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Picasso was a Jerk

July 2, 2014
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Recently TIME Magazine profiled a retrospective of Jeff Koons. Mr. Koons is a good four months younger than I am, yet he’s seen work of his sold for a cool 58.4 million dollars. Once I sold a piece of mine for $250.00, but then the gallery took its 20%. Sigh.

It reminded me of this page, of a pioneer of not only Art but of an artist’s self-promotion:

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Here are the words to the acrostic sonnet, with apologies for the clumsiness of Line 5:

What Picasso Had

Well, Pablo had a round head–that’s for starters;
His Bald and Bulbous Noggin was a Moon;
A gorgeous Harem–Demoiselles & Martyrs;
The cheek to make a napkin-drawn cartoon

Pay for three demoiselles’ Euro-Vacation;
Intensity of Focus . . . FEAR of Death . . .
Chicago’s streets to sculpt a Big Sensation;
A knack for Marketing with Every Breath.
Some envy his long life, his wealth, his Women,
Success like that some Art aspirants strive for;
Oh, nothing’s wrong with Fame to smile & swim in,

However, it’s unseemly to connive for.
Ahhh–I’ll not judge him. ART’ll; FATE’ll; GOD’ll;
Don’t know–but I won’t use him as a Model.

(Of behavior, that is. He was a real and true Jerk. See SURVIVING PICASSO for a taste of his Jerkiness, not to mention a stellar performance by Sir Anthony Hopkins. Quoth Wikipedia: “Picasso is shown as often not caring about other people’s feelings, firing his driver after a long period of service, and as a womanizer, saying that he can sleep with whomever he wants.”)

 

Stricken, Then & Now

July 1, 2014
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Today I finished a remake of something I’d first done more than five years ago. I used stroke victim John Updike to create a sort of public-service announcement, giving the warning signs of stroke and also some preventive measures. I am no stranger to the Soapbox, you see.

Here is what I did in the wee hours this morning:

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And here is the original, finished in late January 2009:

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You’d think the latest would reflect five solid years of practice between late January 2009 and early July 2014, but the new one is not all that much better than the old. Reason is I didn’t take the time I should have.

Here are the words:

Stroke: a random Maniac
Twinge devolving to Attack
Rawly, aftermaths illumine
It’s a CRAPSHOOT being Human.

Involvements

June 30, 2014
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Here is another finally-finished page.

The words to the single-word double acrostic are these:

Index cards & social meme
Novice hack or reader’s dream
Voices shrill can drill to bone
Orders strict tell despot’s notion
Lavish love creates its quotient
Vortex waves have force of oceans

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The meaning to this one is less elusive if you think of the words with the image as not describing a universal truth, but one person’s relationship/maturation journey, and that person someone you’re just getting to know.

Desperate But Sequel

June 24, 2014
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Here is something I started over a month ago and invited collaboration (see the post “Seven, Eight–Collaborate”). One brave soul told me there would be a try; that I have not heard from the brave soul since casts no aspersion on said soul. Collaboration is tricky.

Indeed, collaboration ended up being the theme of this, now finished, page:

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And here are the words of the triple-acrostic sonnet:

Desire may ebb when disillusion flows
Endangering stability, which flees
Each time de-Liberation strikes a pose
Some issues turn to Beasts none may appease
Proceed OUTSIDE the box, and P.D.Q.
Example: cure your Beef with B.B.Q.
Rescind your doubt! Do what WILL do for you
And with each therapeutic molecule
Add TLC that’s stubborn as a Mule
The optioned limitation with accrual
Ensures the Trust that leads to Love’s renewal

“Desperate But Sequel” hearkens back to the bad old days of “Separate But Equal.” Alas, Racism is still alive and “well” more than a half-century later. Not much more we can do about that but get our own houses in order (see Avenue Q’s “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist”).

The image is a four-shot sequence wherein two people are irritating each other’s stiff backs, then find a synergistic solution when they loosen up a little and rub together. I am ridiculously proud of this metaphor for relational friction. Honest to Goodness, I have no memory of ever seeing this bit of storytelling before–but I suspect I’m not the first…

Seen From Next Weak Show

June 17, 2014
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One unfortunate thing about growing up in the early 60s is that the phenomenon of Television Syndication was first getting real–and they started with Lassie and continued with Leave It To Beaver. Supposedly there are seven or so basic stories in the human story grab-bag, but Lassie and Beaver only used one each. The Lassie story: Little Her-Name-Here is trapped under a lean-to in the woods, and she doesn’t have her medicine. Lassie finds her, barks his/her heinie off to the nearest first responder, who finally gets the message and follows Lassie just in time to rescue the stricken child. Then Lassie goes back to June Lockhart and the rest of the family, only to find Timmie stirring his uneaten food around with his fork because he’s afraid Lassie will never return. O joy that Lassie is back safe and sound–till the next episode. (After a few years, the townspeople rescued by Lassie outnumbered those who hadn’t been.)

The Leave It To Beaver story: Beaver and his pals talk about doing something really neat, but they’ll get in trouble if they do it. They all agree to do it the next day. Only Beaver does it, and he gets in trouble. Ward gives him a good talking to, and Beaver learns a valuable lesson–which he promptly UNlearns in time for the next episode. (Oliver Sacks should have studied him and his short-term memory loss.)

My Three Sons, I Love Lucy, My Friend Flicka, Sky King–all had basic stories, not well told, flogged to death. So I have decided to tell a NEW story. It is at most eighteen words long, but there are pictures. It relates to the discussion above, but obliquely. The reader will have seven puzzles to solve. Five of them are pretty easy: How do the pictures illustrate the five acrostic words? The sixth is only a little harder: Which one of the acrostic words illustrates the picture illustrating it, and why? But the seventh one can take from half an hour to forever: What story can be told that will logically link all of the illustrations? Solving THAT one, dear Reader, will make you a better storyteller.

Here’s the image/story/quintuple acrostic:

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A Middle Name To Live Up To

June 12, 2014
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The middle name starts with a W. People would ask, “What’s the W stand for?” and often they thought they heard this in reply: “Whatever you say it is, it’ll be right.” But what was actually said was, “Whatever you say it is, it’ll be Wright.”

“Wright” means “maker.” In my more pompous moments I have said it means “Creator.” But its original meaning referred mostly to things of wood; thus were dubbed Shipwrights and Wheelwrights. Later, Playwrights. Perhaps one fine day Dreamwright will be a legitimate profession. One may dream.

As a Wright, it is incumbent upon me to make things. Here is something I made in September of 2005, via the process described a couple of posts ago as “the superheated glory of RAKU:”

001And here is something I made in July of 2008, and “digitally remastered” just this morning:

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The text is a triple-acrostic sonnet that goes like this:

Full fathom five to fifty off the reef
For all the Captain’s faithful to his staff
Onsurgent waves tall as a tall Giraffe
Obsess, convulse, and bloom like an O’Keeffe

Let’s pack it in lads this is so unreal
Let’s lash the sail and say that I’m a fool
Let’s learn our lesson and go back to school
Let’s NOT feed lampreys–sucks to be a meal

O MY, spake Bo’s’n–I’m already Jello
O LORD cried Brother–I donwanna halo
Whoopee! said Zooey–why so bleakly stay low
Why Shore said SureShot we’ll be coolly mellow

West of the Sun, Wise are the Woken Few
Whip out the World Wide Web O Brothers New

I love that I have made two such diverse-but-not-opposite things. About the poem I have a perspective just shy of six years from its creation, telling me that despite its adroitness of meter, rhyme and storytelling within the straitjacket of the acrostic form, scholars of the future will not take it seriously due to its scattershot clownishness. That’s moot, though: Not only did I make it, but it reflects my mind with a good transparency. And so in conclusion, ye Creatives, ye Makers, ye Wrights–go thou and do likewise, with my blessings and bonhomie!

 

Dusk 2 Dust, and Other Musings

June 11, 2014
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Lenny Bruce once had a bit where a thief was asking his fence, “Ya wanna buy a hot?” The fence says, “A hot what?” and the thief replies, “A hot ANYTHING–I had a helluva week!” Similarly, I had a helluva night last night. I could not stop drawing. Here are some, but not all, of the results:

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Dip ye into H2O–uh oh–it is très chaud
Urge a flooded 2-step & becalm the sea’s rain’s beau
Solve a Driftwood Puzzlement & give your Mojo brass
Killer Time will 1-2 PUNCH you–your job is to last

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Deliverance of Country with a capp’d & righteous C
Admixturance prog/Southern Rock to make it neo-Neat-o
Veer not from fearless choices as you twist the reverb knob
Endurance with Enjoyment: a Producer’s V i t a l job

I’d never heard nor read of this gentleman before this morning’s WSJ. He’s a record producer who, judging from the article on him, is doing fine work.

Lastly, a (perhaps) work in progress with plenty of blanks to fill. Anyone who provides the between-acrostics text with reasonable meter and rhyme will get their text calligraphed and placed in the acrostic with full credit and praise from me.

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Batter UP/HEY Batta Batta Batta

June 5, 2014
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001

Half a day or so ago I watched a rebroadcast of Major League Baseball’s Arizona Diamondbacks versus the Colorado Rockies. Going into the eighth inning the D-Backs were down 8 to 5. But soon the bases were loaded, a walk was forced in, and then Paul Edward Goldschmidt, affectionately known as “Goldy,” lanced a three-run double down the third baseline, and the tide was turned.

To anyone unfamiliar with the esoterica of baseball, the preceding sentence is full of gibberish, as is this commemorative page. But I hope the page and its cadences work as metaphor and visual engagement for those unfamiliar with baseball.

“Batter Up,” said by the umpire, is the traditional way to start a half-inning. “HEY Batta Batta Batta,” said by the catcher and various of his teammates, is classic “pepper,” chattery words said to disconcert the batsman. Alas, modern professional baseball seems to lack this particular spice.

Batter UP

Buy a ticket, go, and then U
Are where Food Courts apprehend U
There’s a T-Bone on the menu
Tip your cup your hand your cap
Easy does it–loll and yap
Righteous Game is on the map

HEY Batta Batta Batta

Hurler squints and grips the orb
Hitter, in the moment, Zorba
Here the pitch comes–SWING–he hits it
Hammered, but the shortstop gets it

Elegance and s t a m i n a
Errors happen: WHAM and flub
Earned Run Averages rise–a
Eulogy for wild/crazed guys–it
Engineers a Bullpen dance–it
Ends the run extravaganza

You warble till you lose your Warb
You soak up fun–as you absorb, a
Youngness is, with which you’re kist
You add GRIN to your All-Done list
You see again the skyback vista