AFRICANISIMO A LA PICASSO A LA BASQUIAT A LA BOYD!

The never ending quest for combinations of form and color. I find inspiration in the funerary arts of Tibet and Mexico. Dias de Los Muertos is a holiday that I find particularly beautiful and touching. I've visited a giant graveyard in Tijuana during this period and it's very potent and enlightening to see another culture responding to death. The forms of the artwork are striking and powerfully colorful. They give a lesson without saying a word.

A couple PROTEA plants from the Self-Realization Fellowship garden in Encinitas. I can hardly believe myself that these things are real! The wonder and beauty of plant life, the intricate and logical unfolding of their energy is a gift to us all.

A hodge podge of new and old drawings. Faces, faces, faces!

FLORES

These photos were all taken at The Huntington Library. I have found that taking pictures while walking around and visiting places has become another way of understanding what I see. I've always tended to see things in terms of camera shots and angles. Years ago my Dad gave me his old Argus camera and since then it has been an ongoing love affair.

I've really been enjoying drawing these crumpled and deconstructed figures lately. They feel contemplative or non-religion specific spiritual. Experimenting with line and over-coloring beyond the initial drawing has also been and interesting experiment.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

More scratchings

So here are a couple more. I seem to be obsessed with primal faces. I guess this comes from a few "places". One is rooted in childhood memories of walks through museums like The Met in New York. The art work that always had the biggest impact on me was the tribal or ethnic pieces. Without being able to articulate or even understand the attraction, I still felt the immediacy and powerful presence of art from Africa and Oceania. The other would be my great love for the following artists: Pablo Picasso, Keith Haring and foremost, Jean-Michel Basquiat. Jean-Michel's art hit me early and powerfully. The line, color and intensity of his paintings seemed to seep into my soul and take root. Drawing is an automatic for me. By that I mean that it just is. How to explain that? I've never taken a single art class (obviously from my lack of technical ability!) and yet for many a year I have found myself filling sketchbooks with images weekly if not daily.

ARTWERKS

These are two of my more recent drawings. I use all kinds of Japanese pens and have found that the Copic brand is my favorite.