Confluence

Several ideas are coming together, but art making can have a timeline similar to geologic events.  It's a long, slow, grinding, pressured force, until the catastrophic moment of fractured release.  I know that doesn't really tell you much, but if you look at the image, you'll know as much as I do.

Bracteantha in UV

Wandered out late last night armed with a couple of handheld UV flashlights just to see what reacted.  Since we were dressed in mostly black clothes ( a hold over from art school) wearing hoodies & carrying camera gear and flashlights, I was certain we would be incarcerated as terrorists!  But our luck held out and we found this fantastic reaction in the CSU Annual Flower Trial Garden.  If this has piqued your interest, you can view a small gallery here.  There's also a link to the same gallery, now, in the "Portfolios" section.  Also, there will be yet another "bonus post" today.  So, if this funky flower joined you for breakfast, check back around 12n (MDT) and there'll be something new for lunch.  Cheers!

A Tale of Two Tails

My first dog liked to chase her tail.  She'd spin in very determined circles, focused on her quarry.  An unstoppable vortex that would attempt to gobble up any counter attempt.  She learned, too, that hitting a wall or other object could giver her an advantageous bit of reach wherein she could finally attain her elusive quarry.  She became quite adept at catching her tail.  Trouble was she knew exactly what to do when she caught it… chew the hell out of it.  I'm sure it made sense to her… chase tail, catch tail, chew tail.  At that time in my life, I was too young to understand dog breeds, or behavioral anomalies and neurosis in canines.  If you asked me why my white dog had a black head and a pink tail, I would have told you she chases her tail and the black is a kind of camouflage.  Her tail is pink because she's good at catching it and she chews it until it bleeds.  Long before she developed this behavior, I named her "Tippy".  She's still a fond memory.  I'm very fortunate to have had a dog which provided me the opportunity to make empirical assessments at an early stage in my artistic life.  Sometimes the creative process is just a series of urges.  It can be similar to watching a dog chase it's tail.  The evening the photo above was taken, I set out on an uncharted course along Northern CO's grasslands.  Setting off without a physical or ideological destination at the beginning of an art making excursion is a valid endeavor, but can lead to the sort of behavior for which artists notorious.  Somewhere in the flat land, I got the idea that there was so much rain the rivers were taking back the roads.  And true the rain was making a very concerted effort to keep me bogged int he mud, so I ventured back to the dull paved lanes and eventually headed west toward home.  Taking the long way and effectively making a bigger loop around my tail, I came upon this scene as I rounded the bend, skidded to a halt, and began to close the loop with a series of u-turns and head-spins.  But to make the final catch on my quarry required abandoning commonsense and ignoring physical and legal threats to my person.  Thankfully, an F350 brought a moment of clarity and sanity to the evening, and I walked out of the middle of the road.  Did, I find something meaningful and succeed in making it an artful moment?  Thankfully, that's something for the audience to discuss.  I can only commit that I did, in fact, catch my tail that particular evening, and I am currently chewing the hell out of it for an, as yet, undisclosed reason.

(several other images from this evening can be seen in my Flickr Photostream, enjoy)

Riverbend Series, Plate 4

A couple of nights ago, I woke up from a dream.  It was more of a nightmare, but since I forced myself awake, there wasn't that normal continuation of panicked feelings.  In the dream, I was standing on a large rock that was barely sticking out of the ocean.  There was a great white shark circling the rock and being very aggressively inquisitive.  I turned my head to the person who was with me on the rock and said, "If the tide rises, we're fucked."  Then, I looked at my wet feet.  I was wearing shoes.  This is when I woke up.  When I was a small boy, I was very afraid of sharks.  It was an irrational fear, because I lived in Pennsylvania, but the mind of a child isn't a rational thing.  I couldn't close my eyes in the shower, because when I did, I would see a shark's mouth coming toward me.  As a teenager, on the swim team, I used to imagine sharks swimming in the pool during a race.  Fear of sharks, actually, replaced my fear of tornados.  Seems there's always something to fear.  Being an artist is strange thing.  I get ideas and make things.  I had this idea to make a series of prints around the central themes of water and distance.  Would you lose respect for me if I said, this project has it's own tide?  I hope not.  Anyway, you probably know what I mean, though.  Sometimes you lose sight of the idea as it's building.  You know it's there, but it's far off and a little past the horizon, now.  It may be getting closer, I can't really tell.  Damn-it, it's right there, you know you can catch it… but… you're going to have to get a little wet.

These Little Bug Blues

I'm currently working on a project to catalogue a library of insects.  Thousands of little arthropods called  Curculionidae something or other.  What do you want... Latin?  I went to art school, you know that.  I'm lucky I can spell my name in my native language.

This little guy above is something I found in a random box of assorted critters all of which are unidentififed and, as I understand it, unidentifiable in their current condition.  A little tag which we translated to Eastern Criscuma region of Paraguay was pinned beneath.  The googles told me that the Eastern Criscuma region of Paraguay is probably Brazil.  The Google map of Paraguay contains surprisingly little detail, in comparison to the map of the ocean floor.  Maybe Google hasn't found Paraguay, or Paraguay is very good at keeping secrets.
Shiny green thing, keep on shining.
I find it completely impossible not to anthropomorphize a bit.  Imagine walking along trying to be the best little green thing on the circuit, just cruising for a little something to nibble and maybe some romance and all of a sudden you're in a jar filled with sodium cyanide only to end up with a pin through your exo fixed to a box in a little room far from anything that will ever benefit from your existence.  (I'm not preaching anti-anything, or pro-something.  So, don't go too far with this scenario, empathy is good but only to a point.)  One little bug picture and everybody gets a little Kafka shiver.

I'm interested in the inception of the instinct to collect a specimen only to abandon it later.  By extension, the instinct to react to an idea of artistic impulse only to let it flounder on it's own and eventually dissipate like a mustard burp.  Ideas don't have to die in a box, I suppose.  Maybe that's the point of this post.  Seems a fitting epitaph to our cyan adventurer above.

A tiny green idea floats insouciantly along, eventually to become a victim of understanding.