What's In A Name...

So I'm listening to a gallery manager and a gallery owner argue about names. Some of my paintings don't have names they have numbers. Like "Chadette no 38."

To me that is the name of the painting. Apparently, to some it's a sign unprofessionalism.

Besides all of that it made me wonder about the names I have used, and not used.

I have only used Theresa once. I have never used: Kim, Deloris, Trisha, Julie, Jeanie or Precious...

Kim was my first real love. She ended up breaking my heart. I dated several other Kim's. One owned a golf course. One had a mow hawk and was an awesome lover, although it was brief. One was a jockey.

Deloris was a teacher in high school, while I was a student.Although not my teacher.  OK, technically I was out of high school at the time but she was awesome. She had a beautiful 65 Mustang Fast back. A  wonderful metallic green. Her boy friend wrecked it. She taught me quite a bit.

I met Trisha Coffee at a party. We went to different high schools. She had just broken up with her high school stud. We talked, we made out. I saw her a few days later. I played the piano and made jokes and she laughed, we had fun. We went to the fair, where she ditched me when her stud showed up. She was only trying to make stud jealous. Which worked because they ended up back together. She was so hot.

Julie was a sports friend. She played softball while I played baseball. She was a tom-boy. She was cute and fun and she was killed in a car accident when she was 17. And I miss her.

And Jeanie...There has always been something about Jeanie. We have been off and on as long as we have know one another.

Precious asked me once if I thought Jeanie was "my one". 

Honestly I have never really thought of myself as having a "One". I go where my heart takes me. I really figured that Precious was "my one". Until recently, if there was going to be only one. It should have been Precious. Maybe I don't have a one. Maybe I missed my one. Or screwed up my one.

I have never named one after Precious or any of her names.

It's funny that I have a hard time naming my paintings after the women that have meant the most to me.

Quote Of The Day...

"I don't drink much outside of work."

Crack Heads...

On the chopping block today, we have two offerings. 

"Lost in Blues"  8x10 on canvas, from 2010. One of my favorites. I've been hanging on to her, but cracking must be done.

and...

"Chadette No. 38" 5x7 on board from 2006, with a repaint in 2008,

 and another retouch in 2010...As always, if anyone has a name suggestion, I would love to hear it. Many of you have named my girls. You never know, if I like the name enough I just might give her to you. (If you want her)

This is the Cracking varnish. I was a little worried at this point. Then I realized the pattern was my shadow. (I really need to get more sleep) 

After several hours I was not seeing anything happening. No cracking, very little drying. Not much of anything. I broke out the heat lamp and had just started to blast them and speed things up when I caught a glimpse of the Martini I ruined a few weeks ago. I promptly turned off the heat lamp and walked away. It was a break through moment for me. Not to mention incredibly difficult. I had the hardest time not futzing with them. Bit I didn't. I let them dry on there own over night. Yes, overnight!

I couldn't see much cracking on either of them which kind of bummed me out. The varnish had dried and there was nothing else to do but see how they came out. A little Lamp Black, Cobalt Violet, and Burnt Umber. This part is always tense for me.

Holy Crack Heads Batman! They could not have come out better. I am so pleased. Both of them had cracked, a lot. Fine, well patterned, good spacing and crack distribution... Awesome!

I love the way she came out. The cracks across her face and neck have made her so much more beautiful. I really like the vertical crack across her lips and eye.

Crack is good.

About Love...

Lately, more than any other time in my life so far, I find myself thinking about love. I have always believed that love was a simple thing. You find someone, you fall in love and you're happy together.
Until you're not...

Maybe it's that I never really thought about love. I mean really thought about it. Why should it be so simple? Love is complicated. Complex. Painful. And just because you love someone, doesn't mean that  person is going to love you. And even if they do love you, it might not be what you had in mind.

I had never realized that love is not the same for everyone. I always had it in the back of my mind that love, the way I understand it, was universal. Love is the same wants, needs, and desires in everyone. Except it's not...

Everyone is profoundly different. We all see things and situations differently. We react differently.
It's an odd revelation to find out you know very little about someone you have known for 13 years.
To believe you have an intimate understanding of an other human being.
Except you don't...

Everyday I see this person that I've been calling Precious, believing her to be a part of my very being. Closer to me than any other person has ever been. Then one day there is this large distance between the two. What was so simple, for me, had become complicated. The simplicity was gone. The ease at which we interacted had been disturbed. The part of me in which she possessed had been taken. Two people that had been together for so long were suddenly strangers with a common bond.

Everything became awkward. Communications and interactions were misunderstood and misinterpreted. Now I feel on edge in my own home. Like a visitor. Not sure how to act or behave. Questioning my role as partner and father. Not sure where to stand or what to say or when to be involved. At times it's like I'm living with a single mother and her child. I'm just there to help when I can with extra money and chores.
Like live in help...

Love is simple when it's new. It's easy. Natural. But like  most every thing else in life, love becomes more complex with time. Like wine. The older it gets, the better it is. Until it goes too far, and then it's vinegar.

Not everyone loves the same way. Love is not constant but changes over time. It grows, evolves, and like every thing else, it dies.

The Problem With Crack...

So...I finally get back in my studio to work. Let;s forget that the place is a complete disaster area at the moment. I needed to work on something before my head exploded.

                                               

I began here. I spray painted a textured canvas with metallic gold. Then a layer of bright crimson red, leaving some of the gold to show through where I plan on putting one of my girls.

While that was drying I got the bright idea to crack a few of the older works. But which ones to sacrifice?

It is a sacrifice of sorts because I don't always know if it will work. The cracking process is not precise and anything can happen. You have to be willing to loose a painting. If the crack goes wrong, it's very difficult to save them.

I selected a Martini from 2009, my first Martini to be cracked, and a girl from 2005. The first layer is the Patina Varnish. It's difficult to see here, but it's there. Just have to let it dry a bit to the tacky stage.

                                                

Then after the Patina has started to dry, I put down a layer of the Cracking Varnish. Again, it's difficult to see here, but it's there. As it dries, it begins to crack. This is the hard part for me. I'm impatient. Temperate and humidity affect the rate and size of the cracks. It was cool and humid last night. I didn't feel like waiting like I should have. I know better. If you rush the crack you get crap. 

So of coarse I rushed it. I set up a heat lamp to speed the drying process.

                                        

I was very pleased with the girl. She was on board which I think changes things a bit but I have never really taken the time to study how the surface reacts to the varnish. The Martini however, bubbled on me. Anywhoo... 

                                     

After the Cracking Varnish has dried and cracked is the most frightening part for me. The toning. 

The entire surface has to be covered with paint. I use a towel in order to rub the color into the cracks. Then wipe it off. The paint sticks in the cracks and wipes away over the rest. Or, it's supposed to anyway.

It's at this point you get to see how you did. And I rushed it. The heat lamp makes the Cracking Varnish dry too fast. Making the cracks very large and bubbly. The poor cracks make for a poor surface to rub the toner color into and you end up with SHITE!

In this case I took a metal spatula and scraped a large area of varnish off the canvas. At this point it's pretty much toast. So I can play with it and see what I might be able to do with some alternate techniques. It was a fairly nice painting before I did this. It's the worst part of Crack for me. Some times they come out just right. Some times I am pleasantly surprised. And, Some times, I ruin a perfectly good painting. 

The girl however, maybe because of the different surface, Cracked very nicely. Took the toner well and come out generally the way I want.

One for two. It's all part of the process though. You have to take a few risks, in order to get the reward.

The reward here...I'm back in the audio...creating...dreaming...exploring...