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On December 21st I put the finishing touches on a portrait of a musician I have never met. It is based on a photograph taken by one of the residents of the retirement community I work for, which she gave gracious permission to use as a photo source, taken by her during one of his gratis, heart-warming performances at our community. (The photographer prefers to be uncredited.) Armed with the photo and the musician’s first name and the fact that he’s based in the Quad-Cities area, I found him and his Facebook page on the Internet, and wrote him for permission to post my portrait. Then my laptop died.

The laptop is still dead. Its replacement is due to arrive in two days. Yesterday my Sweetheart, Denise, offered the use of her computer, chiefly to Facebook-post my regular column “Title Tuesday” for the poetry group Poets All Call. In doing so I found the response of the musician Eric to my portrait-posting request:

Hello Gary, Your sketch is wonderful; I’m honored. Yes you can post it in your blog thank you very much. Eric

I can’t think of a better way to kick off the New Year than by posting my portrait of this kindly and supremely talented gentleman, and urge whoever reads this to do an Internet search on Eric, the musician who plays in Sedona. I won’t deprive my readers of the thrill of the search, which will yield delightful results both on Facebook and on YouTube; but on request I’ll provide a YouTube link.

Eric, thanks for helping this New Year of mine get off to a good start!

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Stan Lee, like many of the superheroes he wrote comic-book continuity for, has feet of clay. He’s hyberbolic, a credit hog, and an attention craver. But any kid who grew up during the Silver Age of Marvel Comics could not help but be influenced by him. My sometime tendency toward wisecracking and alliteration may reflect this influence. So I devoted 73 seconds to doing his portrait.

Last I heard he was still alive. Excelsior, Stan! ‘Nuff Said! Except…as the pirate said to the Q-Tips: “Avast, ye swabs!”

Rummaging through the image archives I found a spate of portraiture tries from five years or so ago. These are the best of a not-all-that-good bunch.

Here’s James Joyce:

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Robert Heinlein:

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Margaret Bourke-White, with a seeming touch of Clint Eastwood:

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Eleanor Roosevelt:

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The enigmatic and tragically-overlooked Alice Sheldon, alias James Tiptree, Jr.:

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The prolific inventor and thug hirer Thomas Edison:

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And, last but not least, the physically driven, self-sculpted Mikhail Baryshnikov:

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The drawings, though all flawed, represent the work it has taken to make what I do now, though flawed, less so with time and trouble. The best two-word advice for the art student, courtesy of stellar artist and sensei Darlene Goto, is “SLOW DOWN!;” the best three-word advice, available through the public domain, is “Practice, practice, practice.”

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Readers of the last blog post will recall that I tried, and did not quite succeed, to capture my friend and fellow poet Bob Kabchef’s visage on paper. As a portraitist, when I misfire I have a choice: move on, or get back on the horse and try again. It is ALWAYS better to try again, though fear of repeated failure hangs like a wet-sodden cloud over the fragile-egoed creator’s head.

Here is my second try, with a double acrostic inspired by something Bob posted, seeing an early draft of it: “Speaking of chefs….. A lot of folks hesitate when confronted with the challenge of saying my last name – Kabchef. It’s not really that tough. Just think “Cab” and “Chef” Now say them together and you’ve got it. I sometimes tell folks that if TaxiCook is any easier for them, I’ll answer to that too. When my grandad came here to escape WWI, immigration whittled down Kabachieff to Kabchef. We Kabchefs don’t have a fancy Coat of Arms. We’re so poor, our coats don’t even HAVE arms.” That gave me a grin, and “Taxi Cook” it was. The words:

The nations are assembled choc-a-bloc
And Poets wrestle with the Despot–so
Xerography’s recorded–ONE Li Po
Is worth a thousand Xerxes who would mock

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This was done by way of thanks to a friend who’d sent me a card featuring Levon in his bearded Salad Days. I have posted it on Facebook, and on the post I mentioned I might base a journal page on Levon some day. If I do, the double acrostic will be LEVON HELM’D.

Here’s a webcam “selfie” of me and the card:

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Today’s post gets a little personal. My father’s mother, whose maiden name was either Cora or Marguerite Price, and whose Uncle Arthur co-founded the city of Chandler, Arizona, left this earth in the first part of January, 1979. It wasn’t till I started this page, based on a framed photograph of her probably taken in the early 1930s, that I discovered how dark the dark side of my memory of her could get. I suppose she did the best she could, and I owe her my life, my circumstance, and a lot of my DNA; but my poor Uncle Jim (birth name: Brian Aylesworth Bowers) and my poor father (he could have signed a contract with the Chicago Cubs, and would have if he’d followed his dreams)! There is a Latin phrase, “de mortuis nil nisi bonum dicendum est,” that I am defying here. She ruled with an iron fist in a satin glove.

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Two days ago, having just finished a journal page, I told my girlfriend I wanted to do a portrait page of someone I hadn’t “paged” before. She suggested Anaïs Nin, perhaps because I’d been affectionately calling her “Nin” (why? Long story) off and on for more than a year.

What a terrific, and challenging, subject for acrostic poetry! The biggest challenge would be to find a word that begins with an umlauted i, i.e. ï. A capital ï, i.e. Ï, never “occurs in nature” since the umlaut in ï is that peculiar species of umlaut known as a diaeresis, which is a diacritical mark that indicates a new syllable. Since the first letter of a word starts a new syllable by definition, the diaeresis isn’t needed and wouldn’t work. What to do? –Well, heck and gee-whiz, what if I treated those two pesky dots not as an umlaut, but as two-thirds of an ellipsis, i.e. .. ? Then I could put an extra line in that began with an ellipsis–problem solved. (One of the things I LOVE about acrostic poetry is the challenges it creates. Solving odd problems like these forces creative solutions.)

That wasn’t the first problem, though. The first problem was, before I got to the acrostic poetry, I had begun the illustration.  My illustration featured nudity in the form of a nude, reclining Henry Miller and June Mansfield. I drew, both with them and with Ms. Nin, not from a photo source, but from imagination; and my imagination used not real life but actresses and actor from the film Henry & June, which I’d seen only once, and that about twenty years ago. Consequently the full-faced Nin looked less like Anaïs Nin and more like Maria de Medeiros, though not much like either (I most definitely do NOT have a “photographic memory”). But the bigger problem was the nudity. Though it is not a violation of WordPress terms & conditions to include nudity, it is frowned upon on certain other sites where I might wish to post my page. I HATE censorship, but I solved this problem by self-censoring.

Before I did the portrait fix-ups and the clothing of the nudes, though, I scanned the work in progress. I leave you with that image:

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Yesterday I attempted portraiture of Anne Hathaway and was not too successful, in my own estimation. As a portraitist I have my good days and not so muches. But “try, try again” I shall, just as I did with James Baldwin on two way back when occasions:

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