Rio Grande 24x18

Method #2. - This cool scene, looking west-northwest of the rain-swollen Rio Grande and its little playmate in the sky, was captured by my handy mega-zoom camera. It's pretty much a direct representation of the scene as we viewed it two weeks ago. Correct range of values (light to dark) is the main difficulty painters have in making art from photos. That's where plein air painting comes in. I try to approach photographs with a plein air mentality, knowing that I can push the saturation of color and the value scale more than I'm typically perceiving by just looking at a picture. A super good (mac) and very large computer monitor helps for this but nothing replaces getting out there and painting directly from life...rain and all. This is available on auction now. Feel free to bid here.

House On A Hill 36x24

I'm trying to drag myself to do this magazine article. I have to describe my art process and take pics of the work in various stages. I will get to it. It is a nice honor after all and we do love International Artist magazine so it will be worth the effort I'm sure. Also it should be a handy reference for the few cyber-painter friends we have that would be interested in cracking open the jello-filled cranial vessel that houses my inner artist psyche. Typically I follow one of three, check that, four routes to finish a painting. House On A Hill is an example of a method I use painting "alla prima" with no reference photo or previous sketch/painting to go by. Sometimes I get great results with this. And even though I don't use a reference photo there are a few thumb nail drawings either on paper or canvas I do beforehand to work out the composition. With these I get to spend a lot of time on color mixing and painting technique/experimentation. I'll be sure to post more info. on the three other (secret) methods to my madness and the up-coming article so stay tuned.

Hawkins' In Yellowstone Flitting By 30x40

I was in the ER the other night at Northwest Medical Center in Tucson. I have pictures. They're not as gruesome as I had hoped. If they were of blackened and swollen-ten-times-their-normal-size limbs you can be sure they would have replaced the pics of the dowdy family at Yellowstone's hot sulphur springs above. As it was, my neighbor and good friend Brian was lying all too comfortable and chatty and smiley after being tagged by a desert demon (rattlesnake) while pruning a hedge. With an initial infusion of 6 vials of anti-venom and some morphine to boot he really had no reason to wake me up at 9:55 pm as far as I could figure. Then again, what is someone of my youthfulness doing in bed at such an hour? Well, Brigid (Brian's wife) needed a vehicle and it had been a while since the local hospital needed my expertise so I obliged them their request. Just for good measure and while no one was looking I whipped out my pocket knife, cut two small X's over the fang marks and sucked out any remaining venom. (No, it wasn't on his behind...) And just for double good measure Brigid drove over (three times) a big ol' rattler as she pulled into her drive later that night. This is the season when a lot of little snakes are out. They give hardly any warning and will strike at anything so beware.

Happy Birthday Marissa!

A grand total of 4,891 miles. That was how far we travelled. We were on the road for 17 days. We ate mass quantities of questionable road fare. We saw deer, elk, dogs, porcupines, 'coons, muskrats, armadillos, snakes and one possum dead on the side of the highway.(did not eat any of those) We spent one night in the car, only three in hotels, listened to an audio book twice (Treasure Island) and still were able to brush and floss at regular intervals. All this with six grown people in one mini van. The kids were, as usual, their normal noble selves. Better travel companions I couldn't ask for. Carmen spelled me from time to time at the wheel and the nomadic days just clicked by in happy procession as we ate up miles like so many Mike & Ike's at a Saturday matinee. We arrived home just in time for Marissa's birthday. She is twenty one today! Her mom and I took her to a movie last night. Unfortunately we had to sit separated. I in an aisle seat next to a middle-aged couple and Carmen and Marissa a few rows back, together. I hear it was a good movie. All I know is that it was loud and long. I woke myself up snoring several times and finally realized how unfortunate it must have been for the lady seated next to me. Did I ever tell you about the time I spent a whole night on a crowded bus in Mexico with a 400 lb. man snuggling on my shoulder the whole way? Well, I was getting back at him vicariously through my row mates. Yes, I am quite the pathetic movie goer and had the occasion not been such a special one I would have refrained from such a night out. ( I know myself) A lot of new, humidity-charged paintings should be coming up soon. The playdoe fun factory will be up and running this week and I can hardly wait to get oil paint all over myself once again. Stay tuned for more glorious clouds too. I got some sketching in (Montana) and a lot of snazzy photos to work from so the next tear should be a good one. They'll call this my "blue" faze in years to come.

Jesse McReynolds smash hits!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had the very great honor of making the album cover/painting for Jesse McReynolds' latest effort...a tribute to Jerry Garcia & the Grateful Dead. Check out the links to his web site and music. Good music worth listening to.

Jesse McReynolds has been added to the lineup of the Philadelphia Folk Festival!
His show is at 9pm this evening (Saturday, August 21st) and he will do a workshop on Sunday at noon!

Jesse will have advance copies of his new project,
"Jesse McReynolds & Friends: A Tribute to Jerry Garcia & Robert Hunter ~ Songs of the Grateful Dead"
and will be performing a few songs from it.

We are honored to have so many of Jerry's friends join Jesse in making this historic recording.

The official release date is October 5, 2010!
Special advance copies will be available Sunday, August 22, 2010 on our website, http://www.jimandjesse.com/

Please visit our website for more information on our Tribute to Garcia & Hunter!
http://www.jimandjesse.com/

or contact
Jesse & Joy McReynolds J&J MusicPO Box 1385
Gallatin, TN 37066 (615)452-7321

Desert Sage Lane 24x12

Eight states and counting. So why write about another desert adventure when there has been so much Americana sucked through our radiator fan the last 3500 miles? Why, you ask? I'll tell you why and you'll be the better for it. But let me digress a bit before I broach a subject that might seem a little, well, unsavory for typical table conversation. Kansas, Missouri, Iowa and Minnesota all greeted us with temperatures that made us want to crawl back to the cool comforts of home in Az., no kidding. As to the much vaunted fishing in the Land of 10,000 Lakes, well, let's just say that we learned once again why it's called fishing, not catching. The surface-friendly mid-westerners that keep the tobacco companies rolling and Wonder Bread cranking out truckloads of pasty white fluff greeted us with toothless grins and predictable questions about Arizona's immigration law (you people watch way too much television) and our dry heat, but they have endeared themselves to us with their quaint farm-country charm and Swedish accented linguistic oddities. For that and for some wonderful life-long friendships we give them a A+ ...After all, I was once a Viking myself don'tcha know. My kids see the north as an exotic place of legends and mystery, much like we imagined the tropics or the desert to be when we were their age. And since I do hale from said Land-O-Lakes my somewhat obtuse observations might ring a bit hollow I know. However, I need to show off the place of my most infamous exploits from time to time and the giant statues of Paul and Babe that greeted us as we rolled into Brainerd just helped solidify my place in Northern lore.(in the kids eyes) Suffice to say that we have had our fill of bratts, dill pickle flavored potato chips, high humidity and chlorophyll. It's time to head south via Montana. But before we do let me tell you about the giant toad that was fed the palo verde beetle pictured below...with a Black Cat firecraker taped to it.

It's not as bad you're thinking so read on. We did succeed in taping a firecracker to the back of the beetle and in getting the toad, the size of a softball, to gulp it down in typical fashion. (remember the video we made of the one that ate the tarantula?) The long green fuse hung out the corner of his mouth in perfect position. He even sat still (after the third match) long enough for Eddie to light it. The fuse sparkled and smoked as we sadistically giggled and chortled our diabolic approval. I'm actually glad to say the bomb was a dud, the toad belched smoke for a half a minute and proceed to eat more June bugs and shiny green beetles...none the worse for wear. Three days later I spied a black iridescent thumb-sized toad turd on the shop floor. We dissected it to find a wadded up piece of scotch tape and half the firecracker and a piece of fuse. The moral of the story?-You might have to dig into a toad turd to find what you're looking for.

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.