The Studio Plunder...A History, Part Three

This is from 1992. It is the only work I have ever done in a 'primitive' style. It was created in the frame shop of Turner Fine Art in Denver. It's marker on craft paper. I have very little memory of what was happening at the moment I created it but I have always liked it.

The fire I spoke of previously, took most of my work prior to the 90's. In part it was also responsible for a lack of work in the mid 90's. In part, the fire I speak of was not so much an actual fire as it was a partner that was very insecure, and did not understand or support my need to create. I was a different person then and I gave in. Because of that I went for years with out ever drawing or painting.

The following works were created in those years. 91 to 96-ish. She resented my desire to be an artist, even though that is what I studied in school. But I would at times of need, sketch something. I never thought of myself as an artist until I met someone that encouraged and supported me. It meant everything to me at the time. I know now that I was then and always will be an artist. Good or bad. Success or failure. It doesn't matter any more. It's what I am. It's what I need to do and be.

This is my oldest niece at about 4 or 5 years old. She was dressed as a princess with a beautiful green dress.

A girl on the bus that I had a secret crush on. She didn't like my sketching her either. Even after I showed her this, she thought I was some kind of weirdo.

A version of a Milton Greene photo of Marilyn Monroe. She has always been one of my favorite celebs to draw or paint. Something quite remarkable about her. And working from photos doesn't get you thrown off the bus.

Greta Garbo, another favorite. I love that era.

Priscilla Presley. This was actually before she turned herself into a freak. It's not even close to good but I kept it for some reason. Maybe the purple. I love purple.

Another Marilyn.

The Studio Plunder...A History, Part Two

I was always taught that if you want to be a good painter, you need to be good at drawing. Sadly, drawing has always been one of my biggest weaknesses. I really have to concentrate and struggle with my drawing skills. Some days are better than others but most are difficult.

The following works are from 1990 - 1992. Many of my favorite works have been created in graphite. (pencil) The Dixon Ticonderoga's are a good choice. They come in a wide range, from soft to hard. I prefer the No 3. I don't know why.

In my sketches, I try to maintain a minimalist quality. Less is more. I like to have the mind fill in the blanks. Our brains know what's supposed to be there. Given just enough information we will see the whole, even if the whole is not there. Ya know what I mean?

The top three are worked studies. Meaning, not the first set of drawings but not yet complete. Done some what quickly for me. They still need some work to be finished.

The next three are what I considered a finished sketch. It took any where from three to ten or more drawings of the same image to get to this point. I was pleased with the out come and I'm not sure I would part with these.




These last two were part of my final for a life drawing class. It was a bout the time I had discovered pastels. I was instantly in love. Pastels are a fabulous medium. I prefer the pure pigment but they can be expensive. The cheaper brands have more additives in them and don't cover as well. My only problem is that I happen to be allergic to the dust they create. It kills me but I refuse to give up the chalk.

If cared for they will last as long as an oil and hold up just as well color wise. They are quite fragile though. Fixatives can be used to hold the pastel to the paper but it changes the color and mood of the works. The do work well though. I'm torn as to use a fixative or not. I guess it depends on the work. If I really like it, it wont get fixed. These two were never sprayed. They look just like they did 19 years ago.

It was these two works that pushed me into wanting to be a real artists. They are not my best work but I have fond memories of working on them as well as a couple of class mates. We worked on each others pieces, gave input and ridicule when ever necessary. I miss that interaction. I haven't had anything like since school. I won't part with either of these.

The Studio Plunder...A History, Part One

Where does the world go? You stop for a second and it all goes buzzing past. Feels like I've been gone forever.

Lately I have been de-cluttering my studio. Actually for years. I have a lot of stuff. Pack-rat in my genes. But that's an different post. For as long as I can remember I have been carrying around portfolios, sketch pads, large envelopes, rolled pages and canvases, boxes and at times just loose papers with drawings and paintings. 

This week I pulled out every thing I could find and started photographing it all. Not counting all of the art we have collected from other artists, (I didn't count those - yet) I have 414 of my creations. 108 of those I have decided that I like enough to keep for myself. Several are hanging in our home. 

The other 306 works...well, I'm still not sure why I have been lugging them around the world. A few date back to 1990, while I was still in school at SDSU. The incident that I refer to as "The Fire" eliminated everything that dates before 1989. (I'm still pissed about loosing my journals.) Except for one. This one.

I painted it for my Grand father circa 1971. I would have been about 5 years old. It's a paint by number. I was so proud. He kept it on his night stand until he died, some 22 years later. It's one of my most prized possessions.

It was rather amusing to go through it all. Some of it is really bad. Made me wonder why I even kept at it. There are periods when I was trying out new mediums, techniques, subject matter. For the most part it is all graphite, colored pencil, marker, and pastels. Mainly figurative. There was a period of erotica. I still dabble with that one. Duh...I'm a guy. After Mr. Man was born I was fascinated by all things small and work strictly in miniature for almost six months.

Many are complete works. Most are sketches, studies or just doodles.

Well, now that I know what all I have, it's time to get rid of it. Most of it. Before I do, I thought it might be fun to post them all, or most of them, here. A journey through the progressive years of Mad William. As frightening as that may be.

I am going to try and put them in some sort of an order. Either by date, subject matter, style, medium, or maybe just as they come up. If you see anything you like, speak up. I just might give it to you. (don't ask for the mouse. not going to happen)

To be continued...

Been There...Done That...What?

Those that forget history are bound to repeat it.

Oh ya?

What if you do remember history, and the same shit happens again anyway?

Umm...?

It's like the whole Klingon in alternate Universes.

No. That's totally a different kind of mind wedgie. His history isn't repeating. He's going from one reality to another. It's parallel.

You're right. It's the time loop episode.

Ya. That's the one.

So, how many times you think you've been through here?

Beats me. It must be a shit load. The enterprise was stuck for what? A few months? That other ship was there for seventy five years for shit sake. Can you imaging?

I don't have too, I think it's happening to me. I'm stuck in this fucking loop. It's not even a good loop. No money, no girls, no fun. I'm stuck with you losers.

Dude, that's harsh don't you think?

Maybe. What's the difference? It's going to hit the end of the cycle and the loop will start over and we'll be having this same conversation tomorrow. What should I call you next time? Wonder what I called you last time? Or the last thousand times? This has to stop. Maybe you could get you're feet off of my table next time? No matter how many times we go through this, I don't want your feet on my table.

What ever dude. Hey? Why don't we just watch that show and see how they get out of the loop.

Umm...?

Dude? Did you smoke all of that?

Umm.....What?.....No.....What?

What Dreams May Come...

It has been said that time, heals all wounds. Well, I have never really believed that. It's more like, each passing day rips the wound open and pours salt into it. Maybe time is the wound itself. Healed or not, the scar remains as a constant reminder.

1997 was the worst year of my recorded history. 2008 is second worst. It was close, but it's still only second. 2009 is shaping up to give 2008 a run for it's position.

For about a month I rambled on about dream jobs to the point that even I was tired of hearing about it. Now five months later, I see things a bit differently. I love what I do. As far as jobs go, it is a dream, but it's not what I dream about.

The universe is full of sick and twisted jokes, that I have missed the punch line for. I guess my dream is one of them. 

The thing I dream about most of all, is being a great dad. I know, I can't believe that after everything, that is what I dream about most. And now, it's my 'dream job' that's keeping me from what I really want.  

I'm now spending 50 to 60 hours a week at the gallery, and I only get to spend about 20 hours a week with my son.  To me, being great, means spending as much time with him as I can. We pay strangers to watch and spend time with him because we work. To give him a better life. To pay them, we have to work more. Working more we spend less time with him. 

So, I spent the last twenty years, working my ass off so I would have more time to spend with my wife and  now, child. Just as I was getting where I was headed, the world collapses around us and I find myself having to basically start over. Working my ass off so I can be where I was twenty years ago.

No matter how long I sit and think about it, I just don't see the humor.