Monday, May 31, 2010

Who is this watching my passwords?

digital image 000251, Floyd County, Texas 2010.

Well, the Panhandle still defeats the desert by a grande means.
Better light, for starters, but definately for the abundance of life.

September 26th, 2010 Issued Correction. by J.W.G.

"I can understand why they each are considered West Texas. Each abundant in life, each beautiful light...

Sunday, May 23, 2010


Passing Sign, digital image, Dallas Texas, 2010.

Dallas Skyline from IH35N, digital image, Dallas Texas, 2010.

Randomly searching for finances the last couple of weeks. Nothing great to tell. Painted a few pale horses here and there, light poles, trees; acrylic on wood. Back and forth on Highway 90, Uvalde, Hondo, San Antonio. Always did love the capital. Think It needs to remain Texan. But I enjoy passing there. I've got to go to Sioux City, post pictures when I find availible wifi next.

Texas Capital from South Congress AVE, digital image, Austin Texas, 2010.

Monday, May 10, 2010

First Friday, San Antonio ,Texas, May 7th 2010.

Questions regarding the Hypocrisy of the Portrayal of Truth in Our Time?

This past weekend I made it into San Antonio for the First Friday exhibitions at the Blue Star Contemporary Art Complex. I have a friend who was exhibiting a multimedia installation at a Blue Star location called Three Walls.

Who knows what motivations Derrick Durham (the artist) had behind building a replicated blue dumpster filled with garbage, electronic equipment and himself, ominously titled "Ghost Receptacle", but the responses ranged from the dumbfounded to the suprised. The opening exhibit offered viewers a chance to see the artist at work inside the refuse container via a peep-hole located at the front of the installation, a view into a metaphorical studio, perhaps. The term "Purity" was dressed throughout the exhibit and even offered guests the opportunity to scrap away at two charcoal drawings of the dumpster, hand drawn by the artist, with hardwire brushes, the instructions "scrub until pure" annointing them in small lettering on the wall. Occasionally, the viewers, standing within the vacinity, were startled by the ejection of crushed beer cans and even hand drawn messages of artwork by the hidden artist, dispersing them from a trap door. In the finale, the artist himself was ejected in a climax of volcanic porportions which sent garbage of all classes spilling into the gallery floor.

The intent of Mr. Durham's Ghost Receptacle appeared to be a charge of awareness in the importance of recycling, a necessity within the maintenance of purity, a noble earthly cause. For me, I took away a different notion. A notion that seemily states, regarding our times of instant want and gratification, in our quick fix it and think of it later world, which is: If the artist manifests himself as equvilant to garbage, what might that say about the viewers of the artworld, whom are ultimately, for artists, the representation of the greater good? Are they able to comprehend good art from bad art? Moreover, what does it say about the spirit of mankind who makes bad things good and good things bad?

All in all, I believe great art raises great questions. Great art, like a great question, challenges the psyche of the mass public to comprehend not only what is being said, but what exactly the future holds, a sort of tuning fork or compass, for example. Derrick Durham's exhibition of "Ghost Receptacle" at Three Walls was layden with such analogies, for those who can tolerate art long enough to interpret it.

"ART is like tobacco, take a pinch off and chew."

Friday, May 7, 2010

First weekend in May

After my brief stay in Sanderson, I headed down the road to Del Rio, Texas. Every year, for 33 years consecutivly, Del Rio has hosted an event which rounds into one place a particular group of subjects I'm interested in pursueing with paint, solely for the display of courage, chaos, and exhibition of spontaneous energy. The George Paul Memorial Rodeo, a.k.a. "SuperBull", was a primary objective to hit on my pass back into civilization. If I am on a quest to redefine my West Texas heritage in paint, the subjects here are contemporary cornerstones for that description.

The thing about a man latching himself down to a 2,000lb creature, a creature untamed, with no desire to be domesticated, with no real desire for man at all, is that it is absolutely crazy. But that's exactly what it takes to break boundries into a void where men figure out just what the universe is made of; to take the ride. For each time they climb on and the gate opens they are off into the place where time doesn't exist. Where sound fades out and only the slow description of action takes over. Every detail stops, and amidst the chaos and explosion of energy peace of mind is achieved. It's an addictively gratifying sensation, coupled with accomplishment, competition, glory, danger and death. It is everything men strive for. And for me, seeing the actions, the space tearing energy, hearing the crowd respond to a successful 8 second ride, is everything the act of creating a successful picture accomplishes. It doesn't make sense, and the experience generally doesn't last for long. In the end, my experience at the Del Rio SuperBull rodeo was a good one. I'm looking forward to seeing what kind of art I can produce as a result.

From the Highway

Well, I'm back in Hondo again, trying not to spill coffee on my mother's carpet floor while walking from the kitchen to the computer. My grandpa Keeter would respond to such an endevor with a comment like "You ought to have the red whooped off your ass" for even attempting a move with such a full cup. I'll get it there.

It's been a week since I left out of Redford, back onto the Texas Circuit, as I like to call it, a triangle of points on the Texas map I've come to frequent over my life, Redford being the newest favorite. Anyway, I need to update my travels.

In my last blog post I wrote out some idea poetry, which is how it comes usually, without all the filler words, about some abstractions I worked on in the begining of the mellinia. I use the term mellinia because I like thinking in the thousands, and this all began on a turn for a new one thousand years. Anyway, these abstractions were ... undefinable with words for me for a long time. Only now is my primitive brain coming to grips with what was being said. Partly due to book reading and research about artists from a hundred years ago, artists and thinkers who were breaking the world into abstraction, and partly because I've sat and pondered so much time away in the captain's chair of the great machine's.
If I knew then what I know now, in my financial desparations of those times, I wouldn't have given the originals away for next to nothing. All the reason to make them bigger and better, for the final round. In short, I'm spending this highway time to write and resolve, then start it all over again, planning for a big revival with exhibitions beginning in "11. That's a good year.

Anytime I'm traversing East or West on the Texas Highway 90 trail, I stop in Sanderson and visit a friend who is always welcoming and hospitable. I met Tex Toler in 2009. He is a journalist/editor/writer/producer who has a big passion for Texas glory. He's one of those fella's who has a lot of energy for labor and hard work. Each time I see him he's working on some new project to help out existing folks, revitalizing structures exclusive to West Texas and Sanderson, or even stretching fence on local ranches. In fact, he has become so fond of the area, he has positioned himself to run for Terrell County Judge. Having seen the fruits of his labor first hand, in professional publications, adobe home restoration projects, and just plain ole hospitality, the man has my support. I think he is a youthful visionary ripe to wake the spirit of the pioneering old west in Texas. Goodluck Tex. Be sure to visit his website "TolerforTerrell", the title link should get you there.

The Thoughts and Times of

The Video Bar