A Work Progressing

I’ve been looking at Rubens lately, obviously a master. Very accurate depictions, but with plenty of tricks up his sleeve in color, composition, and position.

You might wonder what is the difference between composition and position? This is strictly my position, but it may also be in some book that I haven’t read. Position is the fine tuning of a composition, the tilt of the head, the wideness of the eyes, the slight touch of the fingertips. Position is so intentional, yet if it is done well you rarely notice it. Composition is blatant, large, obvious, yet it also strives to hide.

Making an image allows all sorts of subtle moves, much more complex than, “the eyes follow me around the room”.

Here are a few of my tributes to Rubens…

You might notice that in the original there is a tendency to position “chin down”, also the eyebrows are lowered. Rubens also magnified the eyes in my opinion, unless he happened to only paint women with large eyes.

Some critics have said that Rubens added a few pounds to his models, and preferred a softie form. This also tends to round the face in portraits.

In addition to other choices for these “tributes” I have raised the gaze, shortened the nose, reduced the orbits and eyes, and trimmed the jewels.

Not to make it better, different perhaps. What I really want to know is what are his decisions when making an image.

It was the summer of 1967, I had no specific plans. I had graduated but I had made no plans to go to college. It didn’t cost much to go to college in California, it was free at all the state schools. You did have to apply, you had to see a counselor, you had to ask.

I’m the guy that took the bus but never transferred, because I didn’t know how that worked, and I didn’t know how to ask.

For years I took the No. 72 line bus to Berkeley, but then walked up University to Telegraph Ave, I didn’t know the right bus, or the right fare, or how to transfer. I also knew the L line to the San Francisco Terminal, but I had to walk from there.

Getting to the admissions office at any college was impossible without help, because I never asked.

So when fall came, I went to the library to “study” for six hours. I went to the last stack, and pulled each book, skimmed the contents and then read about a third of the shelf. Then I went to next shelf, 12 shelves to a stack, eight stacks to a row.

That fall I finished two rows, that was about 360 books. In between I looked at current magazines. I found a Gallery magazines that promoted new up and up coming artists. One article featured Jesse Allen. I was mesmerized. I was certain he was going to be great, because I knew what great art was, I had been to museums in San Francisco, I had seen books. Jesse Allen was new and on the edge to be important.

It was the first time that I considered that it was possible for me to have a career making images. Of course I had to start making them seriously. I had only sketched a few things on butcher paper, and colored them with chalk and Indian ink.

And I was still making them very small, almost as if my arm was paralyzed, even my hand paralyzed, so that only my fingers moved.

I knew something was not right, but I didn’t know what it was, and I didn’t know how to ask.

Where was YouTube?

So I would copy Jesse Allen’s creatures and plants, out of context, very small, and detached, like floating in space. I liked them!

Life went on and every now and then I would check in on Jesse Allen. People stopped writing about him, but he was selling enough to keep going. He never became super famous, but he made a living make images and selling prints.

The span of time increased between my investigations. Evently I even got a job making images.

I had almost forgotten his name, and had to play the alphabet game to come up with Jesse. It’s probably been twenty years since I last looked at his work.

He is still doing the same work with more care and maybe with more detail.

I found a copy of his piece that he did in 1968 that had stirred something in me.

I decided to do a tribute piece of that work.

I’ve been reluctant to redraw/repaint DaVinci. I wasn’t confident that it would turn out well. And it’s such a cliche to do a bad Mona Lisa.

So I worked my way up and around, and had a few successes. I’m kinda satisfied!

Lately, driving around the neighborhood has become a real chore. It’s not like I have a lot of choices; there are only three roads in, and they’re all twisting two-lane roads at that. There are four or five developments connected by these roads, and each has its own series of “road humps” to slow the flow of traffic.

In a traditional grid layout of a city, if a road is closed for repair, a quick detour of two or three blocks is an easy solution. Not in my case. Of the three “arteries,” one was closed in both lanes, and another was semi-closed with a wait of about half an hour.

Of course, this meant that the third road was completely full, crawling along like the Bay Bridge in commuter traffic. Worse yet, these people weren’t professional commuters; it was brutal.

I was making a right turn to avoid some “speed humps” directly ahead. It helps to have local knowledge. A newer white pickup slowed to let me in. I silently thanked him and raised my hand.

Suddenly, the road widened, and he was directly to my left, yelling at me. I slowed down; he slowed down. I thought he might have misinterpreted my gesture, then he yelled, “I can fix that!”

I was confused; I didn’t know what he was yelling about. My 18 lb. Maltipoo Tyson was looking out the window at him. So I thought, “Tyson is already fixed, except for some obnoxious behavior that he can’t know about.” So, I verbally responded, “What do you mean?”

“That dent in the quarter panel, below the door. I can fix it; pull over and I’ll give you a quote.”

Pulling over for strangers is not something I like to do. On top of that, I was still very confused because I couldn’t quite let go of the idea that he was talking about my dog. Does he have an operating room in his basement? Perhaps he’s taking an online class to be a veterinarian, and is willing to pay me to fix my dog?

I think that last thought was still fresh in my mind even after he said he was asking about the dent in my quarter-panel. So, I waved him off, letting him know I wasn’t going to pull over for him. I yelled, perhaps too loudly, “Besides, I don’t know why you want to pay me to fix my dented quarter-panel!”

His face changed dramatically as he hit his brakes, letting me zoom forward. I can see now that my confusion was viral and spreading quickly.

I checked my rear-view mirrors and saw that he was in the process of a tight U-turn. He didn’t want the risk of being behind me as the road was getting very twisty and rural. 

A wise move!

Hmm, I’m vacating, the act of being on vacation. Not vacating everything, I’m vacating with family/kids/grandkids. We are all vacating something.

We all had agendas, things to do, requirements, responsibilities, busyness. Hmm, I never saw the connection between busyness and business until I tried to spell it.

We left the country, we used our passports. That’s how we know we vacated. We left with permission, then we entered with permission, leaving our homes.

It’s a curious fact that we are required to leave something, in order to refresh ourselves, to be on “vacation”. If you are retired- vacation seems ongoing. It’s not, people simply replace the work responsibilities with other responsibilities.

But now we are vacating everything, except being here now!

In a few days we will vacate to board a boat to Alaska.

In 1935, a discussion between Albert Einstein and Erwin Schrödinger occurred, centered around the Copenhagen Interpretation of quantum mechanics.

Basically, the Copenhagen Interpretation says that Objects have pairs of properties that can’t be measured at the same time. Observing or measuring an object is irreversible, and an object’s properties are only defined by the measurement results. The Copenhagen interpretation states that these quantum descriptions are objective and independent of personal beliefs.

Schrödinger tried to simplify this with a “thought problem”. Imagine a steel box, inside this steel box is a cat, a Geiger counter, a vial of poison, some radioactive material, and a mechanism that would break the vial of poison if the Geiger counter detected a single decaying atom from radioactive material.

This tipping point is called “superposition” in which the unobserved cat is both dead and alive at the same time, because the box is sealed.

Once the box is opened, the observed cat is either dead or alive, but not both.

This “thought problem” has been the center of theoretical quantum physics ever since.

My first reaction is “Why a cat?” I’m assuming it must be something that is alive. It can’t be a pet rock, all pet rocks are both alive and dead all the time, even when observed. Schrödinger wanted the shock value to be obvious.

It couldn’t be your favorite succulent. A nice cactus could fit in the box, however the problem of when the cactus dies is an issue. I suspect that many observed alive cacti are actually dead cacti and we don’t know it for months.

So why a cat? A dog would scurry around knocking things over, making a mess of the box, and barking continuously.

Why not a human? Because the whole thought problem is based on a sealed box, where everything is unobserved, because when the object is seen it changes states. And a human would see all this, and try to figure out how to get out of the box.

In this reality, the cat choice is perfect, the cat is sitting or laying in some mysterious cat-like existence, pondering its Egyptian background.

There is the problem for me. Alive things are always aware of their surroundings and moving to stimulus, that’s a definition of being alive. The thought problem breaks down because it is flawed at the root.

It is all connected to the egotistical statement, “I think, therefore I am”. Because we are curious, we use time and measuring tools to define existence. Does anything exist unless man observes? This is the ultimate ego statement that only defines us as a part of reality.

Interesting, I just copied these two words and pasted them in ChatGPT, this is what I got…

“Myopic success” refers to short-term achievements or gains that are pursued or attained without considering long-term consequences or broader implications. This concept is often critiqued in various contexts, such as business, personal goals, or policy-making, where immediate results are prioritized over sustainable growth or lasting benefits.

Key Characteristics of Myopic Success:

1. Short-Term Focus: Emphasis on immediate outcomes rather than future stability or growth.

2. Lack of Foresight: Inadequate consideration of the long-term consequences or potential risks.

3. Quick Gains: Often involves strategies that yield fast results but may be unsustainable or harmful in the long run.

4. Neglect of Broader Impact: May overlook broader social, environmental, or economic impacts.

Examples:

Business: A company might prioritize quarterly profits by cutting research and development budgets, leading to a lack of innovation and long-term competitiveness.

Personal Finance: An individual might focus on high short-term returns by investing in high-risk stocks without a diversified portfolio, risking significant losses.

Public Policy: Government policies that provide immediate economic relief but do not address underlying structural issues, potentially leading to larger problems in the future.

Critique:

Sustainability: Myopic success often sacrifices sustainability for immediate gains, which can lead to eventual failure or crisis.

Ethical Concerns: It can involve unethical practices if short-term success is prioritized over long-term integrity and responsibility.

Missed Opportunities: By focusing only on the short-term, opportunities for long-term growth, innovation, and stability might be missed.

Understanding the pitfalls of myopic success is crucial for making informed decisions that balance immediate needs with future well-being.

Wow, not bad for blind prompts.

Obviously I’ve been pondering something. I recently joined and organization that was formed many years ago to save the historic Moraga Adobe in Orinda. And they succeeded!

It made me wish I had joined years ago, but maybe I could still help in other ways. The restoration challenge was great, but some things helped. Not only was it still mostly standing, it is the oldest home built in Contra Costa County. So it had obvious historical value. Built as the home of Joaquin Bernabe Moraga in 1841, it stayed in private hands until 2023.

This meant that it was vulnerable to the whims of the real estate market. It was noticed though, there were plaques indentifying the home as a historical site. The impact did not save it from being abandoned, graffitied, and even the plaques being stolen.

The life span of a building is unknown, nature will tear into it, but depending on the building material it may last a surprising long time. There is this fact to consider… the building must be built by people, it cannot build itself. If it is damaged, it will not heal itself, someone will have to restore it.

Adobes in California were everywhere. As late as 1950 there were at least 48 known Adobes in just Los Angeles. Today, not nearly so many.

In many cities, or counties, there are local organizations formed to save their adobes. Some want them to be educational centers, some want them to be museums, some want them to be restaurants, and yes, some want them to be homes.

The people who saved them are all human, the adobes are not. Adobes may be dirt and hay, but they will be here long after the humans who saved them are mere bones and dust. What then?

I’ve done a little internet research. I went quickly just to see the trends. I will have to go back to document. I found dozens of failed attempts, adobes plowed under for shopping centers with little regard for culture or history.

I also found half attempts. Adobes that almost made it but then slipped back into disrepair, primarily because the organizations had no control, or no money to purchase them from private hands.

The state and or state parks would seem the perfect solution. But the money is so tight to maintain what we already have, and in some cases where the state owns the Adobe, the other areas get the larger portion, and the Adobe gets deferred maintenance.

It then occurred to me everybody is trying the best they can to keep their end of the boat from sinking. Some are more successful at that than others.

I looked at about a dozen by-laws of the best organizations. Everyone of them was focused on saving their Adobe. That’s as it should be, but there is a broader problem if there is no effort to reach out to assist and support others in their struggle.

It takes people to build a repair adobes for the future. Sustainable people, people of all backgrounds. What happens when the core of a successful group ages out. Did they try as hard to recruit replacements for people, as they replaced adobe bricks?

Of course I’m using this Adobe restoration as a symbol for all successful changes. It’s not enough to “be the change”, you must be contagious with your passion. Think beyond yourself. Replace yourself!

I would hope for the combined efforts to save our Californio history, instead of allowing for the destruction of their homes, perhaps due to embarrassment of our actions from former years.

History is not always kind…

I’m proud of being the last child of my parents. My father was a brilliant under-achiever, due to the Depression and WWII never got the education or experience, to match his intellectual hopes.

He ended up retiring as a boilermaker, making his foremen miserable with his distain.

My mother spoke Norwegian until she was five, dropped out of school in the tenth grade, wrung chicken necks, never learned to drive, raised four children in tough times, and beat my father in bowling in her seventies.

My father was a semi-professional, bowler, bowling in three different leagues all the while when I was growing up. I was raised in a bowling alley.

Get a grip folks, one way or another, we are all Nepo Babies.

I may have mentioned before that I’m the only member of my family that was born in California. I’m not sure why history has been such a driving force, but it has been a defining interest. I’m not saying that I have been very deep, in one place, or at one time. Perhaps the problem is that if you focus on thing, you can’t see other things.

That means if I get even a little deep into one era, I feel the need to find another era to research. My life is filled with gaps in my knowledge and experience. So it goes with curiosity.

I was born in Richmond, Ca, but raised in San Pablo, a town almost completely surrounded by Richmond. San Pablo is older by about a hundred years, and has a colorful past.

I remember the rundown Alvarado Adobe, and the St. Paul’s Church on Church Lane. I also remember the old cemetery that was behind the fence on the corner.

The Adobe was bulldozed and the cemetery was moved, but the memory remained.

I read about the plains Sod-houses, but that’s okay wasn’t the same as the Adobe. It took years before I actually experienced being in an Adobe. I think we had a field trip to Sutter’s Fort in elementary school, but the was mostly American history, not Californio history. It wasn’t until years later, when I dated a young lady that lived in the town of Sonoma.

I had been there before, but now I really spent time there, right across the street from Vallejo’s home.

Then briefly, my focus was on early California history. That led to John Marsh in central Costa Costa county. That led to the California Trail before the Gold Rush, and after the Gold Rush. That led to researching the hired guides on the trail, mostly ex-mountain men. That led to the whole Rendezvous Era. That led to Lewis and Clark. That led to Napoleon. Somehow, that led to the Viking Era, and Harald Hardrada. Whew!

Now 70 years later I’m back full circle, researching the restored Moraga Adobe. Fortunately I’m being guided by a friend who has been active for years, and even related to many of the early Californios.

It’s been a fascinating trip.

I’m faced with the ghosts of history. We like to think that we evolve, that we learn from our mistakes, that the worst of history doesn’t repeat itself.

The trouble is that we are not entirely in control of events unfolding. We invent stories of history being woven in a room, and all we have to do is unlock the door, change some of the threads, and a new, and better pattern is made. It’s a nice story. There is no lock, there is no room, and there is no loom.

There is time, and there are events based in synchronicity. I am not a master of either one of these things, I am barely an observer.

For now I’m trying to be patient, trying to be still. On the world front I see patterns that seem to be familiar. Patterns that cascade down to the very sidewalk in front of me.

I’m trying to walk in moccasin style, twisting my ankle in random angles, not trying to be linear. Perhaps I won’t be led to the end result that I see coming.

It’s a goofy attempt.