Headed to Redford Tomorrow

It has been two weeks since I arrived back in the Texas Panhandle to gather supplies and equipment for an extended stay out in the desert basin of Big Bend. Only the last two days have been dedicated to packing supplies. Prior to returning home fourteen days ago it had been two months since I'd seen my house. When I left winter was still clinging to the country side, clutching it, like a crow who'd figured out the scarecrow, refusing to fly away. But, when I returned life was here again.
When your away for long periods of time there is always a stack of mail waiting on the desk for your attention. I've successfully, over the past three years removed myself from the grasp of American society as much as possible, shortening the stack of letters, bills, and junk paper waste that accumulates in a burn pile in the corner of my room. I'm happy enough to just receive copies of my magazine subscriptions and that's it, an occasional bill here or there, but it was my willingness to live life with cash that allows me to do things like break away and go to the desert for three months to a year. That, and a lot of planning. In fact, I've been preparing for an artistic offensive for over three years now. How elusive it is! The things in life we long for. How much is the theif that robs us? How many don't even know that they're being robbed? Content, to feed on what the social monster of human acceptance dictates to them. You need to be this way and do all of this. You need to be content. I wish I could be. But I'm glad I'm not.
Have you ever been pushed by a force of water? There's a point when you stop resisting it because you understand that it's power is greater than you, and you are going to go wherever it takes you. A point when vision is distant and downstream. A point where you begin to aim at targets, focus and take them down. Swim, like a fish.
The river winds around where it wants to go, Like this post. I began writing it to talk about the twelve days spent repairing an old chariot and a wagon idea for a mobil pallet and easel; prepare for the future always. But here I am, discussing fish, the social robber of dreams, the death of the human spirit, and the time of the operation of the machine.
I'll see you in Redford.

One Step Closer to the Edge

Some of the plants you see here in the Graham/Ford Co-operative garden were started in my room back in January. Last year I worked a summer vegtable garden probably one tenth the size of this years. My nieghbor across the street retired from farming this year and as he put it, "was feeling a little ambitious" regarding a Panhandle vegtable garden. If Hank Hill was another twenty or so years older, that'd be my neighbor, or the voice, anyway. He purchased this lot next to our house, tore down the old decrepped abode that sat on it, ran the disc over the land once or twice, and finally, asked if we were interested in a collaborative effort. Together we have a couple of varieties of sweet corn, watermellon, honeydew mellon, canteloupe, black eyed peas, sweet peas, beans, potatoes, okra, two varieties of tomatoes, and about five different varieties of peppers. If all goes well with moisture I'm hoping to experiment further on a hot sauce recipe.

News from the Panhandle

Today is June the seventh, 2009. I'm up in the texas panhandle taking care of miscellaneous business I needed to take care of before going to the Big Bend area. So far, so good. I've stayed as busy as possible with out a break until today. I still have about three major details to take care of before I ship out. The summer heat is beginning to take hold of the panhandle now. The spring wheat has turned to gold and the month old corn stalks are two feet tall; a beautiful contrast of the colors of life and death. Irrigation is going full strength as the farmers are struggling to get the crops up due to a lack of rain in this region. Lately, there have been a few showers that have helped, however the wind and dry climate removes moisture nearly as fast as it goes in the ground. This is the time of year when the Panhandle really comes to life. For an artist it is the best time to be on the prairie, but the elements can be challenging. It has me questioning my trip to the desert, but my commitment out there has been set and my agenda will have to be fulfilled. I needed a little time away from the prairie anyhow.

The Cotton Module Paintings of the Winter of 2008-2009, cont.

Cotton Module Paintings of the Winter of 2008-2009.

Ressurection

Cotton Module with Green Tarp, 4"X6", oil on cardboard, 2008.
__________________________________________________________
Powering On
Today is: May the 26th day of the year 2009. It's been sometime since I posted to this blog. It seems the world has a way of distracting us away from things from time to time; however, since this has been my blog of choice, I imagine that there is no reason to let it die.
So let us catch up. When I last posted here I was in the Texas Panhandle in my newly errected studio with expectations that I would produce a body of paintings shortly after construction was complete. In truth the amount of energy I expelled in the creation/remodeling of an old house into a wood shop/painting studio behind my fathers property took more out of me than I anticipated. Therefore, when it was time to make pictures, I was feeling a little flat. Not to mention that the entire year of 2008 I was plagued by a chronic back pain that was the result of two herniated discs in my lower spinal column. Coupled with prescribed drugs and pain killers I have to say that, retrospectively speaking, my mind, body, and spirit were not up to the task of picture making. The time was not fully lost, however, there is always the sketch book and writings, not to mention the fact that I was able to produce a series of small paintings regarding the cotton farms of the Texas Panhandle and Plains Caprock Region. The "Cotton Modules" were an excursion out into the plains to meet with cotton farmers and ginners who could tell the world about "The Orgin of Cotton". I'm working on some videos documenting the harvest of cotton, due out this winter.
Into 2009, I needed to get out of the Panhandle for awhile so I jumped back in an 18 wheeler and left out for the highway to fill my soul of this nation. Great thing about trucking, the best views of the highway with most of the comforts of home. If you can't afford to travel in a motor home it's the best way to really see this country. In the mean time a friend George Zupp and I were planning an extended trip out to the Big Bend Desert. Which brings us into the now. Starting in June, I will be a resident of Redford, Texas, and will be operating there in paint, film, and sculpture until the time comes that I feel that there should be a change, or until that time that change becomes an evident dictation. My intention there is to maintain this blog with increased attentiveness, possibly daily. The plot for my ARTistic expansion thinkens and is going to require of me that I keep a detailed account of my actions in a public forum such as this instead of the locked away pages of a black sketch book. So, here it will be.

American Extension of Rome

What a topic of discussion it is to think or understand that the United States position in the world is one that is truely not our own, as arrogantly as we believe, but the true Peek of the Roman Empire. That makes us Romans; troops, wars, warriors, artists, social security, president, ceasar, citizen. As a friend of mine once said, "The Roman Empire Never Died" (J.D. Durham).
A new line of pictures are on the way from my extension of a painted hand, yet no pictures due to the fact that I'm not ready for anyone to see; mostly b/c I want to have many. Therefore, be patient, and I will post them here first. coming soon. You wait for movies, it's the same with paint, wait in anticipation!

Justn

why do I have to always put the title here?

"Hey, did you know pigs is is smart as dogs?"

I have another blog. I don't know the blog title yet. It's aimed a little more toward poetry and the reorganization of words, phrases, codes, and notions that may or may not have direct meaning for a small few individuals; or, it may have to do with a lot.
"I don't even know".

In the meantime there has been progress towards the production of paintings. I' have felt lifted by this, and have therfore been compelled to write about it. There. I have told you. of course we want to see pictures...

Press On

Discouraging
Understanding the Spiritual in Art

In 2006 I left San Marcos, Texas with the aspirations to build a new beginning towards this direction I call an art carreer. An old, wiser man once told me, "Don't ever feel like you're locked into something to where you cannot change". Well, I understand all of that, the only trouble is having no idea where or what your into. It's sort of like being out in the desert, I guess, but even out there one can navigate nocturnally via the moving stars. There's no telling, as the elders I grew up with have always spoke.
So far, the plans I set forth to accomplish have been met. A studio was built, a wood and framing shop also, even the accumilation of ample supplies stockpiled. However, the one thing that has been missing as of late is the spirit, the drive, the will and the want to, the direction. Lost. It is discouraging. Moreover, solitude can take a heavey toll. Part of what art is about is feeling human, or having human interaction and contact. But I have, at some point, chosen this exile. Nothing that I'm really locked into, but something that is extremely pressing on the spirit, this solitude. Sometimes I wonder if I'm gifted or cursed. If the craziness that humanity associates with the artist is a blessing, or a damnation. It sure feels like the latter, especially when no one is around, or when they seem to run away and not speak. Then how is it that we can keep from becoming locked into one thing? What scars do we leave upon one anothers spirit that may or may not trap us? The marks that either able or disable us from our hearts desires. It makes me ponder the nature of our spiritual orgins. It solidifies the belief of good and bad, spiritual positive and negative, and the labrinths of each.

War Broke out at The Feedyard

Painting is like war. Sometimes you go out there to fail. Repeatedly. Thats what I did today. Over and over three times.
And now I'm determined.
Nothing quinches thirst like failure.
Nothing can quinch.
I'm going to destroy this.
I'm going to make it happen.
War broke out the Feedyard.
War's broke out the Feedyard.
War is paint.
Paint is war.

Page Thirty Three

Time.
The Disconnection of Time.
"In my discovery, this new mellinium of the new era (ERA 3), 2008, Year of Our Lord, that dates are something of an unimportant matter. Truely, the entire Earth has become something of a so convienent order that the human mind for which earth was built could operate within any level of known history. That being in the individual man to decide for himself the pursuit of his brother's knowledge. Choice."
And there is only one choice to make...
"Entirely, if one chooses to attain the knowleges of his fellow man, and with our assets of mass communications and relatively allowed peace, this has been possible, the very concept of time can be interpreted as a deduction, rather than summation."

Enter:The Frequencies of Mathematics

Ninth of July, 2008.

What is it?
What else is there?
Nothing. And now you know.
Therefore I can not say that the revelation of one's destiny is a disappointment. It is not. However the weight can be great; the loss, crushing.
So then you know the way which is set before you?
I see it. The path is true. It is just there, before my feet.
A road I know by heart, but have yet to travel upon.
The first step is the hardest to take?
Yes.
Why are your feet so heavey?
They are tied to the past. Grounded, like the roots of a tree, and they refuse to let go.
Then cut them off. Cut away the dead roots of the past. Put them in a pile, say goodbye and burn them, then there will be nothing. You will have new feet, new roots, a past that will be your own, a future that you know by heart, but have yet to travel upon.
And so I see.
Do you see it?
Yes. It's just there, before my feet.
Then take it, it's yours to have, a gift to you. Do not be burdened by it any longer; yet, be grateful, and enjoy it.
But what about my family? What about my friends?
They are weighted by your distress. They are encumbered by your hesitation. By holding back for the sake of the past you sacrifice your happiness, and theirs. They want your achievement, just as you do.
So there really is nothing else. I've waited here for so long, and for nothing.
And so you have.
But not in vain, the lessons of nothing are great. The gravity of of nothing, is something, even if you cannot see it, even if you cannot feel it, you know it is there.
Can you see it?
Yes. It is just there. And so I know, and now I am going.
Goodbye.
And thanks again.