Not Skin even

Year is almost over. Just to make it clear that I don't have an unhealthy obsession with epidermal matter here's something somewhat different.
(But if you really do long for more of the same it is here).
Latex on printed image:

Skin 5

Got lucky with these photographs, and for once the images turned out OK. Most of my work photographs really badly, these actually look better on the screen than they do in "real" life. They are both in "sketch" form, meaning that they made with crappy materials and are smaller than they deserve. If you click on them you will notice that they are not even dry (the blueish bits in the liquidy stuff) but I've been waiting for days, and just couldn't wait any longer. A bunch more are still at a greater state of wetness.
Latex on printed digital image:

Fresh new talent

Pueblo Pajarito by the great Paulie:

The artiste at work:

Dupe

I just posted this in with the digital images on Next Blog, where oi reckons it has a certain right to be, but now it occurs to me, that since it is a sketch for a 3D piece (already in progress) that it would be neat to have it here so that I can look back, record its progress, and observe how I have deviated and/or drifted.

Blog News

I am separating my current work into two categories, and posting it into two separate blogs. In "Process" I'm posting 2D and 3D pieces where, at the moment, I am struggling to find a medium, a material form, for ideas connected with what I want to express in a series which I am now making. In "Next Blog" I am posting images which arise more directly, mostly in digital form, from a thread of thought.
In both instances I need to struggle and avoid being trammeled by the poop culture definition that art is what sells, or is approved of, while producing material that holds its form, some kind of physical existence. "Archival" form is not a primary concern, but built-in obsolescence, an existence that survives only briefly is a bother that I would like to avoid. Transient form is not something that I have eliminated on principle, but it is not my objective at the moment.
This unique entry I am posting in both “here” and “there” for the amusement of those who read one but not both blogs. For self-therapeutic reasons I will also not be able to restrain myself from writing the usual nonsense about my thrilling adventures in the deli aisles of grocery stores.
For my visitors from Russia I am also posting this in “Further Issues” to encourage you to visit my other blogs, and perhaps even leave a comment.

Skin 4

Good place to stop and move on:

I do want a 3D shape to cohabit the space with "skin", but less pronounced will be better -- different material -- enough with the "Great Stuff".

Skin 3

Phase of process (first photo bleak. Colors are richer).
Some choices arising from a selection of materials. Below: rough edges on foam-core, skin printed on paper staying loose, 3D shape spilling out of rectangle at bottom.
I realize that this piece has a representational context, either phallic or head and shoulders, not to mention the photographic element (image of skin, distorted in comp. program).
Camera-fresh, non-photoshop (except for black outer rectangle), images work better clicked on:

or ( all below are photoshopped images): neat outer edge plus hard-edge skin rectangle:

or: going even further, same elements as above, but with reduced bubbliness on inner shape:

Side view (very "baguette-attacked-by rodents" look, but it's the truth. The material is "Great Stuff", normally used for filling cracks, etc, poured onto foam-core and shaved into present shape with sharp blade):

So far the first image, the direct result of "casually" placing these items together, is my first choice for this part of the process. I'll pour over and weigh down the inner 3D shape with transparent latex which will probably pour down onto the "skin". This will either be the final phase, or lead to more. If anything mildly interesting happens I will post it.

Still shopping

"There is a tide in the affairs of men which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune," I almost said to myself as I emerged from the hobby supply store. Guided by supernatural instinct I effortlessly located  obscure items that translate into art materials, which I barely suspected existed in this world, just as moments before I swooned in triumph in the bookstore, guided by similar forces, walking straight up to the latest output of Jonathan Franzen, whom I, shamefully, never heard of before. Oh, and I also scored some dark and milk chocolate McVitties at another location. I could have even bought Marmite there, but I restrained myself. I still have some from last year.
On such a sea I was now afloat when my left foot casually depressed the clutch pedal of my born again (didn't stall once all day) convertible 1978 Fiat Spider to change from second to third (it was necessary) when a loud "ping" sounded as the pedal sunk to the floor, not to rise again. I drifted into the vast bleakness of the outer reaches of Cottonwood Mall parking lot, still in second, circled aimlessly a few times while I pondered the option of traveling the fifty odd miles back to the Jemez skillfully changing gear without a clutch. I stopped, turned the engine off and dug my phone out, preparing to make diplomatic conversation with the bastards at a nearly near-by garage who recently worked on the very same cable. The phone, nestled in my slowly constricting hand, made that mournful, melodic, dying sound it is trained to do, as it run out of juice. At that very moment! I glanced at the distant mall, shimmering above the dark asphalt altiplano: Verizon and odd other phone sales vampires swarm in there. I patted my back pocket as I took my first dragging steps: no wallet!
I glanced up to observe the giant anvil quickly darkening the sky as it descended towards me.
It wasn't there. But otherwise the whole tide thing morphed into that flushing swirl, familiar as when shit rushes down to plumbing Hades.
Sorry, but I had to share this.

News from Korea

There she was, little woman in the meat isle, her basket loaded with bright red meat, gliding discretely toward what would turn into the dairy section past the side isles devoted to pet food, auto parts, painkillers, and hair-grips. She suddenly caught my eye and a mad grin spread across her face, flashing bright pink gums at the top of her mouth, but with reasonably sized teeth  placed in a tidy row two thirds of the way down.  It was the same smile that she always held, it was total abandon to total smile. I would vainly search for faint traces of competing emotions struggling to get some time and space on this platform of expression, but she not only held firm, her smile was ever expanding however long she wore it.
I stopped at once.
"Oh, hi, hi, how are you? Haven't seen you for a long time."
"No! No! Long time!" she screamed.
"You still go to ESL classes?"
"Oh, ESL classes."
"You still go?"
"Yes, well, no, sometimes. It is very hard."
"Oh, but your English is good, better, like it...is..."
"No, no good. Very hard."
We stood awkwardly for a short while. I begun to edge my basket forward, slightly, while my body remained pinned to the Healthy Oat Nut, Hundred Percent Wheat, and Jewish Rye shelves that faced the meat counter. She looked as if she expected the conversation to continue a while longer, her eyes and hands steady, smile expanding.
I cleared my throat.
"Terrible bad news from your country, with the North Koreans, you know."
"My country?"
Yes, you know, your home."
"Home?"
"Home country. Not home here. Korea. South Korea. The bombing, the people who were killed."
She slightly adjusted the angle of her face and her smile reached a higher level of completeness.
"Sorry, I don't understand."
"The war. Well, not war, but you know, Korea. North Korea."
"Ahh, the news. Yes, the news," she added a hint of breathy laugh to her expression producing an understated multi-media effect.
“Yes. the news...” I trailed off, and nodded, as if in good-bye.
She nodded back, very cheerfully. I tried not to bow. We parted.


It was only when I cleared the check-out that a horrible recollection came crashing-in on me.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! “
She wasn’t Korean. Of course. Now I remember. Chinese. Of course, Chengdu, the country of heaven, the Land of Abundance, the Brocade City, Hibiscus, paper money, Poet Sages and Poet Gods. Yes, now I remember.

Skin 2

Deeper into "Skin". Sketches via Photoshop:

Skins

Where the last series is headed, digressed by unexpected behavior of material:

 

And a few dead-end pieces that I'm playing with while I wait for other stuff to dry. Soon, they will vanish into some black hole of unloved artwork, so why not give them a moment of glory on the world wide web. The middle piece even got microwaved, and then broiled. Not the kind of process I'm ever likely to repeat:

How to waste a weekend

First light. Sunlight hitting Guadelupe Mesa, yesterday, Saturday. If you click on this, you will be deeply moved:

Off to Santa Fe with Lizzie. Art poppin' out all over. It's not real, she says. Santa Fe is not real:

Indians look all set for swarms of tourists. Not a good day actually. Strangely warm for this end of November, calm, sunny, but the town was empty:

We are focused on our destination --->  Church!  No apparent separation from State here:

 

It wasn't even Sunday. Chess Tournament that day, they used the Santa Fe Episcopalian Church hall for that venue. Lizzie's team triumphed. She plays board #2 (six in each team), only girl in the championship section, drew one game, won the other ones. Below the younger kids (Reserve section). Here fawning parents crawl all over with cameras, the older players sneer and sigh deeply if I try to photograph in their room:

 

Today Albuquerque. 

Lizzie reckons Albuquerque is more real than Santa Fe. I agree:

Commerce thrives everywhere you look:

Gotta shop, it will help keep America great:

Sometimes I glance up. Spent all day in church yesterday, got some new twitches growing.

Under construction 2 (Still wet)

Same pieces; I'm kind of poking, probing for a "process". Nothing here yet. I'll take these a few stages further, but this is not quite what I had in mind. next thing to do is to find some other materials. Big fat wads of latex, skin crinkly-like, would be nice. Colors here are not too deeply considered -- just wanted to see how this paint would behave -- everything's such a rush...

Under construction

This group, starting in the same kind of process as "Icy" below, different stuff, great stuff, stopped at this stage, except for the last one.

 Close-up on stuff:

Most developed, one more step in the process, who knows what awaits me:

The thing in my mind is, strangely, representational. All the above are self-portraits (obviously, right?) The matter around the pressed down rectangles is my external surface. I need to adapt some of the process to include different materials. "Great Stuff" is great fun, but not entirely satisfactory. Still, something happened, then perhaps something else will happen, so I'll see what happens.


I think the first one works the best, so far. A few others work well too, but were too minimal to photograph well. The last one points in a direction which I'll follow and develop.


For more self-portrait action, visit Next Blog.

Iceland

Virtual, so to speak.
I was looking for something to happen, which did not happen, but then something else happened, which will do for now, and then it went into the twitches of photoshop, and here it is, poor thing, passing in time and form, caught in a moment of its passage... back to the chamber of alterations.
It's really a rectangular piece of plastic pressed onto stiff paper with a generous squeeze of dated sealant on the edges. I hear that Iceland is composed of the same materials as the ocean floor all around it; volcanic action pushed up this little segment of it; now we have liberal, tolerant Norse (men/women!) sanctioning alternative lifestyles in a haze of geothermal steam surrounded by blobs of ice.


That sounds like a process I can live with. Now here, the plastic rectangle came from the Black Hole in Atomic City; the paper lay on my table, anxious; the tube of sealant came from the shed, dated from the last millennium, the process did not need much rehearsal: squeeze the stuff onto the edges of the plastic, press the plastic onto the paper...photoshop.


In both instances the elements are obvious enough to anticipate and explain their behavior in a process. Occurrences cause them to enact predictable drama (you might be kind enough to click upon this, even magnify, once you're there):

Dull post about the weather

Blue skies rule. Tee-shirt weather, dry enough to make your nose bleed, lips crack, eye-balls crunch, and climate change deniers furrow their brows. I look back with fondness to an alarming moisture event from somewhere in the middle of last month. Great blobs of ice came teeming down, scattering down over my South facing patio, even making my windows all wet (smudges non-photoshop). Yuk!:

The system was finite, blue skies soon to resume...:

...but painful to the head, if you overlook wearing a hat (BTW the shiny object on the left below the juniper is my Amiga 2000 having a mouse nest washed out by the elements. I expect it to resume normal service when the process is over. You know how tough those machines are; need to click on pic. to see the greatest computer of all time getting fixed):

It was enough to stop me gathering the remains of my laundry...:

...and view the dampening effect on my yet to be cut wood with gentle sadness (this one is also faintly amusing to click on):

Thrilling stuff, eh?
Well, we're back to gracious outdoor living again:

Forward to the past

So, I end the merry month of October with a last minute post. A short story, which took up most of my writing energy this month is sitting here, in Further Issues. Just finished, now I'm going to bed.

Another dawn looming

I enjoy my morning coffee. Always. But I must admit, often I hesitate before my first gulp. Perhaps I should start the day with a gulp of refreshing, seemingly healthy orange juice, or some such nutritious, awakening elixir? Nahhhh...! First I make the triple strength potion, tip it into my cup, then I dissolve the rest with hot water (but not too much, please!) to make it bearable for the refined pallets of other family members.




The problem is this: at which point can I safely say that I am no longer drinking. Drinking involves the intake of a liquid. There is a thin line between liquid and post-liquid on its way to being somewhat more like a solid.


First, please join me in close observation of the bottom of my mug of the transition moment in proper coffee:

And now look. Pathetic, isn't it. The thin veneer of very faint and feeble (hardly dare call it) sub-sludge:

Fully functioning human brains

The occurrence of fully functioning human brains (FFHBs) must be of great fascination to Science. It is an area of investigation that needs to be treated with caution, and I do not understand what all the fuss is about with developing them in mice initially, instead of messing with peoples heads. I imagine that Scientists represent a wide range of political opinion and that all can see the disadvantages to the popularity of their (and, importantly, their paymasters) chosen factions if voters with FFHBs went to the polls. These people would be a pain to identify. Mice, on the other hand, are easy to profile. Any mouse seen driving an expensive car or a large vehicle with lots of other mice inside it would immediately be taken off the streets. The Law might have difficulty with classifying them as "immigrants", but just "illegals" would do nicely. An exception might be the border area where they would probably dig tunnels.

I know this sounds like I am being partisan, but there is a fair chance that many of these mice might turn out to be way left of center. They would hate our freedom, look for handouts, breed like crazy, and not be able to handle guns properly. Of course I do realize that Mickey, Mini, Jerry, et all represent personas settled with traditional American values, but bear in mind that are unburdened by FFHB, and so entitled to remain token members (BTW none of the above mentioned are white mice) of the America Pantheon. Anyone worried that this experiment might become extended to the human population can, therefore, relax. American Democracy will survive this challenge, war on FFHB ("Operation DUH") will be a cakewalk, a slam dunk.

Smoke (anyone)?

Here, at our elevated altitude, we are accustomed to sparkling, crystal-clear views. An outbreak of humidity, rain, snow, or mist is a rare event, and provides a curious experience, where the landscape is altered, becomes dimensional, reveals unexpected depth.
But smoke?
Same effect in terms of revealing the depth of various layers of different land forms, but somehow less convincing as a healthy and beneficial, even if controlled and managed, event. This, below, is allegedly that.

A controlled and managed "burn".
Some of the biggest and most devastating fires in our area resulted from controlled and managed burns.