Stages of Incompletion

Since Gene posted a photo of the very much incomplete version of my most recent painting, I thought I could provide an update of my progress...

I'm not sure if I should yet call it finished or not. Perfectionist that I am, I struggle quite a bit with actually deciding something is finished. So, here I am asking for some feedback. If anyone looks at this and thinks something doesn't look quite right, I am open to suggestions. Since this is probably only about the fourth painting I've taken this far, my inexperience is a great liability.

Gene just financed the purchase of a real easel for me. Previously, I had been working on a card table that was barely larger than the canvas itself and the whole affair was generally inconvenient. Now, I can paint like a "professional". I took for granted how much difference working on an easel would make. I'm not sure what I'll do after I'm satisfied with my Tuscan villa. Gene wants me to do a still life a a wine glass with some red wine and grapes to keep with the Italian theme, part of me wants to try another beach scene. We'll see...

We Have Seen The Enemy, And He Is Us

In light of the recent and ongoing debacle afflicting Wall Street, our current political condition, and the probability that this point in our history will be analyzed for generations to come, I have tried my best to remain current. After a few weeks of reading the opinion of our nation’s über educated, I thought I could add a few of my own thoughts to the cacophony.

As we stand at what may very well be a great precipice, we have come upon our own undoing. And if I may be so forthright, it is the result of our own hubris. Ultimately, the only solution is to humble ourselves, lest we tumble over the edge like so many Gollums grasping in misplaced love and horror at the thing which has betrayed us. In the face of a slowing economy we clench our fists and stomp our feet in defiance that we can no longer afford two hundred dollar handbags and thirty-three percent of us believe we have already entered a depression. I know this is over simplifying the matter, but rightly so. I am in no way trivializing the plight of thousands who have lost their jobs in various industries and have thus become the collateral damage of events far beyond their control. Yet, I am appalled to find in a recent USA Today the story of a family who has made what the journalist presents as “difficult choices” to cope with the economic slowdown. Their hardship: forgoing tickets to attend a major league sporting event in exchange for viewing the game from their big screen. No, the sarcasm is not unintentional. Our nation has come to enjoy arguably the highest standard of living ever known. We consume far more than our fair share of the planet’s resources and have ravaged the environment in our tireless pursuit for more, all while millions around the world subsist on $3 a day or less. There is nothing inherent in our nature that we should feel somehow entitled to the blessings we have. We should be gravely humbled.

I am surely no economic scholar, and I barely understand the laws of supply and demand, yet I see what is happening in our greater economy as a correction that has long been due. As markets everywhere violently revert themselves to their condition over a decade ago, it strikes me that the wealth that is being “lost” on the stock exchange was never ours to begin with and furthermore, never existed. The public outcry to our leaders is clear: fix the mess and punish those who are responsible for it. And shame on the finance industry for glibly lending us money that we couldn’t afford to pay back. Yet banks across the country would never have offered exotic and often foolish financing en masse were there no market for it. Credit flowed like liquor at a college frat party and the nation became drunk on it. We have funded our gluttony with borrowed money and, collectively, the bill is coming due and our pockets are empty. We have no one to blame but ourselves, and precious few are entirely innocent.

Go Fasting

Dale, Marcus, Austin, Dallas, and I attend a car show last Saturday at Pocono Raceway. It was... wet. It rained the whole way there, and drizzled all morning, but dried off in the afternoon. We really had a good time. The boys took part in a coloring contest and a few other things; they said it was a good time and that they are going back next year. The highlight of the day was making laps on the track.

We're fighting colds.

Sharbat Gula

Sweetwater flower girl

It's not a perfect likeness by far, but I guess none of my portraits ever are. First of all, the subject in the drawing is a thirteen year old Afghan girl whose portrait was photographed by Steve McCurry in 1984. She was a refugee of the border conflict between the Soviets and Afghanistan in the early eighties and shortly before the photo which was used as reference for this drawing had been taken, she witnessed the destruction of her village and the death of both her parents. The human eye has for quite some time been my favorite subject to draw, so it seemed fitting to draw a portrait of someone bearing such a striking gaze. There it is, for all it's worth, now I must retire to bed.

West and Wewaxation

Wednesday-- slept late, mowed the yard, packed, attended a viewing for a co-worker's brother, drove to the cabin, read, ate, slept

Thursday-- slept late, ate, read, slept, read, ate, slept, read

Friday-- ate & read. Watched it rain all day. No sleeping.

Saturday-- ate, drove to State College, found several art galleries and a musuem. Looked at $3500 prints and $10,000 originals for sale. Laughed. Ate. Slept.

Sunday-- ate, read, slept, cleaned, came home.

I have two more days off until my fall vacation is over. I have big plans.

So it goes

Said shriek of shock was not of fear, as my dear mother would so dependably render, but of anger and a thirst for blood. I was a bit shocked by the tenacity of the pursuit. The fury was unquenched until the creature was caught; at that point, cooing and "aawww"-ing started. "Look at him! He's cute. I can't possibly kill him! I think he can just be let go in the woods."

We nearly got two kittens today. Amy's boss opened the shop this morning to find some abandoned at his doorstep. Thankfully, the neighbor girl agreed to adopt them, letting my .22 and/or the fan of my truck off the hook.

Tonight the prospect of any pencil on paper potrait project was abandoned by the household artist. The oil and canvas was attacked, with much success in my opinion. It is with much eagerness that I look forward to this completed image hanging in my dining room.