Early afternoon yesterday, before the news broke about the plane ditching into the frigid Hudson river, I made this larger drawing from a chunk of words I first entered in the small book on Jan 7th (click the pic for a larger version):
Is it megalomaniacal of me to think that I might be God, controlling fate with my words?
It may be the cliché of the moment, but I just got a new iPhone yesterday, and it’s a really great device.
I snapped the pic below with the iPhone, then used the great Wordpress for iPhone app to write and publish the whole post directly from the phone — very simple and intuitive. Only the links in this post did I have to add later on the Mac, as the Wordpress App doesn’t have an easy way to add links — yet — and the iPhone has no cut-and-paste — also “yet”.
All-in-all, this phone is light years ahead of my old Treo, and I wouldn’t bet on Palm and Sprint surviving a whole lot longer. I will be posting many more “field reports” posts from this phone. Perhaps, eventually, I could even do a Stains Across America project.
Here I am in the studio in front of Mare aux Songes (“Pond of Dreams”). The Mare aux Songes, on the island of Mauritius, the most important archeological site of dodo skeletons. Just me and the dodo, baby, living the dream.
Sometimes, scraping away many layers of paint that ain’t workin’ is best accomplished with a sledgehammer and chisel, at least when the painting is on plywood.
Now it’s ready for a new beginning.
Minimal, but highly effective, kipple.
It looks like it may have once been liquid coffee.
Here’s a snap of a new painting in progress, Piltdown Manifesto. I like how the blue tape works here both to frame and conceal — I’m going to have to work that into a future painting, since it’s about to come off this one.
UPDATE 8.31.07: I just posted this finished painting:
Piltdown Manifesto.
The window display at Morrow’s Nut House near Union Square, San Francisco, complete with nut signs.
Sneath Seething Bay, rapping in foglines, clutching its pieces before the shallow tempest.
Emerald breakfast. Tripping on tripe, and sniping at the memory, long in the tooth, of car salesmen in gabardine reciting the company code as gospel on their way to another after-work alcohol tasting ceremony.
Looking out my Igor office window across Maiden Lane in downtown San Francisco at the end of a long day.
Friday, January 16th, 2009 - 1:20pm |
disasters + field reports + phenomena + works in progress |
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