Make art now
Last Wednesday, I received a Facebook message from Travis Gray, the Art Director for the Metro Pulse, asking me if I'd like to make an illustration for the cover of their next issue. The story would be about Locavores.

While my inner child was jumping up and down with giddiness, I emailed him back saying I was interested, and that I could try to find the time to do it.

A tiny part of me was trying to play it cool, but I was mostly worried about taking time away from preparing for my upcoming show. At the same time, to have an illustration on the cover of the Metro Pulse... how sweet would that be?

A few messages later, he hooked me when he told me I would be paid.

***

THE WORK

Travis gave me an initial idea to illustrate a couple gardening (see below - don't judge him for this, he made it in 2 seconds)



I made a sketch from his idea Wednesday night. (see below- don't judge me. I sketch like a monkey.)






















He liked it, but Thursday morning, I woke up with another idea. I emailed Travis the new idea, one I thought would be more in line with the work I had been making and that would convey the idea even better. He liked it, and I thank him for trusting me.


As the initial pencil sketch progressed, I sent him photos of it. He made suggestions and I made changes. Once I got the sketch down, I painted Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

Monday morning, I made some final changes and emailed the image. I was so nervous, my stomach hurt.

Both Travis and the writer of the story, Cari Wade Gervin, emailed me to tell me it was a hit. It was a hit!

Two days later, I conveniently ran an errand downtown when I thought the paper might be hitting stands...

...there it was. My painting on the cover of a newspaper, framed out with text. I could hold it in my hands, and so could many, many others. Sooo fun.


***

I'd like to tell you that now I am able to go on vacation for a week to some place exotic and warm, but I cannot. There is more work to be done, and so, I forage on.
About the Painting: The Owl of Athena


The Owl of Athena
acrylic, oil, and varnish on canvas
approximately 4.5 x 6'
2011


I decided to make this painting while I was making The Poltroon Hard at Work (Athena and Cyclops), shown below.






















To explain The Owl of Athena painting, allow me to quote directly from Wikipedia:

In Greek and Roman mythology, Glaucus is the symbolic owl of Athena, or Minerva, respectively. Often referred to as the "owl of Athena" or "owl of Minerva", it accompanies Minerva in Roman myths, seen as a symbol of wisdom because the owl is capable of seeing even in the dark and of vigilance because the owl is awake at night.

The nineteenth-century idealist philosopher G.W.F. Hegel famously noted that "the owl of Minerva spreads its wings only with the falling of the dusk"— meaning that philosophy comes to understand a historical condition just as it passes away. Philosophy cannot be prescriptive because it understands only in hindsight.

"One more word about giving instruction as to what the world ought to be. Philosophy in any case always comes on the scene too late to give it... When philosophy paints its gloomy picture then a form of life has grown old. It cannot be rejuvenated by the gloomy picture, but only understood. Only when the dusk starts to fall does the owl of Minerva spread its wings and fly."


***

To me, the owl of Athena is a symbol of the tenacity needed to pursue wisdom. In other words, it takes persistence, even vigilance, to make sure our mistakes don't destroy us. When we fall down we either choose to become resentful and bitter, or we choose to go after goodness, truth, and understanding.

***

The original painting and prints of this painting are for sale. One may also view this painting at my show on November 5 at the Birdhouse.
"art", "painting"BComment
This is my life
I'm sitting in my friend Amelia's den, waiting for her to walk with me to the Public House for a night cap.

Her voice calls out from her bedroom, "Guess what trend I'm bringing back?"

My mind begins sifting through the possibilities, but she enters the room before I can form an educated guess.

She holds up a pair of worn out leather boots. "Timberlands."

"Noooo." I say. "No."

We laugh and she asks, "Will you be embarrassed if I wear these?"

"No... I just don't want them to catch on."

"Oh, it's going to spread like wildfire," she says as she wraps the long laces around the the back of the high top and ties them back in front.

"The ole wrap around... you know what I'm talking about."

I do know what she's talking about.

***

They actually don't look that bad on her, but nothing ever does.










***

If you're curious about the evolution of Timberland fashion, I encourage a little image searching. Very interesting. Below is an example (from this website) Seems like they've stepped up their game.

"fashion", "friends", "funny"BComment
Just in Time
I watched Before Sunrise and Before Sunset this past week. The first time I saw them was not too long ago, but I've watched them several times since then.

I 'm not going to review them, but I highly recommend them- especially if you've traveled any... or fallen in love with someone, specifically while overseas...

but who would do something like that?

***

This song is at the end of Before Sunset, and that is how I learned who Nina Simone was.


"film", "music", "travel"BComment
Come see me at the Market Square Farmers' Market this Saturday (or next)
I'm selling these altered prints of drawings this Saturday at the Market Square Farmers' Market at $4 a piece. Why? Because I love you.

Learn more about them here.



I'll also be selling the original drwaings for bundles of money, if that interests you. Just kidding, but really. The drawings are 5 x 7" and most are framed.



I'll have Mason Jars paintings and salvage for sale, too. But don't feel like you have to buy anything. It's always nice when people stop and say hello.
My day job
Managing an architectural salvage program for a non-profit may seem like one of the coolest jobs around (It is. I boast.), but I must tell you, every job has its dismal moments. There is a point when monotony rears its ugly head for every career, and the day-to-day can become painstaking. (I hope art never gets that way.)

But then that job puts you in a situation that reminds you why you're doing what you're doing, and new life is breathed into your work.

This happened the other day. I received a call from a man who had some doors he wanted me to see. On Monday, I drove out to his address in South Knoxville.

{Sidenote: South Knoxville is a hidden gem. It's just really something else.}

I passed his house a couple of times before I realized it was his; each time I did, I thought to myself, "My, that house is precious." Lo and behold it was his.



I drove down the gravel driveway, noticing a beautiful black and white chicken sharing a drink with a cat out of a water bowl. I passed two Saabs in the driveway, and the man directed me to pull around the circle garden with a fountain in the middle of it.



Some people I meet through this job are crazy. Some repeat themselves over and over again and don't listen to a word I say. But then there are some I just know I'm going to like. I know it right off the bat.

The man led me to the barn, chock full of old chairs, furniture, wood, doors, etc. He showed me this beautiful mantel that he had stripped and is currently trying to sell on Craigslist.






















Right past his barn were all the doors. "I pulled them out for you so that you could see them." Perfect.



His wife, came out soon after. As they pointed out everything, they discussed where they got each item and wondered out loud if they thought they should hang on to anything in case they wanted to use it some day.



Their home was her grandmother's, and they are renovating it.

"Want to come inside and see if there's anything you want in there?" the woman said.

"We don't have anything in there to give her!" the man said.

"Ok, I'll show you around anyway," she said.

"I'd like that," I complied.



Forty-five minutes later, after receiving the tour of all three floors of the house and and also her gardens, it was time for me to head on.



"Come back anytime," she said.

"Don't say that unless you mean it," I replied.

Sadly, I'll most likely never go back over there.



On these errands, people tell me to come back all of the time. Do they really mean it? I suppose I'll know when my hair is long and grey and I have chickens and gardens, and a beautiful old house, and a barn full of antiques.