Whine! Whine! Wine!

CAPTION: "DING DING DING DING, CLATTER, CLATTER, PUFF, PUFF, BANG, BANG, BEEP, BEEP, RATTLE, RATTLE, ETC."

 

About a week ago I'd explained I'd been lax with entries here because I was busy with this other project involving mostly former students? Well, as a review, I've been having these Random Get Togethers...where I name a location...a day...and a time...where I'm going to be? And if anyone is in the neighborhood? Come on by and we'll all network?  No obligation. And there have actually been three instances where I had no takers at all. And I TRULY do not mind.  I've been going to places I just like to be, where I can draw, take pictures and sometimes just meditate. But today I PROTEST!!!!!

(I must pause here to post a disclaimer and paranthetic explanation or apology which ever applies to your particular perspective. See I consider myself an honest guy? But....with a pedagogical mission in mind, I QUITE OFTEN speak in parables that may at first glance seem to be out and out fabrications? I prefer to use the figurative language description, "mild hyperbole presented with irony and tempered with my tongue in my cheek." Just be aware of this as I move on. However, if you put it in the back of your mind, and pull it up later? We should have a lot more fun.)

 

Today I select a site I believe to be an incredible enticement to show up and network. This, as you can see, is Balistreri Winery.  I think it represents an unmatched urban experience, at least in this part of the World. Right in the middle of the largest industrial area in the state,  sits this vineyard and winery with a tasting room and all the usual accoutrements. How COOL is that?  So I really don't think I'm going to be a loner today.

 

With that thought in mind I'm okay with having to watch 200 cars of a coal train pass in front of me in order to get where I'm going. (I am hoping none of you will be inconvenienced by the same conveyance.)

I get here and find a few pieces of "objet d'art" to amuse myself whilst I await your arrival. Well, twenty minutes go by, and I'm getting a little warm?

 

 So I step into the air conditioned wine tasting room to wait for you.

Well since I'm waiting for you, and I know your coming? I'll just do a little tasting. Are you ever going to get here?

 

 

Maybe I'll do just a little bit more tasting. Like two hours worth, I think? Had some wonderful conversations with Bertie Balistreri and her friends and guests, I think. Met some guy who builds and then tears down nurseries (the flower kind) I think. Met some folks on their way to a wedding, some lady who'd tasted some Balistreri Wine in Boulder and crawled to Commerce City to get some more.  I think.  Well the time came when I no longer anticipated or cared about your arrival. But I'm no dummy.

 

I lightened my wallet to get something for the pantry, but I knew better than to just get out there on the highway.

 

You forced me to munch on crackers and cheese and salami to make sure I spit enough of that wine out before driving.

 

And then you forced me to get out on the patio in the shade

 

 

 eating merlot grapes JUST snatched off the vine.

 

I want to stick around for some home made thin crust pizza Bertie, John and their daughter Julie will be cooking in the outdoor brick oven later? But then I may move in and never go home.

Well...as usual I took some pictures.

 

 And I meditated. And I TRIED to draw.  Oh well. 

Oh, but wait. I forgive you, so much so? That if you decide to go there on your own sometime? And you need someone to kind of show you the way? 

Be Still, Life

 

CAPTION: "You will not be courtmartialed afterall."

Well I ran into the Merchant Marine model I was sketching on light rail.  She had a few days to take the sketch home and stare at it. And since she is still smiling, I'm good with her. So I'm slowly getting my confidence back...doing some quick sketches.

 

 

And my artist sister Brenda says I MUST stay with my muse.

And you know what? Still life is boring.

 

Give me Light Rail action any day. So I'm just gong to stick my NECK out.  

 

 

Look out folks. I'm armed with colored pencils and dangerous. If spotted, approach me with caution.

 

"Be Still!"

CAPTION: "When is a Still Life, not a Still Life?"

Socrates and I have many common traits. Contrary to what you might think? That is probably not a compliment for either one of us.

Our principal link is our reliance on the Socratic Teaching Method. Don't run to your stack of Greek philosophy texts to get up to speed. This is simple. What we have dubbed the Socratic Method of teaching is simply forcing students to come up with their own answers by  the teacher ONLY asking questions.

"What a clever and thoughtful way to inspire thinking?," you may be cogitating. 

Maybe. But if Socrates and I are anything alike? When I don't know something? I often ask the students a question and they go find out for me. Saves me an incredible amount of work. (That by the way turned into a very practical and effective tool in journalism.)

We all know that Socrates and myself are loaded with Empirical Knowledge we are able to impart to the student body. So why on earth would we require the students go discover these insights on their own? If they do that, we, that's Soc and me, won't get any credit for it.

Well there are three reasons I believe we use this method.

1. To inspire a natural instinct to observe and investigate the unknown.

2. To somewhat selfishly work through our own frustration of not effectively getting our message heard.

3. To cover up the fact the two of us, Soc and me, are having a Lazy streak.

Anyway I thought I'd self impose the Socratic Method on the sketching dilemma I'm working through. Here goes.

"Why are you so wigged out Paul?"

"It's this sketching thing. People get so emotional about exposing themselves."

"Why do you think they get so emotional Paul."

"Well Soc, I've looked into that. For some cultures it's considered like stealing a hunk of someone's soul."

"Well Paul do you think there is a way to get around exposing their souls."

"You know I think maybe I could just focus on some body parts, like feet and hands."

"Can the hands and feet reveal any part of a person's soul Paul."

"Hmmm. Good Point Soc."

"I'm just asking questions Paul, nothing else (heh,heh.)"

"Oh yeah, I forgot."

"Are there any other solutions to your being wigged out Paul?"

"You know what? Why don't I just do Still Life?"

"Why don't you?"  

"By golly I will. I'll draw a big vase with a big leafy plant in it."

"Why is that composition called Still Life Paul?"

"Well because it has this big ol' honkin' inanimate vase in it. And it's not living."

"Is the plant living Paul?"

"You know I never gave that a thought until now Soc. Good question. It is true that it is a live plant, but hey its Still?"

"Where is the market for Still Life Paul?"

"You know I was just looking into that Soc. This guy John Kannenburg, curator of a website art forum must have had the same question. And he answered himself by golly. "

"STILL LIFE, as an art form, is hopelessly outdated."

"What else does John Kannenburg say Paul."

"It's right here Soc. He pompously writes this little thought."

"Artists must seek multiple methods with which to make their messages heard!."

"Is that good advice Paul."

"I need to give that some thought Soc. Oh, my God....one of the plant's leaves just moved Soc. Now I can't call it Still Life. What will I do?"

"What do YOU think you should do Paul? ( just thought I'd invite Freud to have lunch with us.)

"I've got it! I'll just take a digital snapshot of my still life, transfer it to my computer, somehow animate it, use PhotoShop to crop it and enhance the color, and create a new genre. I don't know...something like....hmmm...STILL LIFE IN CYBERSPACE. Eh? Would that be good Soc?"

"I'm asking the questions here Paul?"

"Well at least answer this question Soc. Want to go shoot some hoops?"

"Can't this aftenoon Paul. I've got some stupid forum they want me to speak to. I'll take a rain check. Oh, and are you ever going to tell me what a HOOP is?"

"No!"

Foot Fit

CAPTION: "If the foot fits, wear it!" Isn't that how it goes?

Some of you may not have been following this sketching saga I'm mixed up in. So let me quickly summarize. 

Some muse of mine tells me this year, "Sketch Paul. You Must Sketch."

So that's what I've been doing. But it's gotten complicated. I've starting drawing random people on Light Rail. Most are delighted and to my suprise? They have offered up uncomfortable praise and joy they were the ones singled out to be immortalized. Even though I'm putting my best FOOT forward? I'm a total amatuer and the praise seems undue. And, to be semi-honest? That praise has turned to emotional punishment. I say semi honest 'cause I'm human. Sure it kind of feels good.

But then? My last model ran from me when I offered her the original of her likeness. (Not before grabbing the sketch, mind you.) That turns me into an emotional heap of angel hair pasta.

So, and those of you who've been following along already know this? I've decided to take some time off from Light Rail Sketching. But my Muse says, "Paul You Must Still Sketch."

So what? And where?

I give it plenty of thought and question my Muse.

"What, and Where oh Muse?"

Der Muse says,

"Find a private place where you will never be disturbed here at home. Survey your surroundings, meditate.....and the answer will come."

I'll let you in on the path my spirit has taken me me. I'm thinking, "this should be REPENTENT!"

Sometimes, without permission, I've literally exposed the flesh of strangers in my work. AND if I've done my job well? I've stolen parts of their SOLES. Well, to cut to the chase? I find that special private place (the loo).

I look down and ponder  the sketching possibilities....and then it hits me. These people have shared their SOLES with me. Now I MUST share MINE with them:

 

HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, stop me any time, HA, HA, HA, HA. Youguys thought SOLE was a TYPO, didn't ya? Well I am so smugly enjoying my self absorbed humor, I think you should give me a BIG HAND.

What does that mean, "GO BACK TO LIGHT RAIL!"

"Get Thee (Out From) Behind Me!"

CAPTION: "Porque tan triste?"

Well I did it again, sketched some human forms on the Light Rail. Since I told you I was going to sign the drawings, and keep giving them away? (When you get to the picture coming up? If you see the little smudge down in the right hand corner? See, nobody will ever be able to figure out who I am.) Well anyhow, I was just thinking it would be polite for me to share the follow up with you. AND I learned a few NEW things today I feel I should pass on...... should YOU ever decide to get into this business. Go ahead and scroll down to the picture and then come back. 

Up in the right hand corner?  See the exotic crinkled look on the pad? That comes from my wet SoBe it drink I sat down on it whilst drawing. I guess one shouldn't do that.

Also? If you are going to do redheads? Get more than one shade of red pencil.

 

Still it was a very positive experience.  Let me describe our encounter as I recall it.

She is shy and pensive with very distinct features. This will be a snap.  I gently ask, "may I sketch you?"

In this soft, barely audible voice, she intones," I think that would be okay."

And for anybody looking for a model? This woman DID NOT budge for a half hour.

And there would be the moment of truth. They can't all be happy, can they? Apparently they can. In this case, there is no guessing. I am not exaggerating here. I should have brought along a collaborative witness. The woman just gingerly places the drawing in a school bag, and then just starts jumping up and down in her seat. She looks at me with eyes that are now the shapes of frisbees.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you."

Now wait it gets betters. She starts waving to me across the aisle when a mere nod would have been sufficient. And there is the seemingly obligatory, "YOU've made my day!"

But we are not done yet. Since we are both getting off on campus? Well I get to witness her ahead of me skipping with clear delight, and at least once turning in my direction to do some more waving.

Can I do no wrong?

Well apparently.  The next drawing you are about to see? Done on the way home in the afternoon? Well it is from a blind perspective. I only see the back of the subject's head. I like doing these because the subjects don't even know you're there. You don't even have to do that permission thing. And if you just stick to business, something usually pops up that gives your work some character.

All is going well until the fidgeting begins.

"Uh, oh! She's going to get off at the next stop. I quickly finish what I can and rip the "papyrus" from it's tablet. (unsigned dang it) Well even before her stop she is running towards the door, and I shout out to my model. ( I have a pretty big intimidating voice when I need it.)

"EXCUSE ME MAAM. I HAVE SOME THING FOR YOU!"

Her pace quickens and I scramble to catch her with my arm extended out to make the exchange, as if we are teamed up in a relay race. Well with eyes the size of frizbees again, yet this time sporting a tone of panic? She yanks the work out of my paws and runs at full speed, down the steps, across the concrete ramp and jumps onto another train.

Just in a hurry to get home you say? I don't think so. The only place that other train would take her would be back to where she came from.

Whatever noises I was making behind her, rattling pencils or muttering to myself,  must have scared the bejeebers out of her. Me shouting, "I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU" probably didn't help either. 

She may still be running.

Well anyway, I'm an emotional rag. And my artist sister Brenda emails me chiding, "Don't just give those away. They could be valuable some day."

If you don't mind? I think I'll take a break from Light Rail sketching for a few days.

Maybe when I do get back to it I'll hop on the train wearing a "beret" toting an easel under my arm. You think?

A Little Sketchy

CAPTION: ""Excuse me ladies. Please pardon my pencils."

So I started something new on Light Rail yesterday. I'm sketching someone going to campus, and someone else coming home.  That's not really new, except I've comitted myself to the task.

What's new now is that I've also got my camera with me? So after I complete my drawing?  I yank the camera out of my bag and snap off a few frames for posterity.  Then?

Well then I carefully tug the sketch loose from my pad. Then I gingerly crumple it up and stuff it in my bag?

No. Here's what happens.  I put on my pompously generous grin, lean over towards the model? And I say?

"Here! This is for you."

You'll note that I very deliberately say "This is FOR you" and Not "This IS you."  Folks don't always agree.

Since the first subject is without wrinkle in her Merchant Marine recruiting attire? (I'm a pretty good eavesdropper by trade.) And since her hair is in a flawless tight bun? And her shoes might as well be mirrors?  I'm thinking I better be upfront with this potential model.

"May I sketch you?"

Her icy pupils lock on my trembling ones.

"I guess," she says.

"Thanks!"

But she's not done.  She doesn't utter this verbally, but you can hear it in her eyes.

"Who is this old creep?"

This is what she did say.

"Is this just a HOBBY with you?"

"Uh, huh!"

So I commence to sketching and color penciling and get done one stop before mine.  I go through the routine described earlier and I'm shaking as I hand her the hoped for resemblence.

Her jaw is tight, and her threatening stance is set. I am pretty much prepared to get socked in the nose at least.  But?

The jaw loosens, the curved lines from her nose to her mouth drift upward forming nice rosy little cheeks. It's a smile. Eyeball to eyeball she then says:

"Nice. And you have a NICE day."

Whew!  I can't tell you how much guts that takes.

The result on the way in is making me feel good enough to try it again on the way home. I quickly find an expression I understand. This woman's face says frustration, exhaustion. I must capture her.

So without talking I go to work.  In about two stops she catches on and her recognition of my activity isn't clear. Her eyes are hard to read. She appears to sequentially be saying, "what are you doing," "why are you doing this," and "WHY ME?"

But I push ahead and after about five stations I see her getting fidgety. I must rush. I get it done a stop before hers, hand it to her, and fearfully wait for a response.

One look at the sketch, followed by an intense glare at me. And then she quickly reaches for her cell phone.  I'm not close enough to hear the conversation but it seems to me she only pushes three buttons. You know, like 911?

So I'm prepared to be met with a swat team at the next stop, tossed to the floor of the train and handcuffed.

Instead? Off the phone here's what she says:

"That was my daughter. I want her to pick me up so my picture doesn't get wet in this rain.!"

"Whew!" Now its time for my mouth to nose lines to shoot upward."

"Its okay then?"

"You've just MADE the day of a woman who has had a very long, hard day at work. Thank you so much and have a great day!"

As she steps from the train I semi shout, "If you really like it? Spray some lacquer on it so those colors don't run.!"

Today I'm actually going to sign them. My artist sister Brenda says "you're not an artist until you are brave enough to put your name on them."

They still wouldn't be able to trace them to me. No one has ever been able to read my handwriting.

Would You Mind?

CAPTION: " Didn't I see those hands on the cover of  Time magazine?"

 

Last semester, my first full light rail semester, I used the travel time to read quite a few books.  The count was thirteen. This semester? I'm drawing instead, and it's getting interesting. Neither a Rembrandt, nor a Piccaso am I. But funny things take place once you've made the commitment to draw..

So what I do is pick some interesting character sitting at least two rows away.  In the times I've tried to draw someone close in? Those subjects tend to get very self conscious and fidgety. It's hard to get a clean perspective when somneone is shuffling. It's tough enough when there is some distance between you. 

At the first recognition the model gets wind of your attention, you can typically see the "who is this creep" antennae go up. The suspicion usually eases up when the model notices people watching me draw over my shoulder.  Then the model faces turn red, and some level of posturing takes place. 

I'm getting much better with hands around the face since the models typically use their appendages to hide some feature they're not proud of.

The next thing I notice is that if you are bold enough to do this thing? Most people THINK you know what you're doing. Between the model's recognition and the kibitzers there is great motivation to excel.

But here is what I would like to leave you with. When you can finish the drawing, and have it at least resemble the model, and you tear it off your sketch pad, and you walk over to the model and hand it to him or her, and you see her or him smile, flushed with pride and shocked that you picked him or her?

That has to be the derivation of the phrase...."warm all over." 

I wonder if there is some way I can write that service off my income tax? I wouldn't have to take all those bags of old clothes down to Goodwill.

I'm Back Jack...

Caption: "Here's to trying new things after 50!" The Toddler showing up in the weird collage goes by the name of JACK LIVINGSTON. So....? Well we can PRESUME I'm letting the future PHD Jack Livingston  know that, "hey I'm back Jack."

A person in a position of authority has ordered me to start blogging again. I've been known to ignore authoritarian demands, but once in a while the order jives with the spirit of the moment. And that's the case here.

I've been busy with getting my classes on track. And that's not all.  I've started this little game with media graduates called "Random Get Togethers."  Nothing terribly original.  I just announce that I'm going to be at a particular location on a certain day at a certain time.  And if anybody shows up?

Now I think this part is new. Well they get a bottle of water to toast our association.  I also take their picture and unbeknownst to them? I go home and DRAW them and they end up in cyber space. (probably not in a recognizable form.)

So I'm down by the Platte River for one one of these random get togethers on Sunday.  I've got my sketch pad out drawing someone.  I'm being vague for a reason. You see this guy who, by the jargon he shared, I'm pretty sure is a former gang member? He approaches me and asks, "what you doin' home?"

"Drawin'!"

"Yo, what ya drawin?"

Timing is everything. I am not putting him on when I say, "someone who isn't there anymore."

My subect had just left.

But you know what? He totally surprised me.  He got it.

"Right. I was just thinkin," he says. " No matter how old I get to be, even 50? I could do something I've never done before."

Wow! The true philosophers are still out there walking the streets.

I often tell my students to never give up their dreams and I try to be an example. Historically I've been told, "Don't Sing, Don't Write, Don't ride a unicycle, Don't play the piano, Don't draw!" And a whole bunch of other "DON'TS!"

Well "DON'T" is a dirty word. I've done all those DON'T things. Right now I'm teaching myself to play the piano, I'm taking pictures, and I'm drawing. The piano and drawing I just started this past year.  And you know what? I'd kill to be 50.

What's in our genetic makeup that we feel compelled to stifle, to squelch, to discourage, to instill fear?

You know that's WHY I quite often defy authority.

Still there are some authorities you don't mess around with. This one?

PEGGY! 

"Yes Dear!"

Whose in the drawings? Okay. Jack's Dad Tom, Dan, Scott, Heather, Michelle, Melany, Stephenie, Karrissa and her SO, and some mysterious ghost like creatures yet to be named.