Last weekend of September, 2009. I headed back to the Panhandle this last week to get my bearings. Figure out what the next most important move for my art career is to be. I've discovered that not a person on the earth knows my history, or the history of my work, except for a very few. Pictures are worth a thousand words, so that gives me some direction.
Outside from that I traveled to south Texas, Bandera and the Old Spanish Trail, over to Uvalde to give my mom away in marriage, then Tuesday, it's back to the Panhandle to regroup for war paint in Redford. The Panhandle IS the place, though; it's where I'll make my stand. The deal down in Redford, for me, is nothing more than a willing offensive. Greatfully speaking, Redford "rules". It is a good place to be for art. My directions there over this last summer have been primarily directed toward Panhandle objectives. As it turns out, this "crew", of "chicken george and the folk art bunch", aren't really about documenting, they're more about "jacklegging off", or making fun of each other and theirselves. I respect that, it's fun. However, is that REAL folk art? Or, are they just a bunch of copycats who know nothing about the subject in which their engaging? Are they just over edjucated academics trying to nitch themselves into a genre in which they do not belong, or are they just "POP-ing" off? If so that means they are ripe for the kill, and have set themselves up to be knocked out of the way by the real deal. I know where I come from, and I know why I make art. The next three months in Redford are going to be rich. I suggest if you're reading, you watch and subscribe, to them and to me. Here is a video reflecting my acquired attitude:
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Machines Remind Me
Machanes.
Mechanisto-
That I Am Man.
chine;... Shine!
A man is a machine.
~que women` ...?
(wey ma' )
Ma'Ma'
Ma'Ma'
Friday, September 18, 2009
Bofecillos Mountains
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.
Monday, September 14, 2009
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.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Hellhound Artwork
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.
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.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Title to the "Demension Negetivity"
"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.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
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.
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