Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Alec B and the Tunnel of Light

Apologies for the blabsence (blog absence? too soon? who am I talking to?), but my hands are too busy and painty to type.

Now that I finished Ghetto Cowboy, and have wrapped one of my remaining two portrait gigs, the other being moments away from send off, I find myself deep in the midst of a freestyle frenzy. Paint. Tunnel Vision. Late billowy night swirl. Cad Red Medium on my carpet.
Aliz Crimson on my keyboard.
Canvases. Boards. Wood.

"...turning the children orange..."

I have been listening to (watching, actually. But only corner of the eye. Corner of the eye.) seasons of 30 Rock while I paint the hell out of anything white in my house. Anyway, Jack is the best auditory entertainment on Netflix streaming, lately.

I am hooked in to a new body of work. Creating a pile of canvases. Turning the night into a long, timeless blur, interrupted only occasionally by brief, online chess, and visits to the fridge.  D'oh.


I started this show over a year ago. A series of snowboard/ski/mountain paintings. Ink. Acrylic. It was postponed because of the Haiti book, of which I am so happy. But, for the moment, it is all about the art show.

Speaking of which... what am I doing on the computer?


Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Arrows Away

Ghetto Cowboy art is out the door. Quite like my oldest son.

Like arrows from the bow, I cannot hold anything more than a shadow, a warm feeling, memories of what I was listening to while painting it. I can only wave like the parent of a new college student, knowing they have just been rendered powerless in the future of their baby. And so, like parents, I have to trust that I pulled the bow back as hard and steady as I could, aimed true, and gave it my soul's best efforts. Then, I have to forgive my inadequacies and let go.

So, for Ghetto Cowboy art, and for you, Clay, fly free. Free of me. Free.