Archive for the ‘Studio’ Category
Monday, May 26th, 2008
False happiness can be built on willful ignorance, escapism, denial, or even convenient lapses of memory. Lord knows I’ve indulged my share of each, and shall dedicate current efforts toward genuine balance and the renunciation of procrastination. The shallow gratification that accrues with patterns of creative avoidance is too thin to endure self-scrutiny. With every new commitment comes the potential for mishandled priorities, but also an opportunity to evolve greater accountability, and so I continue to make promises. Is there any other way to reinforce a level of personal integrity upon which true serenity can be achieved?
Each artist selected for the Maker’s Mark project was permitted to submit four concepts in the next round of approvals—which I did— and received the go-ahead for two of my ideas. Final pieces are due by the end of August. For my latest journal-cover assignment, I chose a more “tech look” than previous illustrations. Despite computer-related obstacles, I was pleased with the solution, but I haven’t heard from the client yet. However, I did hear back from the owner of “Song of America,” and his one-word response to my packaging layout for black-oil sunflower seeds was WOW, with 28 exclamation points. (Yes, I’m weird; I did actually count them.)
I suppose it’s time to move on. Just heard thunder again, so I’m commiserating with those who planned outdoor events for this holiday. Also thinking about America’s war dead, and remembering that, proportionately, most of them were from the Revolutionary War and Civil War. When computed in terms of today’s population, one gains the shock of how dreadfully huge a segment of our society was lost in both conflicts. May they all have eternal rest. We owe them everything because they sacrificed everything.
Posted in Art, Creativity, Death, Gratitude, History, Holidays, Priorities, Psychology, Studio | No Comments »
Tuesday, April 1st, 2008
— Month of March workout totals: Swim-1; Bike-3; Run-4; Lift-3; Yoga-0; Pilates-5; Lupus-3
— Another constructive “March Experiment” is under my belt, but it may be no longer accurate to call it an experiment. In its current form, the regimen has become more of an annual exercise. Perhaps next time around I shall discover and impose a breakthrough to make it truly experimental again.
— Brendan stopped by today on his way west (Way, Way West), and it felt good to personally wish him Godspeed. He loaned me his copy of Watchmen, and we also talked a bit about The Book of the New Sun. I asked him if he’d packed plenty of listening material. He said he would be playing his CD of a popular presidential candidate reciting “99 Bottles.” (Yeah, that last thing was a lame April Fool’s joke. I got Dana with a much better one this morning.)
— With the price of gold hovering near a generational high, the Graybeard Prospector turned over a new leaf last month, using every trick he could think of to see if he might stake some new claims. In the process, he connected with some new friends and old, including one from the Cincinnati days. His former pal Ray is working on a book with photographs of drive-through expresso shacks, which apparently are a feature of the American Northwest. Based on this information, it looks like Nephew B has hit the trail for the caffeine mother lode. We’ll see if he can stay clean and somber.
Five years ago — 4/1/03
— When will the turning point in the war come, and will we even recognize it when it does? Today the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs made an animated defense of Rumsfeld, Franks, and the war plan, in response to aggressive media criticism. It’s amazing to me how the press is behaving at a time of war… Today Dana and I had lunch at the Carnegie Club, listening to a superb presentation by Vince about the music of Duke Ellington, but a lot of it was autobiographical. He talked more than I expected about his youth and evolution as a musician, as well as his attitude toward teaching—clearly the real passion for him.
Ten years ago — 4/2/98
— The new Mac is sitting on a chair in the conference room, unpacked but unplugged. The workload is just now easing up enough to consider tearing into our current configuration… It’s time for me to set it up. I should be more excited, but I usually feel this way—a bit nervous—when I have to disrupt an existing system. The excitement will come later.
V & S
Posted in Angst, Brendan, Dana, Exercise, Family, Fiction, Friends, History, Music, Personalities, Political Affairs, Precious Metals, Presidency, Studio, Technology, Words | No Comments »
Saturday, March 1st, 2008
My log is currently suspended for the annual March Experiment.
— Month of February workout totals: Swim-3; Bike-2; Run-3; Lift-2; Yoga-0; Pilates-3; Lupus-1
— If I accomplish nothing else over the next 30 days, I must find “the means.” I won’t try to define exactly what that means (hey, is that a pun?), but most of you know what I’m talking about. It can look like ferocity, but mere ferocity is no match for the kind of unrelenting competitive intensity that Uncle Don held out as mark of the victorious spirit. Well, maybe I did just define it. All I know right now is that I need to regain the source of it, and the man who coined the term is in the hospital and probably dying. He is my Godfather, and from him I inherit the challenge of “the means.” James and I were talking about him this morning when we accompanied Joan to inspect Joe’s Riverland. It was a wonderful outing that combined the gentle Lamb of March and memories of our lost Clansmen with an enduring camaraderie that is too rarely enjoyed (and I don’t mean scarce, but rare). I’m so glad we did it.
— Speaking of Joan: she uncovered this NPR feature that makes me think we might have been among the last of the “Oldenday Players.” This closing thought sums up the sad, ironic state of current affairs:
…in the rush to give children every advantage—to protect them, to stimulate them, to enrich them—our culture has unwittingly compromised one of the activities that helped children most. All that wasted time was not such a waste after all.
— Wow, did I ever miss the mark at the end of January when I failed to predict that the majority of Democrats were finally ready to kick their Clinton habit! Rather than Senator Obama’s campaign suffering from too many losses in too many states, it appears that the exact reverse has taken place, and now Hillary faces the need to complete an urgent end-zone bomb to stay in contention. Too bad that more conservative Republicans didn’t rally to Romney sooner and offer to the nation the kind of clear ideological choice that a Barack-vs-Mitt face-off would provide.
— Dadbo once gave us an item of firm advice: never work through a general contractor. He learned that lesson the hard way when he and Mombo built our house on the Shoop Road lot. The truth of his warning was born out last week by my experience with one of our clients who’s completing a new dental office. Due to the construction manager’s faulty information and his cover-my-butt attitude, what could have been a perfectly handsome interior wall treatment will fall short of what we worked to achieve on our client’s behalf. It makes me wonder how many other compromises they were forced to swallow in order to get the doors open on time. But maybe I’m missing the whole point—they did what they needed to do to achieve a massive relocation, with a net gain of significant improvement. What’s wrong with me? Done is better than perfect!
— On Saturday, March 8th, the Community Arts Center will hold its annual benefit and live art auction. According to the Center’s promotional material, the artwork is from some of the area’s top artists, and I can’t disagree with that, even if the list includes your humble correspondent. The online photo gallery offers sneak previews of artwork that will be on the block, and they did a good job of putting together that feature for the Website. The mixed-media collage I donated, Then Sings My Soul, was created nearly a year ago for KOSMOS: Discovery and Disclosure.
— Go back another year to the first March-X and that’s when I helped organize some local cyclists that would form the B.I.K.E. | Boyle County group. On March 11th, the local organization devoted to cleaning up and preserving Clark’s Run (C.R.E.E.C.) will host a community forum that will focus on trails and greenways. B.I.K.E. has not only promoted the idea of safer, more bicycle-friendly streets and roads in Boyle County, but has always hoped to collaborate with community partners as a catalyst for planning a network of shared-use byways and connecting trails.
Yesterday I finished a draft of our comprehensive recommendations to kick-start the development of a community master plan that envisions much more than the construction of a few off-street recreational trails. The process will take leadership, commitment, and years of effort. Available funding will go to the localities which combine a strategic vision with constituent support. It’s a challenging goal, but many places have already done it. Some of you know that from your travels and vacations. Those communities improved the quality of life for their populations and, at the same time, attracted visitors, new residents, and employers. Can we do it here? Stay tuned. Bye, everybody!
For the despondent, every day brings trouble;
for the happy heart, life is a continual feast.
—Proverbs 15:15 (New Living Translation)
V & S
Posted in Angst, Art, Blogging, Business, Community, Craftsmanship, Current Events, Dadbo, Exercise, Friends, James, Joan, Mombo, Nature, Playtime, Political Affairs, Presidency, Scripture, Studio | No Comments »
Monday, February 18th, 2008
After a weekend of fruitless troubleshooting, I went to bed last night without the layout proof I needed for a presentation this morning. Just after daybreak, in my bathrobe, I was sipping hot coffee, watching the masons starting their shift, laying concrete block for the new library wing across the street. My gloom was thicker than the dismal conditions outside. I had to solve my problem, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the workers. How early did they arise to be on that scaffolding at first light? Had they found a sanity rooted in predictable, hands-on craftsmanship that seemed to be eluding me? At my lowest point I almost believed it was time to abandon it all, to go out and find some kind of real job like that… But who was I kidding? So I faced the quandary again, telling myself, “think positive,” and actually managing to do it without skepticism, feeling resolved to the outcome, whatever it might be.
Later, after everything had worked out, and the client had said he really liked my design, and I had gotten a solid inquiry from Alabama about a new project, I sit here with a second paragraph that needs a culminating thought, trying to make some sense of my day—a Monday that feels like more than the start of a new week…
Posted in Angst, Craftsmanship, Psychology, Studio, Technology | No Comments »
Wednesday, January 16th, 2008
Is it just me, or has this been a rugged year so far? Joan is emphatically right when she keeps an emphasis on life’s blessings, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of struggles along the way. I just spent the better part of a week scraping back together a functional workstation, and, as you’ve no doubt heard me whine before, my lifestyle dependency on computers is a major source of distress from time to time. For me, few things trigger such a sense of the forlorn. Perhaps it will continue until I learn to transcend it—or finally accept at an even deeper level that there’s a supreme power in control of my existence.
I remind myself that any flirtation with modes of complaint is without validity, for is there really a soul in the world who isn’t weathering his own vicissitudes? (Tom Cruise doesn’t count, dammit.) I think of my friends the Bells, or the school community in Marion County, or Janet and Jerome, and I can’t help but consider that much of life involves suffering. I suppose it’s about how we deal with it.
Take my niece Hayley, for example. Surely she had a much different expectation of how her 11th-grade basketball season would transpire, compared to the difficulties that came around the corner instead. A recent media story laid it all out before the public. Good grief. Nevertheless, among her top competitors, she still leads the area with an 80% free-throw percentage. Hardly anybody on the court has been pressured this winter as much as Belle, but she maintains her composure at the line.
Like I said before, it’s about how we deal with it. Keep plugging, “gril.”
Posted in Angst, Family, Gratitude, Personalities, Psychology, Sport, Studio, Technology | No Comments »
Saturday, January 12th, 2008
The treacherous plot against Ian has found its way to my studio. Symantec’s Norton Disk Doctor has violated the Hippocratic Oath by completely screwing the hard-drive directory on my Mac G4.
I’ll spend most of the weekend rebuilding my computer from back-up files, and I might as well look on the bright side, seeing it as an opportunity to upgrade the operating system and organize things anew. To keep my positive outlook, as my nephew seems to have done, I’ll hold pleasant thoughts… hmmm… oh yeah, like visiting the Cowboys locker room when we were in Dallas last year.
Posted in Ian, Sport, Studio, Technology | No Comments »
Thursday, December 27th, 2007
“Art is to take from life something real, then to build it anew with your imagination.”
—Taha Muhammad Ali
— I made good on the recent advice from Irina to paint fast and complete a work within one day—I spent most of Christmas Eve executing a heron in watercolors for Nic, my Godson. It turned out rather nicely, so I’m encouraged about continuing with a series of single-day images for display at Wilma’s new gallery. Nic likes it, using the term, “shagpoke,” which he learned from Dadbo. Since I was unfamiliar with that name, I dug into its background and came up with this: It’s a variation of shitepoke, which made reference to a bird’s habit of defecating when disturbed, but is generally applied to the green heron (Butorides virescens), the black-crowned night heron (Nycticorax nycticorax) or the American bittern (Botaurus lentiginosus), none of which is the bird I painted, the great blue heron (Ardea herodias), that familiar creature which, for me, is always a symbol of good fortune. Interestingly, nicknames for the great blue include “long john” and “poor joe.” Perhaps Dadbo called any heron he saw a shagpoke, or hadn’t thought it necessary to make distinctions with a young lad developing his fondness for the world of animals. I can’t help but think of my father’s early days fishing the Stillwater, and wonder if great blues populated that part of Ohio in the 1930s. One more curious observation is that double ‘nyc’ in the scientific name for the night heron.
— I finally got to meet Jerry R at Kelley Ridge, and was happy to see him again when we gathered for Clan Stew. Does this make him an official ”sweetie?” I enjoy hearing him share his historical knowledge. This is the kind of man that has the capacity to unlock Marty’s natural desire to study history. Dana and I have resolved to take the lad on a visit to Boonesborough in 2008.
— Although there are numerous commercial tasks facing me in the studio right now, I can’t help but spend a good portion of my energy this time of year looking ahead to the coming cycle and getting organized. Rather than get caught up in an assessment of past months, I tend to flush all my thoughts and feelings about what’s behind in favor of anticipation for what lies before me. Januaries are full of hope and fresh confidence, with my mind turning to “Max Organ.” Now, don’t let visions of spam-email lewdness dance in your head, because I’m talking about my age-old effort to sort and categorize my morgue of visual materials and other personal papers, along with structuring my work space, and, in general, just dealing with all my accumulated stuff—Maximum Organization. It’s an ideal that can’t actually be reached (if you intend to accomplish anything else), but always remains a worthy goal. It makes me think about the mathematical concept of the asymptote. Max Organ shall always remain the valiant endeavor that draws one closer and closer to the unattainable standard. Nevertheless, “finished is better than perfect.”
— There should be a strong contingent of Clan at the game tonight, rooting for #3. Tomorrow is Belle’s 17th birthday, and I think she’s due for a good performance on her home court. Like a knucklehead, I got so worked up about watching her play last night that I drove us out to the high school before it became obvious I had the date wrong.
V & S
Posted in Art, Birthdays, Dadbo, Dana, Family, Friends, Marty, Nic, Priorities, Studio, Time | Comments Closed
Wednesday, December 19th, 2007
As I prepare to execute the portrait of Mr. Brady, I’m using every bit of illustrator’s trickery that I have, especially the old illusion where I convince myself that I know how to paint. The facial study and color rendering are both finished, but I hesitate to commence the final piece without a reaction from Mrs. Brady. I suppose the typical fine artist would plunge ahead, but I’m too accustomed to a process that involves client interaction.
I haven’t devoted much time to anything else over the past week, other than some Christmas decorating and our annual Clan\Power bell-ringing contribution to the Liberty kettle campaign. We covered all ten hours, with the nastiest weather staying north for the day, thankfully. I couldn’t hang around town all day, unlike past years, so Rita and Seth were the only members of the family I got to see. They both looked great. It fills me with anticipation for Christmas Eve Stew at the Hall.
The overall Salvation Army fundraising effort for our five-county area of service is running behind where we were at this time last year, and it’s difficult to put a finger on the reasons. I think the Liberty kettles are doing fine, but the big difference is the Wal-Mart locations in Danville. Marty and I rang for a couple hours in front of the grocery entrance and it did seem less active that in the past. The Advocate-Messenger is sponsoring an online kettle that anyone can use to make a contribution to our local campaign, so maybe that will kick in during the closing days. The Captains are optimistic that the community will come through to meet the goal. It always has.
On Sunday I called Barefoot, my best chum from high school, and, because I hadn’t spoken to him since summer, I found myself giving a “state of the life” summary. It made me feel ill at ease. I can’t understand why. And yet I believe that my household has successfully crossed a challenging divide. Perhaps it’s taken so long that I’ve forgotten how to be at peace. If so, it’s the perfect season to work on that. Father, grant me the peace of Christ, Your newborn Son, who fulfills every requirement.
Tomorrow is a new day in the studio, and all shall be well.
(Of course I don’t know how to paint. Only Andrew Wyeth does.)
Posted in Angst, Art, Community, Family, Friends, Marty, Prayer, Studio | Comments Closed
Sunday, December 9th, 2007
— Each time this year I’ve run the 5+ miles back downtown from the cabin, the time has felt shorter, even though I’m running pretty slowly these days. The silence transpired more quickly for me this morning, too. Milton handed out his periodic survey to the group, and I discovered a 1961 Horizon in Mack’s studio that had an interview with Andrew Wyeth, famous at the time, and now the greatest living American painter. I’ll have to digest the whole article during another visit, but I was able to scan a few stimulating quotations, and then Sara Jane offered me a new commission, with the freedom to interpret a photographic image with my choice of style—the perfect assignment. Everything conspired to boost my motivation to aggressively advance the Brady and Eckerle projects, plus my fine-arts enterprise in general. I couldn’t think about anything else as I ran home. So, why am I sitting here with this log entry?
— Cliff and I had a conversation about blogging the other day and it got me thinking about my string of 616 or 617 consecutive posts, and how important making daily entries used to seem. Brendan still refers to this site as a daily journal, but that hasn’t been true for well over a year. Once again, time is malleable, and, as Arnold has said, there’s adequate time each day for everything meaningful enough to do. Blogging isn’t about the time, but about having something worth saying to yourself, maybe worth recording, possibly worth sharing. I eventually figured out that doesn’t happen every day. When it does, not much time is required to get it down.
— Terie and Marty bought the M:I:3 DVD and left it at our house, so, late last night, I watched the J.J. Abrams picture for the second time, and I liked it a bit more this time around. I think Tom Cruise is the Burt Lancaster of his generation. Regardless of what I might think of his personal life, his work product demands respect. (Hey, not all celebrities can be a James Stewart or Charlton Heston; Lance Armstrong falls into the same category.) If Cruise had not become an actor, he would surely have been an Olympic or professional athlete in some discipline. He has the mentality and natural capacity for high-performance physical achievement. Although one of the least flamboyant stunts, his Chinese-village tile-roof footwork is probably the riskiest choreography in the movie. As I’ve declared before, I think he squandered the full potential of the classic franchise and put its longevity at risk, but this sequel is the best of the lot, the most team-oriented, and it fits nicely into our ancient family idea of an M:I Saga Series. In my opinion, Abrams is a creative, meticulous director with a feel for the spy genre compatible to Mission: Impossible—Cruise certainly can’t be faulted with his selection—but Abrams will need to have further honed his story-telling skills to do justice to his upcoming Star Trek feature, another Desilu-originated concept from the “silver age” of television.
— Local historian, R.C. Brown, is dead at 90. He once saluted me on a Danville street as, “Mr. Dixon, the Spin Doctor!” We often held different political perspectives, but shared a fascination with local heritage. I recruited him in 1991 to expound before a camera, as part of a fundraising documentary (the same program in which we cast Alyx as a child actress). He was in his 70s then, and I was young enough to think I might have a future directing videos (as close as I got to being Ken Burns when I grew up). Brown was the doctor, not me. He was from Ohio, too, but went on to get a Ph.D. from the University of Wisconsin. He taught history at Buffalo State College for 28 years. When he retired to our area, he rapidly became an authority and wrote The History of Danville and Boyle County. I’ll always believe that Professor Brown respected me as a talent, even though I consider his remark shaded by a mild one-upmanship. Perhaps he did understand better than most the true nature of my commercial craft, but I hope he wasn’t thinking of Victor Papanek’s quotation:
“In persuading people to buy things they don’t need, with money they don’t have, in order to impress others that don’t care, advertising is probably the phoniest field in existence today.”
I prefer this one:
“The only important thing about design is how it relates to people.”
— Thomas Bewick, my newest hero, couldn’t escape the ongoing necessity of making money with “coarse work” (as his daughter called it), despite his artistic reputation and unmatched skill as a wood engraver. I wanted to return the library book and avoid fines, but couldn’t help myself, and finished the biography by Jenny Uglow this week. As I said previously, learning more about his life has reinforced for me the notion that, although everything changes on outward levels, nothing really changes in the human dynamics of making a living as an independent, creative craftsman. I was notably saddened when I learned that he never fulfilled his dream of having the cottage workshop close to nature described in his memoir:
“The artist ought if possible to have his dwelling in the country where he could follow his business undisturbed, surrounded by pleasing rural scenery & the fresh air and as ‘all work & no play, makes Jack a dull Boy,’ he ought not to sit at it, too long at a time, but to unbend his mind with some variety of employment — for which purpose, it is desireable, that Artists, with their little Cots, should also have each a Garden attached in which they might find both exercise & amusement — and only occasionally visit the City or the smokey Town & that chiefly for the purpose of meetings with their Brother Artists.”
Dana reminded me that we all tend to get what we desire if we want it badly enough.
V & S
Posted in Art, Blogging, Brendan, Business, Cliff, Community, Craftsmanship, Dana, Death, Education, Exercise, Family, Friends, Gardening, History, Marty, Movies, Nature, Nonfiction, Personalities, Priorities, Sport, Studio, Television, Terie, Time, Words | Comments Closed
Thursday, November 22nd, 2007
“A wiseacre on the Oakland to Los Angeles shuttle this week said the next technological leap would be implanting cell phones into people’s heads. He was kidding—we think.”
—Chuck Raasch, USA Today
Someone on the news said recently that 80% of Americans have a cell phone. I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked at that, but I was, and it made me feel distinctly in the societal minority, since I don’t carry one. Not that it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve been mildly concerned from the beginning that their use might eventually cause adverse health effects, but if somebody gave me a free iPhone, I would bear-hug them and then find a private spot to dance in my underpants.
Last night, Dana created a wonderful meal with crab-stuffed shrimp for Marty’s 16th birthday, and he showed us his new iPod nano. We got to talking about Apple, with me speculating that the company might be planning to enter the game market. Marty said that idea sounded logical to him, and he predicted it might make its move when Sony inevitably faltered. I suggested that it would probably be a radical leap forward in graphic technology and user interface. He said Apple was sure to compete in that sector eventually, but wondered if they also might decide to make cars. That notion took me by surprise. “Think about it, GrandyJohn,” he added. “Before too long, a car will be basically a computer.”
Sixteen years old. Unbelievable. What kind of a nano-world will exist when he’s my age, and will I make it to age 96 to share it with him? Of course—I need at least another 40 years to figure things out. Will I still be able to get on a bike? Maybe not, but perhaps I shall have created at least one enduring work of art that will have made my life’s journey worthwhile. Hey, if I’ve made it this far, there’s no reason why I can’t declare my personal mid-point and tackle the second half of my expedition.
Joan sent me a delightful poem about becoming an old man who wouldn’t have “a computer or a clock or a phone in the house,” and the desire to “learn something just watching the birds and the weather.” I’d be that guy tomorrow if I had the nest egg, but I don’t, and I won’t anytime soon. Yeah, I know the reasons why. Most of Dana’s contemporaries are beyond their careers, and even I have classmates that retired years ago. I intend to keep working as long as someone will hire me, and, if I’m being honest with myself, I probably wouldn’t have it any other way, because I know I have a lot to learn. A day doesn’t pass without my seeing some creative thing to which I still aspire.
There are times when I think I’m the world’s most miserable excuse for a “multi-tasker,” even though I’m supposed to be able to handle numerous creative goals simultaneously. I was reminded again of this over the past week when I tried to make progress on more than one thing, but the only checklist item I could focus on was my digital illustration for our client in Lexington—which she loved. I was successful in getting past an initial creative block, and brought the process to a very satisfactory conclusion. Something in which to take pride, but all I could think about is what I hadn’t gotten done. In addition to my other assignments, I was hoping to compose a holiday-related “Joe Box,” as part of the local Art Center’s “White Christmas” exhibition, and I also expected to put in another productive session as an amateur stonemason before gathering with my Clan later today. Both of those deadlines slipped by. I’m learning to let them go—to release the sense of perpetual failure—to maintain some modest momentum of accomplishment—to forget about how far short I fall, compared to my expectations. When I grapple with these frustrations, I reckon that most high-performance multi-taskers have a personal assistant or an apparatus of managers, and then I flirt with regrets about not having built an organization around myself, but I have to stop and remind myself to avoid pointless rationalizations. I remind myself that I have an invaluable partner who supports me, and the freedom to achieve any level of personal discipline that I set my heart and mind to attain.
Today is the day set aside to give thanks, and I’m inclined to say, “Thanks for nothing.”
I give thanks for nothing new, because I already have what I need. I have my health, my talent, my independence, and people who love me. When it comes right down to it, that old man in the poem has nothing on me. I can discover delicious food on my plate every day. I can put Häagen-Dazs in my holiday-morning coffee (now, that’s why I exercise!). I can still weep when I listen to beautiful music. I don’t have to take medicine, and I can do virtually any physical thing I can think of wanting to do, and perhaps a few that I shouldn’t, being old enough to know better. I can spend a morning in the woods with a lever-action carbine and bring home to my mate a harvest of young, whitetail buck. I can marvel at my new friend’s ability to extrapolate that primal experience as an entire book of verse written in the voice of Kentucky’s most revered pioneer. I can coax my hand to execute just about any visual style that I can harness my perceptions to absorb. I can express my ideas and longings to others who care about what goes on in my head. I can dream. And I can still tell my mom that I love her.
Thank you, Father, for nothing different than all those blessings from Thee.
“Art is worthless unless it plants a measure of splendor in people’s hearts.”
—Taha Muhammad Ali
Posted in Art, Business, Creativity, Dana, Dance, Exercise, Family, Firearms, Food, Friends, Gratitude, History, Holidays, Hunting, Marty, Mombo, Music, Nature, Prayer, Priorities, Psychology, Studio, Technology, Time, Verse, Words | Comments Closed
Friday, November 9th, 2007
Broadway Report
— The Library closed its doors on West Broadway for the next 13 months or so, and I don’t think it’s entirely sunk in for me yet. It’s almost as though somebody boarded up a room of your house and said you couldn’t use it for a year. Meanwhile, the noise and dust levels are increasing, as construction on the new addition accelerates. One bright spot—I got permission to scrounge ten wheelbarrow loads of limestone powder left over from the work of the big bedrock drills (necessary for the innovative geothermal system they’re installing). I’m not certain how it will come into play when I move forward on our brick and stone driveway, but a scrounge is a scrounge.
Graybeard Alert
— My sharp disappointment at having our Website proposal rejected by the Great American Brass Band Festival was assuaged by an unexpected packaging assignment from Burkmann. On top of that, the Graybeard Prospector had a productive outing yesterday after the Medicine Woman concocted another one of her marketing potions. Glad to inform all that things are percolating again in the studio, and I’m almost prepared to say we’re busy.
Mokrabo Safari
— This past weekend, I helped make good on Dana’s long-held vision for a “safari dinner” at the Blue Bank Farm. The weather was a bit chilly and windy, but what could anyone expect on the first Sunday in November? The evening sky was perfect, and the Milky Way was visible before the diminishing light of day was gone. I can’t imagine it was any more spectacular in Africa that night. With us were Joan, Janet, Jerome, Lee, and David. Good food, good wine, good music, good campfire, good friends. Sure, it turned out to be a lot of work, but a memorable time was had by all. Greg Brown gave us a scare when he disappeared, but showed up the next morning, thank goodness.
Art Update
— Participated in my third wood engraving workshop at Larkspur Press, and, to avoid the tiring shuttle, I pitched a tent between the shop and Sawdridge Creek, which gave me four days of immersion that yielded two finished blocks. It’s hard to describe, but I broke through to a new comfort level with Wesley, his indomitable wife Juanita, and all the regulars who return year after year, including Richard, well-known force in the literary scene. Juanita soloed Saturday night at the Elk Creek Vineyards, and then came back to the area the following week to perform at Richard’s traditional “First Friday” gathering in the cafe next to his Frankfort bookstore, which I was able to attend because I’d spent the afternoon at the Transportation Cabinet with my fellow bicycle commissioners. Wes and Juanita had gone up to Cincinnati for another workshop sponsored there by Jack, the former international banana-shipping executive who’s expert at so many things (including printmaking) that I can’t keep track. The evening of music and poetry was exceptional. Juanita, Kate, and I sat at a table reserved by Laura Lee, one of the most versatile designer-artists in Kentucky, who just finished illustrating a book for children. Richard acknowledged us as part of the Larkspur wood-engraving gang. Gosh, to be around this circle of talents is one of the most stimulating resources in my life, and I owe it to Gray and his rare hospitality.
V & S
Posted in Art, Business, Community, Dana, Family, Food, Friends, Home, Jerome, Joan, Music, Pets, Studio, Wine | Comments Closed
Tuesday, November 6th, 2007
— Month of October workout totals: Swim-3; Bike-5; Run-2; Lift-3; Yoga-1; Pilates-5
— The ongoing exercise program is finally back in balance, but I need to boost the total workouts per month to reach an optimum level. Exercising five to six times per week has become the new target for fitness and health. Anyone who combines that with a smart diet and minimal toxic challenges can achieve significant benefits of disease prevention, weight management, injury resistance, and a greater sense of well-being. It’s an absolute must for people with a sedentary occupation like mine.
— My Pilates class at the college is shaping up to be a satisfactory ritual. The best thing I’ve learned is that I can actually do it well enough to notice some improvement. Like many physical practices, one can take it as far as individual discipline and determination permit. So far, I like it enough to want to get better, and that’s the motivational fuel I need to keep coming back. It’s tough stuff, and I usually hit a muscular fatigue point or cramp before the hour is complete, but my hope is that I’ll move beyond that by and by. I still have a lot to learn about the techniques and philosophy that underlie the right approach to this. I’ve learned from swimming, cycling, and running that I tend to avoid research at first, because the complexity overwhelms my initial enthusiasm. I prefer assimilating things with a natural receptivity, but also realize that I might develop inefficiencies and poor habits that are more difficult to unravel later, if I don’t educate myself on the fundamentals fairly soon in the learning process.
— I have Jerome and Janet to thank for my getting a large portrait commission—one of the Brady Brothers. I met with his widow last week, and we sorted through reference photos. She showed me an example of his artisanship, and it’s clear he was quite skilled with metal tooling and woodworking, even though he’d lost much of his left hand fighting the Germans in North Africa. She told me she’d never heard him complain or say he couldn’t do something. I guess that isn’t unusual for guys of that generation who came back maimed. They considered themselves the lucky ones. I’m glad to get this project as a launch-point for my portrait business, and what better way to kick-start this venture than to accept the honor of painting a Purple-Heart veteran?
— Today is election day, and I’m struggling to stay optimistic in the face of the overwhelming momentum to toss out a decent leader. Dana and I probably invested too much time in crafting our joint letter to the editor. Obviously, we remain loyal to a governor who kept plugging ahead during a difficult term in office. If Ernie is turned out, it will be in spite of his numerous contributions to improving our state government. If he wins, it will be one of the most remarkable political upsets of recent years. We’re hoping for a Harry Truman moment early tomorrow morning.
V & S
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Friday, October 5th, 2007
— Month of September workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-10; Run-5; Lift-7; Yoga-0; Pilates-2
— My exercise regimen is starting to come back into balance after a mighty season of cycling. The Wednesday evening rides are winding down. This week we barely got in a 20-miler before the light failed. Ernst and I managed an all-out sprint battle down Lebanon Road as a final salute to summer, but I still didn’t have enough to best him. It was a nice kicker to Sunday’s long ride. Although it was more windy than we expected, I got in a total of 60 miles, after I split off from the “Bardstown-to-Berea Century” group at Burgin. Ernst and the others continued east for the full 100. On another note, I’m making good on a challenge to myself by tackling the Tuesday-Thursday Pilates class at Centre. If I stick it out, I’ll eventually file an official report in this space.
— A huge Website proposal has kept us busy in the studio for a week or so, although I did temporarily fall under the spell of Ken Burns and watched a few series pilots, too (I may stick with a couple new shows if they aren’t yanked). For many years, Dana and I maintained a standard policy of refusing to propose visual concepts on a speculative basis. First of all, it seemed rather presumptuous to offer design solutions without adequate research and client consultation. Beyond that, it also seemed an unfair expectation—asking us to render our core creative service before making a commitment to hire us. Well, unfortunately, we’ve had to discard that practice during our lingering project drought, even though these types of competitive appraisals rarely involve comparing apples to apples. These days, everyone wants to shop for ideas and low fees, and it’s getting harder to remember when we could get retained strictly on the basis of our qualifications and past honors. It’s just one more aspect of our industry that’s changed radically in the new century. Many of the others are equally distressing. Meanwhile, I navigate the choppy waters and avoid hair dye, unlike Creed at Dunder Mifflin.
— Arts Across Kentucky finally updated its site with the fall issue, but offers no peek at my featured work. I continue to rotate layerist collages at the “Tree” without my first score. Wilma accepted my Band Festival painting at her new gallery on Main Street, and I’m optimistic about the potential for a sale. The “Egg” is the best downtown enhancement of the year, but the most exciting news item is the recent decision by Larkspur to upgrade the Manning job to a book project, with my most recent wood engraving, “Boss’s Bucket,” as the frontispiece illustration.
— Bruce has improved dramatically since he came home to Danville six months ago. The imminent surgery is a good measure of his progress, although the side-effects of dialysis are a continuous challenge for him. He’s able to exercise increasingly, and is much more energetic on a daily basis, both mentally and physically. To see him helping with the household drudgery, building a routine of creative writing, working on his car, composing letters to the newspaper, and more actively moving around the community is deeply satisfying to witness.
V & S
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Friday, September 7th, 2007
— My cycling chum Bill S commissioned a hand-made card for his mother’s one-hundredth birthday. He’s a great guy who shares a lot in common with me. His daughter is a terrific designer that works for Lenox. Her new Urban Picnic design is being handled by Macy’s. When she was getting her education she asked me to give her an internship, but the workload couldn’t support it. I regret the missed opportunity to have experienced her talent firsthand.
— One of my primary community-service mentors, Carl M, who originally proposed me for Rotary membership, recently asked if I played golf, as we left our weekly luncheon at the Danville Country Club. I told him that when I had the available time, I much preferred to be on a bicycle. It was clear from our conversation that he didn’t think much of the sport, but remarked that I thought it was a “great game,” and, from time to time, I did enjoy watching the best players on TV. Well, I reinforced that viewpoint for myself over the holiday when I glued down with the head-to-head play of Mickelson and Woods. Anyone who can witness that level of psychological combat without total fascination should steer clear of golf in any shape or form.
— I’m not sure when I became hooked on short stories. Maybe had something to do with Brendan getting me addicted to very concise ones. I shall never read all the great American novels, but I do hope to eventually read all the best short stories ever written by Americans. If you have some favorites, let me know. I can’t get over the variety: Wharton — James — Hemingway — Thurber — Faulkner. And I’m discovering others new to me: Walter Van Tilburg Clark — Katherine Anne Porter. I’ve been aware of The Ox-Bow Incident and Noon Wine (Peckinpah’s lost rendition with Jason Robards is remembered by some who saw it as the finest television ever broadcast), but didn’t recognize those names. Yes, I know… I’m a late arrival at the grand old house of our national literature.
— I have to admit that, after 13 years of conditioning, all I want to do after Labor Day is draw, fish, swim, relax, and enjoy myself. Seeing the picture of the Adkins Family makes me realize how much my nervous system craves some sort of vacation. I decided not to make the trip to Upper Michigan this year. Being with Dana on our silver anniversary is more important. If we can pull ourselves away from the studio, we’re due for our own getaway. What can one say about a quarter century of marriage? I can write a bit, but not well enough to tackle such an assignment. It’s been more than that, too. A working partnership on all levels. An uncommon occurrence in human relationships. Beyond my capacity to summarize.
V & S
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Saturday, September 1st, 2007
— Month of August workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-9; Run-0; Lift-2; Yoga-0
— When I first participated in the Pound & Pedal 20-miler, it started in downtown Danville and ended at Turtle in the Night Farm, the Morgan family homestead in Forkland. With a climb up Catholic Knob, plus its 30-to-40-mph descent, the course was tough and exciting. As we gathered this morning for the annual challenge, which now has a long-established course that extends into Mercer County and back, nobody remembered exactly how long a history the event has, but Ernst thought today might be the 20th anniversary. The current course is not as dramatic, but it’s still rigorous and far from flat. The best athletes took part in the traditional run-bike team competition, so I managed to win the bicycle-only division with a time of 1:05:41. Once again it fell short of the elusive 20-mph average, but only 19 seconds slower than my 2001 finish. Hey, I can live with three seconds a year. Dick B told me I was “aging gracefully.”
— If I could make a living doing what I did yesterday… Well, I don’t know how to complete that sentence. After spending the morning with graver tools, I pulled a crude proof to see if my block was nearly done. It was the best print I could produce at home, but it told me it was time to head to Larkspur. We made the trip to Monterey and I spent the rest of the day alternating proofs on the Vandercook with more clean-up and finishing touches. I wasn’t sure if Dana was getting bored, but it turned out to be an opportunity for her to spend some time with Gray and get a better sense of his rare individuality. I left the block in his capable hands with a sense of satisfaction, looking forward to his broadside composition of the Manning poem with my illustration.
— I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, but the Arts Across Kentucky article about me was published with a disappointing number of errors and poor visual decisions, but that seems to be somewhat typical of the magazine. Nevertheless, it’s good publicity and is apparently seen by many high-level people. They still haven’t updated the Website to reflect the current issue that contains my profile. It’s up to me to leverage this constructively, otherwise it may offer little on its own to enhance my situation.
V & S
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Tuesday, August 28th, 2007
Forgive me for yesterday’s wacky post. I’m rounding the final turn of a new wood block—the first I’ve executed outside the workshop environment. The spot I’ve set up in the little galley kitchen on the second floor is ideal. Painters need soft northern light, but the way the afternoon sun from the small window streams by my left shoulder is perfect for engraving wood. I can see each minute detail with total, three-dimensional clarity. Gray loaned me a magnifying visor, but I prefer the naked eye, as long as I have the proper light.
Why does wood engraving appeal to me? There’s something about the precision that satisfies an inner aspect, much in the same way that the spontaneity of collage appeals to another part of me. Perhaps Wesley put it best when he wrote, “Engraving is like drawing on a black board. Every line you make is a white mark on a black surface. You are adding light to darkness.” That hits pretty close to home for me.
On the other hand, it’s widely acknowledged that wood engraving is a demanding, unforgiving medium. I’m considered fairly decent for a “beginner,” but that’s because I can tap a lifetime of graphic investigation as I make each binary decision—black or white? I still have a significant mark-making technique to learn and “muscle memory” to acquire. I must also develop an even deeper resistance to haste. There are no shortcuts, “happy accidents,” or undo keys in wood engraving. Every mark must be deliberate. The process does not reward chance; it yields only to planning and tenacity. I find a challenge in all that, obviously, but I wish I’d been more strongly captivated by it earlier in my artistic life. After creating the lino block for Joan and Wayne’s wedding invitation, I abandoned printmaking for nearly 30 years. So be it. I’m slowly making up for a bit of lost time.
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Friday, August 17th, 2007
The sense of marking time characterizes my days, although I know that personal progress is taking place. There is no standing still.
The same old angst surfaces when we purge records and remnants of past projects. What is the underlying nature of this difficulty in destroying the evidence of how I spent a portion of my life? It is not, as Dana misinterprets, an issue of trust. I trust her with vast areas of my well-being, and have for decades. Perhaps it has much more to do with what Maurice Manning touches on in his poem, A Possible Blessing:
. . . the man who understands diminishment
will lay down in his coffin from time to time
and practice disappearing, like a bug
riding a twig on a stream: a speck of un-
belonging, immersed in careless undulation.
You lose your obligation to remember,
which frees you to the quickened world of matter.
—from A Companion for Owls, 2004
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Thursday, August 9th, 2007
Oh, Johnny… no Johnny…
— Although I never did go out to Pioneer Playhouse for the closing performance (to roll the dice and hope for a Johnny Crawford sighting), we did make the last showing of Raintree County at DHS. Well, it stunk as bad as I was afraid it might, except for Lee Marvin, who admirably carried every scene they put him in. I even found the bull-whip sequence a let-down. I’m not sure Mombo thought it was that good either, knowing she would use GWTW as her standard of comparison. There are numerous reasons why this expensive production flopped fifty years ago, but the list starts with 1) Lousy Screenplay. The only way they could have made this picture more disappointing would have been to ask Monty Clift to take off his shirt. Nevertheless, plenty of people around town knocked themselves out to put on the anniversary festival. It would’ve been more than worth it had Eva Marie decided to make an appearance, but she wrote organizers and said she couldn’t. I did enjoy watching her on a big screen and imagining her time on location in Danville. ”Old-timers” all say she was just as sweet as Taylor was aloof. In any case, I’ve decided that if I ever get a custom phone tone, I want to have a Raintree recording of Eva Marie saying, “Johnny… Oh, Johnny!”
Hurry! Hurry! Step right up!
— Don’t know yet if the new issue of Arts Across Kentucky has been published yet, but I managed to get my revisions to our studio Website uploaded this morning. To somebody else, it may look as though I’m comfortable when tooting my own horn. Self-promotion is something I can’t avoid, but it’s never felt natural to me. I’d always rather be pitching someone or something else. I figured that eventually the output would sell itself, but, sadly, it doesn’t work that way.
Bay-bo smile
to the rescue
— Recently broken hearts were soothed when new pictures of “Baby Molina” arrived. Everyone in my Clan already knows that the birth mother of the second hoped-for child made a decision to withdraw from the adoption process. Many of the indicators were suggesting that might happen, but it doesn’t make it any less painful for Janet and Jerome. No matter how philosophical I try to be, my soul aches for them.
V & S
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Friday, August 3rd, 2007
— Month of July workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-6; Run-1; Lift-4; Yoga-2
— When stupid costs only time and money, while highlighting the blessings of friendship—clearly there are much worse blunders one can make. This is the moral of Brendan’s story. (I’ll be damned if that young man can’t write a superb blog entry!)
— Big Sis is in happyland with all kiddoes stateside, and many good things are happenin’ all around the Clan. I dug out a 1997 Hi-8 tape for Seth’s secret project and made the hand-off in Liberty this morning after a biz meeting at City Hall. Look out. The Medicine Woman gave Old Graybeard a haircut and he’s building an opera house where the mule skinner’s shack used to sit…
— My profile in Arts Across Kentucky is about to hit the street, so I’m frantically trying to finish a major revision to the Dixon Design Website. Whenever I’ve looked the site over, all I’ve wanted to do is scrap it and start over, but I’ve convinced myself that the smart thing to do in the interim is to build on what I’ve already got, until the urge to take a busman’s holiday overwhelms me. (No hotlinks today—rest that click-finger until my newest pages are live.)
— Well, two-wheeler fans, my favorite cyclists (both former world mountain-bike champions) came within seconds of winning the big one, but young Alberto held them off. None of them will get the credit due, given the fact that this Tour will be remembered only for those who dishonored the sport. Ok, enough for this year. You already know what I think about it… Shameless dog-fighters, a crooked ref, and lying, juiced-up sluggers… What pro sport can measure up these days? I even saw the Golden Bear on TV responding to questions about performance-enhancers in golf. Sheesh!
V & S
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Sunday, July 1st, 2007
— Month of June workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-11; Run-0; Lift-0; Yoga-0
— Easy to see that cycling is providing my only form of exercise these days, and I need to figure out what it will take to jump start my typical cross-training. In any case, I find myself thinking all the time about when I’ll saddle up for my next ride. In this part of the country, the lack of rain is creating a serious condition, but it’s made for some superb cycling weather this season, and I’m digging it. Speaking of digging, Marty and I removed another big section of old driveway at the Town House today and hauled it off in rusty Ned. I’m worn out, because six of us local cyclists went to Frankfort yesterday for the second annual Share the Road Ride and Rally. We completed a 53-mile loop through Woodford County, and the roads going in and out of Midway are the most scenic I’ve ever enjoyed on a bicycle. Talk about the heart of the Bluegrass! Just being there gave me the second wind I needed to log my new maximum single-ride mileage for the year (I’m ready for a 60-miler now). We arrived back at the Old Capitol in time for the noon rally. As the only Bike Commissioner there in riding attire, someone suggested I stand in front of a TV camera and say something. It was incoherent enough that I hope they never use it. As many know, I’m more of a rambler than a sound-bite guy when it comes to talking about “all things bicycle.”
— After a busy second quarter (with my solo exhibition, but on many levels), I’ve been looking forward to a “time out” over the next week or so. I need to be unavailable enough to get some things done that have been on the back-burner for way too long, such as finishing the reorganization of the conference room and popping the bonnet on my Mac G4 for a vital overhaul. This kind of a thing always sounds like a good idea until the target date is here. In my experience, clients are much better at taking a break than permitting us to do the same. We’ve wanted for some time to become “indispensable” again, so it will behoove us to stay accessible, but there are things I just have to do to prepare for when we are truly swamped again, and it’s only a matter of time. The Liberty/Casey account is picking up steam, the floodgate could open at any time with the new automotive client, and things are going well with the organic farm. The owners met with Whole Foods last week and picked up more orders for their organic meats, which triggers a need for new packaging graphics. The pendulum is swinging back for Dixon Design, and I must prepare our physical and virtual environment to cope with a heavier flow of business.
— Decades before the blogging culture became a fact of life, E. B. White wrote an introduction to a volume of his selected essays. For anyone who justifies writing words in a public log, his thoughts about the essayist are valuable reading. Most of us who carry on like this have no idea what we’re doing. White, by contrast, had no illusions about the nature of the format he mastered, and nearly all of us who excessively talk about ourselves in thousands of blogs (millions?) would benefit by taking his words to heart and by applying them to our peculiar practice.
The essayist is a self-liberated man, sustained by the childish belief that everything he thinks about, everything that happens to him, is of general interest… Only a person who is congenitally self-centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write essays… The essayist arises in the morning and, if he has work to do, selects his garb from an unusually extensive wardrobe: he can pull on any sort of shirt, be any sort of person, according to his mood or his subject matter—philosopher, scold, jester, raconteur, confidant, pundit, devil’s advocate, enthusiast… leave the essayist to ramble about, content with living a free life and enjoying the satisfactions of a somewhat undisciplined existence. (Dr. Johnson called the essay “an irregular, undigested piece”; this happy practitioner has no wish to quarrel with the good doctor’s characterization.) There is one thing the essayist cannot do, though—he cannot indulge himself in deceit or in concealment, for he will be found out in no time… the essayist’s escape from discipline is only a partial escape: the essay, although a relaxed form, imposes its own disciplines, raises its own problems, and these disciplines and problems soon become apparent and (we all hope) act as deterrent to anyone wielding a pen merely because he entertains random thoughts or is in a happy or wandering mood.
— Jennifer B has a squirrel in her knickers about an insignificant reunion of entertainers. Well, there’s only one significant reunion that could get me excited, because I’m old enough to remember the Original Spice Girl…
V & S
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Wednesday, June 13th, 2007
part one
I had all these thoughts and recollections coming out of a landmark Band Festival weekend, but once things got rolling in the studio on Monday, I didn’t take time to write them down. Plus, I’m always prepared to devote some of my blogging time to a new Paul Watkins novel, and I’ve started reading The Promise of Light, thanks to a Kentucky Interlibrary Loan (KILL—how’s that for an acronym?). Well, I’ll give it a try anyway…
• WineFest
For the first time, the Festival sponsored an event that gathered representatives from nine Kentucky wineries on the grounds of the historic Old Crow Inn, and 300 people showed up. Chateau du Vieux Corbeau, the local host winery, produced a limited bottling of red and white wines which featured my artwork for the Festival poster. I was on hand Thursday evening to help promote sales that will benefit the Festival, and I was surprised at how many buyers wanted me to sign labels. It was fun, but nobody offered me a bottle to take home. In any case, it’s as close as I’ve ever come to designing a wine label, one of my unmet goals as a graphic artist.
• Aborted Study
Anticipating my appearance at the Community Arts Center on Friday night, I had this idea that I would complete a preliminary study for Spellbound that I started last November but never finished. It served it’s purpose back then, and I proceeded with what turned out to be the final version after the first of the year. It seemed like a good idea to finish the study and make it available for a convenient sale, but once I got involved in it, I realized that the magic was long gone. I may finish it anyway some time, just for the practice, but learned the lesson again that monetary motivations don’t have the power to bring my muse to life.
• Poster Signing
The Maple Tree Gallery completed the framing of my original painting, and Lee helped me get it down to the Arts Center before I dashed home to get ready for the Gallery Hop. Pat L was there to assist, and I ended up signing about half the edition of 75, and about half of those sold that same night. Patti and Vince stopped by to inspect the original, which had a well-lighted spot near the entrance. I couldn’t read their reaction to my purchase price (or didn’t really try to, actually). Clearly they’re the best candidates for ownership, and their interior decorator told me later I shouldn’t consider reducing the price, but I still wonder if anyone will be willing to pay what I think it’s worth. We’ll see. Dana remains optimistic, but I probably should give some thought to where I’ll temporarily hang it in the studio. I was delighted when Joan stopped by, and she took some pictures for Mombo. It was my moment of glory, and, as expected, the evening passed by much too quickly.
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Friday, June 1st, 2007
— Month of May workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-6; Run-1; Lift-0; Yoga-0
— Unimpressed by my exercise stats, I have to remind myself that it’s a big improvement over my uncharacteristically sedentary April, and that my workout log doesn’t include things like hauling truckloads of crumbled blacktop out to the asphalt plant. Well, I’m still blessed with excellent health, my weight is under 160, and I’ve got a 17.4 bmi. With everything going on around me, I have to be very, very thankful for that. So, now that it’s summer, it’s time to ratchet up the physical activity and get in shape. Muscle Club, anyone?
— If you aren’t reading Peat’s European journal, you’re really missing out. She calls it “The End of Fear is Where We Begin,” and it’s classic Peat. Her smile shines right through every word on the screen. And how about that KK? Can’t wait to see the BIG BLADE!
— On a recent solo trip to Louisville and back, I finally broke into the “Zero Hour” tapes that Joan loaned me a long time ago. Who knew at the time that Rod Serling had hosted radio dramas for talents like Jessica Walter, Richard Crenna, Keenan Wynn, Joseph Campenella, Brock Peters, and Earl Holliman? Apparently, over 55 hours of drama were produced, and, like so many things these days, it’s also available on CDs or as MP3 files. I still don’t mind listening to audio cassettes, but, come to think of it, if I don’t copy my tape of Heston reading the Psalms I’m likely to wear it out before long.
— I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited about an upcoming Brass Band Festival weekend, but I’ve never been the featured artist before. It helps to be enormously pleased with how my highly visible contributions turned out. I can go into the whole thing knowing that it’s my best effort on display. On the other hand, I seem to be feeling more and more awkward being in a position to take credit for things that come from the Source of all constructive influence, creativity, imagination, and beauty. I feel like I’m merely the object of good fortune, and, at the same time, I know well the moments of struggle, and the “means” it took to find my way over obstacles I wasn’t sure I could surmount. I well remember Danny D’s remark to me that “God doesn’t write songs or make movies.” Sorting all this out is why I continue to do it, I suppose, but it’s a bit of a roller-coaster at times. It felt like I could finally catch my breath this week, with Mombo home from the hospital, and supervision of the poster printing behind me. Some kind of balance has returned to daily life, deadlines are being met, and the outlook in the studio hasn’t been this bright for many, many moons. I’m not saying that Graybeard is dancing around his campfire, mind you. Things could always be better, but the worst is definitely in the past. In other words, I shouldn’t need to sell any more mediocre cartoons to a nephew any time soon. And I’m writing this with a calm heart, even though I didn’t sell a single collage from my KOSMOS exhibition. Well, enough of that. Onward and upward, as they say.
V & S
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