Jack was the driven King of Comics. Roz was his inspirational wife. They fell in love and married in the 1940s, and remained devoted to each other and to their children until Jack’s death.
Jack n Roz
Joined: a Superhero Woman
And an awesome Penciler
CRACKING GOOD Love Story–Lo
Kirby crackle–Roz pizzazz
Deborah Hodder has been making wonderful clay sculpture since before the year 2000, when she was given the Emerging Artist Award from the Shemer Art Center and Museum in their show of that year. She has spent this entire century diligently proving that the award was richly deserved. For myriad examples, please do an Internet search on “Deborah Hodder sculpture.”
So this is a fan letter to her, with love, respect and gratitude for her friendship and for her artistry. Many sculptors carve figures with skill and grace. Deborah sculpts souls, and she does it with quiet passion and gentle might. (Note: the phrase “gentle Might” in my poem refers to both Power and Possibility.)
I only wish this page of mine had even a shadow of the dignity and grace that Deborah has. It is barbaric. It is an awful pun on the now-dated phrase “Hotter than a two-dollar pistol,” which alludes to a cheap mail-order firearm that becomes excruciatingly hot when used. (Note that my spot illustration above is of the type of fake pistol which produces a cigarette-lighting flame when you pull the trigger.) And my drawings of her sculpture, and of her, do not begin to do them and her justice. I hope that viewers will see through the crudity to the love and respect at the heart of this thing. More than that, I hope, Friends, that you will do that search and then see and enjoy her sculpture.
Hodder than a 2 Dollar Pistol
Humanity, True Love, conductance, sleep
Of such her sculpture croons, with friendly Hi
Dimension and evolvement lives and keeps
Delineation of a gentle Might
Enshrined and hewn in clay, arpeggio
Reveals 2 us a carnival of Soul
Since the word ‘wordless’ is itself a word, the only way to describe Silence is with something other than words. You may use all the words you wish to describe the description, though.
Or you may conclude that it would be best not to.
Here are three sketches I did today. The top one seems to include someone who looks like a friend of mine, and I have sent him a text asking if it’s just my imagination, but have not heard back. The other two are typical castings-about for concepts to flesh out. Note that the middle image includes someone who is about to cast with a rod and reel. If I’d put a red dot on the figure’s forehead, and a cast on one of the arms, and a cast in one of the eyes, the weather forecast would be Overcast(e), because my cast would then include a member of a caste in India, arm in a cast, cast in an eye, casting a fishing line, fantasy sequence not furnished by Carlos Castaneda. Perhaps the tackle box includes a set of castanets.
Perhaps I’ll shut up before someone casts aspersions on my mental state. Aloha, Friends!!
…their ships with great sails
sliced through the air and water
to greet a new dawn…
Start. WAKE UP one moan in. Have a MIND do do some SIN. WUTMwaMtdsS. And then SWEAR this time be diffnt–ywohn DO that bad thing agin. Finish.
Ocelot Dreams
On the plain & off the grid
Creep & pounce or reconsider
Endgames of the vole & grebe
Indefensible arriba
On the go big cats will scram
Theory blesses–practice damns
L’envoi
Bullies preen & boss a lot
Till they meet an Ocelot.
Done Thursday, August 15, 2019. Wite Conté crayon on black paper. 9″ x 12″.
“How you doon?”
“Good. –And/or Awful.”
So began this Triple Acrostic.
good &or offl
guardrails, s&y beaches, woo
oslo, fl&ers, bern aloof
ontologic bl& reproof
duck or goose? fORget it, fool
mallet • palate
mordioux no a&p • and some “leaders” copped a plea • let us face it we’re in hell • left bereft no wares to sell • a euphemistic take’s a trait • that fair ignores the teeth that grate
About the open-mouthed fellow on the right: about forty years ago there was an album by King Crimson called IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING, and though I haven’t seen the album in many years, I would bet that my drawing is at least a secong cousin to the fellow on that cover.
I have been advised by several of my friends that my facial hair imparts a sinister quality to my face. Consequently I shave every workday, and often on my days off. But I envy people for whom facial hair is a good enhancement.
Razor Sharp
Rumpled, stilled skin–let it pass
A clear-cut Face is full of flash
ZAP goes the Beard Burn; time 4 mash–a
Once-a-Lifetime thunderclap, or
RIGHT that Wrong–should be a snap
Note that there is a seeming irony in that this image/poem/page is not “razor sharp” at all. It is crude and slapdash. It could be that my creativity “razor blade” needs sharpening, or changing.
But no apologies nor apologia, Friends. I won’t lay the “I meant to do it that way” line on you, because I didn’t; it just came out that way. Time will tell if it’s worthy of doing a remake, with photorealistic illustration and crisp calligraphy. Intuition says it would have to wait in line behind hundreds of other images I wish I’d done more finessedly.
One with Clay, Image and Text 