistakes,

we go round and round from love to love

it's either way too much or not enough

Train ~ "I got you"

Say Cheese!

Art, in any form, is just a snapshot in time. It's but a brief layover for the artist as well as the viewer on their way to something bigger and brighter.

The Life magazine cover by Alfred Eisenstaedt of the sailor and the nurse kissing is iconic now. But he was just there at the right time. Did you know U.S. Navy photo journalist Victor Jorgensen captured another view of the very same scene? Each picture is taken at the same moment, but each still tells a different story.

I have a picture of me taken not too long ago. I was down in Joshua Tree, CA, visiting my friend Elena. She’s a very talented and accomplished photographer. You need to go see her work [www.elenaray.com].

The photograph is one she took of me in front of the hotel room where Gram Parsons died. ~ Creepy, I know, but it’s my hobby, [I have a picture of me with my oldest son at Jimi Hendrix grave]

I’m using the picture in front of the hotel door for my profile picture because Elena took it, and it represents a fleeting moment in my life were, a least in my head, I was in a very relaxed state. It’s nice to look at that picture, and think of that day and remember that feeling.

Elena said later, "It was truly your Jim Morrison moment."

"In this moment you were completely mentally and energetically free." She continued, "...and very much in touch with your mystical source, which enhanced your masculinity in an expression of presence and completeness. Notice the locked hands: strength and solidity, held close to your body center so it is not aggressive but more spiritual like a monk. The 8 at the door also signifies infinity. The doorway itself is a metaphor for your relationship to the unknown. The dark glasses are a paradox, they hide your eyes allowing you to see but remain unseen, though your gaze at the camera is penetrating."

Thank you Elena. Great insight.

Cleaning House

I would sit drawing at my desk as a teenager for hours. I would draw things mostly from my favorite album covers. That kind of stuff still comes out of me as an adult when I’m “cleaning house” trying to make room in my head for new ideas. These hand drawn logos are as rough as they were in high school, but they're leaps and bounds from then in how much more colorful they are. This is good!

Self Portrait No. 9

It always, mostly, starts with a phone call. The voice on the other end will say, “Dave…I have an idea.” Today it happen so fast I don’t remember what the original idea was, and what was my creative process, so if I mix them up, please forgive me if I sound too clever. The voodoo doll is always the object of someones anger. Sometimes the person’s so mad; the pins go in quicker than bullets through a target at a shooting range. But what about the doll itself, does anyone stop to think about his feelings? I’m drawing this thing, and it starts taking on all of these emotional traits. It was funny and sad at the same time! I though of all my old acquaintances, girlfriends, and stuff…just nailing me to the wall…and finally the last one just sticking this big fat sewing needle through my heart…the next words I heard out of my mouth were, “…Please, will someone just finish me off and be done with me?!”

I laughed so hard…I LOVE ART.