Maine remaining bits of day one, day two, and the beginning of day 3

Truth be told, it's really the morning of my third day in Gardiner, Maine so this post will be covering day two and catching up a bit on day one. If you find that confusing, be thankful that I'm not trying to give your directions. I really did try to compose an entry for this blog early this morning while enjoying a cup of coffee on the corner at the end of the block at a place called A1 To Go, but I forgot to bring my power cord with me and this work horse of a laptop wasn’t keeping enough juice in it do keep up with my thoughts so I passed opting rather to update now.

Thursday was somewhat of a zen day in the “one hand clapping” sense as I was busy – yet not busy – at the same time. Or, perhaps, it would be more fair to say that while we were busy hanging the show, it was enjoyable, so it didn't seem like work.

The day started beautifully with a pristine azure sky and bright  sunshine. I stood quietly by the window and looked out upon the morning as the sun rose in the horizon. I could tell that even though the sun was abundant, the morning air was cold as I could see relatively heavy frost on the windshields on some of the autos in the parking lot directly behind the gallery, and sinewy clouds of steam hovering over the small river/massive stream that boundaries the same parking lot.

Much to my surprise, I saw a stout man in shorts and sandals fly fishing in the the same body of water. He seemed totally impervious to the cold - which I found amazing - and certainly something only a Maine native could be capable of. I kept watching him through the window as I brushed my teeth and I found his movements with the reel and the casting of the fly slightly mesmerizering. For a moment, I became lost in it. These thoughts were tempered though by my sheer amazement at this chap's ability to be standing by the edge of the water in 34 degrees wearing shorts, sandals, a sweatshirt and fishing vest. The trance ended just as quickly as it came about however when thoughts of locating a tumbler of morning coffee took control. . .

It wasn't long after a quick shower and a shave that I put on a few extra layers, grabbed my digital camera that I headed up the street to the coffee shop that I knew from reading the sign before opened at 7 AM. I had also read that they had free Wi-Fi. It seemed like the perfect morning retreat for this very early riser.

As I walked out the door of the building where I am staying, I was greeted with an gentle breeze that was scented by a lilac bush somewhere. The scent was delicious and sadly, it dissipated as easily as it had come upon me. As it was still rather early, the street was very quite save for the passing of a handful of locals on their way to their respective 9 to 5s. It gave me the perfect opportunity to snap some quick pics without having to deal with traffic and litter. . .

Here is the Mad Dog Pub which has in the span of only 36 hours has become one of my favorite places to hang out. It helps that it happens to be literally right next door to the gallery. It's really everything a great pub should be with a robust, red decor, friendly and witty staff (i.e. - Rebecca the bartender ) and wonderful food and drinks. I've met some great folks there as well - such as the Amy and Michele (twins), a really interesting drummer named Ginger (with whom I shared a "small world" moment via mutual connections to Nashville), and a friendly retired ranger who goes by the name of Buck.

The earlier mentioned "stream" is photographed here - though I now know from a brochure that I picked up that this is feed by the Kennebec River. On the map, it is simply listed as "stream". It runs directly behind the parking lot, behind the gallery, and it lives there as if a jewel on the street.

Of course, it has a history of flooding and I've seen a few of those posts about where historic high water marks have been painted and have heard tales of flooding of the past. This is one of the the unfortunate events that will inevitability occur though to towns built on the edges of stream-rivers. Occasionally, the waters rise. . .

Yesterday - the focus was for the most part - all about hanging the show and getting inventory into the computer system. I hung the show, Clare did the computer work, and Peter helped install some more lights. But one of my personal highlights of the day was when all three of us worked together to hang the sign out front of the gallery.

The sign, which was literally created over the original hanging sign from the building's previous incarnations, is rather heavy and it took all three of us plus the ladders to host it in the air, and over our heads to be bolted into place. I think it looks wonderful if I do say so myself ( I designed the logo) - but more than that, I can say that I had a helping hand in hanging that sign. There's something comforting about that - perhaps it's like smashing a bottle of champagne over the bow of a ship.

There is still much to get done today before the "soft" opening at 5 for the 1st Friday Gallery Walk here in Gardiner. I'll also be giving an artist talk to a group of Middle and High school students and I need to ponder what I want to focus on in the talk. Frankly, there are many different avenues worthy of discussion but I will only select a few and see how it develops. There's also several small items left to purchase and a few preparatory details that need to be addressed before the event.

Suddenly, I feel the clock ticking and realize that I need to step away from the keyboard and out of this bakery that charges full price for refills on coffee even though I purchased coffee at $1.90 (mediocre) and a chocolate croissant ( even more mediocre) just 35 minutes prior. By the way, it's not A-1 to Go, which I think I will frequent during the rest of my stay. . .

So - on that note - let me close with a random list of new things that I have learned so far since my arrival -

• While Maine is known for such grandiose seaside vacation spots such as Kennebunkport and  Campobello, the state overall is financially depressed and many of the locals have lifes very different from those whom can afford to visit such places ( i.e. - "Dolores Clariborne" )
• General Benidict Arnold led his regiment into battle not far from here before he decided to switch teams so to speak
• Lobster is still expensive, even in Maine
• People here really are more accustomed to the cold and seem to be able to get sunburned in the slightest bit of sun
• There is a local beer I like that begins with the letter P with a name that I couldn't pronounce properly until I had had more than one. . .
• People from the state over who drive badly and/or rudely are referred to as "Massholes".
• Portland is supposedly a very hip town. . .
• Only three types of trees grown in Maine  - though I'm not sure about the validity of that. . .
• There are no naturally occurring poisonous snakes in the state of Maine.

Well - much to do now, so on with the show. More to come.

Welcome to Maine. . .

Some of you may know that I have spent the better part of the last two months preparing for an art exhibit at the Monkitree Gallery in Gardiner, Maine. This will be the grand opening of the gallery which is co-owned by a very close friend of mine, Clare Marron and her partner Peter Maylon. 

I arrived this early in the afternoon after driving up from Delaware and am happy to say that I have found both the gallery and Gardiner to be lovely. 

Initially, the thought of driving to Maine from Delaware was a bit intimidating as I've never been particularity found of spending long stretches of time spent behind the wheel of a car navigating through lands unknown. But, I bit the bullet so to speak and set off on my journey yesterday morning beginning with a ferry trip across the Delaware Bay, a drive down the entire length of the Garden State Parkway, and then a variety of interstates which led me to choose a landing place of Bethel, Connecticut to spend the night before finishing the last leg of the journey this morning. By the way, if you ever find yourself at the Best Western Berkshire Inn  (a lovely and affordable hotel by the way) do yourself and favor and choose not to dine at the restaurant across the street as suggested by the front desk clerk. I can't remember the name of the place at the moment, which may be for the best as what I do remember is wildly overpriced mediocre food and a bartender with as much charisma as a constipated mortician.

When I awoke this morning, I glanced out the window to the surprise of steady rain, fog, and based upon the clouds of mist hovering about the exhaust pipes of passing vehicles, unseasonably cold temperatures. This created a bit of anxiety as I despise driving in such conditions - but I had 5 more hours ahead. After checking out, I picked up a huge cup of coffee at the nearest 7-11 and a sugar-free Red Bull, gassed up the tank and headed out.

The drive went better than I expected initially until I hit AM rush hour traffic around Hartford where there was also major road work occurring. After about an hour and half of white knuckle driving through terrible weather and road construction while battling well road versed locals maniacally flying through the lanes on their way to 9 to 5's, I managed to eventually get my groove on with the road and eventually found myself crossing into the state of Massachusetts. 

Now - this is where something interesting occurred. . . I was actually born in Massachusetts though I was raised in Kentucky after my family moved there in the late 1960s. There was something grounding about crossing the border into the state where I was born. Even though it really wasn't a major part of my life after the age of 5 ( though I still had - and do to this day -  family there and we did visit on a few occasions after the move), I guess part of me still felt connected to it. And here is where it gets a it uncanny - as I was pondering these thoughts, I noticed that there were suddenly very few other cars on the road, save a truck that I could see approaching in my rear view mirror. Also, at the same time, the rain had stopped and the sun had began appearing in the sky. The two events seemed to coincide. As the truck came upon and then passed - guess which state it was licensed in? - Yep. Kentucky. . .

I took that as a personal sign from someone, or somewhere, that I was indeed on the right path.

Tomorrow, I'll post a few photos of the progress of the hanging of the show at the gallery, discuss meeting some very cool locals here in Gardiner, and much more. Right now - it's been a long day and hitting the hay.

Do YOU know the way to San Jose?

I’ve been in the mood for the music of these two legends all week. I can’t seem to get enough of it and even created a special Pandora station with them just to soothe the craving. . .

Portrait of Billie

Hey folks – I spent most of my Sunday drawing which is something that goes well with a lazy, rainy Sunday afternoon. I scanned one sketch that I was pleased with into Photoshop, added some color – and ta da – a new drawing now available as a high-resolution, archival fine art print on my imagekind.com site at http://Sprouseart.imagekind.com.

Here’s the work titled “Portrait Of Bille”. Unframed, archival, high-resolution and quality prints are available at http://sprouseart.imagekind.com/store/imagedetail.aspx/26f22b96-fbd0-4f93-a259-5abf8fe9b99d/Portrait_Of_Billie starting at prices under $20!

Edwin Arlington Robinson

I don't usually post the vector or digital illustration that I create much as it often is work that I create for clients - however - this is a special case as this is a "Fine Art" vector illustration that I created in Adobe Illustrator especially for my exhibit in Gardiner, Maine at the Monkitree Gallery which opens on... May 15th.

Gardiner was the home of the three-time Pulitzer Prize winning poet Edwin Arlington Robinson. This full-color, high resolution, large format poster, which measures about 24" x 16", was made in his honor and of that of Gardiner, Maine as well.

Signed large-formatted prints will be available for purchase at the gallery. By the way - I can create beautiful, retro movie poster like works of art like this for you as well featuring you, or anyone else you wish. Contact me in interested.

Sunday Breakfast

My blueberry pancakes made completely from scratch. . .
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"Imagine if the Tea Party Was Black" – by Tim Wise

 

Let’s play a game, shall we? The name of the game is called “Imagine.” The way it’s played is simple: we’ll envision recent happenings in the news, but then change them up a bit. Instead of envisioning white people as the main actors in the scenes we’ll conjure - the ones who are driving the action - we’ll envision black folks or other people of color instead. The object of the game is to imagine the public reaction to the events or incidents, if the main actors were of color, rather than white. Whoever gains the most insight into the workings of race in America, at the end of the game, wins.

So let’s begin.

Imagine that hundreds of black protesters were to descend upon Washington DC and Northern Virginia, just a few miles from the Capitol and White House, armed with AK-47s, assorted handguns, and ammunition. And imagine that some of these protesters —the black protesters — spoke of the need for political revolution, and possibly even armed conflict in the event that laws they didn’t like were enforced by the government? Would these protester — these black protesters with guns — be seen as brave defenders of the Second Amendment, or would they be viewed by most whites as a danger to the republic? What if they were Arab-Americans? Because, after all, that’s what happened recently when white gun enthusiasts descended upon the nation’s capital, arms in hand, and verbally announced their readiness to make war on the country’s political leaders if the need arose.

Imagine that white members of Congress, while walking to work, were surrounded by thousands of angry black people, one of whom proceeded to spit on one of those congressmen for not voting the way the black demonstrators desired. Would the protesters be seen as merely patriotic Americans voicing their opinions, or as an angry, potentially violent, and even insurrectionary mob? After all, this is what white Tea Party protesters did recently in Washington.
Imagine that a rap artist were to say, in reference to a white president: “He’s a piece of shit and I told him to suck on my machine gun.” Because that’s what rocker Ted Nugent said recently about President Obama.

Imagine that a prominent mainstream black political commentator had long employed an overt bigot as Executive Director of his organization, and that this bigot regularly participated in black separatist conferences, and once assaulted a white person while calling them by a racial slur. When that prominent black commentator and his sister — who also works for the organization — defended the bigot as a good guy who was misunderstood and “going through a tough time in his life” would anyone accept their excuse-making? Would that commentator still have a place on a mainstream network? Because that’s what happened in the real world, when Pat Buchanan employed as Executive Director of his group, America’s Cause, a blatant racist who did all these things, or at least their white equivalents: attending white separatist conferences and attacking a black woman while calling her the n-word.

Imagine that a black radio host were to suggest that the only way to get promoted in the administration of a white president is by “hating black people,” or that a prominent white person had only endorsed a white presidential candidate as an act of racial bonding, or blamed a white president for a fight on a school bus in which a black kid was jumped by two white kids, or said that he wouldn’t want to kill all conservatives, but rather, would like to leave just enough—“living fossils” as he called them—“so we will never forget what these people stood for.” After all, these are things that Rush Limbaugh has said, about Barack Obama’s administration, Colin Powell’s endorsement of Barack Obama, a fight on a school bus in Belleville, Illinois in which two black kids beat up a white kid, and about liberals, generally.

Imagine that a black pastor, formerly a member of the U.S. military, were to declare, as part of his opposition to a white president’s policies, that he was ready to “suit up, get my gun, go to Washington, and do what they trained me to do.” This is, after all, what Pastor Stan Craig said recently at a Tea Party rally in Greenville, South Carolina.
Imagine a black radio talk show host gleefully predicting a revolution by people of color if the government continues to be dominated by the rich white men who have been “destroying” the country, or if said radio personality were to call Christians or Jews non-humans, or say that when it came to conservatives, the best solution would be to “hang ‘em high.” And what would happen to any congressional representative who praised that commentator for “speaking common sense” and likened his hate talk to “American values?” After all, those are among the things said by radio host and best-selling author Michael Savage, predicting white revolution in the face of multiculturalism, or said by Savage about Muslims and liberals, respectively. And it was Congressman Culbertson, from Texas, who praised Savage in that way, despite his hateful rhetoric.

Imagine a black political commentator suggesting that the only thing the guy who flew his plane into the Austin, Texas IRS building did wrong was not blowing up Fox News instead. This is, after all, what Anne Coulter said about Tim McVeigh, when she noted that his only mistake was not blowing up the New York Times.
Imagine that a popular black liberal website posted comments about the daughter of a white president, calling her “typical redneck trash,” or a “whore” whose mother entertains her by “making monkey sounds.” After all that’s comparable to what conservatives posted about Malia Obama on freerepublic.com last year, when they referred to her as “ghetto trash.”

Imagine that black protesters at a large political rally were walking around with signs calling for the lynching of their congressional enemies. Because that’s what white conservatives did last year, in reference to Democratic party leaders in Congress.
In other words, imagine that even one-third of the anger and vitriol currently being hurled at President Obama, by folks who are almost exclusively white, were being aimed, instead, at a white president, by people of color. How many whites viewing the anger, the hatred, the contempt for that white president would then wax eloquent about free speech, and the glories of democracy? And how many would be calling for further crackdowns on thuggish behavior, and investigations into the radical agendas of those same people of color?

To ask any of these questions is to answer them. Protest is only seen as fundamentally American when those who have long had the luxury of seeing themselves as prototypically American engage in it. When the dangerous and dark “other” does so, however, it isn’t viewed as normal or natural, let alone patriotic. Which is why Rush Limbaugh could say, this past week, that the Tea Parties are the first time since the Civil War that ordinary, common Americans stood up for their rights: a statement that erases the normalcy and “American-ness” of blacks in the civil rights struggle, not to mention women in the fight for suffrage and equality, working people in the fight for better working conditions, and LGBT folks as they struggle to be treated as full and equal human beings.

And this, my friends, is what white privilege is all about. The ability to threaten others, to engage in violent and incendiary rhetoric without consequence, to be viewed as patriotic and normal no matter what you do, and never to be feared and despised as people of color would be, if they tried to get away with half the shit we do, on a daily basis.
Game Over.

Tim Wise is among the most prominent anti-racist writers and activists in the U.S. Wise has spoken in 48 states, on over 400 college campuses, and to community groups around the nation. Wise has provided anti-racism training to teachers nationwide, and has trained physicians and medical industry professionals on how to combat racial inequities in health care. His latest book is called Between Barack and a Hard Place.

Good day

Ah - perfect weather for a stroll on the beach. . .
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Ink Drawing. . .

So – here is a pen and ink and pencil drawing which will serve as a sketch for a painting. This ties hand and hand into the “Send Michael To Maine” campaign that I have mentioned here as of late. So – some lucky person who was kind enough to help my campaign will receive this original art once I draw their name from the hat. I’ll be selecting more as the days pass – so, please make now the time that you visit http://www.itsbymichael.com/maine.html and help me get my show to Maine! Who knows? – maybe you’ll end up with an original work of art yourself. . .

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Truly my friends have a lovely back yard, , .
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Help an Artist Get To His Show. . .

Some readers of this blog may already know that I am scheduled for an exhibition of my work in May at the Monkitree Gallery in Gardiner, Maine.

The gallery is the brainchild of a dear, long time friend Clare and her partner Peter. They personally requested that I be the first artist to exhibit at the space for the grand opening event and I was accepted gladly. I am certain that The Monkitree Gallery will be a smashing success and an exciting and beneficial addition to the charming and historic downtown Gardiner. . .

However – a bit of a reality check now formulates. This particular artist ( that would be me) needs to find ways to fund as much of this trip as possible so that he can actually make it to Maine for this exhibit!

This recession has been particularly hard hitting on those of us who make our living in the arts. So – I’m shamelessly asking for your help. . .

In a non-traditional way, when you make a donation to the “Help Send Michael To Maine Campaign) you are helping to support the arts by helping to support a real honest-to-god live artist well as the opening of a new gallery during a recession.

You can read the compelling details (and make an open ended donation to the cause) by clicking here: www.itsbymichael.com/maine.html .

Pollen + Black car =

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A perk. . .

One great reason to live in Delaware on a Tuesday. . .
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Happy Easter all -

Wow. This has been one lovely Easter day here on the coast. Sunny, 74, and pristine blue sky equals perfection in my book.

My partner and I just returned from a glorious gourmet brunch buffet at Victoria’s restaurant by the ocean were we unashamedly ate like two gluttons. But, the buffet is truly spectacular with an amazing array of dishes (which may be seen here - http://www.boardwalkplaza.com/holiday_menus.htm).

Plus – you couldn’t get a better view as George’s BlackBerry photo proves.  

Oddly – the restaurant looks deserted here – but that’s only because he aimed over the heads of patrons, of which there were many. I have a feeling we’ll be back here again next Easter.

Next on the agenda – it’s off to the cinema to see Roman Polanski’s latest - “The Ghost Writer”. It’s getting rave reviews and I’m very excited about seeing it. Say what you will about Polanski  - a polarizing figure to say the least – but his work is pure genius. He is one of my favorite directors and certainly, in a popular opinion that I happen to share, one of the best of all time.

Easter

What Easter is complete without a stroll on the beach?
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Have a Big Easter Weekend All. . .

6 Billion Dollars a Year – wow.

I knew that art theft was a big business, but I didn’t know that it was that big. According to Christopher A. Marinello, the general counsel and worldwide recoveries manager of the Art Loss Register, art theft is a six-billion dollar a year industry.

You can read about some famous cases of art theft here - “http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Art_theft#Famous_cases_of_art_theft”.

Fortunately, at least in this story, two New York art dealers where lucky. . .

http://www.artsjournal.com/realcleararts/2010/03/art-theft-recoveries.html

What I find amazing is that the majority of this stolen art, must be, just by the nature of art itself, in private collections somewhere around the world (more likely than not in the collections of some rather nefarious and very wealthy people) or stashed away in some  clandestine wear house or hiding place. It’s a sad thought tightly wrapped in a package of greed and arrogance. . .

Because it's Friday. . .

It's Friday and I have started the day with some more Photoshop surreal imagery to kick of the weekend. Enjoy. . .

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Amazingly, these tulips, which I bought last Friday have hardly faded at all. Hmm. . .
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Watch your step. . .

Simply because I was in the mood to have some fun on Photoshop this morning. . .

Last Supper – SUPER Sized

I found this intriguing article from the LA Times about how the portions of food depicted in artistic renderings of the last supper over the last 1,000 years have grown tremendously. . .

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-sci-last-supper23-2010mar23,0,7531075.story

The story made me wonder just how many renditions of the last supper were out there in the world and I made a rather surprising discovery - when you place the words "last supper" in Google's image search, you get 1,170,000 results (over 3 million if you omit the quotation marks). This resulted in a "huh, who knew?" moment for me. While a large percentage of the results are of DaVinci's uber-famous version, there are many that are offer a wide, unique, and wonderfully creative variation on his theme so to speak and several that offer a completely different view altogether.

Once I gave it a bit of thought, it made perfect sense that there would be so many different versions created over the millennium. The artistic interpretation of events based upon stories (particularly those steeped in religious or spiritual themes) have served as fodder for the visually creative amongst us for as long as such tomes have been in existence.

Here is just a small sampling of what's out there which I found of particular interest. . .

Battle Star Galactica

Alix Beaujour

Star Wars by Eric Deschamps

Popeye’s Last Supper by ATLbladerunner

The Lego Last Supper

Simon Ushakov circa 1645

I could on and on. . .

Go wear or drink something green!

I have quite a bit of Irish blood in my veins making St. Patrick’s day quite a day of celebration, cultural, and national pride. So happy Lá Fhéile Pádraig all!

Help keep art in NJ public schools!

A very dear friend of mine and a brilliant art teacher, Karen Kiick, sent me out an email over the weekend of utmost importance regarding future of public education in New Jersey.

When I state that Karen is a brilliant art teacher (as well as artist) I don't say that lightly. Karen was a 2009 HS Division Award recipient by The Art Educators of New Jersey. She was also the 2005-2006 Camden County Teacher of the Year and a 2006 Geraldine R. Dodge Teacher Fellowship recipient. In 2005, she received the Governor’s Award for Excellence in Arts Education, was recognized as a Master Teacher by The Art Educators of New Jersey and received a Frederick L. Hipp Grant from The New Jersey Education Association. In 2000, she was awarded with a Geraldine R. Dodge Artist Initiative Grant. Karen speaks nationally on issues pertinent to the arts and public education.

Rather impressive eh?

I beseech of you to read the message and sign the digital petition by clicking on the link. As an artists and sometimes arts educator myself, I can't stress enough the importance of this. Also, in my opinion, whether you live in NJ or not is of no importance - please sign the petition. There is strength in numbers!

Here is the message:

Hello friends,
I am writing with a genuine concern for the future of public education in the state of New Jersey. Many of you, all connected to New Jersey in some way, even if only through me, can do your part.

Governor Christie is attempting to 'fix' the state's financial problems through massive cuts to education and other state funded organizations. State mandated cuts to my district alone could be over $3,800,000.00. While other New Jersey school districts may be affected to varying degrees, mine is being gutted.

Currently, to meet the governor's demands, the proposed cuts to Haddon Township High School, where I teach, are over $777,000.00. Twenty-five teachers in my district (8 in my HS) stand to lose their jobs and our high school art program will likely be reduced from 9 classes to 3. The 3D program that I spent the past 14 years creating will not exist.

Like most educators, I agree that a broken system needs to be fixed and that state budgets need to be balanced. However, our state government has not even engaged its teachers in a conversation that allows us to solve this problem in a way that does not hurt our children and our schools. Instead, we are being bulldozed and regarded as the enemy. Governor Christie is trying to sway public opinion against educators and convince the general public that teachers are the problem. His shock and awe strategies have all occurred alarmingly fast, and if allowed to proceed unchallenged, will destroy the quality programs we have worked so hard to create.

If you support public education and feel compelled to support it in New Jersey, please consider visiting the website below and signing a petition. This site also states facts and statistics about the success of New Jersey schools. As the petition says, "New Jersey's public schools are among the best in the nation. Reckless funding cuts will hurt our schools and our students' ability to learn. There are better ways to balance the budget. The last thing New Jersey should do is risk our quality public schools." Governor Christie makes his budget address on Tuesday, so please don't delay.

http://www.njkidsandfamilies.org/petition/


Thanks for your time and if you want, please share this request with your own mailing list.
Best,
Karen


If you'd like to read a short example of how our governor regards teachers, please read this article from a local, weekly magazine. The last few lines are the real zinger.
http://theretrospect.com/default.asp?sourceid=&smenu=1&twindow=Default&mad=No&sdetail=2307&wpage=1&skeyword=&sidate=&ccat=&ccatm=&restate=&restatus=&reoption=&retype=&repmin=&repmax=&rebed=&rebath=&subname=&pform=&sc=1155&hn=theretrospect&he=.com

If you'd like to see some examples of what high school students create in my classes, please visit:
http://www.karenkiick.com/
http://naea.digication.com/karenkiick/Welcome/published
http://www.kiickstart.com/

Pogo Mix.

I came across these online by chance and I'm so glad I did. They are the works of an Australian artist who goes by the name of Pogo and I think they are simply brilliant.

You can find much more by and about this artist at http://www.pogomix.net/.

Mind Games. . .

A dear friend of recently sent me an intriguing email with the title “Cool List!”. Within in I found a link to an article titled, “50 Things we know now that we didn't know this time last year”.

They list really did contain some fascinating items and I was glad to have read it, but one entry in particular really caused a double take. It was item number 12 which read “Scientists have discovered how to scan brain activity and convert what people are seeing or remembering into crude video images.”

“Hold on.”, I said aloud. “How did I miss that one last year?”

Immediately, Orwellian and unsettling imagery came into my head of glassy eyed, mouth gaping, drooling citizens hard-wired into sinister looking government controlled dream and thought recording machines (distressingly similar to something from Natalie Wood’s final film - “Brainstorm”).

But then, after I cast the reactionary and paranoid thoughts aside, I started to think more about the statement and the possible meaning of such a discovery – especially as an artist and visual communicator - as well as future uses.

First, some background information on the project from a very well written (at least in my non-neuroscientist based opinion) source http://www.theness.com/neurologicablog/?p=440.

According to the article, this technology is easily in it’s infancy producing only fuzzy, low resolution imagery after a very controlled setting. Nevertheless, (and you can read the details in the article above) I find the whole concept fascinating on so many levels that I simply don’t have the time needed to cover them all this morning.

But I will leave you with this non-traditional concept – if neuroscientist have created programs that can crudely decipher pre-existing brain waves, and please pardon my layperson’s handling of this, meaning brainwaves that they did not create – only found and “tuned” into. Then, doesn't that at least theoretically open the door for the possible viability of such presently unexplained phenomena of psychic messaging, empathic ability, psychometry and much more?

Ultimately, we, and indeed everything that we can know, are nothing more than a seemingly never ending ocean of pulsating energy. If a computer can be created to reconstruct imagery after decoding a person’s brainwaves than why can’t the human brain – the greatest computer in the known universe, do the same thing?

Pardon the cliché, but it does make the mind wonder. . .

By the way, the link to the list that started it all is here - http://www.att.net/s/editorial.dll?eetype=Article&eeid=7020757&render=y&Table=&ch=ne

Shutter Island

Last night, I had the pleasure of watching film master directorMartin Scorsese’s latest cinema treat, “Shutter Island”.

"Shutter Island" is the story of two U.S. marshals, Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo), who are summoned to a remote and barren island off the coast of Massachusetts to investigate the mysterious disappearance of a murderess from the island’s fortress-like hospital for the criminally insane. A period psychological thriller, S.I. offers a wonderfully spine-tingling and twisted ride on an unstable “mental” roller coaster composed of jagged metal, dim shadows, rust, cobwebs, fire and ice.

With an ensemble cast consisting of Leonardo Di Caprio, Ben Kingsley, Michelle Williams, Mark Ruffalo with a few outstanding and surprising cameos tossed into the mix, S.I. will supply you with enough “who done it” moments and “reality check” back flips to keep you guessing, and anticipating, to the last scene.

While not one of Scorsese’s best films - and a bit on the long side at 2.5 hours- (I can think of at least two scenes that could have been cut from the film without compromising the story line), the film is magnificently photographed and the acting, particularly DiCaprio, is top-notch. I can easily see him being nominated for an Oscar for this performance, should it stay within the Academy’s memory banks for that amount of time. 

Currently, the film has a 67% ranking on www.rottentomatoes.com ( http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/1198124-shutter_island/) and I suggest that you check out that link for detailed information.

By the way, the dream sequences are phenomenal and, in the opinion of this visual artist, some of the best work of that nature that I have seen, perhaps ever.

And remember, everything in this film is a clue.

Hate email. . .

Without going into much detail, over the weekend, I received a "hate email" from an irate artist in response to a comment that I made regarding her art that I posted on an online art critique forum from six years ago. . .

That's right - Six. Years. Ago.

It took quite a bit of brainstorming at 6 AM to remember just what this person was referring to, but I found it. It was from an online visual art collective that I joined many years ago. While I was once quite active in the group, it's been quite some time since I've engaged in anything there over the last few years other than a quick and occasional check in. But her name was vaguely familiar, and with a few clicks in the search engine, I located her and the now, at least when it comes to the web, ancient post.

Amazingly, it really wasn't even a critique of her work as much as it was an admonishment. This artist took it upon herself to post an image of her work (which really was quite terrible) and then proceeded to give it a 10 rating (the highest) as well as a glorious comment about the work. She finished off the review by signing another person's name.

Uh huh.

I won't give her name or the name of the site - but I will say that her "painting" was intended to be a portrait of Cleopatra apparently engaged in some sort of "walk like an Egyptian" dance. She had also glued fake jewels and some gold lame material to the image as if it were a dress of some sort. Snickering aside, the work was truly wretched and looked like something that a 2nd grade student would bring home in exchange for sweet motherly praise and a cookie.

At the time, 6 years ago mind you, I was very involved with this artists' portal and took the critiques rather seriously as many of the artists used them as educational tools. Seeing that an artist felt the need to post it and then give it the highest rating available, at the time, really got my goat so to speak.

The work, which had been posted for quite some time prior to her self-critique, had received no comment at all from anyone. In my opinion, that was quite possibly due to the fact that no one could find anything positive to say about it in the forum.

So, the artist, clearly desperate for some attention or praise for her work, freakishly posted some for herself.

My response to that was

"Please correct me if I am wrong, but did you just give YOURSELF a 10 rating on this and sign it with some other name?

I'm not saying that is the case (though it does appear to be),however, if it is, it is not only quite dishonorable, it flies in the face of everything that this Critic's Corner is about.

Please convince us that this is not the case or admit the error in judgment and save your honor as an artist."


Was I too harsh? Perhaps, but if so, tough. If an artist really wants to create work and display it in public, do so, but have the balls to deal with the consequences or get out of the studio. Also, if an artist is so desperate to have someone acknowledge their work as substantial to the point that they fabricate their own spectacular praise, well, then - perhaps they should drop the brush and pick up a microphone en route to the next American Idol auditions where lack of talent seems to be glorified in an "emperor's-new-clothesesque" orgy of self adoration on a continuous basis.

To be fair, the artist did ask me in the email if I were a moron not to see that what she was posting was a quote from a collector praising her work (regardless of the fact that she placed no quotations around the quote or even suggested in the post that she was posting someone else's review).

I still stand by my original observation that she did something stupid and was caught with her hand in the painterly cookie jar so to speak. Oddly enough, she could have easliy cleared up the issue with an explanitory response post at least with a "I'm sorry, I misunderstood the process here" slant to it - but she didn't.

Rather, she waited 6 years to send me a 4 paragraph hate email in the middle of the night.

I can only assume that she must have freed herself from her restraints, chewed through the walls of her padded cell, and made it to the office computer in the middle of the night to do so. . .

The Crowd

Fortunately for me, Turner Classic Movies aired the masterful 1928 silent classic, “The Crowd” last night. Unfamiliar with the film and on a  whim strengthened by curiosity, I decided to watch it.

Cinema wise, it was one of the best decisions that I have made in a long time.

Recognized as one of the finest examples of American silent film and masterfully directed by screen legend King Vidor, “The Crowd” centers on ambitious but undisciplined New York City office worker John Sims (played by James Murray) who meets and marries Mary (Eleanor Boardman).

They start a family, struggle to cope with marital stress, financial setbacks, and tragedy, all while lost amid the anonymous, pitiless throngs of the big city.

Sound bleak? Well, yes, ultimately, it is – but it is so much more than one story of shattered dreams. It is also a heart wrenching story of endearing love, and visual parable against vanity, folly, and arrogance, a visually historic documentary of class struggle and the gritty urban life of living in New York City in the 1920’s and more.

All of this packed into 90 minutes and without words. Amazingly, King Vidor pulls it off in spades creating a film that, even after close to 80 years, is still prescient in meaning and scope.

(King Vidor)

Not only are the performances absolutely top notch ( it’s easy to forget that this is a pre-sound film as the actors seem much more natural than in their portrayals than most silent films and frequently, you are able to read the lips which gives an even deeper nuances into the characterizations.)

And, visually, there are certain scenes that are just stunning and King Vidor paved the way for modern American cinematography, It’s easy to understand after watching this mesmerizing film why it was chosen in 1989, to be one of the first 25 films to be selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant".

There is a phenomenal blog entry on the details of this film here http://silent-volume.blogspot.com/2009/12/crowd-1928.html which I highly recommend if interested.

But I couldn’t finish this entry without mentioning the fascinating back story of the leading actor in “The Crowd”, James Murray.

Stunningly handsome and naturally talented, Murray was lured into show business while working as a doorman at the Capitol Theater on Broadway and 51st Street (where ''The Crowd'' later opened). In the 1920s he hitchhiked to Hollywood from the Bronx, New York to try to succeed as an actor. After several years of work, mostly as an extra, with little hope of a starring role, he was "discovered" by director King Vidor, who saw Murray walking by on the MGM lot. Vidor was about to begin work on a new film and thought Murray might look right for the lead. Murray, however, failed to show up for the meeting he arranged with Vidor, apparently thinking it to be a joke. Vidor subsequently tracked him down, and Murray's performance in The Crowd was lauded by both the critics and the public. Before his work in The Crowd, Murray had starred alongside Joan Crawford in Rose-Marie in 1928.

Despite success in subsequent MGM films such as Lon Chaney's Thunder, Murray's life soon took a turn for the tragic that eerily mirrored his role in The Crowd. Excessive drinking led to a scarcity of roles, and by 1934 he was panhandling on the street. In an instance of extreme coincidence, he tried panhandling a man who turned out to be King Vidor. Vidor offered Murray a role in his upcoming film, Our Daily Bread, but Murray turned it down, deeming it an act of pity. Decades later, Vidor was still so haunted by Murray's tragic decline that he wrote an unrealized screenplay about his life, "The Actor".

In 1936, Murray drowned after falling from the string-piece of a pier into the Hudson River. The medical examiner determined that the cause was asphyxia by submersion, without ruling on whether it was an accident or suicide.^[1] He was interred at the Calvary Cemetery in Woodside, Queens, New York. At the time of his death he was married to actress Marion Sayers.

Now that, my devotees, is irony pure and simple. In closing, let me suggest that if you ever happen to find the opportunity of watching this masterpiece, take it. My experience has catapulted this film to the number one spot of my personal list of all time favorite silent classics knocking down Metropolis, Greed, The Battleship Potemkin, and a few others down a few notches. And that, wasn’t an easy thing to do.

I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles. . .

Truthfully, I have never experienced as much snow in my life as I have experienced over the last 3 weeks. The massive amount, now being officially documented as the heftiest snowfall in the area's recorded history, was rare enough for the mid-atlantic region and particularly rare for this part of Delaware as we are usually exempt from snow of any accumulation due to our proximity to the shore.

I won't go into details of the wintry deluge as there are plenty of other blogs and media resources for that - and frankly, after living through the thick of it, I find even blogging about it tiresome to say the least.

What I did find of interest - Paris, one of my favorite places in the world. It just so happened that two of my Netflix.com rentals that managed to arrive in my box just prior to the week long weather related stoppage of any of my mail had one thing in common - Paris.

Thankfully, as I did not lose power as many did in my area, I discovered a great way to pass the hours while stuck inside as the wild and wintry winds whip about the way, is to watch films - Preferably with a jug or two of red wine.

One of these films, a sublime work of art directed by the genius filmmaker and co- founders of the French New Wave François Truffaut, was titled "The 400 Blows".

This film is a true gem. While you may find all of the details listed on the wikipedia.com link above, let me say that personally, this masterpiece contains all of the absolute ingredients needed to create a perfect film experience. Believable, compelling, and likable characters that and storyline, wonderful performances, stunning cinematography ( which now after 50 years also has the added essence of being historic as well), and of course - Paris.

In the film, 13 year old troubled youth Antoine Doinel ends choosing to live on the streets of Paris rather than continue attending class in his oppressive school or living in the cramped apartment that he shares with his disinterested, vain and ultimately selfish mother and his bumbling, heavy handed stepfather.

I won't go into details, but take it for granted that his decision ends up being life-changing offering him a definitely hard knock path to follow.

Interestingly enough, the English title is a straight translation of the French, but misses its meaning, as the French title refers to the expression "faire les quatre cents coups", which means "to raise hell". On the first American prints, subtitler and dubber Noelle Gilmore gave the film the title Wild Oats, but the distributor did not like that title, and reverted it to The 400 Blows.

The actor, played by 15 year old Jean-Pierre Léaud is a screen revelation. Truffaut's decision to cast him was pure genius. In the film, there is a compelling scene where Antoine is being interviewed by a social worker of sorts and he is presented with a string of personal questions about his past. I read after watching the film, that that particular scene was actually Jean-Pierre's screen test and Truffaut was so moved by it and so certain that he was the perfect fellow for the role, the he incorporated the scene into the film itself.

I'll save my review of my second Paris themed film, the erotically charged, sexually explicit, yet ultimately yawn producing "The Dreamers" for another day. Rest assured that if you're looking for the authentic French New Wave film experience, rent "The 400 Blows", better yet, make it a double feature and add Godard's classic, "Breathless" to the mix.

But first, toss on your beret, dangle a thick cut cigarette from your lower lip, and grab a cheap jug of red wine. . . because it's going to take a few trips around the old Eiffel Tower for this snow to melt. . .

From the mouth of babes. . .

I must share a fascinating story with a 125 year history that I have managed to become a key player in involving the photograph of a little girl named Lydia.

About four years ago, a close friend of mine rented a retail space in on old street front building in a small town in New Jersey where I was living at the time.

For many years at that location, stood a rather disheveled curio-consignment shop. The shop, which seemed to grow more and more chaotic with passing each year, eventually proved too much for the aging tenant and the space was rented to my friend who used it as a storefront for showcasing his hand painted furniture and faux painting business.

While renovating the space into his new storefront, my friend and his wife experienced some rather unusual occurrences that most would describe as a “haunting”. Several times, rocking chairs on display would begin quickly rocking back and forth on their own accord with no breeze to cause it as would the doors to the rooms and cabinets. I personally witnessed a heavily closed door – complete with a clicking sound of a turned doorknob mind you, creakily and steadily open as if being slowly pulled by something mischievous only to be slammed shut with a wildly loud bang.

The most disconcerting occurrences according to my friend however, were the loud moan and growling like sounds and scattering footsteps noises that seemed to emit, from no other place of course, then the dark and windowless basement. . .

As far as I can remember, there were no light fixtures of any kind in the basement keeping it dark as a cave at all times. Personally, having seen my fair share of things that go bump in the night, I couldn’t imagine descending down the rickety, wooden stairs which disappeared into nothing but cold, inky darkness. However, one day, my brave friend had had enough. He grabbed a flashlight, clenched his teeth, and went for it.

The basement, he discovered, was empty – all except for the upper corner of an old photograph that he noticed in the beam of his flashlight that was sticking up from between a crevice in the old wooden floor.

It was a photograph of Lydia. Lydia Bishop Maiden to be exact. . .

Not long after his discovery, while I was visiting his shop one afternoon, my friend kindly gave me the photograph as a gift. He knew that I collected antique photographs and that I use them frequently in my work or model paintings after the subjects of them.

I thought it was a very lovely photograph of a well dressed Victorian era little girl of perhaps 2 or 3 years old. After he told me the story of how he came about it, I became even more enamored with with the little cardboard backed bit of history.

While the original photograph had faded noticeably over the years with a bit of tattering on the lower edge (the above work is a version that I restored in Photoshop), it was still in relatively very good condition and I welcomed it into my collection.

I recognized the photo as a “cabinet card” which was a late 19th century form of studio photography that was wildly popular in the post Civil War United States until being replaced by the even more popular brownie camera. I was also particularly taken with the back of the photograph.

Someone, over the last 125 years or so, had written the name “Lydia Bishop Maiden” in pencil above a beautiful and flourished photographic studio and emblem.

Eventually, I discovered that the name of the photographer who took the image was W.G. Entrekin who had a studio at 4384 Main Street in Manayunk, Pennsylvania which is right outside of Philadelphia. According to information that I found on this wonderful site http://craigcamera.com/dag/, Entrekin learned photography in 1856 before traveling for some time with a gallery on wheels. In 1861 he was employed by the Army of the Potomac. After the Civil War, he established galleries at Manayunk, Norristown and Philadelphia, Pa. and he was also credited with the invention of the Entrekin Burnisher for photography.

To an antique photography lover like myself, this information proved fascinating. So, excited by my new addition, I took the photograph of the young Lydia into my collection, scanned it, digitally restored it in Photoshop and posted it along with my findings on my flickr.com account.

After I estimated the photo to have been taken in the late 1880’s/early 90’s based upon Lydia’s clothing and other visual clues and posted the image, I placed it with my collection of hundreds of other antique and vintage photographs and, quite frankly, forgot about it.

Two years pass.

Then, quite unexpectedly, I received the most interesting email that read. . .

“I have been researching my wife's family and stumbled across the Lydia May photo. Lydia is my wife's Great Grandmother. Lydia married WM, who had FM, then FM, my father in law, who is 80 years old. We would love to hear about the photograph.”

Initially, I couldn’t figure out what he was referring to as the email came to me from a form on my web site http://www.sprouseart.com/, and I’ve no antique photos posted there. Eventually, I brushed away the cobwebs from my memory and found the reference point on my flickr.com account.

Still not quite certain that this was the same Lydia (after all, there was no “May” listed on my photograph), I emailed him my story of how I had come across the image and the history that I had been able to piece together from it. I then received this response. . .

“That is a great story and back ground. To give you some background Lydia May Bishop was born May 4th, 1882 in Manayunk and lived there until she died in 1944 at the age of 62 and was buried in Westminster Cemetery, PA. So your estimate on dates, giving she looks to be ~2 years old, this would have been taken around 1884, so you are on the money. I have her father as John Bishop who died in Philadelphia, but I do not have any other details on him. Lydia married William Henry Maiden from Madeley Wood, England in 1905 at the age of 23. She had 5 children, all died starting from 1989 to finally EBM died in Florida in 2006 at the age of 96. Her oldest child FJM Sr. had four children, F. Jr. being the oldest and my father in law, and then his 3 sisters, all still living and all born in Manayunk.
I don’t know how her ghost was relocated to Haddon Ave., guess I have some digging to do. I do know she had a sister-in-law, RJM, died right around the corner in Haddonfield, which is where we live now. That would be my best guess at how the picture moved to NJ.
After college at West Chester, my father-in–law got a job teaching in Stratford, New Jersey where he met RH and had 3 children, my wife being one of them.”

And that is how I became, in my opinion, a key player in the full 125 year circle return of this photograph of Lydia May Bishop Maiden to her family.

The fellow that contacted me (I replaced any prevalent names with initials in the snippets above) asked in a gentle manner if I would be at all interested in selling him the photograph. I responded with a “no”, but I did inform him that I would gladly give him the photograph in the same way that it was given to me.

I feel that in this manner I am but a link in a long and magical chain centered around a small and delicate antique photograph of a beautiful child that somehow managed to survive 125 years that, quite literally perhaps, cried out in the darkness in order to be returned to the family that she created so many years ago.

I can live with that decision quite happily.

I can’t remember if the possibly paranormal activity in my friend’s shop ceased after his discovery of the photo, but I do know that I had no such issues after it was placed in my care.

And I can’t imagine that her descendants will either. . .

And now the morning news. . .

I usually never do this, but as I was sipping my morning coffee, I clicked on the news. The brilliant Tom Tomorrow has majestically expressed my sentiments exactly in the cartoon panel above.

Within 5 minutes during a switch or two between the major news networks, I saw that a group of American, Baptist, religious zealots have been arrested in Haiti for kidnapping. They tried to mask their bourgeois arrogance through piety and the statement that “God instructed them” to go there and start grabbing undocumented children at random to take back the the good ole’ USA. It didn’t seem to matter that at least one third (so far) of the 30+ children that they “rescued” weren’t orphaned at all. Even though these non-orphaned children were actually crying and begging the do-gooders to phone their parents at the phone numbers that they had supplied, their laments fell on the deaf ears of the self-appointed rescuers. Their hearing had no doubt been compromised by the loud voice of their God whispering instructions to them. I hope their God has the number of a good attorney. . .

And then of course came the usual “let’s all be frightened” commercials instructing me as to why I should be frightened by the possibility of contracting the flu, of having a heart attack, of not being able to get it up, and much more.

And then, once I heard the CNN morning anchor say with a straight face to an Obama administration financial spokesperson that there are parts of the country where residents would argue that “making $250,000 a year does make them middle class” I turned off the news, walked over to the window, and quietly finished my coffee while watching a flock of geese silently fly through a pristine sky over the recent blanket of snow that was being lit by the golden hues of a rising sun. . .