What Are You Looking At? 24x30 oil on canvas

What you're really wondering is who won the tennis match on the grass court last night in stormy Tucson. Right? I will say this, the Palo Verde beetle pictured on the victor's forehead was a fitting crown. And Scott's humbling loss quickly and happily faded into the pantheon of bitter sports-defeat memories aided by the fury friendship of one of several large, golden tarantulas that were amongst the myriad witnesses. The heavens flashed their approval and rain threatened as bugs of all sizes and sorts seemed to cheer us on, each punishing serve and thunderous ground stroke, miraculously synchronized with the lighting cracks, proved, once again, that one of us was outmatched. Friendship of venomous creatures notwithstanding, my opponent ceded the match to me 6-1, 6-2, 6-1 It was a good old-fashioned shellacking, as we call it in The Old Pueblo and not a thing was hurt in the making...except for one man's pride. (I shouldn't have lost those four games!)

Robin's Egg 24x36

My point? If this road sign is necessary than, it's not really necessary. Meaning, you got no business tooling around in your sedan while attempting an ascent on Mt. Everest. Actually, this is the road to my old house in the mountains in Mexico. It used to be dirt and I used to make the climb on my motorcycle and assorted VW's. Over the years it caused several flat tires a number of dumped bikes (with and without passengers) and a couple of mild situations that called for extra hands to push or pull as the circumstance warranted. It was steep but navigable. Now it's paved and I think someone got a little over-zealous with the signage. I forgot to take a shot of the cow crossing sign just down the highway. I think the same sign maker used the same amount of licence on it. The picture depicts a cow with three times the normal body length and short stubby legs...pretty cool sign. Maybe I'll steal it next time I'm down there and smuggle it back across the border.

Aaron's Rod 24x36

A greenish glow inspired by the monster skies of the southwest's 2010 monsoon season. More of this to come so hang on. This can be viewed/purchased by following link at the top right of this page.

Max The (Cabbage patch) Wonder Dog 1995

Here's one anecdotal perspective on the dicey dilemma that we're facing in the southwest. My niece, a lovely girl of 28, is about to have her second baby. She lives in Phoenix with her 2 year old daughter and husband Fabian. They work hard and enjoy the fruit of their labor- a little apartment and a bright and shiny SUV. They are a happy little budding family in the American southwest. There are a couple of things wrong with this picture though. They live here illegally and to that you might say "so what?, they aren't hurting anyone." etc. And of course you're right. They are hard-working stay-out-of-trouble folks. The problem is that there are "agencies" that usher them into the welfare system as soon as they arrive here. These are government-grant funded agencies specifically designed to help (give free stuff to) people in need...regardless of background etc. That is a good thing of course, where it's needed but these agencies specifically target illegal immigrants. The Latino community here is a veritable network of where and how to get free stuff from Uncle Sam. The birth will be paid for by the rest of us. One political party in particular will seek credit for the help and subsequent votes from the "poor minorities" who will feel either beholden to or dependant on the government for this "help". Still, I (you) might not have a problem with that but here's the other side of the coin.

My friend manages an art store in town. He's a guy my age and loves art, is a fine watercolor painter. A family member of his was sick, in between jobs and had no insurance. A short three day hospital stay and the small fee of $25,000 was layed to his charge. He and his wife are hard-working people too. I'm almost positive they aren't yanking down six-figure incomes and now they will have to pay for this out of their hourly wage earnings. My point isn't that we need universal health care. No, there is no money for that...and I suppose (maybe wrongly?)it would be an endless money pit of gov't.-fouled bureaucracy if it were implemented.(Just try to get something accomplished at your local Social Security Administration's office...it will make your worst experience at the DMV seem like a walk in the park with bluebirds singing in your ear) It's just that this border-state dilemma is a dicey one. The above scenarios are played out here everyday by countless thousands of hapless victims of circumstance, and has been for many years. I say, make art available to the masses and get yourself a good dog like Max, pictured above. The first candidate that runs on that platform will get my vote.

Voladores 24x36

See this painting at auction here.

36x24 Superstition

Back alive from ol' mejico. We were not involved in the running gun battles I had feared nor were we detained at the border for reasons that we cannot prudently discuss here. Those are the precise reasons which would have precipitated the imagined gun battles I had anticipated...and prepared for. No, our journey was graced from on high with peace and purpose and a few healthy doses of salt water and seafood soup. I have a nephew who played professional soccer on one of Mexico's big teams. He had knee surgery last year and has been out of contention since then. We took a "short" therapeutic 10 k run to prove to each other that 1, he didn't have to grab his leg and whine about it every other step like the rest of professional soccer players do and 2, that I, in spite of the giant dirt clods I kept coughing up, could stand in there and slug it out with the best of 'em. After we had proved our manhood well enough we walked arm in arm like school chums do in the foreign films you watch with an askanced eye and a quizzical look. The skies are acting quite alborotados these days and there is inspiration floating behind every cloud. Stay tuned for more from the studio...should be posting another two or three this coming week.

Wonderment, Fullness, Majestuoso

Come to where the flavor is. Come to Marlboro country. Do you remember that Tv commercial? Had I looked a little more rugged and had that been a cigarette in my mouth and had the little Honda Rebel 250 been a sorrel horse than maybe the picture above would have inspired the pioneering of something great, or, the start of a bad addiction. That's me in the late 80's in Mexico going after Pancho Villa's descendants. Little did I know that the wild monsoon skies looming on my horizon would serve to inspire the paintings here pictured. Twenty two years ago I married a sweet little senorita in the small and dusty Sonoran town called Los Buidbores. We will be there precisely on our anniversary which is a first. July is not the best time of year to visit that part of the world. Can you say 130 degrees, salt in the air and malaria mosquitoes so thick you eat ten every time you breathe in? Ah, but the rainy season is upon us and the skies make it all worthwhile. Malaria is not fun, neither is dengue fever but get a taste of heaven's deluge pouring down on a dry desert land and you'll be back for more, plagues be danged. All three of these are available for sale. See link at the top right of this page.

A Marshwiggle Lives Here 24x30

Huh? Wake up? What's all the commotion? I guess the US soccer team scored a point, uh, correction, they won a game. And it was a high scoring game too. USA 1 Losers 0. The headline reads something like -"Fans Can't Contain Themselves After Historic Win". Ok, one question, where did they come up with "fans" of US soccer willing to fly half way around the globe to watch a bunch of guys grab their lower leg in feigned agony every time a playmate clips them a bit (in the shin guards) in the first place? And if there is anything "historic" related to US soccer, I think the world is in more trouble than we originally thought. For all you conspiracy nuts out there, I think we have a lead on something. I normally don't weigh in on things (publicly) I got strong opinions about but not a lot of investment in. However, I sat through a professional soccer match (awake) and watched the Minnesota Kicks win some sort of title game in 1981 to the roaring ovation of a dozen or so spectators at the sixty thousand seat Met Stadium- home to many standing-room-only crowds of below zero Vikings watching a real "football" team win NFC title games where the only shin that ever even caused a limp was a compound fracture and its subsequent loss of two pints of blood that quickly froze on the late December tundra. That's why I think I have the right to offer my two pence worth. Now, I can understand how the teams that other countries field generate the kind of money and support that real US professional sports do (who really watches hockey?) but there is no way this side of the Stanley Cup that American soccer even comes close to garnering the Krugerrands necessary to send a team to the world championships. Do you have any idea how many Euros it takes to bribe FIFA officials? We're talking serious Deutschmarks here. Like Greece's financial bailout serious. Here's where the conspiracy angle takes hold. My kids have never played soccer but we have lost a number of friends to the uber-secret conspiracy that is called futball.

Music Ether 30x24

I wanted to send a Fathers Day greeting to all the mothers that made it possible but the day was filled with such festive activities and fatherly duties that my goodly desire was precluded by constant distraction. Once again, a day late and a dollar short, the story of my life. This however is a nice cloud in anticipation of the upcoming monsoon season. And in honor of the season (and to show that the decision to not fill the pool this year to save money on water etc. was an exercise in futility) certain persons, (who will remain unnamed) have left the hose running all night long on two occasions generously flooding the yard and drive and basically doing their part to help replenish the southwest's dwindling aquifer. This can be purchased on-line at auction here.

Charlotte 40x30

If you've ever cooked food on an engine block while tooling down the road than you're someone I'd like to talk to. No, it's not because I think that it's cool or dangerous or exceptional in any way. It's just that I'd like to swap recipes and get some ideas - pick your brain a bit, as it were. I hope to travel across the country this summer and visit some of my childhood friends and haunts and I want to do it in style. The last time I drove across America we packed into a 1980 Mercury Zephyr wagon. It was a faded yellow four speed with two hundred and seventy-five thousand miles on it. The a/c worked intermittently (On downhill glides. Something that had to do with leaky vacuum lines), but it had a new headliner and a nice stereo and could go 0-60mph in about 120 seconds! Baked beans and Dinty Moore stew were strapped down tight on top of the manifold and took about an hour to heat up real nice. I debated within myself as to whether I should punch a hole in the cans to relieve the pressure or run the risk of the whole thing exploding under the hood and making a real mess. I vacillated between the two, both options having their inherent risks. Anyway, I can't remember which method I used but we had a few hot and hearty meals at rest stops somewhere in Nebraska and Iowa. I know people who have cooked whole roasts on their engine and figure I'm game to try something like that. If you have any expertise here, feel free to send it my way. Regardless, please don't confuse this with the unfortunate experience of the family cat who, looking for warmth, slept under the hood on a cold winter's eve. I think her name was Socks. About three blocks from home she jumped through the radiator fan... to keep from getting roasted.

Carlsbad Eve 30x40

Back from a week at our secret seaside getaway. I can't tell you how many times I said "Life's a beach" while overlooking the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean. It wasn't even funny the first time I said it. (well, to me it was) But my family is used to my unoriginal and stunted sense of humor. Yeah, I'm the guy who quips "People are just dying to get in there" when we drive past the cemetery...every time we drive past it. So it was that our SoCal friends Rex & Monica blessed us with a nice little beach-side villa in the quaint and cheery town of Carlsbad. I got in some good reading (Tolstoy) a little fishing and we all got our fill of splashing and surfing and drinking salt water. Who ever said "...and not a drop of it to drink."? Of course you will die if you do but then again, isn't that where we're all headed anyway? Not if the painting above has anything to say about it. No, I think this imagery is all about just sailing into the sunset with nary a thought to cloud the horizon of your tomorrow. Or maybe those clouds are an ominous sign...

Sheep & Cows Dine Out

I'm not sure what qualified me for special consideration and inclusion into the elite list. I can understand the Dr. from Ethiopia and his pleas for help to free-up some millions of dollars. I can even see how the adds for Viagra shotgun-target people like me (and you). But, to be counted among the chosen few to receive notification of the latest sale prices on forklifts, well, let's just say that's an honor I'm not really comfortable with. I get spammed about three times a week by a forklift manufacturer. What is up with that? I tell you what. As soon as I'm out of the last gross of forklifts I purchased in May,(I run through them like crazy) I'll be sure to pick up the phone and order another pile of 'em. OK?

A Satisfied Mind 30X24

Memorial Day 2010, when contemplation is good. You might have assumed that I'm given to bouts of melancholy, strange fits of passion and frequent flights of fancy. And right you might be if not for one small caveat. I have the attention span of a multi-level marketing scheme. No, these ills are more closely associated with those who dedicate themselves to pondering overmuch about things they can't do anything about. And except maybe for the flights of fancy part, I have no real connection with the above. My internal queries are more along the line of deep questions with multiple choice answers. Sitting at my bowl of porridge this morning Eddie and I wondered aloud as we grappled with the oft-thought of but rarely voiced conundrum-"Which is worse, getting your undies in a bundle, your nickers in a knot or a bee in your bonnet?"

Cow & Yearling 18x24 LaJoya 24x18

All Quiet On The Western Front. Have you read it? It's not often I revisit a book. The copy we have is old and tattered. Pages fall out in clumps, ten or twenty pages at a time. When I finished I think there were no less than ten pieces of yellowed paperback tenuously stuck together by the dried-out binding and haphazardly strewn throughout the house in various reading nooks and reclining areas. Credited as the best (?) book on war ever written it's an autobiographical styled narrative filled with gripping imagery and poignant despair. (To put it mildly) The setting is WWI trench warfare in France. I don't remember when I first saw this book. I think I read it sometime before all the kids showed up. Anyway, the re-read left an impression. If you're in need of a little sobering up than I would recommend it. If you find yourself in the middle of present-day trench warfare, then I would say this might help you through another day. Of course, as far as recommended reading goes, it's not at the level of the Psalms of David or the Proverbs of Solomon. But for the purpose of healthy contemplation, (how do you get that from poignant despair?) it's a good start.

RIP Davey The Dog 1999-2010

I'm not sure how he wormed his way into my heart. He was supposed to be the kid's dog. My years of fighting off wild dingos, desert foxes and Los Lobos in the dangerous and deadly outback of Latinamerica should have been enough to anneal my rocky hard heart against growing fond of anything canine. Alas, Davey did what all others of his kind were unable to do since my favorite childhood companion Flop, the black and white spaniel mix, died at 14 in 1980. Oh, except there was Max the great tri-colored sheltie (made Lassie look like a rebellious mongrel) and Bluey the tiger-striped Mexican dog bred for sleeping and eating tortillas and, of course there was Amy, another Mexican hybrid who was golden yellow but could not come to America (no green card) with us and a couple of others that only had half my heart in their paws. Anyway, I would like to believe that a dog is not good for much 'cept breedin' fleas and cleaning up table scraps (and fetching ducks and pheasants and shoes and balls). And believe me, I have seen some pretty mangy curs in my travels and have had enough experience with these fanged friends to know better. After all, they are only dogs and there is nothing in the world more tedious than to have to listen to people carry on about their stupid pets and all the human-like characteristics they ascribe to them. The thing is. Davey would literally cry with joy when I would return home from a long absence, his big brown eyes pooling up and melting everything in sight. That's it. That's how he wormed his way in. No more crying dogs for me. And please don't tell me about yours and how he is smarter than your kids and neighbors.

Forever 24x24 Sandman 30x24

Both of these are new paintings. I built these over time with some fairly extensive glazing. There is a bit more planning involved in the process I use for these "Master Series" paintings, as I call them. I'm not trying to blow my own horn, (I'll reserve that for my more redneck pursuits.) it's just that the time involved in letting the paint dry is more reminiscent of the old Masters' style than the direct-painting approach employed by on-location (plein air) or direct painting techniques. This is how I go about making commissioned work and all the pieces that go to the galleries. These differ from my other "alla prima" paintings in a couple of ways. I usually start off with a ground of gessoe which is colored with a warm, thinned wash of something like burnt sienna or a more neutral burnt sienna/Prussian blue mix. I do this with most everything anyway but I make sure it is on the substrate for these layered paintings especially. Once I get an under painting established I build heavier and brighter layers of paint, making sure to let it dry between coats, till complete. This really does give a luminosity and depth to the image and as much as I like the spontaneity and expressiveness of alla prima work these little bad boys really glow. They are both available for a thrifty sale price in our eBay store. See link at top right of page for more viewing.

Belief Suspened 18x36

There are things people ought to do, at least every once in a while, to keep themselves anchored in reality. Eating a Grand Slam breakfast at Denny’s is one of them. It’s the perfect way to stay connected to humanity and you might even gain a little insight into why some folks resort to NASCAR for entertainment. Just don’t order any sides ‘cause that $2.99 special will soon turn into an Olive Garden sized ticket if you do, thus mitigating the true benefit of the au natural Denny’s experience.
I’ve been mulling over an idea lately. A kind of anti-goal to-do list whose objective would be simply this - to keep a person honest. Of course by honest I mean down-to-earth, humble etc. Mind you, this isn’t a list of noble goals and accomplishments meant to garner praise and adulation upon successful completion. No, these would be almost the reverse of that. Ignoble and mean they would serve the purpose of taking from you any real bragging right and casting you in an oblique light that would be anything but flattering. Maybe you can come up with some of your own but here’s a few quick ideas to help you on the path to ignominy and …reality.
1) Walk around with oil paint smeared all over your face.
2) Put a bumper sticker on you car declaring your child’s bad grades.
3) Fire a shotgun in your backyard on occasion.
4) Get kicked out of the local grocery store’s dumpster.
5) Shoot your TV set (in the living room)and post the result on You Tube.
6) Kill your own food once in a while.
7) Mess with a nest of Africanized bees till your face is an unrecognizable swollen mass.
8) Sit through an entire black & white movie (in Spanish if you can handle it…no subtitles)
Does it sound like I’m speaking from experience? Well, I won’t cop to any of these but I will say that should any of them be true of you, the healing, therapeutic benefits would be undeniable and you will be the better for it…or not.(It kind of depends how far you take this)

The Marsh 18x36

I'm letting this one go on auction without a reserve. Is it better than an investment in silver? Well, you must decide for yourself. I know it's a hard choice but sometimes you're on your own with these kind of difficult decisions. At some point we must all walk that lonesome, deep dark valley road alone and make up our own minds. No one else can do it for you.
A friend just forwarded a promotional you-tube add touting the benefits of silver- as in you need to buy piles of it. He must think I've got piles of priceless paintings laying scattered all over the studio here just waiting to exchange themselves for piles of bullion. Hey, wait a minute. I do have piles of paintings here. I think I'll do to them what my erstwhile uncle with the strange and impish sense of humor would do. Just change the word woman with paintings in the following lyric and you can imagine me on my merry way to the nearest silver dollar dealer. " ...feel like falling in love with the first woman I meet, put her in a wheelbarrow and wheelin' her down the street." Bob Dylan Things Have Changed
Too bad the wheelbarrow is already full of hungry kids and the grocery store is on the way to the Easy Money Market.

Solitary Man 30x30

Why Some People Are So Aware of Their Surroundings That They Can Hardly Stand It. This was the title of a "news" program to be aired on NPR last week. I, for one, am so aware of the media creating and managing "news" that I can hardly stand it. Maybe a more appropriate title for a program should be, Why Our Tax Dollars Are Spent To Fund Nonsense. It seems that there is nothing better to do than for our media to report and create and twist news for the sole purpose of fomenting fear. If it's not the bird flu (two years ago) it's the swine flu (closed thousand of schools and borders), if that weren't enough you've got half the nation stirred up over Arizona's new immigration law. What they never tell you is that half (or more) of our border patrol, sheriff deputies and police officers in the state are Latino. It seems every issue is framed in terms designed to create the maximum amount of fear and hatred. I suggest that the above painting be framed with hope and love...and a nice hand-milled antique black frame made right here in my little mexed-up studio in the Arizona desert.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

There is a fine line between being a do-it-yourselfer and being a loser, between independence and rebellion. I suppose I have danced that blurry slim strip most of my life. It's like an old chalk line on a sandy field after a few games have been played. You're not always sure if your last hit was a superbly placed line-drive to the corner resulting in an in-the-park home run or a foul ball. Of course the independent side always has an excuse when there comes the need to fudge things a bit but it gets complicated when one needs to instruct one's own offspring. My kids are all old enough now to analyze my fish stories from a variety of angles and...my driving habits. Lucky for them they have a mother who is as true and faithful as the day is long. Not too unlike the painting pictured here. Happy mother's day to all the moms and especially to all the great men who made them mothers in the first place!

Portrait of a Field 12x24, Tree Fall 36x24

"Full Luster" 24x36, "Breezy" 18x24, "A Wry Turn" 24x30

Estos tres bellos paisajes fueron pintandos por el gran "Pintor de Nuves" de Ebay. Obviamente. Se ofrecen por venta de subasta. El del medio, "Breezy," se acaba en menos de dos dias. No se pierda esta oportunidad. O, si prefiera "A Wry Turn" o "Full Luster" le asegura la hija del artista, quien los a visto con sus propios ojos, que estan igual de hermosas como las fotos.

Ademas, les asegura la hija del artista, que se empacaran con todo el cuidado de una madre empacando a sus hijos. Quien sabe porque una madre empacaria a sus hijos, pero asi se hara.

Attentamente,

Guest blogger Marissa Hawkins

We now return to your regular programming.

"This Isn't Rocket Surgery" 36x24, "Three is a Magic Number" 24x18

Why all the outrage? After all, if I lived in the neighborhood with the Family Food Store on the corner I'd be delighted at the handy convenience. Wouldn't you? Well, the subtitle on the signage says it all. "Snacks, cigarettes, beer, liquor". I mean, what more could our quaint little community ask for? Yes, it is a flippin' drive-through liquor store disguised as "The Family Food store"! It's on the corner of La Cholla and Ruthrauff roads, a peaceful residential area with grade schools, churches and lots of lotto ticket stubs scattered around in and amongst the prickly pear and desert scrub. Now Arizona has even more to get riled up about.

PS. The imagery described was not used as inspiration for the above paintings

Dew U C What I C? 30x24

This mountain view was greeted with 40 degrees and a skiff of snow not more than a few hundred feet from the house...on the 23rd of April...in Tucson, AZ.! From time to time I hear from people interested in attending a workshop...wondering if I offer classes etc. Well, I'm thinking about hosting/teaching a painting workshop in San Diego, Ca. the first week of June...or in the fall. I'm putting feelers out now to see if there's much interest. If we can get 6-10 students for a two or three day gig I think we can make a go of it. What think ye? Let me know if a rendezvous of this sort would trip your trigger and we can begin to make plans for a smashingly good time of painting near the surf, wind in our hair and sun on our back...or something to that effect. Write to LosHawkins @ Yahoo

Encandila 30x24 Trigger Happy 18x24

Rainbow Coalition 30x24 High Riser 24x18

BORDER PATROL UPDATE: Well, San Luis isn't really the bleak and barren place I thought it to be. I mean, they even have a Wal-Mart! After a shorter-than-usual four hour road trip with Eddie the wonder kid (learning to drive on freeways) we were greeted with lush fields of wheat, onions and other green stuff that produced a variety of fresh and happy smells and (windows rolled down) my favorite sound in the whole wide world...the song of the meadowlark. Turns out they really did need Paco the shape-shifting man of international intrigue and loquacious linguistic abilities, to get their car back. We met with the administrative lieutenant of the San Luis police department who helpfully and efficiently released the imprisoned vehicle to us. From there we proceeded to the impound lot. Once at the lot we hatched the daring border-crashing plan. At first they wanted me to be the driver to get the car across. But it was I who engaged the tow truck owners with friendly conversation and delicately described to them our dilemma. It seems no one there (on the US side) was very intent on making anyone's life harder than it already was. These guys (we'll call them Pepe and Pedro) offered to drive the car across the last border check point for Lizeth who wouldn't be allowed to 'cause she only has a Mexican driver's license...won't work with an American car that is owned by the driver...get it? Pepe and Pedro also agreed to reduce the tow/impound fee after we discovered that Pedro's nephews were attending school in Alberto's home town (and I reminded them that the police had told us it would be less) So, after all was said and done, the car that was supposed to be released to me by the impound lot ended up being released to the friendly tow truck operator who ran the lot and I and the wonder kid just shook our heads in wide eyed amazement. We followed them a few blocks to the border as they brazenly crashed the line with happy countenance and innocent smiles all the while whistling a little tune that sounded something like a cross between the theme from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, and the Mexican Hat Dance. It might be interesting to note that all our interactions with people and even the official proceedings were conducted in Spanish. From Tucson to Yuma to San Luis, all in America, all speaking Spanish. I think it's time some of you did some serious investing in Rosetta Stone. (The In & Out Burger in Yuma was the only exception...if they would have pulled the tex-mex thing on us ...well, I did still have my .357 magnum.)

Precipicio 18x24 Black River Bottom 20x24

Did you see the movie 3:10 to Yuma? I might need to go to Yuma this week...I'll probably not take the 3:10 train. You know what that means? It means the chances are real good that a hellacious gun fight will ensue leaving a pile of bloodied and wrecked cowboy parts and pistol cartridges strewn all over the desert. Alberto tried to cross the border into Mexico with Martha, his daughter Lizeth and a questionable character that was supposed to help them get their car across without a hitch. No tomfoolery was expected and since they paid good money to have something done for them that any person with a clear conscience and a little bit of savvy would have done themselves, they were sadly surprised by a series of unfortunate events. Somehow the vehicle was sequestered by an Arizona Sheriff's deputy about twenty miles from Yuma in the bleak and barren border town of San Luis, Arizona. The car runner disappeared (arrested?...no one knows) and now my sister-in-law, her husband Alberto, and their daughter Lizeth (with baby in tow) are stuck on the border awaiting the decision of a local court as to when they can get their little SUV out of the San Luis impound lot. Chances are I will have to buy /bail out the vehicle and or help them interpret their way out of getting hornswoggled by another "helper" posing as a lawyer who just happens to be there at the ready, preying on the fears and ignorance of people from south of the border. I see this kind of twisted entanglement all the time and it truly is unfortunate. So much ignorance and fear carry over from the corrupt and muddled-up third-world setting our Mexican neighbors grow up in that they are truly paralyzed when it comes to dealing with any kind of legal issues when they're here in America. This is a perfect and sad example. These people should be able to walk into the Arizona police station and ask for their car. All their papers are in order. They have legal title, registration and insurance. They could easily explain how they had walked across the border to Mexico while a "friend" transported their car through the complicated import process (in Mexico) but was nabbed by the police right before he crossed the border, (ostensibly for not having a driver's license and no proof of insurance) and now say, "Give me my car...por favor!" But instead, they are afraid of the police, afraid they won't have enough pesos for the bribe they'll have to pay to get their car back, afraid that when they do all their belongs will have been stolen (like in Mexico) and, they are willing to get ripped off again by paying someone to do all this for them "so they won't get caught." The thing is, there is nothing for them to "get caught" over. They've done nothing wrong or illegal but they feel like they have. This is the sad result of oppression. And it's exactly why so many immigrants don't assimilate well in our society. Their hands are tied and they become easy prey for the bad guys from their culture who have learned to take advantage of humble folk . That's where I and my .357 magnum come in. Now it's personal and these sons-of-dogs are messin' with my family...and it's 3:10 to Yuma.

PS...I've never seen the movie.

Big Marsh 24x36 Supra 9x30

These two snappy little tonalist paintings are available this week. Here's the link to see them and to place a bid. As much as I like the "glorious clouds" I am more drawn to the muted colors and diffused light of these tonalist style paintings. Yes, there is joy in the effervescent glowing of rainbow colors gushing out of every pore and particle of those billowing cloud formations that haunt my palette and easel but, for all that, I prefer depression, sorrow, mourning and grief-stricken melancholy over displays of candy-coated transient joys.

I have been expert in both embracing poverty and calamity in my short life. And if all that mouldering and self loathing I've been so found of wasn't enough...my dog is dying! Davey has a nasty cancer in his throat and will be gone before long. He's only eleven...they've been the happiest years of our lives together as a family and the ol' boy has been a big part of it all. The other night I heard through open windows the coyote's howl and the answer from a neighbor's dog from up the road. As I strained to hear a late reply from a familiar voice that never came, I realised I will never hear his gentle happy bark again.

Misty Blue Lagoon 24x18 Rainbow Alert 30x24

Happy Easter all around us...!?!?!?!

The great first century erudite, Paul the apostle, has no equal when it comes to explaining the mysteries of faith. For anyone who has even a smidgen of an inkling that history has been altered (for the better) by the words and deeds of the Savior, there is none better than Paul to explain their implications. He said..."For the love of Christ compels us, because we have concluded this: that One has died for all...so that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for Him who for their sake died...and was raised."

I know, it's a tall order. It's always that way...always has been. It's not easy to hear, not easy to embrace. There is nothing attractive about a man being tortured on a piece of a tree stuck in the ground. In fact, it is one of the most repulsive images available to the mind. Yet, for all is horror and apparent foolishness, the cross has become the most remarkable symbol of love for countless conscience-stricken souls throughout the ages. Who is able to explain this? And why is rescue and comfort found there like no other place? Why indeed. Well, I'll leave you with this Easter muse, and if perchance your little heart is disquieted by frequent bouts of conscience know that there is a risen Savior whose love knows no limits! "...so that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for Him."

Umpqua Muse 30x24

No one should be allowed to play the violin ...until he has mastered it.

Glory Be 11x14 At The Moment 36x24

Two cloud scenes for your listening pleasure. Both paintings depict skies. Both have a low horizon. Both of them display some foliage etc. But, they are distinct in a variety of ways... that much is obvious. I want to see my old friend Leonardo. He lives five hundred miles and two worlds away. My daughter will visit him and his family this week. I will send a letter. I need to write him a good one but, what can I say? The last time we met his middle son and I sat on the porch of their little adobe house with a leaky tin roof, one eyed dog and ducks and chickens in the kitchen. Hugo described how he was going to be a different kind of cop, he wasn't going to let himself get corrupted. He had just graduated from the Sonora Police Academy and was waiting for his first assignment. Leona and Nena were hoping it wouldn't be far from their home. They glowed with pride but you could tell they were afraid for him...and they had reason to be. What kind of country regularly finds bags full of dismembered police officers on the courthouse steps? Do not for a minute think that America or the western world is much like the rest of the world. Yes, human nature is just that. There are plenty of similarities on a micro level. But take in a little overview of recent history and you will see a huge distinction between the evolutions of societies. Those that embraced rule of law...have enjoyed much peace and freedom for their peoples. Those that have been continually conquered and governed by despots and dictators that embrace socialism continue to reel under the weight of oppression to this day. The left leaning politicians, activists and, dare I say artists have no idea what they are playing at. These very same "leanings" are the root for much of the oppression most of the world's population is suffering under. No, we are not the same and the more we follow the lead of the world's "leaders" (United Nations etc.) the more we are going to lose the liberties that make America and countries like ours unique. American exceptionalism is real. There are real and concrete reasons why our police officers don't show up in bags. We cannot afford to continue to promulgate the ideas that cause envy between classes or to believe that the government exists to give us stuff. The gov't. cannot create...jobs or...health care. Someone who is productive has to pay for it...and the last I heard the gov't. is out of money. Where do they plan on getting more? To "make the rich pay their fair share" sounds good if you're poor and are looking for a hand out...or vengeance. But in a country like ours that kind of rhetoric does nothing but result in the punishment of productivity and foment hatred for success. Oppression is a real and present evil...it's horrors are unknown to most westerners. That's why I say that those who embrace the well sounding arguments of the left have no idea what they are playing at. Hugo is dead. Leona is crushed. And mild-mannered men are forced to rant like this...and use their pretty pictures to convey dark feelings and ferocious fears.