Rolling Hills

Here's a little demo for your listening pleasure. There are 7 (I think) of these videos...Just double click the video screen and the You Tube page opens. Go to more from "pacocarmen" and there you should see the options for the other videos. I tried to make 2 of these painting demonstrations lately but it seems I'm plagued with techno-inabilities at every turn. When it comes to mechanical, biological, artistical, linguistical or even metaphysical (la fuerza ciega de la naturaleza=Spanish definition) activities and brain functions I can sort of hold my own. But this nano-eletro-spacial stuff has me burning brain cells at an unbelievable rate. (If you have to have the kids run the DVD player you know what I mean.) Anyway, feel free to subscribe. There should be more coming soon. Also, it's always cool to leave feedback and comments. I just read an article about how your brain fires off more feel-good sensors when you receive compliments than when you get a bunch of money. Either one is fine with me.

Moon Walk 18x24

The moon is anything but fickle...There she is, every month appearing right on time exactly in the place anticipated...the eastern horizon is her bedroom. She gets up at the close of day, puts on the night like a shimmering black velvet cape studded with starry white sparkles and...the odd satellite streaking across her path. This is how the sky looks opposite the setting sun as sister moon comes up to take brother sun's place. Dark on the horizon and lightening to salmon pink and then, finally a darker almost Prussian blue as you look straight up. I don't recommend looking straight up too much 4 too long however...unless you're flat on your back on a cool desert night. That's what we used to do a lot until brother sun went and baked a bunch of holes in our trampoline and we had to trashify the thing. Yes, there are even jealousies between the celestial bodies. A little FYI for your listening pleasure.

Superior 2 Me 16x20

A view of the shore...The North Shore to be exact. I spent the better part of two summers along "the big lake they call Gitche Gumee". One motorcycle accident, one Chippewa Indian girl-friend and quite a few unmentionable activities that involved fire, fire look-out towers and firecrackers are what I took from there as memories....oh yea, and lest I be remiss, a new found love of Bob Dylan's music and the Moody Blues!?! I did do some sketches then too and even have one hanging on the wall here in the studio...A life drawn portrait of my dog Flop dated "summer 1979" This is a typical scene looking east from Gran Portage out over Lake Superior.

Huddled Masses

Do I ever get tired of clouds? Well now, if you're asking about cloudy days...I would have to say that here in the desert southwest if we have over 24 hours of consecutive cloud cover there's a good chance we'll go nuts. The odd storm cloud, thunderhead, puffy cumulus or even high cirrus cloud, well, no, I don't get tired of them. They are welcome to pass on through, accent our upward view and cross the horizon. I think Tucson is the number one or number two city for average sunny days per year. This is the place in America they had in mind when they said "Bring me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free". So, the climate here is great. It's just all us tired and poor and huddled masses of locals that you'll have to put up with if you come.

Into The Mysterious Mystical Mist

I've been pining away for a few weeks now...longing for cooler climes and a view with no cactus. This mood hits every once in a while...usually when I've had my fill of third-world intrigue south of the border. This cool little picture was found in my stack of photos...very evocative and tonalist. Just what the Dr. ordered for my latest bought of melancholy. It's almost monochromatic but I did push some color into it especially in the foreground...to make it live. I call these kind of paintings less romantic and frankly they are among my best work...and least understood. No need to worry though. The studio floor isn't strewn with vodka bottles and like you, I'm used to being misunderstood and... misunderestimated.

Big River

The river took my good buddy Kavin back in '79 and for that I'll never forgive her...but she is beautiful and she is strong. No one would argue that. I tried to drink from her soothing aqua-brown delight in the winter of the same year. There was a little bubbling rill meandering bright and inviting ...in the very middle of an ice clogged channel. When I was within 6 or seven feet the ice broke out from under me and I went down...tiptoes on a sand bar, current pushing my neck and chest up to the ice edge. Well, by all rights I should be in a pine box sleepin' away eternity, or better yet, under the mud down in the delta somewhere waiting for one of Katrina's friends to wake me. Seems the King of the river had different plans...one of them was to make this here picture....great colors and a rather pleasing and unpretentious composition.