Sisters

I had two daughters.  They were not inseparable.  Actually they were leaps and bound different.  But they were sisters.  They attacked life differently.  One stayed in the shelter of books, and expanded her imagination, and her faith.  The other grasped hold of the brass ring of the world’s excitement, and lived among the outcasts, the socially deprived and the fringe.

If they were colors, they would be complimentary.  If they were lines, one would not say the were parallel, but the did have point of crossing.  If they were tones.  One would be a bold brass horn, the other a piccolo or the Brazilian fan flute.  Yet they were first sisters.

I can see them standing in the courtyard, wrapped in sunshine, fresh are and silk.  They knew each other in those moments of serenity, where no one could touch them.  That inner sanctum of friendship and love, that only sisters know.

Sisters

Advertisements

Dancing on Gold

Dance is a celebration of life, and sometimes a celebration for the next life.  Dance is the cultural provision for joy.  We should all celebrate the good of life, rather than highlight death, destruction, social anarchy and uncivil behavior — that’s the job of the news media.  Dance is always a good thing unless under the influence of some bad drugs or mojo.  Are their any societies without it?

Depressed people need to dance.  Sick people need to dance.  Dance invigorates, and it pumps us up.  So get of your duffs and dance.  Find a song to inspire you if you don’t have the music in you.

Music was important to many people in my family, though I don’t remember them dancing at all. My mother, especially, was big into musicals, and I’m not sure when but by the time I was 6, I had seen all types of groups and musical, including Up with People. You may not be old enough to remember that, but I think dance can excite you, throughout your years. That’s where I remember first seeing a group dance.

Today, hip hop continues the crazed dance moves, though there are plenty of other talented dancers working broadway shows and even in Vegas, baby.  Whether it be Michael Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal” moves, or something more akin to hopping about like your pants are on fire.  Keep moving.

The piece was like a dream for me.  I saw it when I awoke and it took a few attempts to get the essence down.  Hard to picture dance, as movement continues, long after your first blink.

Bottlemen

The bottlemen live in your neighborhood.  Their faces set always to the east.  They want nothing more than to remain buried in the sands of time.  The poison of their thoughts perfume the world with a scent of apathy.  The fragile world, awaiting a casket of wisdom, lost to men and animals alike, wonders if the powers will succumb to this vileness.

The ancient earth stirs, making a tumult of fiery ejaculations, crushing the stony foundations of destiny.  The bottlemen fear the stony unknown and the rocky face of the future.  They would hide, but they will not be moved for fear grips their shiny surfaces.  They will only melt under the heat of change.

 

Imagination’s reach

Find the differences

Do you ever see things. I mean in your imagination. I sometimes do, and then I think about how to put that into a piece of artwork. I recently saw a collection of soldiers, and that lead to doing this piece. I think is is extremely amazing how we can step out of conscious thought and see things, or even hear voices. You don’t have to listen to the voices if they tell you to just chop off their heads — just remember that’s the Queen of Hearts.

{In this piece, you will be able to find slight differences in the five soldiers marching across the tiled floor. This is a fun game especially for children. I can still remember circling the odd shapes and designs in the Highlights magazine, and the find the differences or find the exact match pictures. If you have children, they might like to note the differences in the five soldiers — of course, you may want to have to print the picture out on a color printer.}

Soldiers themselves don’t represent much good to many. They see soldiers are perpetuating violence, but they can be thought of as protectors– there to help and not harm. The guns though, they are meant to arm. Armies care for their arms like one cares for a baby. Their arms are their lives. Unfortunately, no matter how much we don’t want to have soldiers, and we do want to turn the weapons into plowshares, they are a big part of the modern world. Can you think of some good uses for some of the left over atomic weapons?

But back on track– so when you think of having an army in front of you, defending you against your foes, then you might think positively about armies. No one likes to be left vulnerable to others armies, however. It can get sort of twisted. Everything is twisted and perverted, and that’s why I like imagination: its fun and free, and doesn’t cause pain and suffering. Also it doesn’t have side effect like mind-altering drugs produce.

The trick with imagination is to get the ideas in your head onto paper as quickly as possible — it takes discipline, a sharpened pencil and a pad of paper handy. (Not like I’m the one who has it all together here.) No, the paper and lead are not always next to the bed — especially if you want to capture a dream sequence.

Commuting and Drawing

Commuter headed to Union Station

I spend more time in my life commuting than I care to do, but I do most of my writing, editing and drawing on the train (Metrolink), so there is a point to my commute, besides making the roads safer and less congested.  Yes, I am green and choose to be, but sometimes sleep is good too.  At least I’m not asleep on the road.

I drew this piece using my little Targus mouse.  There was this woman with the bright, cheerful red coat who got on the train before me.  She proceeded down the aisle and sat facing me.  She must have been having that type of commuting day when you sit down and crash.  I get those when my wife snores, or when something disturbs me, especially my growling empty stomach.

You see drawing with a mouse is simply difficult.  I am not one to master people, so I just did the best I could with colors, and I think you see the happiness of the woman who is sleeping.  Many of us would prefer to be asleep then awake.  The world is not a dream, so dreams are often more pleasant then the world.  I blurred out all others, though they were chatting and reading papers, drinking more brew; others making that business connection on the cell or checking the email on their wireless laptop.

I chose to draw the innocent, Maslow-based person (sleep before food, food before conversation, etc.) vacationing on the commute in her dream world.  I take to writing and illustrating most of my train rides.  I’ll probably never see the unknown sleep again, but I am left with the memory of her just instantly switching off her mind on this 40-minute ride into Los Angeles and Union Station.