Bofecillos Mountains

The ART Burials

For seven years I've had the idea to combine artwork and the geocaching sport to engineer some interest of "fine art" into people who are, or are not aware of art working in the new millenia. My intent is to parrallel the experience of the artist creating work with the experience of the patron by creating an adventure. One that would take them somewhere they would not normally go. An event, of family and friends, to hunt down, to find, in an environment a lost artifact. Most pictures I make come from "sets" of three or four. This idea has offered me a chance to break up the set, taking one, if not all, and mysteriously plunging them back into the void in which they came. The whereabouts known only through a set of GPS coordinates, a location number to be sold or released at a certain point it time. Real Adventures of Experience. "Real adventures, Known."

justin.

Redford Desert Landscapes along the Rio Grande

Wanted to post a few landscapes I've produced in Redford. My main interest has been the agriculture aong the Rio Grande River.

Landscape with house and highway, 9" x 8", oil on board, 2009.

Hellhound Artwork

For Sale on e-Bay October 4, 2009.

At some point, and that point being a retrospective vision in reverse, thinking, "Where in the Hell did all these damb wicked hounds come from?".




Since the whole tragedy with Chegg dog and the pilgrimage into the desert went down, I had, almost immediately, these visions of Hell Hounds and the dispicable nature of the harsh earth. It inspired a system release of a handfull of narritives on paper regarding Death, the devil, and of course, God. Not everyone is familiar with God's temptation in the desert, but from beyond three months having been here, it is an inviting place. Hidden, like a canyon almost. Like the Valley of Death.
There are brilliant colors against each other here at war and peace but never at rest. They come in tides washing over the seas of endless jagged hot stone filling every gap and void. Truely, the voids found are full of wonder and curiosity beckoning like sirens, "Come in to us, for we have sheltered many." Illusions, to men who boldly trek after them only to find themselves tossed about by gravel and churning sea of their own selfish desires, lost, among the vast thicket sickle spiked claw of the desert's blind grasp, cactus, sharp spine, solar fire.
Water is Spirit. When it's all gone or poisoned or worse, Hell Hounds will rise up in the hearts of men just as they did today and yesterday, but tomorrow they shall be unrestrained, and they'll stalk the desert floor of this earth like the Terrible Lizard.

Lately out in Redford

Well, I've temporarily resolved a bunny issue on youtube. You see, my colleague, www.chickendeadchicken.com and I, thought it would be a great idea to reinforce the character of mine on youtube by creating a set of videos that played to the slower, seemingly more stupid slow western drawl one can only aquire in the rural west. It has been successful, I believe. We have effectivly began a cast of narative stories, fact of fiction. Here's a few of how they go....


As it turns out, Chicken George is a wicked ole bastard and he just wanted to exploit my suffering and make a fool of me..., therefore....


And at last...

you are current.

What Happens Post Cattle Paintings

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBC81WcWEhE

The Cattle Studies, acrylic on paper, 2009.

Currently at Kiowa Gallery in Alpine, Texas.

Latest: Site of Sale

http://negetism.blogspot.com/

Title to the "Demension Negetivity"

Concerning the Negative Spirit of Humanity

The Interpretation of Music
"Tonight, the bottle let me down." Music. Stop reading and hear it play. One from your day, today. "Tonight, the bottle let me down."
In discerning from the realms an understanding of the music in time, the equation is tested, means by spirit, of addition, to the lyrics if added. Musica, in itself, is on it's ownstanding, however, it is the addition of verbal communication which begins the span of human opinion. The melody of all things Man are, in themselves, great works of orchestra: the guitar, electricity, the operation of the machine (the engine).
Therefore, in the instances of music, the patterns are swayed to positive or negative by the simple word of lyric. An experiance positive/negative.

It's August

Where does time go? One would think that coming out to the desert would slow things down a bit from the hustle and bustle of the central American life, but in fact, I believe it has sped the clock hands further. So then there is work. There is the battle between one's self and the things that prevent one from fully expressing one's self. The maze, the labrinth. Most of my reporting goes to youtube, where I'm leaving traces of my existence here and there. But many who know me know that. Awww. Random thoughts of rambling throughout the mind. Preoccupation of just how and what paths would best fit doing things the best way. I wonder if Michealangelo ever had days where he worked extremely hard but only chipped away a small amount? I wonder if there were days when he chipped away at all? Or days when he raged and threw hammers and distressed? I'm certain of it. And now I feel just a little bit better.

Before and After Cooking with Chicken George

Well, ladies and gentlemen, things out here in Redford have been going well; if it doesn't bother too many gramatical wizards using "well" at the beginning and ending of a sentence. You'll probably tell me I should have used parenthesis on that last part aswell, but, no matter, as my eldest brother always says, in his hardest strike at sarcasm, "Care".
Once the heat barrier is adequatly adapted to, and the body and mind overcome the lack of sleep incurred by this ruthless environment, ideas and aspirations of the mind begin to function with more clarity and focus. The realization that this sort of condition, this time to art alone is exactly what I've been working towards yet unable to grasp again for at least the last three years. When one finds the perfect drug of life, the human mind and the action, the belief is that the "high", the action, can be sustained without interuption. This is the concept of some utopian ideologies. However, the universe is flawed, and I with it; therefore, a sustained homeostatic relationship with my art or anything of this earth for that matter, is hereby unattainable. What a great weight this understanding removes from my shoulders! And a lesson in the growth of art, in living, in the human experience. That nothing on or of this earth should dominate our existence.
The Actual Blog Entry

Our apartment studios here in Redford have individual butane canisters which set about 20 yards away from each apartment. I think that all the hot water heaters run off electricity but the stove top ovens are gas powered, which always makes for a better oven, in my opinion. The fifteenth of July marked my one month aniversary of coming out to the desert and since that time I have been able to keep my kitchen relatively clean and free of ant infestations. However, in the last couple of days, my neighbor to the south has run out of natural gas in his canister (Chicken George) and has come over to cook on my stove every once in awhile. It seems tonight, he has brought his legion of ants with him. They are like his soldier ants. A mighty chicken king with many slaves who follow wherever he goes to simply clean up after him. Trouble is, he left them over in my kitchen, and they are after whet ever secret ingredients he uses in his recipes. No worries. I find it a bit comical.
As for my other doings, heres the latest video about the natural spirit of the desert and the great pains it delivers upon the art makers who choose to fall into her snare. Enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zlcdnm4hR34

All day long I drink iced tea

Well, well, well. How does an animal survive in the desert? To tell the truth, I don't know. But I can tell you, if tea is taxed like tobacco, I will go to war; because all day long I drink iced tea, it's the only way I survive in the desert. HahA.
By now, I'm beginning to wonder about this place and it's long term effects. I've noticed that there have been transitions from the "civilized" man into the one who "speaks as a voice in the wildness." What are they? Let's see, oh what could they be? Well, for starters, it never cools off. That's right. What would you do if you no longer had the sweet luxury of HVAC technowledgy? HVAC, thats Central Heating and Air Conditioning for those of you who think sheetrock walls are made of solid stone. Yes. In fact the body and the mind transition under extreme conditions and the soul begins to reinterpret the universe, it begins to understand with just a bit more clarity the bond between the human spirit and nature. Maybe everyone could use a little more time out in it, away from the bustle of invented comfort. Perhaps we all need a realignment, like the rennassiance. But I feel something far bigger than such an event welling in the horizon of my bones. Rejoice! For the best is yet to be!

Like a comet crosses the sky, the days slip by and by. Last week was the Fourth of July U.S.A. Independence Day celebration. I found myself hangin' with Chicken George out in Marathon, Texas. A funfilled day it was. Started with a bbq lunch and on to an afternoon sitting as chili cookoff judges. Later, there was a small roadside artshow, a short time at a famous hotel bar, then on to the rolls our trio played as wedding crashers. Free beer and shrimp. That's where I scored these firework photos, posing as a wedding photographer. After the family made Chicken George and his "devil with a red dress on", we had to move on to the final event, a dance out in the absolute middle of nowhere. Now you don't get much more fortunate than that. I had a great time. Hope everyone out there remembers theirs, and for good reason. Live free, or Die. Adios y via con Dios.

BOOM!!

Last Weekend in June

Reunion de Familia

The last weekend in June is celebrated by my family as the Graham Family Reunion, my father's name. It is one of the four times, over the course of each summer, in which family members all get together for a reunion. Each one is of a different name, for example, there is the Graham, the Calloway, the Hayes, and the Carr, and each is held in a different location in Texas. It's been awhile since I was able to make it to the Graham reunion; But, with the development of digital recording devices, cameras, video cams, computer software and so on, I thought it a good time to try and document the stories of youth from the last of a generation that was my Grandfathers; Only now, I wish I had begun fifteen years ago.
Since most of them are already gone there are only a few left to get diamonds of information from such as my Great Aunt Neoma, pictured here, who spoke to me, on the record, about where her parents (my grandfathers parents)and their grandparents came from. As it turns out, my great great grandfather was in the Indian Wars of the late 1800's when men were settling the prairie. In a battle he was wounded and lost is horse but found refuge in a hollowed tree log. Later, a young Cherokee Indian woman found him, took pity on him, and nursed him back to health. They were later married.
Moreover, she told me storie from the 1930's, 40's, and 50's about how her and her husband developed a cement foundry, and were responsible for the establishment of many water wells, cement grain elevators, many Wal-Mart foundations, and later the foundations for the wind energy windmills. Who could have known that documenting the elders was so enlightening? I recomend it. Their stories are made of determination and will, and the knowledge is powerful.


In the end, the panhandle trip to visit family bore great fruit, not to mention the rain that region has received. It has really boosted my father's garden into overdrive, and I was able to reap some of the fresh reward. Thanks, dad. In the meantime, it's back out to Redford, and the pursuit of The Great Commission.