In a Few Days I'll Turn 34

After my visit with Mr. Wells at The Field Lab, I made the pass through the Big Bend National Park. It's faster that way, although the speed limit, for about 70 miles of road, is only 45 mph. North of the park on Texas Highway 385 there's an entrance into a series of ranches across Brewster County toward the Rio Grande. From there it's roughly 68 miles of dirt road and secluded mountain, desert terrain until ultimately crossing the San Francisco Creek and the Slaughter Ranch. I was happy to be there once again, but was also a little apprehensive. When I last left the Slaughter it was not under the greatest circumstances, but that was mostly due to my own business error and artistic desperation. I don't want to be the sour grape in the sweet patch, but I guess I felt like that upon my last departure. It's a difficult explaination, but it seems to come upon me stronger these days, the impulse to find stability to make the greater works of art, to deliver a higher message than just myself. I don't fully understand it, or do I know how to get it done. It's tough to be a man in this civilization and remain at the mercy of the universe, to sit patiently and wait for God.

Lovingly, the family at the ranch welcomed me back as if
I'd never left. Time filters out a bit slower I suppose, or, it speeds along at a runaway rate. Things that happen are forgotten or understood to be a symptom of a detoxification of sorts; like a addict of the world going into a rural rehab, tossing, turning, convulsing in fits of violence. They informed me of all they were hoping to accomplish, and I met a couple of the family members who own the spread. They are happy and excited, understanding of the blessings it is to be stewards of such a place. There was a lot happening, hunter's were there to hunt a big horn mountain goat called Audad, and Andy has been trapping an outbreak of lions who make meals of small calves in their first year of life. All in all, it makes for a plethora of storylines and rural ranch dramas.

I spent about three days working in the barn area, cleaning and organizing some of the tools, re-aquainting myself with the area, forming a game plan with what and how I would begin the reorganization process of the areas in need. After the weekend, I packed up and left for the panhandle to check into some unexpected business. I also dropped some work at a local cafe that has some great wallspace in Sanderson. As I write this, the panhandle winds blow without stopping, and at times I grow weary of being caught in it.

Trip out to West Texas

Six days since I left the panhandle to collect and cleanup things out in Redford. Got down there last Monday night, after a trip with more than one hickup and delay, but beat out the freezing cold weather that was setting in behind me on the plains.
Spent the night on the floor, covered with plenty of blankets I brought along. Tuesday was an entire day of cleaning the apartment at Enriques, packing up and repacking all the supplies in my truck. I have about a half dozen completed paintings of West Texas subject matter I brought along to display and try to sell in Sanderson, so the packing has revolved around the placement and protection of those pictures.

Everything went well in Redford. Scrubbed the floor where I'd spilt paint and repainted the walls where pictures were once critiqued and reworked. By the afternoon the girls whom had come to Redford to rent my place were settling in and making it their own, all that remained of my presence was the cardboard eagle cutout on the door and an oil painting of a cow that George and I collaborated on back in Brenham, 2008.
The installation left in the desert leading out to Checker's Hill and opening into a view of the Bofecillos still remained, mysteriously placed, inviting wonder, yet the true mystery of the installation is that it points the direction of the buried art capsules I place on two separate occasions.
They serve as the beginning of an engineered trailhead I used; assembled, installed, yet incomplete as my finances depleted before the whole vision could be delivered. The whole of the idea was to stretch them over the course of several miles, like way points on a map. It will be interesting to see how the materials I used will stand up to the test of the desert. Perhaps I will return and complete it one day. Of the three days there one included a return hike to the Bofecillos Mesa cave to retrieve my cot. Two nights on the floor was going to kill me and it was good to get out and stretch my legs. Afterwards I wondered how I was able to do a three to six mile hikes in unforgiving terrain with sixty plus pounds of gear on my back. Two days ago, with only a bottle of water, the excursion almost killed me.
On Friday I said my goodbyes and hopes for a return and headed East on 170 toward Terlingua. I had a brief, late afternoon visit with John Wells at the Field Lab. His progress is coming along fashionably and in the next year the off-the-grid site he's working on will be transformed. Next stop is the Slaughter Ranch in Brewster County, then through Sanderson to deliver paintings for show and sale. The newspaper in Floyd County wants me to do a second interview, I think this time they may actually want to give me a job writing and reporting! Either that or the guy still needs some other information. Also, a Lubbock gallery contacted me for a better look at my West Texas work, all happening right about the time I start to feel like lauching a long awaited body of work that picks up where my abstaction left off. A side of me is gaining momentum to break away from the safety of my cultural heritage and use painting as the communicative issue it was meant for. Here's to the grand revival of all ages. Wish me luck.

Digital image from "Rapturing the Candles of God", one of twelve, acrylic on paper on board, 7" x 24", 2006.

Morning Interview

Last December I spent two weeks framing all the cotton module paintings I created in 2008-09 while working out of my Texas Panhandle Studio, even donating one to a benefit auction for Lockney Health and Reabilitation. I wanted to celebrate my agricultural upbringing and reconnect with the days of operating implements in agricultural fields of cotton and corn. The diesel engines of the agricultural machines have terrified, and inspired me (the title of this blog for example), for the whole of my life. Agriculture and it's distribution, the infrastructure supplying life to the global civilization of man, has an impact exceeding the heigth of the heavens or the depth of the seas. Agriculture is the true direction of the future, and this ministry is no secret to those who till the earth and know the land. Today, these men and women, the people whose crops I once irrigated, cultivated, fertilized with my own sweat are the very patrons I seek to establish an artistic dialogue, to gain support and patronage, to provide the ability to do something farther than creativly imagined in their communities and the world. Indeed, it is truley a great commission to find whatever means necessary to implement the largest vision of the greater good into reality. Art in it's nature, demands it from the artist and patron alike who embrace it; for those who do not, disolve into unknown history.
This January, after a record cotton crop in the Texas panhandle region (the largest ever), the timing seemed right to show and display the two year old works, my effort to make contact with the agricultural peoples of my origins. How better to do this than the local barber shop in Lockney, Texas. For over a year now I've been displaying paintings on a small, clean, and well lit wall space of Bobbie's Buzz Cut's. The shop provides the closest contemporary gallery type setting I've found in such a small, rural community that is still capable of maintaining the traffic and dialogue of many people; not to mention, most of my target patrons cut their hair there. My question now, will they understand the capability of their support for things such as art? Will they recognize the opportunity, art reaching out to them, of this artist? The life of my art in this area swings in the balance of their generosity and ability to realize, and patronize, the arts. And by that I mean original, not reproduction; original equals the future, reproduction equals worthlessness, that's an art history lesson and fact. Time will tell, on the bright side the show landed me an interview with the local newspaper, The Floyd County Hesperian-Beacon, at the descretion of reporter Homer Marquez, whom I met at the barber shop while distributing these 4" x 6" post cards marketing my campaign. My conversation with Mr. Marquez was well rounded and thought loftly towards the possibilities of revival in these sleepy little ag communities, whose fruits sit as the foundation of all human civilization. I look forward to reading it, (title link to paper's page) and the outcome, and exceeding possibility of cultivated good possible through the hybridized realization of art and agriculture at the highest level. Godspeed, and thank you.

Christmas 2010

Exhausted. Traveled down to South Texas for Christmas time with family and friends. Met up with a dozen or so of the old Warehouse Arts crew in Austin for a night, or, the San Marcos Group, as I like to call them. A lively bunch, I always feel the potential possiblity for anything great while around so many of them.

Then it was off to me mum's for the Christmas Holiday. We hung around and ate rounds of homemade chocolate pie, buttermilk pie, fresh apple and bannana nut cake, sweet potatoes, chicken and dumplin's, ham, the works; all of it homemade from scratch of course. One of the best things about my upbringing has always been the cooking. One of my gifts was a pound of beef jerky from Dziuk's, a meat processing market located in the next town over, Castorville. That stuff is great, I coundn't stop myself, I blew through the entire pound in four days. Now my teeth and gums are aching in pain from the constant ripping and tearing, chewing and grinding. If I could have anything other than mom's great pies and cakes and chicken 'n dumplin's, I'd have a pound of beef jerky.

The other highlight was playing round after round of the domino game "chickenfoot" with family including my 93 year old grandmother. There's nothing greater than seeing an ancient old woman laugh her heart out at the cutting up of family and a simple game. It was the most fun I'd had in awhile, and a very good Christmas.


There's potential developing out in far West Texas that could really kick me into high gear for this next year. I'm feeling optimistic about it all, but not enough to go talking about it, I'll let you know. Happy New Year 2011!

P.S. Click on the title link and buy a pound of their strip beef jerky. It's good stuff!

Last Installation in Redford

For my last appearance out in Redford I had devised a sequence of movie scripts to cover as a finale to the year spent there, a closing that would leave open narrations for future ideas. Having placed burial capsules within the park already, my finale was going to include some work, placing objects, sculpture, in the desert along a path leading the viewer into the mountains of the Bofecillos.


George Zupp and I made a decision to join each other in Redford back in 2007-2008. During that time we were discussing the issue of how an environmental change can affect an artist's work through a healthy natural influence. In May of 2009, the capital had been saved, and the adventure was set into action; however, my arrival in Redford was met immediately with tragedy. Losing a friend and companion to the harsh nature of West Texas, my first "marker", or sculpture, went up without my realizing it's importance. It would mark the beginning of my time there, and also serve as the center piece for an ending as well.


An environment such as Big Bend can generate a multitude of inspirations within the heart of an artist, needless to say, it flooded mine with ideas. My relationship with George was a bit distant, while at the same time loosely collaborative. Each person wound up watching the other in what felt like a Mexican standoff of artistic egos, each reluctant to place ideas on the table for fear that the other's were better, or would be stolen, however, we did try to work together in the media of video but from my perspective, the video collaboration was largely unsuccessful. In retrospect, the bigger narrative videos I had scripted were never produced, largely due to difficulties between collaborative energies, and partly due to a lack of dependable resources. On the brighter and better side, the desire to produce these videos inspired the greater of the two, an on site installation leading into the mysterious Bofecillos.



The path of the installation was originally intended to compliment George's work beginning with a pyramid of food cans, which he had been sculpting with, and ending with his being reunited with a bunny sculpture, which made several appearances throughout our time there. In the video script, he was to acquire a lost map from the Angel of Death after a West Texas shootout concerning a desert art critique gone wrong. From the first map, he would have to follow along a series of markers and installation pieces to find new maps ultimately leading him in the direction of the hidden bunny. The first point on the map was the pyramid of cans, climbing out of an arroyo near Texas Highway 170 and the old Redford Elementary school.



From that point, a series of posts, or markers, doubling as removable walking/hiking staffs, would lead deeper into the desert. Each post,a total of five, were created from recycled spam cans, metal striping, polymer resin, acrylic & wood and were topped with blue paint buckets or hoods, to protect the medallion pieces from the sun and to also make the markers more visible in the desert landscape. Their installation was key, four being set on a line leading to the top of Checker's Hill and the last positioned off the beaten path leading to an alternate hill where sits the "Golden Chair of Academia", the last resting place of the bunny.






Coupled with the video idea, this was meant to indirectly give a "choice" to George concerning which path to take. The path is not an easy one however, after the second marker the trail dives off into a series of arroyo channels and the path becomes lost, hidden there was a sculpture I rescued from the old San Marcos Warehouse arts scene and titled "portrait bust of a Lost Soul". This was a location of the second map, and encouraged keeping faith and pointed to the next direction. Also, there was a dead tree of stolen spam cans meant to incite horror or disgust in the arroyos. All in all, the participant could find their way out of the labyrinth by maintaining sight of the remaining markers.







The markers eventually follow a path leading up to the top of a hill where my dog was buried and where a blue cross now stands overlooking Kelly Pruitt's jacal, toward the old Polvo Baptist Church, and a view into the larger Bofecillos mountains and Texas' Big Bend Ranch State Park. Just beside that hill, and on the alternative route, stands another smaller hill where I placed an old elementary school chair painted gold, calling it the "Golden Alter of Academia", or "Golden Chair of Academia". It was a poke at our academic backgrounds and an indirect blow from my position that academics will never rise above the magnitude or potency of the supernatural or biblical prophecy in the minds of humanity. But still acknowledges academia's importance as a continuingly vital institution while leadership and direction maintain truth.






In the end, my vision to produce an entertaining sequence of videos revolving around this installation piece were never realized. Fortunately, the installation itself was. In the larger scope, the finale was the installation. It was the artistic effort to produce a physical journey for viewers to experience in a site specific space, a call to all, to adventure seekers to explore some of the desert's mystery in real time. An invitation to take the path of discovery, to continue on into the greater mountains, to reach the higher peaks and find the treasures hidden there, the treasure of imagination sparked by the natural world itself.

More images from the installation:

2010 Almost Gone

Not much happening. Took a recent trip to Amarillo. Thirty minutes in Best Buy was enough to depress me for a day, standing in the Apple computer section, dreaming about what it would be like to own one. I'm guessing it's for the best, for the sake of this blog anyway. It would be nice to properly edit and store files. Crash and burn.
On the positive end my wood shop has been in full swing. For the last ten days I've been framing small works on paper. There's a Floyd County Christmas Bizarre happening this Saturday and with a bit of luck maybe I'll make enough to survive into the new year.


I've got a lot more to say, and to talk about concerning my progress as an artist, but I'm not feeling up to it now. I want to keep it alive and moving, keep production online and running, let the horse run full gallop forward and break into the larger vision, wield it into reality, get people's eyes on my work and continue building the voice, but; alas, my stars were not made by an easy path. I continue the struggle.

End of November

Well, the Alpine night seemed to go over as a bust. I made an appearance, showed a painting and stated a case. Overall, I'm weary about all the tight West Texas cronies. Even as far up as the Texas Panhandle, it's tough jaring people out of their slowed down conservative drawl. Difficult for me to calibrate business, difficult for me to just get my name out there. It appears the internet is still my best hope. Just keep chipping away here, until I can gain enough capital to approach galleries for a show. My internet participation is going to be pretty low. Loosing ground there too, as machines are dying off left and right. I'm just going to paint for now. There are no friends in art business, very few in art at all.
Installed a desert installation out in Redford, as I pulled out from there. Gonna try and get some pictures up of that and talk about it. We'll see how long it lasts out there.

At Auction Saturday Night in Alpine Texas Artwalk

Bar Three Texas Longhorn, acrylic on paper, 8.5x11", 2010.
Alpine Public Library benefit auction at the Granada in Alpine Texas, bidding ends tonight at 8 p.m.

Last Ten Days in Redford

Redford Desert Constellation
At sites with contemporary, George Zupp, digital photo.
Redford Desert Constellation is a live air trailhead inspired by one year of living spent in the Chihuahuan Deserts of Texas. Just beneath Big Bend Ranch State Park in the Texas County of Presidio, Redford Desert Constellation offers five hooded markers to aid travelers as they approach the first of mountain hills entering the Bofecillos. Behold the Blue Cross of Maria de Agreda atop "Cheg Hill" or sit down and gaze your eyes toward Rio Grande y Conchos river valley agriculture at "The Golden Chair of Acedemia".
Redford Desert Constellation was created and temporarily installed this year by artist Justin Warren Graham and is located just west of late artist Kelly Pruitt's adobe jacal.

2010.

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