A Work Progressing

I’ve lost count of what I’ve done and how many.

Apparently my storage system is a little wacky—

I remember working on an image,

but later I can’t find it.

Then it pops up like an Easter egg.

There are worse things.

Lately, Marcel Duchamp has been on my mind.

I haven’t attempted a tribute—he’s too complicated.

I haven’t done Dali either.

Well—I tried Dali once, but it offended me.

I had to tear it up.

Back to Duchamp.

Art historians call him the one who freed Art.

They also say Fountain is the most important artwork in history.

Duchamp promoted the Found Art Movement.

He would find an object, declare it Art, and put it in his next show.

A stool with a bicycle wheel.

A pane of glass with trapped debris.

If you thought he was joking, he’d hit you with a fifty-page monograph

detailing the philosophical and mechanical underpinnings of the piece.

Duchamp was the real deal.

Art is made by artists—

not defined by critics, gallery owners, or even the public.

It may not be liked.

It may be dismissed.

But if the artist makes it,

it is Art.

There’s a freedom in that.

Art isn’t bound to a medium.

It doesn’t have to be archival.

That’s a museum policy—not a definition.

Questions like:

What is truth? What is beauty? What is art?

These feel like things we should know.

But usually, in our desire to know, we get them wrong.

At the very least, we can define them for ourselves.

I’ve been going through a change lately.

I no longer create art.

I make art.

It seems like a small thing—just a shift in words—

but I’m serious.

Everything in the universe was created in one instance.

Since that time (and yes, time was created too),

nothing has been destroyed.

Everything has simply changed.

I take created things and make new things.

I create nothing.

But I am a prolific maker.

What about ideas?

Same thing.

Everything is built up.

I just put things together.

Of course, this is just my view.

I’m not saying it’s true for anyone else.

It’s simply what I believe—for me.

There’s too much responsibility in being a creator.

Too many liabilities.

Too much ego.

Putting a few things together is more honest.

More humbling.

And what about the days, hours, or months when I’m not creating?

Much easier to take a break from putting things together.

I’m just resting.

Yep—

I make art.

And I make it art.

I can’t leave it alone. Gotta try reworking. And I’m really only using two different brush styles.

Okay, the last one is my grandson’s.

I wanted to revisit Egon with my Apple Pencil.

I wanted to focus on the Mucha women, mostly their expressions, so I removed the background.s. Then I could see the faces, and naturally I took some liberties to make some changes. Changing color and line weight was a good study. I still may print these and add some color pencil.

Steve Jobs had very strong opinions. Way back when the Newton was a thing, he liked it but couldn’t stand that it had a stylist. “It could get lost!”

Well, yes, Steve. It could get lost, and it did get lost periodically. But it also did some pretty remarkable screen images that my finger can’t make!

Yep, I bought and Apple Pen for the iPad Pro. It’s remarkable.

Tribute Wyeth’s Helga

Tribute Vincent

Portrait of Wyeth

Marilyn from Stills

Laura in Jerusalem

I haven’t even explored the middle basics, let alone the advanced.

I’m using AutoDesk Sketch for the first time. Nice app. I like sketching, then printing, then Prismacolor work, then scanning for more iPad sketching! Lots of layers!!!

I finally upgraded an old iPad that cracked a screen. On the way to better vision, its getting hard to see detail. the doctor says its all good but I struggle. So i busted for a 12.5 iPad Pro, and I’m very happy. Still drawing with my finger but the sketches on this big screen are much easier to get. I have twelve sketches in progress and eight are as done as i can get. Two are family sketches and six are various tribute pieces or personal projects

“The Big Island

Today I stepped on new earth.

Earth that rose from magma,

Mother giving birth to child,

As unlovely to look at as can

be imagined.

Yet time will pass and the child

Will change, gaining the

Rainaments of forests & grass,

While we scamper on the surface

Like small mites, barely aware

of our host.

Today I stepped on new earth,

Convicted of my parasitic nature.”

I wrote this about ten years ago. I’m still convicted of our parasitic nature on this planet. I once read that if you think of the Earth as an orange floating in space, all life, and all of our busy drama, exists in the fungus that is growing on the peel of the orange.

Wow, now that puts it into perspective!

And yes, I am a parasite on this earth. A particularly nasty one at times.

At this moment I am trying to walk carefully, barely touching the ground. I sway with the slight breeze, the sand is hardly displaced, I make no discernible mark as I move from place to place.

I just wish to be here completely enveloped.

I’m back in the land of new earth. Dirt that is younger than I am. Yes, I know, composting trees, brush and vegetables creates new earth. But this place belches new earth from the core of the world. The Big Island!

This really has been in the works for more than three years. Sherry bid on a Hawaii vacation at a charity auction, and we won! Stuff was happening, I was under treatment for cancer, so the plan was to reserve from the owners a week after my treatment was done.

The plan backfired because the week after radiation was finished is not the best time to travel. He graciously allowed us to cancel and set up for the following year.

The beginning of summer for the following year was the summer of the heart attack. Yikes! Cancelled again.

The next summer we went to Jerusalem, so It seemed that Hawaii was out. Nope! We went anyway.

Now I’m pondering new earth after experiencing very old earth. From dry desert to island paradise.

It will be a good week!