How An Hour A Day, Changed My Life.

I started helping at Mr. Mans school this year. I helped last year too but it was very hit and miss and the teacher always sent me to the office to staple things and sharpen pencils. I never helped in the class.

This year I started helping with a reading program for second graders. I started off by going in for an hour, one day a week. Very soon it became two or three days a week. Then I was going in everyday, five days a week. Now I'm up to five days a week with two extra hour on Wednesdays as well.

I can't begin to tell you how those little creatures have changed me. I will never be able to give them as much as they give me.

The irony of this, is that they break my heart. OK not all of them. It's just a few that break my heart.

Everyday I get told by these kids, about brothers and sisters that beat them. Parents that are in jail. Families that consist of gang bangers, drug dealers, general dead beats, and all the joys of living near a military base. Single parents, abusive parents, or no parents at all.

One of the boys came in last week with gang graffiti all over his arms. Drawn in large Sharpie marker so it wouldn't come off. When I asked about it, he smiled and told me that his older brother did it to him. The boy fell asleep on the sofa and his brother tagged him. Today that same boy told me about "getting" to go to court yesterday because both of his parents are facing drug and gang charges. He smiled and told me he missed reading class but was glad to be back today. He asked how my weekend was. Every week this boy tells me about his mom letting him watch movies like "The Saw", "Chuckie", "Halloween", and the nightmares that follow. He's 7. But every day he has the biggest smile on his face. Even when he tells me about him mother teaching him how to tag things and not get caught, he's so proud of her. You can see and hear the love he has for his family.

Yesterday a little girl came up and took my hand. She wanted me to walk with her to her next class. She says, "Mr. William, would you like to hear something sad?" Not really I told her. I don't care for sad stories. They're sad.
"It's not all sad." she tells me. Her father had to go away until next spring, but when he comes home she said they will do what ever she wants to do. That sounds like a good deal I told her. I asked if her dad was in the military or if he was shipped away.
She said,"Oh no Mr. William, Daddy went to jail. He can't stop the drugs." She smiled and gave me a big hug. Said "See you tomorrow!" and skipped away to her class.

Almost everyday I leave school fighting back tears. Today as I rode my bike home I almost crashed  because I was could see straight. Tears pouring out of me.

They are all such happy little buggers. No matter what horrors they are going through at home. Everyday they greet me with a warm smiles, hugs and high fives. So pleased to see me. When I'm not there they all ask about me and want to know why I had missed school.

Today they had a substitute. When I told them that I couldn't stay because they schedule had changed, they gave a collective sigh of sadness and begged me to stay. "Why can't you stay instead of the sub?" They asked. In front of the sub. I felt bad for her. I told them, "Ms. L will be great fun  today, just be good and listen close. I'll be back tomorrow." Half of them rushed me for hugs and high fives.

Some of them, I just want to take home with me and tell them that they will never have to live with those things again. I want to wrap my arms around them and save them from their own families. But I can't. As much as want to save them...I can't. I get one hour a day. Two and a half on Wednesdays.

I worry about them. I think about them. Even though I'm not religious, I pray for them, just in case I'm wrong.

I know I can't save them, but every day I can give them an hour. It can be one of the most difficult hours of every day. But it's usually one of the most rewarding as well. And I wouldn't give it up.

I really hope they can get back even a little of what they give me.

Confrontation...Part Two...

One of the biggest difficulties of being a non-confrontational person, is that every now and then, I really want to smack people. Just wind up and cuff them in the side of there narrow minded head.

But I don't.

Some people that know me. Not necessarily friends mind you, but acquaintances that I have known for a length of time. A few of them take advantage of my nature. They push me, in a way that I believe they are trying to provoke a confrontation.

I have that happening now. I can't really tell you about it here. But I really, really want to smack this person.

Four days a week it takes all of my energy not to pound them into the turf and step on their head as I walk away.

Instead I go home and tell Precious about it. Which she loves.(can you feel the snark)

And of course I vent my frustrations in my painting and my writing. Most of the time it helps and let the situation go. Other times it doesn't. Karate and bike rides help too.

I just don't understand why some people seem to choose to be total asshats! 

Confrontation...Part One...

I'm not really sure how it came to be, but I am basically a pacifist. It has been 25 years since the last time I was in a physical altercation. OK it was fight. A bar fight to be exact. Provoked by a bigoted drunk that couldn't mind his own business. 

Violence and aggression are wasted on me anymore. It's the lowest action a human being can take. It's purely instinctual. Require no thought. No reason. No basic human decency. It is the easiest of reactions. 

When your challenged, certain things happen. We all have the capacity to react in any number of ways. To me, the easiest way to react is with violence. A primal response that proves little and solves nothing. It's much more difficult to respond with calm reason and an understanding (or at least a chance of understanding) of your challenger. This can be done in a variety of ways. None more right or wrong from the others as long as it done in a peaceful fashion.

I still have the ability to be physical if it were a matter of life or death. I still have the ability to be aggressive when I'm challenged. At 6'3" and 200 lbs it's possible even, to be intimidating. (except to kids, they see right through me) I still remember that bar fight very clearly. For years after I even bragged about it. I was proud of the fact that I taught some drunk a lesson.

In reality, at that time, I'm pretty sure he learned nothing from the experience. Hopefully, he, like me, learned something form it years later. I'm sure I would react differently today. 

I believe that it's best to not judge others. Never underestimate.(you have no idea who that person is, or what they may be capable of doing) I believe that it's best to solve problems rationally and intelligently or except the outcome and walk away...

Changing Education...Please Help!

How many of you are currently students? How many of you are parents of students? How many schools in this country have budget problems? Public or private?

What would an extra few hundred dollars, to an extra ten thousand dollars a month(possibly much more) do for your school? Every month!

I have an idea that could potentially change the way schools are funded. In my plan it may be possible for schools to become completely self sufficient. Schools would never have to worry about funding or budgets again. Or at least not very often.

I'm a little surprised that I have never heard of such a thing before. Maybe it's been tried. I don't know, but I want to. If has been tried, what went wrong?

But I need help. I need to hear from educators, administrators, teachers, students, parents...
Anyone with an idea (a sane idea) about educational funding would be of help.

It's not a secret, but I need to work out the details and create a plan, but eventually I will describe it in detail, here, for all to see and contribute to. I'm not trying to benefit myself. I really want to change the education system of this country. It needs help. I speak as a college graduate as well as the parent of a first grader. We have a lot of school left and I for one am thoroughly  disappointed with the quality I've seen so far. The more involved I get, the scarier it all becomes.

One of the features of my plan, is that it will work all over the world. For any school. Anywhere.

The cost of implementing the plan? Nothing. That's right. Cost free to the school. No need for for an employee(s) because once in place my plan can care for it self as well as distribute the money where ever it's programmed to go, automatically. A public access website would track the incoming money so everyone who wants could see exactly how much was coming in. Thus making the tracking of incoming money much easier and more accountable. It would go directly to the school and not the district or board member etc..

There is no need for the schools to hire anyone extra. The plan could be set up and maintained when needed by a facilitator of the plan. At no cost. Promotions, information, Public Relations, what ever was needed could be taken care of by the facilitators. At no cost to the school.

OK, that's too much already. It's going to be HUGE! Help me please. Help me change the world.

Risk Management....

What's the most important thing to you? The thing you treasure more than anything else in your life. More than your life itself.

What would it take for you to risk it all? What would it take for you to put it all on the line and roll the dice?

It's surprising. Most humans put very little thought into the consequences of their actions. We tend to run on instinct alone at times. Giving little to no thought about what will happen after. And thinking after the fact, is way too late. It's a very dangerous why to go through life.

Even those that are relatively level headed, will make rash and surprising decisions at times. Putting their entire lives at risk, not to mention the lives of others, over something that most would consider insignificant and foolish, if not just down right stupid.

I'm not sure our brains work the way they should.

Dumb Luck...

You grow up being told that you can do anything. That you can become anything. This is the land of opportunity, where every child can grow up to become the President.

For the longest time we believe it too. Most people spend their lives toiling away barely managing to keep their heads above water. Always thinking that tomorrow will be their day. Most are ok with this. They live their lives, blissfully unaware. They don't think about what life really is or what life should be. But what life should be and what could be are two entirely different things.

I found out later that his name was Branford. He had a life that most would see as better than average. A family, nice home and car, a decent job. Apparently life isn't what it seems to others. Branford was barely hanging on. All of his dreams and aspirations had vanished as the years went bye. He went to school, got a degree, found a good job, worked hard, had a good attitude. Always gave a little bit extra.

It's what he had been told all of his life, but no matter how hard he worked, no matter how much extra he gave, he kept falling.

He didn't ask for much from life, but he just kept falling.

That morning he went to work like every other day. It was raining. He tried to screw on a smile but there were none left. After years of smiling and faking it through the days when you have nothing extra to give, he had run out.

He stopped for a cheeseburger and soda. Drove to work where he stood in the men's room eating and pacing. Contemplating his life and where it had gone. Not at all the direction he wanted it to go. After years of believing, he had come to realize that most will always be servants. Mere peasants to work for the benefit of the few. The lucky few that just happen to be in the right place at the right time. The few that happen to know the right people or have the right connections. The few that had trust funds to fall back on.

Branford didn't know anyone. He had no connections. He had no trust fund. Occasionally he would buy a lottery ticket and then laugh at himself for paying the "poor tax". More of The Man telling us that we have a chance to get rich if we pay for their tickets. He would never be content with being a drone. He was capable of so much more. The curse of potential.

He cleaned himself up, adjusted his tie and ran his fingers through his hair. He rolled up his sleeve to expose his flesh. The needle poked a hole but only a drop of blood escaped. With a soft pressure the warmth that filled his veins began to burn. Staggering back into the wall his body slid to the floor collapsing in a heap. Briefly sobbing but not sure why, he found a smile.

He drifted away into oblivion. That's where I found him. On the floor. Broken and unwilling to continue. Branford gave up. He wanted to opt out and knew this would do it.

Who was I to interject myself into his life. This chance meeting between the two of us. I think it is the Japanese that believe you become responsible for a persons life if you save it. It crossed my mind. Do I want to be responsible for this strangers life? I'm barely responsible for my own. Who am I to say that what he's doing is wrong? I should close the door and walk away. Let his life unfold as it will.

He looked up at me with a thousand yard stare. He was almost where he wanted to be. So was it fate, karma, a divine intervention? Maybe something worse. Just plain dumb luck. But who's, his or mine? You can not make your own luck. I don't care what any one says. It was the second time I had heard that today.

I turned and started to push open the door. Instead, I reached for my cell phone. Shit. Now I'm responsible for him too.

A Bold New Day...But Only For Some.

Thank you America. Thank you for showing the world that we can open our minds enough to change. Or at least, want to change.

Well, a little bit anyway...

Shame on Arizona, Florida and California. (not to mention the 27 other states that already have changed the law to allow the discrimination against gays and lesbians) All three of these states have passed propositions to allow the discrimination of gays and lesbians.

"If we lose California, if they defeat the marriage amendment, I'm afraid that the culture war is over and Christians have lost," said Donald Wildmon, founder of the American Family Association.

In my opinion, "Christians" have lost already. I've read the Bible. I've been a regular Church goer. God made people who they are and Jesus, did not discriminate. Against anyone! For any reason!

If this is what being a "Christian" has become, I would rather be an Atheist. I will not raise my son to believe that it's alright to exclude a group of people because of who or what they may be.
Shame on all of you. How dare you tell others who they can love and marry or how they should live their lives...THEIR LIVES, not yours.

Maybe this sounds familiar: "Judge not, lest ye be judged". Or maybe you've heard this one: "Let he, who is without sin, cast the first stone".

We still have a long way to go.

Can we get here? Yes, we can!

Uncommon Sense...or...How Do You Sleep At NIght?

This is it America. The whole world is watching us today. They are wondering if we as a country have any common sense left. I wonder that myself.

Last night I spoke to someone close to me. Someone that I considered to be an intelligent person. She told me that if we allow gays to marry that next thing you know, people will want to marry dogs.

And that would cause harm to you how? Do I think it's alright to marry a dog? No. But should I tell you that you can't? No

Then she told me that gays shouldn't be allowed to marry because they can't have kids. The only reason to be married is to have kids.

Really. So any woman beyond menopause, anyone born sterile, or paralyzed or incapable of of physical child birth, should not be allowed to marry either. Which would mean that lesbians could marry, just not gay men.

No. She said, that's not the same.

Those people can't have kids. That was your criteria. The only reason to be marry is have kids.

No.

Then what's your problem?

It's wrong.

According to who? You?

God said so.

What does God have to do with the laws of the US? God said love thy neighbor. Jesus took in everyone, not just the ones he liked or agreed with. Have you heard of the "separation of Church and State? Religion has nothing to do with it. This is discrimination. All men are created equal. The rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness? Any of that ring a bell? Or is all of that alright, unless you're gay?

They already have every thing we have. Why do they need to be married.? What if some flaming gay came to a school function and Mr. Man saw him? Would you be ok with that?

What is not to be ok with? It's his life, not mine. Is he trying to have sex with Mr. Man?

No, that's not what I said. How would you explain that to him?

Explain that everyone is different? Not everyone is part of the religious right? That everyone has the GOD GIVEN right to be them selves and not be discriminated against? What's to explain? If this passes and we deny gays the same rights as the rest of us, how are you going to explain it to one of your kids if they happen to be gay?

That's different.

How? You're telling me your kids can't be gay? Or they are not allowed to be gay? If one of your daughters falls in love with another woman, are you going to look her in the eye and tell her that she is not entitled to the same rights and benefits that you had?

NO. If one of my kids is gay I will go to their wedding.

You just told me that gays should not be allowed to marry because they can't have kids, and it's wrong. They already have the same thing we have. There wont be a wedding. Not legally any way. You can't have it both ways.

Well...but...

You're still going to vote for this ban aren't you?

Well, ya, Obama is a Muslim America hater.

OH. MY. GOD. HELP. US.

Ravenclaw, You Are Not...(not necessarily you)

Where do ten days go so quickly?

Time seems to have lost meaning. A list of things to do, that doesn't get done. Let's transfer them to tomorrows list. Then let's not do them tomorrow either.


"Where are you?"

"Can you be more specific?"

"???? What?"

"Physically? Mentally? Artistically? Spiritually? Grammatically? "

"I'm running short on time, let's go with physically and work our way up to the others."

..................


That sounds like a great deal of work. Other than physically, I'm in an unfamiliar hood. It looks like a place I've been, only very different.


.................


Do you have dependability issues? Not necessarily "you" per say, rather you have to deal with this issues. Dependability is deal breaker for me. Almost always. There have been an exception or too, based purely on necessity but that was that.

When I agree to do something, I try my best to do it. Why is that so difficult for some? ...for most?

You,(again, not necessarily you) look someone in the eye and agree to do something. Then you do a half ass job, or even better, don't even attempt to do what you agreed.

How do you look that person in the eye again and feel alright with yourself? ...and you do!

How do I (not necessarily me) look that person in the eye and not slap them upside the head for being a complete crud of a human being?

At least try to come through. Keep the lame excuses for another. I've heard them all. I used most. They're barely believable and only add insult to my(not necessarily mine) injury.

Is that too much to ask?

Apparently.

Really, We Don't Know This?

The following article was on MSN this morning. I have to say, that ever time I read an article about fathers, or men in general, it makes men sound like knuckle dragging morons. Are most men really so un-evolved that they need to be told these things? Do men really think that parenting is for the women? Do men still believe that we can't be nurturing, emotional, and care giving? Hell, do men even know what common decency is anymore?

From articles like this one below, it makes me wonder.

Well men, let me say that it's time we join the 21st century. Women are great and all, but it's time for us, and by us, I mean you, to step up. We can and should be equally involved in relationships and parenting. Stop dragging your knuckles. There is nothing better or more important than being a good parent and partner. It's good for us individually and good for us as a society. Life is about more than Bud, Nascar and porn. Don't make me pull this blog over.

*****

1. Respect Your Children's Mother
If you are married, keep your marriage strong and vital. If you're not married, it is still important to respect and support the mother of your children. When children see their parents respecting each other, they are also more likely to feel that they are also accepted and respected.

2. Spend Time with Your Children
How a father spends his time tells his children what's important to him. If you always seem too busy for your children, they will feel neglected, no matter what you say. Treasuring children often means sacrificing other things, but it is essential to spend time with your children.

3. Earn the Right to Be Heard
All too often, the only time a father speaks to his children is when they have done something wrong. Begin talking with your kids when they are young, so that difficult subjects will be easier to handle as they get older. Take time and listen to their ideas and problems.

4. Discipline with Love
All children need guidance and discipline, not as punishment, but to set reasonable limits. Remind your children of the consequences of their actions and provide meaningful rewards for desirable behavior. Fathers who discipline in a calm and fair manner show love for their children.
5. Be a Role Model
Fathers are role models to their kids, whether they realize it or not. A girl who spends time with a loving father grows up knowing she deserves to be respected by boys. Fathers can teach sons what is important in life by demonstrating honesty, humility and responsibility.

6. Be a Teacher
Too many fathers think teaching is something others do. But a father who teaches his children about right and wrong, and encourages them to do their best, will see his children make good choices. Involved fathers use everyday examples to help their children learn the basic lessons of life.

7. Eat Together as a Family
Sharing a meal together can be an important part of healthy family life. In addition to providing some structure in a busy day, it gives kids the chance to talk about what they are doing and want to do. It is also a good time for fathers to listen and give advice.

8. Read to Your Children
Children learn best by doing and reading, as well as seeing and hearing. Begin reading to your children when they are very young. When they are older, encourage them to read on their own. Instilling your children with a love for reading is one of the best ways to ensure they will have a lifetime of personal and career growth.

9. Show Affection
Children need the security that comes from knowing they are wanted, accepted and loved by their family. Parents need to feel both comfortable and willing to hug their children. Showing affection every day is the best way to let your children know that you love them.

10. Realize That a Father's Job Is Never Done
Even after children are grown and ready to leave home, they will still look to their fathers for wisdom and advice. Fathers continue to play an essential part in the lives of their children as they grow and, perhaps, marry and build their own families.

Long Live The Queen...

It's been suggested that I seek professional help. Therapy...I seem to have...issues.

One time, I mention to a doctor that, sometimes I want to take Precious and Mr. Man, hold them tight and sleep for a hundred years.

Bi-polar is what she called it. I called it life. It's up, it's down, it's stuck somewhere in the middle with no end in sight. A single lane road that only goes in two directions. This way and that way. There are no exits, stop signs, rest stops. You can travel for a hundred years in one direction and when you stop to look around, you are standing where you started.

I had no explanation for the uncontrolled sobbing in the shower. Standing on the edge of the cliffs staring out over the horizon. Sometimes my mind just goes there. Maybe it's the lack of sleep. Maybe it's this God forsaken weather of the northwest coast. In reality or in my mind, I'm stuck. My wheels turn but I don't move. I open my mouth to scream and nothing comes out.
I'm stuck in hillbilly hell, please help me I'm becoming one of them.....

Is it normal for an adult to have such a fascination for cartoons? Oh Scooby.

I've talked with therapists. I have yet to find one I thought was smarter than I am. Most of them were seeing their own therapists. How can they help me if they can't help themselves?

Delusions of grandeur.

Painting is my therapy. The cure? I have few ideas.

Should it upset you when hear the rich and famous tell you to follow your dreams? They like to go on and on about it. "Never give up...if you work hard and believe you can achieve your dreams. America is the land of opportunity." Blah blah blah.

Easy for them to say. They have everything. They are the one in a hundred million that made it already. You never hear homeless people telling you to follow your dreams. They have dreams just like the rest of us. Maybe they didn't work hard enough? How many people have you known that worked their entire lives? Their fingers to the bone. For what. A bad back and an early grave?

Humans are a lot like bees. One Queen, a few Royals, and a shit load of workers that spend their entire lives toiling away for the benefit of the few with nothing in it for them except the anticipated relief and calm that comes with death.

The difference, is that worker bees are never told that they could grow up to be the Queen. They know their place.

It makes me wish I knew my place. I still want to believe that I can change my life. I still believe that my paintings mean something. That they and I, can change the world. I still want to be a Queen.

(the therapist looks at me with a tilted head) "So do you ever where womens clothes?"

$175.00 well spent.

This Week In The Gallery...

This week we have added a new artist to the gallery. A brilliant young man from the Seattle area. Christopher Mathie. He paints and throws pottery. We are going to add both to our selection.

The paintings have an attractive sense of angst. I find it very appealing. Strong, bold colors and texture. Powerful, uninhibited brush strokes. His subject matter ranges from city to sea, all with an abstract quality that keeps the viewer wondering and questioning.

"Big Changes at the Narrows" Acrylic Mixed Media 48 x 60 inches

"Untitled" a three piece set of paintings and a Raku pot.

The pottery on the other hand is soft and deliberate and shows the artists ability to be precise when needed.


His works are going to make a wonderful addition to the gallery, and probably our house.

Check my side bar, "Art You Should Own" for his web site.

*****

The following exchange just had to be shared. For a moment I thought this woman was trying to be funny, I'm still not sure. This could be the dumbest thing I have ever been asked.

A lady and her kids came into the gallery to view the Dr Seuss collection. I was telling her about the art and why some of it is called, The Secret Art.

She looks around for awhile, in awe of the works. As she is leaving the gallery she stops...

Lady: Are all of these Dr Seuss works?

Me: Everything except the bronze pieces. Those are made by someone else.

Lady: What about this Green one here?

Me: You mean the Kangaroo Bird? Yes, that's a Dr Seuss also.

Lady: No this green one right here.

Me: ....Excuse me?....Are you looking at that?

Lady: Yes this...I've never seen anything like it. Is it a Dr. Seuss?

Me:....That... is... a... ficus tree...

Lady: A ficus tree...It's pretty.



If only I could make things like this up. She gave me a headache.

Perspective...

Antares is the 15th brightest star in the sky and is more than 1000 light years away.

This is a Hubble telescope ultra deep field infrared view of countless "entire" galaxies billions of light years away.

This is a close up of one of the darkest regions of the photo above.

I Paint Young Man...

One of the true joys of working in the art business is getting to meet artists. Most of them are wonderful people.

Over the years I have come to recognize artists fairly quickly when they come in. You can almost always spot them. Not all of them, just the ones that have never sold any of their work. The ones that think an occasional weekend arts and craft fair is "The big time". The ones that have taken an art class at a local community center. These people stick out.

They are the only ones that ask and say things like:

Do you have water colors? I only like water colors.

I'm looking for a charcoal.
Any thing specific. Figurative, landscape...?
No. I just want to look at charcoals.

How do you decide how to price your work? How much does the artist get out of that amount?
What do you pay for the frames?

Where do you have the gickles made? Do you make them yourself?


All of which brings me to a lady I met this morning. Her face could have curdled milk from across the room.

I could tell before she spoke, what she was about to ask and how the conversation was going to go.


Lady: So, what are these? Gilsays, no doubt?

Me: To which of "these" are you referring? And It's pronounced, giclee (Zhee-clay).
(alright, I may have taken a tone with her)

Lady: Any of them. These all look like gilsays. I can tell.

Me: Actually the one right in from of you as well as the one beside it are oil paintings. The price is usually a give away.

Lady: Those are not oils young man. (wait for it...here it comes) I paint. You can't paint that smooth. That's a print.

Me: Actually, you can paint that smooth if you know what your doing. That, and I would never be able to sell a print by this artist for $23,000.00. An oil yes. And we do.

Lady: Have you ever tried to paint young man? Paint leaves a texture. I think you should spend a little more time learning about the things you are selling.

At this point, several things went through my mind. I could tell her to get bent. I could explain to her that I have multiple advanced degrees in art. That this was in fact my gallery blah blah blah...

Instead, what came out was a very loud belly laugh. I just couldn't hold it or help it. She was just too funny. Her unwavering arrogance was more than I could take. The look on her face when I laughed at her, was priceless. I turned and went back to what I was doing and she huffed off.

And I have only been open for an hour. It's going to be one of those days.

A Little Knowledge Can Be Dangerous...And Annoying.

Brace yourselves.

I know, I know...I rant on about this more than practically anything else, but it makes me bloody mental.

After 20 plus years in the art business I realize that most people know very little about fine art. I have come to terms with that. I try to educate and move on.

The one thing I can not and will not get over is the misunderstanding, misconceptions, misrepresentations and misgivings about "Giclees".

Yesterday I gave an impromptu lesson about prints. A couple of ladies had asked me the difference between serigraphs, lithographs and giclees. As I am telling them about the three I noticed that I had a group of 15 to 20 listening in on my lesson.

I took this opportunity to ask a question. "How many of you have heard these terms before?

Serigraph: about half.
Lithograph: about half.
Giclee: all.

Amazing!

None of them could tell me where they first heard the term giclee. Is it just floating around in space, seeping into minds through osmosis? Almost all of them though, thought that a giclee was a cheap copy not worth anything. Posters. Most thought that serigraphs and lithographs were more valuable and the better quality prints. About half thought any kind of prints were worthless. I wont even get into the whole "low numbers are worth more than high numbers" thing. Different tirade.

Where in the hell are people getting this information? Why do so many people know the term giclee and not know anything else about the process?

I went on the explain to them that they should not be judgmental. When done correctly prints are valuable, blah blah. Can be museum quality, blah blah. I could tell by their expressions that more than half of them thought I was full of it. They knew better.

The funny thing, is that these same people will stand looking at a giclee and tell me it's nice to see a gallery that shows originals. They can't tell them apart until I tell them. Then they give me attitude. What is with the attitude? Like I'm the stupid one.

This has become my biggest peeve of anything I have ever encountered in the art business. How can someone who only knows one art term, and doesn't even know the full meaning of that term, come into a gallery and proceed to act like they know more about art than the gallery?

Does this kind of stupidity happen in other businesses? Are people this rude and ignorant every where they go, or is there something special about art galleries?

Do galleries in other countries have this problem? Is this just an American thing?

What kind of business are all of you in? What kind of things to people say to you that makes you want to poke them in the eyes?

Acting Childish...

I heard someone ask their child to stop acting childish. It seemed odd to me at the time. After thinking about it I realized that I have said the same thing to Mr. Man. He does something silly or acts up a bit and I tell him that he is too old for kind of behavior.

Is he really too old to act like a kid?

We all grow up. Eventually we all out grow the things we did as a child. It's nature, we can't help it. But why do we, as parents and as a culture, want our kids to grow up so fast? When was the last time any of you thought to yourselves that you wished you had grown up faster? Don't we all grow up way too fast anyway?

Let kids act like kids. In fact, we should all spend more time acting like kids. Without a care in the world. No pressure from a job. No bills to pay. No worries of war, crime or a government bent on ruining things for everyone as long it benefits them.

We should all be kids for as long as we can. We're grown up for way too long as it is.

Help...

Mad William has been here for a year now. I must say it's been a great deal of fun. I have been thinking about this post for about a month now. I thought about giving you all something pithy to commemorate, but that's just not me.

Instead I will give this gem I just heard in the gallery.

"This artist has a great sense of color. It's like getting hit in the head with an anvil."

A Day With Thomas...

It was a fun filled day of play and adventure. Mr. Man was so surprised he could hardly stand it. I have to admit, I was pretty excited too. We love the Thomas The Tank Engine stories. We met Sir Topham Hatt, got to ride on the train behind Thomas, sang songs and played games.


Anytime I go some place like this for the first time, I picture it in my mind the way I would put it together. The problem with this is that I am very often let down by the way it's actually done.

This was true of the Day with Thomas. I had imagined a day in Sodor with Thomas things. In reality it was a couple of inflatable bouncy cages, for kids only. A couple of plastic Little Tyke play sets. The food court was a taco stand and a hot dog and burger stand. All of the souvenir things were for kids only. A couple of tables with Thomas toys that were broken, needed batteries and scattered all over the bloody place. And it was all in the middle of a dirt parking lot.


I realize that Thomas is for kids, but I was not the only adult upset that not one of the Thomas shirts was larger than a kids size 7.

3 out of every 4 bodies attending was an adult. I was a little let down. I had been looking forward to a Day with Thomas tee shirt for myself. I think they missed the merchandising boat with this. At least Mr. Man got one.

The worst part was the other parents. I don't claim to be the best parent on earth, but I could have written a book on how not to parent from this group. I could not believe how many of them paid little to no attention to their kids, who were running amok.

While we were at the play table one woman took a toy away from Mr. Man to give to her kid because she thought I wasn't watching. Twice. Mr. Man was playing nicely and she walked past and just took it. There were toys every where, but her kid wanted the one Mr. Man had so she just took it. No "Pardon me" or "Thank you" or "Can we trade". Then when I called her on it she got ugly with me. All I can say is that she was lucky Mr. Man was there. I try to set an example for him by my behavior. I try not to be a "Do as I say not as I do" type parent. I want him to learn from how I do.

I so wanted to kick that womans ass. That however would not have taught Mr. Man anything and it would have gotten me in trouble. I took his hand and told him, loud enough for the woman to hear, "let's move to another table where we can play nice." She just glared at me. Bitch!

The best part was seeing how happy Mr. Man was with all of it. He didn't care how it was set up. He gave Topham Hatt a big hug and thanked him for bringing Thomas to see us. He thanked Thomas for giving us a ride. On the train he sang and cheered and looked out the window and waved to everyone and everything.


That is what made it great. That is why I would do it again, no matter what I thought about it.

Monsters....

It was about 3:30 am when I awoke to a very soft "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, save me Daddy".

"What's up Mr. Man?"

"Monsters Daddy, save me." He was standing just outside of our bedroom door. Afraid to go back to his room, afraid to come into ours.

We spent the next hour hiding under his covers until he went back to sleep. Me holding him close to keep the monsters away. I knew exactly how he felt.

I still have trouble sleeping most of the time. I often have horrible nightmares that stay with me for days. They started when I was young. They can be terrifying. So real at times it's hard to convince myself that it was only a dream.

When I was 6 years old I started have a reoccurring nightmare about a giant that would stomp on houses and snatch up the people trying to get away. When he got to our house he would duck down and peek through the window at me. I would run outside and hide behind the big oak tree. Just as I would look to see if he was still there I would wake.

I had that dream for years. It would play in my mind as if on a loop. Over and over and over. I can still see it as clearly today as could then. It has been some time since I had the dream but in a way, it still frightens me because I have never forgotten about it.

I felt helpless holding Mr. Man. Telling him (and myself) that monsters were not real was of little comfort. Because in your mind, they are real.

The world can be such a truly ugly place. I want to shield him from the violence and hate that surround us. Those things have no place in the mind of a child. Or even in the mind of an adult. There is no place in our world for such things. Where do such things even come from?

Poof...Gone...

How often do people disappear?

Have you noticed it? One day they're there, the next day they're gone. Sometimes I wonder if they were really there to begin with. I don't have the best memory in the world. Did I imagine these people?

Many times it has been my fault. I have a problem letting people get close to me. I move more often than most. It can be hard to get to know someone anyway. Always being the new kid make you build walls. It is easier that way. When I leave, I usually don't even have to say goodbye, so I don't. One day I"m just gone.

Lately I have been thinking about the others like me. Where did they go? Do they think about me and wonder?

Over the years I have met some wonderful people the I will never forget. I wish at times that I had tried to keep in touch with them. I didn't. I didn't try. One day I was just gone.

I know I'm not the only one like me. I have know many others who simply disappeared one day. Without a word. Without a trace. Life is so short and so fast most of the time. I have learned to let go more easily than most. Is it society that has made people...disposable? For lack of a better word.

Blogging has made me think about it much more than I used to. I notice it more now. A person that you meet on your site will leave comments or emails. You respond. It's like you know one another. Then one day the emails and the comments stop.

If they are a blogger themselves you can always check on them. Visit their site. Sometimes the site is gone. I wonder what happened to them. Why they stopped blogging. When I moved, I packed my things and physically left the place I was. In blogging it doesn't matter where you are. Did they not like it? Was it one of us that drove them away? Was it something we said?
Maybe they took it personally.

I used to take it personally when someone would disappear. People I thought were my friends, but I guess were just acquaintances. Sometimes I think about trying to find a few of them. This has been heavy on my mind since Shelly's sister contacted me. Shelly was like me. One day she was gone and no one knew why or where or what happened.

Of all of the people I have know that disappeared on me. I wonder if any of them died. There are 15 of you that I know have died. Is that why the others are gone, or did they just go somewhere else to start over? How many of them think I died?

With blogging it is never really that personal. It's not like I actually know any of you. I have met a few of you, once. Several of you that used to visit don't any more. Your gone from my blog but I know you're still out there. I can see you. Was it me? No, really?

A few of you stopped blogging. Just gone one day. You are the ones I wonder about the most.

There are about two dozen people I have know in real life that I think about on a regular basis. Almost daily. I knew some of them for years. Some were very close for the time we were together. I moved, they moved, and it's over. Gone.

With six billion people on the planet, it is things like this that make me feel very alone. At any minute one or all of you could be gone. So could I.

Will I ever stop thinking about them? I most likely wont run into them on the street one day. Is it worth digging through the past to find them? Do I need that closure? Probably not, but a few of you left a lasting impression on my heart, mind and soul. It is you in part that has inspired my latest series of works. They are all about "Isolation". Each lonely beach is one of you. One of us. Me.