Finished my latest painting “Hat”. It is a 5×7 on French Cotton paper. I tried a few new things with this one, portraying the skin in a slightly different manner than I normally do.
There is a sort of “game” on social media where one says “I will die on this hill” and it’s something small (that is the bit) but which one feels strongly about, or that drives one crazy when done a different way.
It is supposed to be whimsical but it is one of many ingredients in the current unpleasant gumbo North America finds itself mired in. While reading of the different little things people have such strong opinions on can be funny, it has also become a sort of behavioral template, a permission to rage and scream. Not everything needs to become a culture war issue nor devolve into people you do not know swearing at you or just injecting negativity into a post.
A modest proposal: Let us make 2026 a better year, even for the jerks, since to paraphrase Marcus Aurelias they are always going to be around regardless.
It is very easy to do, suck the air out of all the negative conversations & postings on places such as Twitter. You are not going to change anyone’s mind, nor are you going to prove them wrong since it shan’t be acknowledge by them. Even a person 100% in the right, yelling at someone in the wrong is only contributing to the din.
Strongly do i believe at least half the trolls if not engaged will sort of drop away. Also there is definitely a good percentage of politicians and in general creeps who do and say horrible things and when citizens and the news discuss it while showing clips of what they said, their tweets and posts et al it only keeps the things alive while also spreading its visibility.
When the Nazis were on the verge of occupying Paris, many different people wanted to get Matisse out and to a country where he would be safe. He refused to go. His view was that if he and others like him left then what were people fighting for? What would France then be without its culture?
Culture is important, it reminds one that there are things bigger and greater than the “I”. It links us all together. Even though it is comprised of different things for each of us, we all dream, love and hope. Culture is the thing in which we put all these emotions and from which we also take inspiration.
History is littered with terrible moments and culture endures during, often it shines after. Now more than ever before it is easy for one to explore new music, art and literature via online. Do not write off an unfamiliar thing as “Not my thing” without giving it a try. This is a freedom which can lead to something that adds to you, who you are what you are about.
Don’t bother telling a fool they are acting foolish, don’t let a troll make your blood pressure rise, instead use the time to check out some new things. Like Matisse, I will stay here, brush in hand.
I am a road dog. When on shorter trips I find myself in hotels. In general, I am not a big television watcher. Under these circumstances, I do find myself catching the odd show on the off hours here and there.
Stay in a hotel stateside and in the morning if you click on the television once your past that looped promo channel (try are award winning bistro for imaginative menu….) you will see either episodes of Supernatural or Charmed. If it’s the afternoon, then it will be Bones or Castle. Law & Order SVU is on nonstop loop on few channels but that is true at home and in general anyways.
Bob’s Burgers is another show whose presence seems to have greatly increased. While I do not steadily watch it I have caught reruns here and there. This is a theory I formed over the course of my travels.
They are all dead Bob:
Bob’s Burgers, I have a theory about what is really going on. There are aspects of the established mythos which years down the line they have tried to sort of soften or walk back. Initially, in earlier seasons it was mentioned that Bob had a terrible childhood.
His mother had passed away, and his father owned a greasy spoon. Bob’s father seemed without humor and overly serious so that one would think he was owner of a multi-Michelin star place. It is a joyless childhood as exemplified by when someone buys his father’s home and finds an old box of Bob’s things and sends it to him (S3E3). Within the box are Bob’s childhood “toys”. It contains a scouring pad, a bit of soap that Bob considers to be a sort of dog that he used to talk to. Not just in this episode but in general Bob constantly is creating anthropomorphistic friends to talk to (turkey and burgers waiting to be cooked, various tools, things one would find in a utility drawer)
Immediately, his children, far from the most perceptive people, see the sadness of this. Some of the dialogue:
“Lin, I just realized something. I had a bad childhood.”
“Yeah, I know, look at you.”
“What do you mean, look at me?”
“Look at how you stand. People who had good childhoods don’t stand like that.”
His father was joyless and tyrannical, in a later Christmas episode, they reconciled but it is completely inorganic as is most of the later season’s tweaking’s, none of which really changes anything.
With an unhappy childhood, Bob moves into adulthood and one or two girlfriends are referenced but in general he seems to have lived a largely solitary life.
He marries what is probably the first woman who he ever slept with (Linda). While the appeal in his mind is probably affection which he was starved for and understanding, there is a certain amount of projecting on Bob’s part. Linda definitely seems to be somewhere on the spectrum. Her behavior checks some of the boxes, such as wanting what she wants with complete disregard to consequences nor what others may feel about an action.
One of many examples is when Bob, looking for new ways to drum up business, buys an espresso machine which Linda then sells (S3E23) to pay for a scam baseball camp for their son Gene.
She also gets obsessed with ideas that majorly inconvenience others, having no concern about their wishes nor the consequences of the thing. Whether it is selling things without checking with the owner, forcing an activity on everyone (opening a bed & breakfast in their single bathroom home, having a musical theater night in the restaurant et al) or telling personal information to people about her family, her perception of appropriateness of an action is often way outside acceptable societal norms.
Watching the show initially, I thought that aspects of her character were a comment on the youtube generation’s refusal to take the necessary time to truly learn to do a thing or have a skill. At first glance, Linda’s behavior could be chalked up to being a variation of the Dunning-Kruger effect. There is more going on with her than this. Her perceptions are skewed past those of a typical sitcom character’s which then lead to the hi-jinks.
In one episode, she wanted to read stories to children at a library (S8E9) and comes up with the persona of “Punky Bookster”. She borrows one of the other regular character Mort’s electric guitar asking “Okay, how long’s it take you to learn to play guitar? Like 20 minutes?”.
She brings the guitar and inappropriately, a knife to the story time. At the end of her show, the librarian mentions someone has called the police because of the knife which she brought. Linda runs out leaving Mort’s guitar, indifferent to having to return it.
Some of the stuff she does is outright dangerous. Wanting to be a more fun mom, she takes her kids into woods to find the local wolf creature (S8E3). As it appears to be becoming more and more of a bad idea (and dangerous) she sort of alternates between fear and pep talking herself into continuing rather than getting to safety.
She gets a thing in her head and will just do it regardless of skill set, consequences or appropriateness of action. There is a running thing about her caring for neighborhood racoons found out by her restaurant ‘s dumpster.
My take on undercurrent of entire show:
Linda was once again feeding racoons, this time trying to put little hats and ties on them as she had the idea that she could photograph it and have it go viral as to make money, even though outside of the taking of the photos she didn’t have any understanding of how a thing goes viral, why and most importantly, how to monetize it.
Of course she gets bitten. She doesn’t tell anyone because Bob repeatedly had warned her not to mess with the racoons. Linda starts to not feel great. She decides to go to the beach to get some wet sand to slather on the bite because she had once read that Gweneth Paltrow often does mud treatments when feeling off or needing to be reinvigorated.
Spreading dirty beach sand on an already infected bite, she dies.
Bob goes into deep shock.
There have been many episodes in which Bob has been drunk or on something, usually pills. It’s always presented as occurring for a reason and not merely done to do (with the exception of drinking). He gets a part time job as taxi driver to help pay for Tina’s party and smokes crack (S1 E 6) Pops pills to the point of hallucinating because of carpal tunnel pain (S2E4) Pops pills because he hurt his back (S 5 E 19) Pops pills to the point of hallucinating because he hurts his leg (S 8 E 3). Then there are various drinking episodes (S 3 E 5) (S5 Ep 4) (S7 Ep 22) (S 3 E 17).
With the number of episodes for the series, this may seem relatively a small amount of self-medication. With Linda gone, the tempo increases. Bob becomes an absentee father even though he is physically there.
His three children affect his mental state too. There is Louise. Although too old to still be doing so, she is always wearing her pink Gummo bunny ears hat. She is the youngest of the three siblings but the one in charge. There is a weird destructiveness to her that goes beyond the mischief of the Denis the Menace template or the done out of boredom things of Bart Simpson. Louise is a sociopath. There are times when a problem arises and she actually manages to enlarge the problem for no discernable reason. In the very first episode she gets her family restaurant closed by starting rumors of cannibalism. In a later episode (S1 E 12) during a lobster festival the town grows angry with Bob and wants to hurt him. Leaning to the side and using a different voice Louise urges them to throw him onto the shell pile.
Her main thing aside from the strange chaos she often causes is to make money. It is a weird thing for a little girl to be obsessed with, and they never really go into why she wants all this money. I think it is because she sees her father zonked on pills and it is giving her anxiety, how are they going to live and where?
They have tried to soften her down at times and those episodes probably resonate with the fans. But her first instinct is still mostly ordering the neighborhood kids to do things for her various enterprises to earn money.
Tina is the oldest. She is an awkward early teen. She is passionate about horses and zombies. Tina serves as a moral compass for the three siblings but even with her being a sort of jiminy cricket to her sister, Louises initial instinct is still always to scam or some kind destructive behavior so it’s not exactly effective.
There is a lot of ink devoted to fan theories that Tina is the one on the spectrum. Could be, I think Gene and Linda show far more behavior in this respect. Tina is probably the most sympathetic character.
Gene is the older brother. He is chubby with a done at home bowl cut. He is passionate about music but it’s mainly just making annoying noises with repetitive patterns on a primitive keyboard. He can’t read music and has no real knowledge of anything about this thing he is so passionate about. Of course, this is fine when one is starting out by at this point, he should be Brian Eno. Similar in ways to Linda, he has fantasies of what this passion will net him but puts no real work towards achieving the goal. Like Louise, he often at important moments of things going on sabotages the situation. With Gene, it can be said though that he truly has no understanding of what is going on.
Linda had died and Bob fell deeper into addiction. He had always displayed a sort of Junkie’s passivity/logic. A main theme throughout the show is how they are barely scraping by. They have no paid employees and there are always people in the place so where is the money going?
The show often tries to have this nobility about Bob giving up on a thing or with complete lack of pragmatism, walking away from a situation where he could actually come out on top. This has got to be another source of Louise’s money anxiety.
With funds constantly tight Linda still lets Bob buy his dream chef knife (S5 E12) which he then destroys playing weird games against another main character Teddy and his hammer. One of Bob’s few friends (S6E15) (although he had not seen him for who knows how long) is now rich and offers to give Bob 100K. He has some ideas about the restaurant which is essentially a greasy spoon. Bob freaks out not wanting any tiki theme or anything, wanting to be his own man. Clearly the guy is a friend, Bob did not even attempt to ask him to just be a silent partner. Surely there has got to be some middle ground between nothing and 100K.
There’s been episodes of their car breaking down and Bob angerly shouting to the heavens, questioning why he cant just take his family out to the movies etc. But repeatedly throughout the series things come up where he could get ahead in some manner and it is not so much that he drops the ball as walks away from it.
Occasionally Bob has made friends but they just sort of drop away. Sometimes an aspect of this and otherwise presented on its own is Bob showing a gross overestimation of what he can do with zero practice or experience, despite being aware of how bad shape he is in.
I recently re-read Dante. In Purgatorio Dante encounters shades who experience discomforts (punishments as opposed to tortures) connected in some manner to the mistakes they made while alive. They experience these punishments over and over until they learn their errors. Once their souls are cleansed, they then can go upstairs.
Zonked out on pills, Bob tries to do something his out of shape body is ill equipped to do. Perhaps he let the car run out of gas and figures he can just push it in neutral out of the way. He has a heart attack or falls and hits his head.
In the hospital he hangs between life and death, unaware that he is currently in a limbo, a purgatory. His lack of understanding of where he is in large part is enhanced by the fact that he finds himself among his family.
After blindly obeying Louise in her many dangerous schemes (i.e going into a condemned Taffy Factory (S2E1) dressing as Edison’s victim Topsy and messing with electricity (S3E16) et al their dumb luck runs out and Gene and Tina both die.
In his coma state Bob is in purgatory. This is why pretty much all the characters on the show are either grifter types, amazingly incapable or in some cases such as Regular Sized Rudy victims.
All the characters have more than mere flaws, it’s defects, which often manage to be both cringe and at times oddly funny.
Teddy is a handyman but not a very good one. He has odd fantasies of inserting himself into Bob’s family while keeping Bob in the loop. There are episodes when he has done this odd revving gurgling cry (once when Louise sets a trap in refrigerator for Santa and Teddy gets his hand caught in it. Unable to free himself he shakes like a trapped animal emitting this cry until the refrigerator falls atop him and he must lay there and wait for family to come home, once when the fry machine is broken he goes in and starts shaking it to “fix it” emitting the same cry) Not being good at his job, on the mortal plain he probably electrocuted himself and that was the last noise he made.
The school secretary Ms. Schnur is completely checked out. She seems to do the very bare minimum counting down the clock until retirement. I suppose this in the real world with public education system is sadly not exactly a rarity.
“The Deuce” runs a scam baseball camp(S3E23). Gene is horrible at the game. Linda finds an ad for his baseball camp which is not cheap. She sells Bob’s new espresso machine. From the get-go everything about the camp is not only a scam but not a particularly well done one. “The Deuce” lives in the type of motel which back in the day would be rented out by the hour or occupied by those who had nowhere else to go but out or up. Bob feels it is a fraud, but they decide to have one game for the money paid and if Gene shows no improvement, they will get their money back. Gene manages to hit the ball, “The Deuce” gets to keep the money and leaves. Gene playing baseball is never mentioned again and a family barely staying afloat is righteous about having been scammed because Gene is happy.
Tina loves horses and they manage to find a not cheap camp to send her to (S 6 E 17). Despite being the most passionate about horses and with actual knowledge of the verbiage, she is given the worst horse. For the big riding display at the end, Tina has no horse and rides her imaginary one, which consists of her awkwardly running the course. The manager of the camp takes no notice when initially Tina goes missing after being thrown by her horse and doesn’t seem to feel she owes a refund for Tina running the course on foot at the end. It is sort of scumbaggy to say the least on her part and Bob of course having spent money that he could ill afford to, says nothing.
Everyone in some manner is a failure willingly or otherwise. This is why they are all perpetually stuck in jobs and lives they do not like, repeating the patterns until they learn better and can ascend.
Many of the kids seem off or beyond bratty. In all cases of the children seemingly to be little monsters, the parents nervously capitulate becoming emotional hostages. With how unpleasant the bratty children are, it is because they are part of the lesson, a punishment version of the children, some of whom are probably still treading the mortal coil.
Bob, being in purgatory, also explains why his kids in some ways act too young for their age but also will make obscure adult reference comments about things that seem out of character for them. They are shades or spirits and as in Dante and are comprised of what they had been personality-wise but also allowed to view the future at an angle.
This also explains why they seem to be completely cool with not having cell phones. In this place, the internet exists, but it sort of doesn’t. The fact that this is a type of limbo is also evidenced by the fact that the kids are into candy but largely seem indifferent to internet-based things. In the real world, sure, some kids prefer to read or play baseball but even with them, 2025 they are online texting, posting etc. at least some of the time.
The show tries to convey the joy of family and how that can conquer the bad things in life, but these twee moments are often at the cost of them losing something to a more predatory character who gets away with it. The victims then make some type of maudlin speech as to justify their passivity.
With no Virgil to guide him, how long will Bob linger among the shades of his friends and family? What more can he aspire to when his Beautrice is already in bed eating crackers beside him?
Fini
Please do not send me emails or comment in which you want to admonish or debate with me. While I stand by my theory, it’s all in fun.
Just back from a trip where I successfully was able to take photos to use as Cinefield® fuel (materials). As is always the case, this is going to be labor intensive.
While on the road I used my new pocket pad. As I work on new Cini this will continue be main outlet for visual work too.
The pad is 4×4 inches and we are already fast friends. Back in my American studio, I finish me coffee put on some Miles and get to it.
Always looking for people to draw. Email me for details.
With everyone having phones now the ability to capture amazing scenes is always just a pocket away. When something is too easy though, it starts to loose power. Phone-cams went from being at the ready in case something fantastically dramatic should occur to being merely the facilitator of the mostly mundane minutia of people’s live being on a non-stop social media scroll.
One of the biggest and most far reaching negatives of this is how it effects people being in the stream of life. I travel, often. An overly familiar sight now is people rushing around a famous museum or well known area (Luxembourg Garden et al) stopping to raise their phone slightly above themselves while duck billing, snap a pic, then rushing off. Their justification is that they are capturing memories. So preoccupied are they in getting the perfect pics to post that they are not in the moment, not in the stream of life.
Once back home they can show you them standing by some landmark, some great work of art but there can be no description which makes you feel as if there. Even for them, this is the case and they had actually been there.
The adage that travel broadens the mind is not merely about ticking off things on a list of what to see, where to go. It is absorbing a place with all its ambient characteristics which hopefully in some way add to you long after the trip is over.
I am not anti-photo, I take some myself wherever I am. But see and capture with your eyes first. I always have a 3×5 pad in my pocket. I will do small sketches when on the road and take notes. Not always dramatic, sometimes it’s just a room service tray with the leftover bones of a hastily eaten meal or my book bag hanging off the back of a chair.
Not everyone can draw, but you should still keep a little pad on you. Use it to take notes. In doing this you will actually be more present in the moment if you slow your roll and take a beat to describe what you are seeing. As you are doing this just for yourself, even if you can’t draw, why not try anyways?
That is another negative of social media, everything seems to be motivated now towards getting views/likes. The recently departed Paul Auster said “Do a thing simply for the beauty of doing it.” To live this way, you may not garner as many likes etc but you will create true memories.
Many bars in Paris still do not have televisions blaring from every free bit of wall space, luckily. I found myself, briefly in one of the few which did. Ironically, I was not even in the mood for a drink but to use the restroom. My personal sense of etiquette though, I ordered a drink.
The man on the stool next to me asked me about my accent.
“Sud Africain?”
“No.”
“Americaine?”
“Oui.”
With a thumb he points at the television, the thumb being chosen as it was a second class citizen to the index finger and all such displayed vulgarity was worth.
“What’s television like stateside?”
“We have one channel that shows twelve hours a day of either Seinfeld or Friends, NCIS and Law and Order are always on at least two channels in six hour blocks and most channels, when they have time to fill will throw up either one of the fast & Furious movies or Avengers Endgame.”
He could not picture what I was saying and only half understood. Part of him suspected I was having fun at his expense while another part thought perhaps I had devolved into some form of gibberish. He insisted on buying me a drink as to get me to lapse back into the silence of strangers, while in the background a dubbed in French episode of the Mentalist came on. With a weary smile, the bartender pushed a small bowl of stale pretzels towards us as he went searching for either the bottle or remote.
//
Jim Morrison wanted to give up the rock star thing and become a full time author/poet. Many people pointed to his lyrics, citing those as evidence that he was pretty much already a poet. Jim Morrison is like Baudelaire or , as he was rebellious and died young, Rimbaud. Jim Morrison is like Rimbaud, unless you have read Rimbaud.
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Even in North America, if one lives in the heart of a major city, eventually many strangers will see your private moments. Padding across a room naked, scratching or one of a million other things we all do. What separates us from beasts (usually, but slowly devolving to a 50-50 split) is the knowledge not to do these things in public.
You can have a bathrobe at the ready etc, reminding yourself every time you get up, who knows how many eyes are watching. Eventually though, all city dwellers become desensitized.
Paris is special in that even the smaller, cheaper apartments have the French windows or if not in this style, oddly shaped or strangely positioned. The way the buildings are piled up, at night I have many tiny illuminated in old- halogen- gold stage sets. You see people going about their lives, the erotic, the mundane, sometimes the poetic.
Like the time I watched a man building a model boat. He was skinny, bespeckled with sockless chuck Taylor sneakers, never a shirt and always some kind of sweat pants. No matter what music I put on, that season was mainly Chopin, it seemed to perfectly sync up with the scene he was acting out. Once the tiny ship was built, I never again saw his square of light against the dark silhouette of the building.
Being a demi Parisian, I know that I have had my time in being on the menu for the night’s programming. There he is, in bed pen dancing pirouettes upon the paper, book in hand he never falls asleep reading but snaps light off at proper end of chapter. Two corners of the bedsheets in hand, he is snapping them in the air with the flourish of a bullfighter before allowing them to float back down upon the mattress.
An interesting thing, during the day, it’s hard to tell what windows you had seen into at night.
I have always said that you can tell how great a city is by its relationship with cats. The best cities have plenty of cats to be seen in windows and walking along the streets.
My studio, when seated at my table a window two floors below mine and across is a fat cat I’ve named Porthos for his girth. Should I ever meet the owners and they introduce me, giving a different name, I will tell them that they are wrong.
One day as I was getting ready go to work, Porthos wasn’t in his usual spot but peripherally my eyes saw movement from a different apartments’.
There were two little kids in pajamas playing. I am horrible at knowing how old children are, a boy and girl maybe eight-ish. I thought it odd they weren’t dressed yet. Maybe they were tourists having arrived from far away, their internal clocks had not yet normalized.
Over the next few weeks, whenever I happen to glance by that window, the two kids still in pajamas, playing. It was weird because Paris has so many parks. You actually see children with their peers, with their parents, playing ping ping, chess and the Luxembourg Gardens has a large center fountain where you can rent a tiny toy sailboat by the hour. Yet this pair always seemed to be in that room.
After three weeks there was one change, a large tipi, but it was made of plastic, sort of Fisher Price(y). It gave them an unsettling Thirteen Ghosts aesthetic.
Once the sun went down that window never lit up and now I am pretty sure those two kids are ghosts.
(all pics by me)
///
One of the things I have always treasure about Paris is how much great art is to be had just walking in the parks. There are some beautiful Giacometti’s, works by not as well know artist but beautiful none the less. Ages ago I used to go on Sundays to the Cantor Center at Stanford. They had a giant de kooning bronze. Rare because he did not really do too much sculpture, especially at that size.
Right as I found myself really getting into his work, the sculpture was gone. It ended up in the Jardin Tuileries across from one my favorite Parisian bookstores.
Art aside, the parks are a treat. Delacroix, even when older and famous would regularly still go the the Jardin des Plantes to sketch. The Luxembourg Gardens is large and has many paths laid out with different feels to them. Found among all these paths and trails are all types of statues, flowers, flowerbeds and plaques.
Many of my friends are in the service industry, restauranters or bartenders. General consensus is that the two worst nations exporting tourists are the English and then Americans. England should not feel too bad though ,as most of the worst America has to offer proudly have no passports.
Any place in which Spanish is spoken, the English merely add an “O” to the word and say it several times louder as if this were a spell transmogrifying it into Spanish. For French they add a “Le” and roll their tongue a bit like Johnny rotten at the mic in a huff.
I was walking the ‘Luxe. There is a moving, large statue in remembrance of the holocaust with, in case one couldn’t figure out what was going on, a plaque at its base.
I watched a group of American girls in athleisure wear, with central pony tails clamber to the base of the statue, all turn semi sideways to face camera, in what many articles have said is ideal positioning, while making phony gang signs and letting mixed drink coated tongues stick from the corners of their mouths until the snap of the camera.
This is a direct effect of what we get when we try to get rid of unpleasant things from history books. This is how people act when there is zero empathy because they do not know from anything other than what has directly impacted their lives.
FINI
If you like what I say or how I say it, my books are available via amazon for kindle & paperback
For artists in any medium an online presence is now necessary regardless of how one’s methodology used to be. Connected to this online life for amateurs (even if they are not aware of being so) is the myth of the numbers game with its implied short cut to money and visibility/site numbers.
The basic premise, which has a myriad of variations depending upon who is explaining it, can be parred down to a basic concept of the greater amount of times one puts out there a work they have for sale or perhaps an appearance/show, then the better chance there is of achieving satisfying sales/head count. The true believers explain it thus:
“If you have one hundred thousand views of your post and only five percent of people buy your thing, well that still works out to be…”
Aside from the fact I think machine gun firing (this is making constant mention everywhere) what one has to offer out onto the net is uncouth, it also is naively optimistic. It’s one thing to look at a posting, it’s another to purchase something. Regardless of how inexpensive it is, most people follow at least a few hundred people and it can easily add up fast.
All that aside, I personally want an audience, not customers and this is the great disconnect often now occurring between artist and public. I dont want to hustle for sales etc. If I were going to do that, then I would just have a straight job where sales would equate to large commissions and expense lunches.
It’s all right to mention something available to the public when pertinent. As an artist you hope your work gets seen. Anyone who reads my blogs knows that I rarely make mention of for sale things except for when they are brand new.
I am proud to say that my latest collection has just came out. It’s available now for kindle & Paperback on amazon.
Lyra water soluble graphite sticks have become one of my favorite mediums. That with a brush and pocket pad and i can do painterly pieces even when sitting at a cafe table. And I need not sprawl out taking over the table. I am also able to maintain discretion as I would hate to be like one of those people stateside who feel it necessary to go to Starbucks to show everyone that they are “writing”.
Aside from fully realized works, i continue to woodshed, hands, feet, whatever is in front of me. It is akin to a musician practicing scales. Both Renoir and Matisse when in the twilight of their years said something along the lines of it being a shame that they did not have a few more years left as they both felt that they were finally starting to get it. Coltrane before and after a concert or recording session would still put in time practicing. This has been my overall approach too. Regardless of how my day is spent, an hour or two at night woodshedding.
I do not go for the outwardly dramatic thing in my sketching. I let the organic truth of whatever the thing is create the emotion. A sort of raw reportage without any preconceived agenda. All pieces are either 3×5 pocket pad or 4×4 pocket pad. My 3×5 pad has circled the globe with me more ties than I can count and is always besides my bed or in my pocket during the day no matter where I am in the world.
How it beganSelfieKini in CapThe End: selfie freaked out & tired @ Heathrow
Paper Life Painting 