Christmas Moon 30x24 Northwest (Mt.) 18x12

5 weeks out since major trauma visited one of my lower appendages. I put on my game face as I crutched (I wish I could say sauntered) my way into the doc's office. I told the surgeon I had seen the IM Nailing procedure on You Tube and it was not a pretty sight. "Yeah", he said, "We really get on it. It's pretty medieval and ...it's pretty fun. Yeah, it's a pretty fun surgery we get to do with this stuff". Wow, he said all that with a twisted grin and a few suppressed chuckles. Seems one doctor really found his calling in life!
The other attending physician went on to tell me all the details they hadn't divulged prior to the "your making excellent progress" comment. Come to find that a lot of nerve damage was feared and the prospect of having to wear a foot brace for life wasn't too far off. Well, I'm just glad to have both feet below me. I'm pretty much weened off the pain meds. and have even been to the duck blind a couple of times...keeping the catch-n-release hunt club going. So, you see, I'm just about as fit as a fiddle and soon will be jumping and leaping and praising God which is my normal daily activity as well as ...painting pretty pictures. The two pictured here are from Montana. They are for sale on auction on eBay. Just type in HAWKINS in the search category "ART".

Tall Trees (Namers beware!) Mike Mahoney's new book!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here's a link to my new favorite book.... Artist, friend and mentor Mike Mahoney wrote a real good one! We used to hang out in Montana together. He's a native of the most red necked state I've ever known. But he's an artist...and a writer. That helps some. Montana still breeds 'em as individualistic as they come and if you get a chance to read his latest you'll see why and I doubt you'll be disappointed. It's a SUPER fun and intriguing read, perfect for a vacation book and one that will really transport you to another world...very cool indeed.
If you have read any of my blog entries you'll see that I am a big fan of being transported. Triple thumbs up!!! (who has three thumbs?) and five out of four stars review for this.

Cross Roads 18x24

Montana near Wolf Point. The high line. Dry land wheat farms and lots of antelope, mule deer and ...weather. A good friend just paid his dues. One year in the clinker for a DUI. He lost his job, his house, part of his family and almost lost his mind. I'm all for lockin' em' up and throwin' away the key but there are some cases that make you want to create your own law a la Judge Roy Bean. One beer and a routine traffic stop many years after he had really driven drunk, two times in a row, was all it took. So this, the third strike was the one that put him away. The patrolman that stopped him regretted that my friend told him he had just had a beer with lunch. He wasn't going to ask or even check but because the information was offered and there was a previous history he was arrested on the spot. This cool scene of a dry land wheat field in northeastern Montana was made with freedom in mind. Good to have you back brother.

Huskies 18x12

A happy little fall view of northern color. It was late October and there were still leaves on trees in the southern half of the state. Northern Minnesota was barren though and only offered a stark and silent cacophony of subtleties. Treks to my homeland are like a view into another life. Kind of like the television shows I've been forced to watched while tied to the sofa with this blasted peg leg. Bob Newhart and Mary Tyler Moore aren't nearly as funny as I remember them to be and the maelstrom of voices vying for a place in my ear only cause me to close my eyes and look forward to another round of Vicodin...or the next surge of energy that will allow me to paint. The truth is, I'm not much one for watching the tube and especially dislike the managed "news" that pours out of that glowing devil-orb in a constant stream (river Styx?) of bytes and hooks and venom-tipped barbs. Even so, bits and pieces make their way into the cracks and crevices of my pain wracked mind and I've been transported all over the place these last few weeks. So, nothing like a tranquil scene like the one above to remind me of real beauty.

Allegiant, Down Home 12x18

Broken leg be danged. I am painting again and enjoying the new small format. Yes, for me 18x12 inches is small. I've got a few upcoming of my recent journey to the northland and these new ones of my fourth favorite state, California are already drying and for sale. I'm letting these go at a must-pay-the-doctor-bills low, bargain basement rate. So, if one of the new ones strikes your fancy feel free to bid. You can find the sale page by following the link at the top right of the blog.

Walmart Model

Beyond pathetic. The Walmart shopper, relegated to search for unreachable third shelf items while riding a machine not too unlike the one which put him in this position in the first place. So was my first outing one week after surgery. I was running low on pain killers and we all know Walmart pharmacies are a good deal. Here pictured I have a whole bag full of stuff that should only be legal in Mendocino, California...or Russia.
The day of the surgery one of the kids ran over the dog in our driveway. Now both of us are limping around looking for affection and looking quite pathetic. The studio has been moved to the old school room and with no stairs to negotiate I'll have no reason not to put my feelings to canvas. Stay tuned. I should have some up this coming week.
My blog friends are awesome! Thank you so much for writing and caring. Many of you have kindly read through the veil of my (genuine but strained) jocularity and dared to peer deep into the dark, swirling pain-fraught specter that lies before us...with all its potential cares and worries and fangs and doubts about the future. I appreciate with all my heart the nice expressions and really take them to heart. With God's grace and the Lord Jesus showing Himself to be the kind master He is, we will make it through. Also, uncle Walmart is close by as you can see so there really shouldn't be any lack of essentials. No, I don't buy my paints there!

All last week (and the week before) I was looking forward to posting some nice photos of Minnesota and had a whole bunch of clever and artsy things to say about our little excursion to the north land. Well, obviously my plans have been interrupted. And now, in the makeshift convalescent room my cyber activity has been severely downgraded. I'm working on an old laptop with missing keys and no easy way to plug in my camera etc. (Actually, it's quite easy...I just can't move) So, a little update here to thank my friendly well-wishers. A lot of mail has come in and it's really great...and really cheers me up. Thank you!

I tried to upload a picture from inside the ambulance. It's probably best I couldn't. I was taking pictures throughout my little ordeal the other day and even asked one of the kids to run and grab the video camera while I lay in a giant pool of agony and thorns. They didn't comply. But I did get a lot of shots of the emergency room and all my "health care professionals" etc. The hospital highlights are too many to tell but the ultra-sounds taken (there were four) seemed particularly humorous to me. I kept asking the techs if it was gonna be a boy. I got no laughs. But I did see the needle go into the sciatic nerve and dump a bunch of numbing effect down my leg. That was right before they put me out and said I was not going to remember any of this stuff anyway. I remember everything! ...even hovering over my body as they pounded that rusty ole spike into my shin bone. Well, enough gory details, you all get enough of that from watching the evening news. Thanks again for writing and caring and especially praying. As I lay on the naked desert surrounded by my family (before the ambulance came) I felt a compelling peace. I asked them to worship God with me. Strange, I know. But somehow, at that moment it seemed the most correct and good thing to do. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord!

Before & After

Yes, this is my leg. No, these are not photos from a box of old memories. Yes, it is as painful as you can imagine. No, I'm not addicted to pain killers...yet.

They kept asking me how bad the pain was on a scale of 1-10. This first started while the young rural paramedics were gawking at my left foot flopping around at improbable angles as they tried to figure out how to put a splint on it. Later, in the hospital they showed me a chart, a series of cartoon faces expressing different levels of pain. They all looked pretty sour to me. I tried my best to look like the last two. It's not that I really needed more morphine. They were pretty liberal with that nasty stuff and though I was more jovial than expected (My son wouldn't call 911 'cause he thought I was joking as I lay propped up on my elbow next to the garden tractor (quad) smiling...till he saw my foot pointing south while the rest of me pointed north) it didn't take long to realize we weren't playing them for a free surgery, a few meals and a bit of pain killer. Now, after one week of writhing with a 16" chunck of rebar pounded into my tibia, I am learning what life is like with no pogo sticks or Zumba in my near future. But I must paint and paint I will. Look forward to new percoset-inspired works

Visits and words of comfort welcome.

Silver Creek 30x24

I am mysteriously drawn to this scene. I have a number of photos of similar views from around the country (and Mexico). A creek in a meadow with a lone tree. There's got to be something symbolic about that. Maybe I could get someone to psychoanalyze me and we could get to the root of my inner turmoil. Or, maybe it's just another pretty picture that we can enjoy together. This, along with a few other new paintings is being offered on auction. You can bid by following the link at the top right of the blog page.

Which One of These is Not Like The Others?

Sky, water and fowl. This is the perfect trifecta. Who could ask for more? I'm still piling the oil paint high and deep on the old palette. And it still needs replenishing at regular intervals. That means more fantabulous works are ready to be rolled out when next years' models are announced...if not before. Be sure to check on the link to "art for sale" at the top right side of the blog page. There I have a few new ones on auction as well as some available for purchase at prices that should cause redness of face and general embarrassment, shame and self loathing to any self-respecting artiste of this generation. (glad I'm from another era)

Mt. Lake 6x8 Never Saw It Coming 48x36

This is like taking a large mastiff for a walk...on the same leash as a toy poodle. I'm gonna make a few smaller paintings to bridge the gap between the Haves and the Have-nots. FYI, both of these took over 30 years to make.

Mystery Muse 40x30

It's that time of year. Slogging through mud and wet, partially decomposed vegetation brings out the best in me. I have been approaching my favorite marshes and swamps and catching the tail end of the monsoon cloud action as a bonus. I tried to make a teaching video the other day. Well, I did record and teach through an entire painting. It turned out real good 'cept for one thing. I oriented the camera to capture the pallette and painting...vertical. Come to find that there is no way to format the captured video horizontally. So, unless we want to get sea-sick we'll have to wait till the camera crew shows up again. Stay tuned.

The Way of Water 18x24 Boy with Girl on Horse circa 1989

I must've been all of 27 years when this picture was took...a mere lad caring for a little child. That's my daughter holding the reigns of a horse that spooked real easy. He liked to buck me off...when he could. What was I doing letting her ride that wild bronc? Well, if I remember right, I sort of lived in a fantasy world then. I imagined myself a village doctor and one-time school teacher as I dwelt amongst backwoods natives in the hinterlands of ol' Mexico. At the very least it afforded me the opportunity to hone my woodworking, six-shooting and adobe making skills. Not to mention the spinning of yarns in multiple languages.
The Santa Cruz river (effluent) flooded the other day. I went out to check on my duck traps (don't worry, there ain't no such thing) and found some pretty cool vistas as the sun set...inspiring this nice new painting.

Sky Blue Water II 24x36 Painting Classes

How many times have I heard the song Magic Bus by The Who? I finally looked up the almost indiscernible (to a Viking) words "...a thrupence (three pence) and a sixpence everyday..." If it weren't for words that make you flip the Brits would have nothing on the rest of us. Of course their use of toothpaste is nothing to be envied but toss around terms like "thrupence and sixpence" and I think you can just about own the world. I'm toying with the idea of getting a Camera with an external mic so's to make a few teaching videos. I'm not looking forward to rolls and streams of film piled on the splicing room floor but if we can make some informative how-to vids without losing too many thrupence it might be a good project. I'll keep the blog posted.

Painting Demo Speed painting-Tea Commercial

Montana & California...respectively

A couple of new paintings I was able to get in edgewise. I'm using more paint on the canvas as I'm slowing down with all my work. I like the effect a lot and have even been taking time with some of these new ones letting the initial layers dry and doing glazing techniques. It makes for a rich depth that's hard to get in alla prima painting. Anyway, tales from the crypt are forthcoming so stay tuned. We have decided that one the best careers of the future is that of Grave Robber. I've only done it a couple of times but a franchise business model might be in the making...or I'll keep painting. We'll see.

Hidden Marsh 24x18

NOTE: Photo is skewed on this...I no longer have photoshop to adjust...don't get seasick while viewing

.Not that I should be afraid of them but really, cops on bicycles (if I were a criminal) inspire about as much fear (or confidence for those of us who aren't criminals) as snakes on a plane. Which in my world would register about a .5 on the one-to-ten scale. I suppose they do accomplish some "good" in the inner city where I witnessed two of them being jovial but stern to a pile of sun-baked hobos passing around a small paper bag. I tooled by in my 1 ton Chevy truck which tries to anonymously guzzle six-mile-per-gallon gas through a 2 in gas line (fire hose) imagining the utter futility if one of those guys had reason to nab me. They would be blowing whistles and cranking their handlebar bells 'till their thumbs blistered and I wouldn't even notice them over the purr (roar?) of the 36 square inch carburetor intake. And that's at idle! I suppose an errant spoke could theoretically poke through the 12 ply tread if I were to inadvertently drive over one of their Schwinn 10 speeds. In that case I would have to stop and give myself up.
So went the musings in my painterly brain right before I started this new glorious sunset the other day.

The heights 30x40

Overlooking Tucson from the north. That's where this sky full of bluster was witnessed. Sometimes things are crazier than they appear, defying coherent explanation. Sometimes, there's inexplicable calm in the midst of outright bedlam. Well, however bland and blasé my life may seem to me, I must admit that it's not lacking for what could very well be considered exciting blog-fodder. It's just that the vicissitudes of life don't always contribute expeditiously to the verisimilitude of our little reality. Nor does my proclivity to exaggerated adherence to veracity necessarily make for profitable (or believable) reading. Take for instance our latest sortie across the border. One would think I had had enough of border skirmishes and third-world intrigue for one life. Apparently I haven't. Suffice it to say I am not in jail, was not shot at (this time) and am back in the safe (?) confines of my little desert studio peacefully painting away the hours till the unimaginable foists itself upon me with it's frequent and disconcerting irregularity. No, I will not tire you with the tedium of my yarn spinning...this time!
Just enjoy another big ol' painting...a speed painting demonstration video of this will be posted soon on You Tube . I'll add a link here in a day or two.

Gold Frame, Picacho Peak 30x24

The last of the 24k gold was used in the making of this frame. It's pretty nasty to work with. Well, compared to metal leaf it is. You just have to go about it in the time honored fashion and since I don't have a specialized gold leaf horse hair brush I have to pick the stuff up with my corroded blacksmith hands and fumble the delicate ephemeral sheets on to the size (glue). And since I've not used rabbit hide to make my gesso or glue in many years my reference to time honored technique is just so much expended breathe. As long as I'm confessing, let me say that neither did I burnish said frame with a polished agate...also part of the time honored technique. The result was still as splendid as you could hope for (picture doesn't do it justice) and short of disturbing my mental equipoise, no one should be any the wiser. (I have my own secret techniques)

Picacho Peak loomed large and stark against the backdrop of the southwest sky. It was Sunday last and we were on our way to visit some illegal aliens that reside in Phoenix (I bet you think I'm kidding) My rig was full of Mesican relatives and as I locked up the brakes on the freeway to snap a shot(s) of this cool scene all kinds of expressions of fear and wonder reverberated throughout the cabin in tongues known and unknown. Later that day we witnessed a huge squall of dust descend upon Casa Grande about 20 miles from the mountain here pictured. I did take a picture or two of that...maybe I'll post them here before too long.

Air Head 30x40

So, I've done this painting before just not in this size. It is a big'un and 'cause I got a few of these huge canvases I'm looking forward to making more. I really love painting large with my big fat brushes, lots of paint, hair in my face and a crazed look in my eye... and some cool jazz on the radio. I have yet to get to the point where I'm emptying $100 buckets of oil paint on a palette on the floor and applying it with a hockey stick. I had a tortured-soul artist friend that did that. While I languished in oxygen deprived misery last week I thought of that and...stealing aspirin gum from the medicine cabinet. Somehow, in my feverish dementia I combined childhood memories with mixing paint and the result was truly inspirational. Now, rejuvenated with iron lung treatments and fresh rain from the monsoons I am set to work on a new sky series. Stay tuned.

Lark Rise 40x30

Our 23rd anniversary was celebrated with a tasteless (due to symptoms described earlier) Chinese meal. I'm almost at the point where I will give unsolicited advice at the slightest provocation. Maybe it's mid-life malaise or maybe it's brought on by my frequent bouts of night terrors where I scream like a wild boar stuck through the heart. Anyway, I'm starting to feel like I've earned it. And I'm seeing more and more young couples who need it. Of course we would all like to blabberate our opinions all the time, and be heard. Nothing new about that. There are a few topics though that I feel exceptionally compelled (in my paint fume induced opinion) to weigh in on. Sensitive subjects as they may be, marital bliss and child rearing come to mind. Take no offense, my ideas are not so much a comparison of one person's values/practices over another's as much as an observation that has borne itself out in over two decades of whip-cracking, God-thunder invoking, happy house making good will and cheer. I won't go into what makes a marriage stay together, too much stuff there but let me say that intentionality is the key to making good kids...not "love". Of course we need to love and nurture our offspring...usually not to difficult (at least at first) But too many folks raise their little kids based on their intuitive "feelings of love" and nothing more. Many of these little crumb crunchers are destined to be curses instead of blessings, at least till they pull out of the nose dive they're in in their mid twenties. They(parents) have such low expectations and high opinions of their children that the end result are disobedient, uncreative, self absorbed monsters. I'm here to say it doesn't have to be that way. Clear rules (parameters) with no exceptions with early and immediate consequences made with forethought (intentionality) and not anger go a long way in bringing up kids to be a blessing, not only to their parents but to others as well. Who do I think I am you say? Nobody (do X-men exist?), is my response but check this; My kids have never once talked back to me or their mom, never thrown a fit, never begged for junk over and over till they got their way and never have they ever asked me to turn Bob Dylan down on the radio. They are not angels by any means but in every area where we have been intentional about their growth/obedience/kindness etc. (and started early...like at 6mos-1yr old) they have responded. My encouragement is this; people can raise their kids intentionally to be a joy to be around. Simple as that. And with a little extra force be made to have the same taste in music as their dad. See, once again, I've lowered the high bar of excellence just so's to keep me and others like me humble and aware of our own shortcomings. This great and beautiful sky painting was inspired by my son Darell's recent car accident that he got in on the way to visit my other son Darell in the county jail. Welcome to Catalina!

Double Dip 12x24

I've discovered a new weight loss system. Eight pounds and counting, I'm in the second week of a strict regimen that has me drinking infusions of garlic and honey (tasty combination!) and coughing up all non essential organs and detritus that shan't be named. The upside is that I am not in the hospital. The downside is that if I don't take it easy I might still end up there. This, brought to my attention by the numerous writings and warnings I've received regarding the general recalcitrance and pertinacity of the lobal pneumonia that I've been plagued with these last few days. Take heart, I've not succumbed and just to flaunt my ignorance and delusional beliefs as to my invincibility I worked yesterday! Fueled by mega doses of under-the-counter analgesics I was able to cut down two trees with the chain saw and make it home in time to watch an episode of Lark Rise to Candleford. (If you're a fan let me know)
I am on the mend, receiving with gratitude the results of your prayers and well wishes.
We will paint again!

Creer 15x12

I don't always paint big. But I do paint with big in mind. When I paint outdoors I have always thought of the "plein air" sketch as nothing more than a quick reference. It's always been hard for me to appreciate small work...I want to see it life-sized. Nevertheless, there are some cool nuances you get with working small and there is always a lot learn about color, values, shapes and lines. Changing up brush sizes makes me think harder than normal. In most cases that's a good thing. Usually in my case it leads to overload, steam pouring out the ears and a lung full of spider webs. How else could I explain it? I saw the doctor last week. I had experienced three straight weeks of coughing up chunks of old tires and mushrooms. He said my lungs were fine, sent me home with a voodoo cocktail and told me to call him after the weekend if I wasn't better. I called him pumping on one cylinder, having lost my eyesight, ears and sense of humanity from a continual fever and was ordered to get an x-ray. With a wry smile the doc said he didn't notice the pneumonia 'cause my lungs were half full and "compacted" and that if I wasn't better in fifteen hours I needed to be hospitalized. That was about fifteen hours ago. I'll keep you posted. Meanwhile, check out the few pieces I still have on auction. Who knows? They might be my last.

Scorpions On A Plane..."Reddy" 30x40 "Windom" 12x15

One foot hit the floor, shoeless and bare. It was the only step between me and the little bunk; the only movement that separated me from a night of bone-tired, albeit hot and tropical fitful sleep. Fateful little step it was. I've described the intense, immediate feeling as though my toe had been placed on an anvil and whacked with a heavy ball peen hammer. This, the first of several scorpion stings I've had the pleasure to endure, was definitely the most intense. Numbness up to my knee could be felt for days and a lingering sensation was still evident a week later. The other, less dramatic brushes with the desert demons would have left me with little respect for the phosphorescent phantom's stinger, which were much more like a mild bee sting. This first encounter however was enough to put me on wary alert every time I climb out of my bed roll at 5 am and turn my boots upside down with a good shake before I slip them on. I suppose it was a bark scorpion that gave me my first welcome to the Sonora desert those years ago. Of the 20 or so different kinds that lurk and slink and crawl and creep around the ground here in the desert southwest, the bark scorpion is the most painful. I did see a young boy go into shock once from scorpion poison so they are nothing to be trifled with, especially if they get you in the head. If, however, you were to give me free plane tickets for every one of the blasted things I've encountered I'd basically own three or four airlines about now. I think I've squashed one or two in recent weeks...during the making of these paintings! Where's my headlines?!?!

Fire Tree 30x24

Almost 30 years of self-employment of some sort or another. I can't remember ever being ripped off...until now. I've had several customers that thought I was about to rip them off and they made it clear that they would get me before I ever even tried to get away with it. (New York and Boston Snowbirds) I always wondered at how they could be so jaded and suspicious of others. Well, now that Larry is in to me for $1200 for hard , hot labor and refuses to take my calls I guess I'm starting to feel like a squint-eyed easterner. And as I look upon the emaciated forms of my young children battling for scraps on the kitchen floor it's doubly hard. Chalk it up to live and learn...and thank God I gave up packing heat a while ago.

One thing that never leaves me feeling ripped off is a view like the one above. A cool scene replete with grape vines and eucalyptus trees. This nifty new painting is available. Click on the link at the top right of the main blog page here to see and bid.

The Scrapper

I've promised hillbilly pictures of knock-kneed, toothless, cross-eyed, bearded trash collectors, and you thought I was kidding? What greater proof do you need? This picture of me and my trailer was taken next to a 40 yard roll-off dumpster, all full of someone else's refuse. Many a time I've seen our brood off to the weekend yard sales with my words trailing behind in a plaintive and futile echo..."Remember kids, one man's junk is your dad's junk too" I don't like clutter and having a lot of stuff around clogs the arteries of life. But we do have good sun tans right about now (high today 109) and just a bit of clutter scattered around our desert compound makes for good conversation and some dandy bonfires come fall.
I guess it goes without saying that the foreclosure market is really hopping and it seems we have truly found a recession-proof business that takes advantage of other people's misery..or cleans up after it, whichever you prefer.
Last week I was attacked by hornets. Several stings to the torso, leg and arms. Thankfully none hit me in the face. They hurt and swell up pretty good, even seem to get a bit infected but hornets are wimps when compared to Africanized bees. Now those bad boys really know how to swarm and don't let off their attack very easily. The little hornets just let me fall out of their nest in the date palm branch cluster twelve feet up, trip over my fallen ladder and run directly at my two sons and a couple of my workers without even a feint at real pursuit. I figured if they're gonna get me they might as well get everyone. No, they did not follow and to my dismay, no one else in my crew of misfits was able to enjoy the first-hand encounter with nature the way I did. So continues the odyssey of a painter fallen on semi-hard times. Next post I will once again display my prowess at sky-gazing interpretation with a nice fresh oil painting.

Water Babies 30x24

I mentioned a new job in the last blog entry. Fear not! I've not abandoned my paints altogether... but hopefully for sanity's sake I will be able to leave behind the humiliation of unintentional obsequiousness displayed in my recent auction prices that compete with snakes' bellies and other grovelers. You see, even the Play-Doh Fun Factory of landscape painters has a level to which he will not stoop, or so he'd like you to believe. Yet, as my yard takes on a distinct Sanford & Son hue I am reminded once again of the words my favorite uncle muttered..."A man's gonna do what he has to do when he's got a hungry mouth to feed." Bob Dylan ...and that there might be a bit of sinking left to do. That said, as I've stated on numerous occasions, I really like the fact that us common folk are able to buy fine art. Internet marketing has afforded a bunch of us this pleasure and for that I truly am thankful.

We (la familia nostra) have recently embarked on a new mission that alternately wears us out and has us staring blindly at the sun drooling and blistered while filling us with great joy and a sense of ultimate purpose and destiny. Single handedly we have been cleaning out the trashed, misused, abused and foreclosed houses of the greater southwest. Had I the energy, I could easily regale you with the most interesting and humorous anecdotes regarding America's love affair with high debt and it's resultant effect on the poor houses that bear the brunt of all the ne'er-do-wells that had no business owning a home in the first place. To be sure, there are folks who endure awful and difficult circumstances that end up losing their homes. But some of these places make the aforementioned sit-com look like the residence of Janitor-In-A-Drum. I will post pics and stories of our Beverly Hillbillies truck and trailer loaded to the sky next to photos of new masterpieces that can't help from pouring off my brush! I've always been about The "study of extremes". Stay tuned.

Was It You? 30x24 Eddie Graduation

As milestones go, I guess this one is fairly significant. Much more so than the overdone fan-fair of the middle-school jump to senior high or the, now celebrated, 6th grade matriculation. To some, however, these dates are important and to that sentiment I'll tip my hat. It's been a while since I've tangled with anyone under 45 who could hold up to being compared to Captain Kirk, Thor or even my own dad. In my day, men you could run the river with were in abundant supply. Men who's tears flowed when they read "Where the Red Fern Grows" and who's indignation burned like white hot magnesium strips pilfered from eighth grade science class at the mention of the word homework. So, you guys that have never carried your own finger, loped off by the lawnmower, into the emergency room and take offense at my heroic references to yesteryear, take to heart my goading and turn your small, short lives into something of value. Keep all your promises even when it hurts. Remember, when it comes to marriage vows, calling ducks or making your house payment, there is no "plan B". Commitments fulfilled are the only things that breed character...and ALWAYS keep the lawnmower blade sharp. It's much easier to sew that thing back on if the cut was clean! Of course, had I done my homework maybe I wouldn't be scrapping out foreclosed houses and mowing lawns for a living!?!? So, congrats to the grads...and to all those who accomplish great things while striving for even greater ones. Remember, if you aim at nothing you're bound to hit it.

North Woods 24x30

I continue to let masterpieces go out the studio door at an alarming rate and at heretofore unheard of prices. Yes, I know, it makes my head spin and my stomach turn. But paint I must and to that end I spend my days. What, do you think I want a house full of my own paintings? In more than one way I'm a lot like my estranged uncle Bob D. who just turned 70. He has said that he never listens to his own records. Well, I'm basically the same when it comes to my art. I just have to get it out of my system. When a painting is complete I can breathe easy...and go on to the next mystery muse that strikes my fancy. Enjoy this scene of the north woods shore line. It won't be around long.

Awert 24x30

I hardly ever listen to presidential speeches or other politicos anymore...not too interested in getting worked up over things out of my control. I must say though that I did hear the prime minister of Israel today. He put a serious schooling on our president regarding history, the Palestinians and the middle east vs. the Jews...pretty amazing and quite a contrast between someone who really has experience and the US president's recent opinions. This was a very rare international spanking for a sitting US president. Interesting though how the media spin has it that he was agreeing with our president. What I would like to know, why don't they consult with those of us who are experts at the things we glean from media soundbites? While we're on the subject of armchair quarterbacks, why didn't they ask me if Bret Favre should play another season? Always out of the loop, stuck in the studio breathing fumes...the story of my life.

Stranded Art

So, left to my own designs I come up with things like the picture above. I was stranded at a Super 8 motel, car broke down and the summer swelter was like a hot tamale sizzlin' on the blacktop at noon on the road to perdition. (actually I was in Lordsburg, NM) I was/would have been a prime candidate for an alien abduction. Instead, I spent my time meditating on the vast implications of how a (now proven) finite time line (2nd law of thermodynamics, entropy, cooling of space etc.) influence bio-genesis (or not, as the case may be) Anyway, the theory of macro-evolution is scientifically way out there. It requires the suspension of disbelief that my profound ignorance just can't afford and eons of time that just don't exist in any hard-science / physics model. However, if you are a skeptic, the "new and richer understanding" of "maximum entropy production" leads one to believe in the spontaneous production of order from disorder as an expected consequence of basic laws. That to me is a much bigger stretch than to believe the guy at the garage who needed two days to replace one bad tire was from a parallel universe. If they were coming to get me (aliens...I was only 200 miles from area 51 at the time) then I would be ready. The other pictures (paintings) are from when I am not left to my own designs, in the safe confines of the studio. These are for sale this week on auction...see link top right of blog page to bid.

Eli in his father's footsteps Happy mother's day!

Super heroes take on various shapes. Here in our house, well, you can see what we look up to. Eli (author of the smoking penguin) came up with this. Does he model his heroes after his dad? You be the judge.
I'd offer this for sale but it was made on the back of an envelope...and I've not done any self portraits lately. This is as close as I've come to owning biographical art.

Golder Ranch 12x18, Surmise 30x24, Flow 24x12

New Family Portrait

Eddie the frame maker is about to graduate! So, we snapped a pic in the front yard yesterday for posterity's sake. He wants to continue his studies and become a large animal vet. Has he ever even seen a cow? I have no idea where that came from.

Our short absence from the blogspot has seen us in ol' Mexico and cavorting around the southwest looking for new places to paint. I'll try to get more pics up here this week for those of you who are jonesing for an art fix.
A couple of these paintings are available on auction this week so be sure to visit the link (top right on blog page)