2:18 pm: i'm taking this one even slower than usual, putting a lot more attention on the figures, which thus far are the only things i've painted. leaving them alone in a vast space with a red drawing.
1:14 pm: after listening to santa fe/beautiful obsession: at his very best, van morrison may be one of our closest singers to a bard. a poet/storyteller.
12:55 pm after listening to the four insurgent generales by ernst busch and chorus:
at the moment, reading a horrific rolling stone article about the dire situation in yemen, and after listening to this song, which at the time made people aware of the slaughter going on in franco's spain i began to wonder: who will write the yemeni version of los quatros generales? who will tell the story to the world of the of the saudi rockets and bombs killing thousands of innocent civilians?
11:24 am: mikela and i met on the island of mykonos in 1984. this is her on a fishing boat off the coast of a still virgin santorini a few days after we met.
i just updated the section of my story page about my son dimitri. click on the story menu item above and scroll down to DIMITRI
11:02 am: re: homer....a person, a group of people....we don't know really. we're pretty sure the epics: the odyssey and the illiad were meant to be sung. so what would that have sounded like? was there wine involved? why, in homer's telling of the story, do women play such an important role as decision makers at a time when women were property? why were the odyssey and the illiad so non-linear in construction?
10:46 am: squeezed my colors, ready to rock. A BRIEF STATEMENT IN FAVOR OF RANDOM: i love random/abstract. it's my type, according to certain psychological/emotional models. so i've got my shuffle on. byzantine followed by james taylor (ron hates him) the dylan, prokofiev, led zeppelin:over the hills and far away....and on it goes. keeps the energy moving. mikela's in saguache (30 miles across the valley) for a meeting and i'm here in my magical big box, switching watch straps, moving my brush, remembering to let go of the past every moment. the song of the sirens is the past. don't go there. just don't.
that said, let's go into my past. birchwoods. ca. 1955 rainy morning after breakfast, gloria leads us in songs. i never found out whence this one came or why or if it was a translation from, say the russian. can you see the waving grains and hills? and can you see what seems to be a young boy's head, with flaxen locks that could be mistaken for blowing grasses? ah, but no,no.........we don't even want to ask about ifka
beyond the hills
of gold and green
a young boy's head
is plainly seen
a hooya hooya hooya-ya, swiftly flowing water
a hooya hooya hooya-ya, swiftly flowing lava.
but ah 'tis not his lifted head
'tis ifka's castle spire instead!
a hooya hooya hooya-ya..........etc.
9:03 am: LEFT: looking east at crestone peak yesterday arounf 6 pm; RIGHT: the same view an hour later.
i'll be heading to my studio in about an hour to begin painting parade 51, which i began yesterday afternoon. (see yesterday's post). i'll post updated pics as available.
i haven't forgotten about expanding on yesterday's comments about homer's odyssey. true to the form of that epic, my comments will occur in a non-liniar fashion.....