I started November completely intending to do the Art Every Day Month thing. Then I got really busy at work as schedules slipped and pressures mounted. None of it my doing, but all of it meaning I had to spend several nights working instead of painting.

Much to my chagrin. And utter annoyance.

Then I came down with a stomach flu last Tuesday that put me down for the count. I’m finally (and skip ahead because a TMI part is next) able to comfortably stay away from a toilet for more than an hour or more. Whatever this thing was, it had me down for 2 full days and my bowels haven’t quite made friends with me again until today. At least, they’re no longer my enemy. So that’s improvement.

However, we decided to head up to my in-laws for Thanksgiving… the week I was planning to use to catch up on paintings sitting around, cluttering my office (which really needs to be cleaned out entirely, which I was also going to do). I’m considering rekajiggering my art bin and seeing if I can manage to sneak up a basic paint set and get at least one small painting done while I’m there.

Saturday is my birthday, dear void, so I’m taking that day off from just about everything except lettin’ the wife “fuss” with me, as she calls it. Maybe she’ll paint my toes, maybe she’ll do breakfeast in bed, maybe we’ll sit around and play Super Mario Wii all day. I don’t care. But it’s gonna be slack.

I’ve got 2 more weeks of work after Thanksgiving and then I’ve got THREE WHOLE WEEKS off from work. It’s going to feel strange. But I’m going to make the most of it. I hope to have enough backlog of work to couple with my newer pieces that I can get a good eBay or Etsy Store (or both, why not?) going to list my paintings for sale. I’m also going to see if I can finagle a cheap HD camcorder (maybe the Mino or the Creative Vado) and make some YouTube videos.

Just exploring to see what works.

(FYI, posts may be sparse until the weekend – the tech possibilities at my in-laws aren’t so hot – they don’t even have wireless - ack!)

I had a painting I had done about 2 years ago when my son was 2. It was just me and him messing around. Mostly me trying to keep oil paints out of a 2 year old’s eyes and mouth. It began life as a terrible self-portrait so I intentionally ruined it with my kid. I scrubbed the canvas and then I sanded it down. Oil paint isn’t the best sanded material, in case you’re wondering. So I decided to go over it with a dark, dark brown. It’s been that way for 2 months. I have 2 other self-portraits prepared, but I’ve lost the muse on them. I might just paint over them.

So it goes.

I took a picture of myself with my digital camera, cropped it and shrunk it to fit the 11″ x 14″ canvas, and modified it in The GIMP (Photoshop-like clone for Linux) with the “photocopy” filter. That basically takes it down to an outlined drawing. Then I opened OpenOffice Presenter (PowerPoint clone) and made a 1-pager with a portrait orientation and a size to match the canvas. I dragged my image onto it, printed at actual size (my printer only does 8.5″ x 11″, so it printed 3 sheets’ worth), I traced the details I was concerned with onto tracing paper, rubbed white conte crayon onto the back, and then re-traced over the tracing paper to transfer the image to the canvas.

Next, I’ll spray it with fixative to make sure the conte crayon drawing doesn’t smudge. Then it’s ready for painting.

I haven’t decided how to paint this yet. I’m thinking that I should keep it dark. And drippy. And maybe lace in some wording/verbiage as it comes to me. I might just pull out enough lights to make it recognizable, attack it with thinner, pull out some more lights, and thrash with thinner again. I liked the effect I got yesterday so I want to get to it before it makes me want to pound nails through it. Hmm, now THERE’S an idea…

I know I’ve said it, but I’ll say it again: sometimes you HAVE TO break the toy. You must. You can’t help it. You just gotta. It’s like throwing your keys down a storm drain and not being able to get them back again. You get the urge that most people resist. But not you. Oh, no, not you. You dirty bitch.

Taking chances on a painting can be awkward. Sometimes you make total crap. I mean total, fuck me I can’t believe I call myself an artist, crap. Crapola. Shitty shitty bang bang.

Sometimes, though, it just works. Like this painting. I was going to call this something else, but the painting, as is their wont, spoke to me as I painted it. It told me that I was on the wrong path, it whispered, “A little dab of light here, a subtle variation in shadow here… now BREAK IT, bwa ha ha.” Yes, it gave me the bwa ha ha evil laugh. I swear. You’da heard it if you was here, I tells ya.

You’re never gone, are you? Sometimes you just hide. In the shadows. And most people never look. You’re a crafty little demon! Ah, but you’re not going to get away with it this time. I’m gonna look. I’m a gonna stare ya down. I’m gonna grab on with a Chuck Norris fucking death grip and not let go. I’m gonna go where others dare not.

I’m gonna see it. You. Me. Hidden. In the shadows. Because I dared to look. Come, hold my hand as I swan dive over the edge, into the abyss!

(I painted this alla prima… then I came back with a brush full of thinner and smeared the crap out of it. Then I refined some more. Then I took a 2″ brush and splashed red all over… then I took that brush, dipped it in thinner, and whipped thinner at the canvas repeatedly… then I painted back in some parts… then I used a small brush and whipped thinner at the canvas a few more times. I was having too much fun. If that’s possible. BTW, I fucking LOVE this painting. I’m considering labeling it NFS)

“Nagelesque,” 9″ x 11″, oil on canvas board, NFS (this baby’s a keeper!)

I finished my “Nagelesque” painting last night. I decided to do some experiementing – I used my typical restricted palette (Cad Yellow Light, Alizarin Crimson, French Ultramarine, Burnt Umber, Titanium White) and I did a quick undercoating with a #10 brush… then decided I didn’t like that so I came back through with a palette knife for the rest of it. Thick, impasto painting.

To do this, I had to mix up a lot of paint to start out with, which is something I don’t normally do.  That was good for me. The first time, with the light purple, I didn’t mix up enough and had to mix more, so that sort of forced me to be able to duplicate my results. Which isn’t as easy as it sounds.

I decided to skip the underpainting, which I think was a mistake. I wanted the skin to be whitest white… so I left it unpainted. I wanted to see how that worked. Well, lemme tell ya, with no underpainting, the fine black outlining was tough because it didn’t flow, it stuck on the canvas’ rough texture. I had issues with a consistent line quality and came away a bit frustrated. Lesson learned – do the underpainting.

I didn’t take a picture of the completed piece last night – it was getting late and I was tired, and I’d really like to get some natural light on it because I’m tired of yellow and dark and non-representative images of my paintings. Ugh.

I also prepped another canvas with a more brownish mixture of Payne’s Gray (my own mixture). I’ve got 4 prepped canvases now. Quite honestly, I’m once again at the fear point of “oh, FSM, what if I ruin the drawing and underpainting?” that paralyzes me and makes me procrastinate on doing them at all. I need to remember: Break the Toy (TM).

But in the spirit of Art Every Day Month, you don’ t have to actually do something every day, so I watched the rest of the movie, “The Cool Kids,” about art in the 70s in southern California while the world was going stark raving mad over the New York gallery scene. It was a good movie and I always love seeing people explain their breakthroughs as mere epiphanies brought about from just plain working at their art – like the guy that reduced his paintings to simple horizontal lines over a solid color because “everything either contributes or takes away from the painting.”

I love those moments. Just wish they’d happen to me more! But I suppose they will if I keep at it.

Today’s gonna be another hard day for Art Every Day Month – I had some cleaning to do, some errands to run, and a party to go to later (which is when I’m usually painting). So I may not get the chance to work on one of the 4 canvases I have prepped. Then again, I might. I’ve got some other ideas I’m forming, some themes.

One such theme is challenging people. I’ve got this Atheist group at work and I’m a pretty vocal member. One of the things I’ve been talking about recently is surrounding the arts and whether the government should sponsor them – and since the government DOES sponsor them (the NEA, et al.), should the government sponsor such things as Andres Serrano’s “Piss Christ.” I say that if you’re going to do it, go all the way. Art is SUPPOSED to make you think, make you question.

Then I thought… “Hmm, does MY art make you think or make you question your beliefs?” No, not really. Sometimes, maybe, but not always. I just make most of my stuff intuitively and, moreso lately, just let myself go with whatever’s in my head at the time and let the artwork speak to me as it’s in the process of being created.

Now that I think of it, my old manager might be at the party tonight and her husband, apparently, has been taking painting classes and getting into art. If he’s there, I’ll definitely have to drag him aside and bend his ear. Ed, you should hope I don’t drink too much or you’ll never get me to shut up!

I’ve always been a fan of Patrick Nagel. The white skin, ruby lips, solid colors, often vacant (literally blank) eyes, the classic 80′s triangular design work. I was flipping through some old sketchbooks and saw some pieces that were reminiscent of Nagel’s sketches (which I have in the book, The Art of Patrick Nagel), so I thought I’d cheat and make my own Nagel directly *from* Nagel.

Of course, I’m going to make it my own, but it’ll be very reminiscent, very Nagelesque. He did his work in acrylic, mostly, and I”ll be using oil. I’ll probably also show my brushwork, which was something he never did. And I might “break the toy” and blaspheme the paint… like maybe smear the make-up or lose the edges or some not-so-Nagel aspects that’ll make this art a reflection of the dark, dingy insides of yours truly.

November is Art Every Day Month. Okay, it’s not some real holiday or anything, and you won’t find it on any calendar or as an Outlook add-in. But I’m really going to give it a go this month. Something – ANYTHING – done, every day. Progress on a piece, painting, doodling, crafting spitball sculptures, whatever.

This particular drawing is on canvas and is prep work for the Different Strokes for Different Folks entry. It’ll be my third piece that I’ve entered to be displayed on Karin’s site. It’s actually sort of nerve-racking to put yourself out there like that, especially with so many great interpretations. But it’s also inspiring – your take is your take, how YOU see it, not how it is to anyone else.

As you can see, I did a grid this time. I was enlarging from a really bad printout, but that’s okay because I’m not concerned with much, just the outline. I could have free-hand drawn everything but the grid saves me some time. It’s nearly 11:30pm and I’ve got to get up before 6am and get ready for work, you know. One day this will be my full-time gig. Until then, grids are my friend. Well, maybe they still will be because I *have* learned to draw and to see but that’s not what I’m after here.

I’m calling this one, “Lost,” because it’s an image of 3 travelers, together but alone. Shadows touching without knowing. Each with their own thoughts that probably are more similar than we’ll ever know. Just being the busy little ants that we are. Where are they going? They don’t know, they’re lost in the continuum. Time-space is a void and they’re just along for the ride. They don’t know where they are or where they’ll end up. They’re lost. Aren’t we all?

“Sometimes you have to break the toy.”

He said that as he was smashing something of his that he really liked. He wasn’t talking to me, he was talking to my friend, Derek, the same guy whose wife blew his head clean off with a shotgun. Different story. Anyway, Derek laughed and I didn’t really get it at the time. I wonder if Derek was laughing because the guy was crazy or if he thought it was really funny.

The moral still holds true: sometimes you have to break the toy. I get it now.

I got this idea for a painting while watching Helvetica and I sketched out a thumbnail over the weekend: a painting split at the Fibonacci point with the top half blue, tainted/dulled with a wee dab of orange, and orange on the bottom, turned rusty/dirty with a wee spot of blue. The word, “Bent,” HAD to appear across the horizontal line and HAD to stretch off the edges. Sometimes I don’t know why they come to me, these ideas just DO. Okay?

Today, as I was prepping to continue my last 2 paintings in the self-portrait series, I flipped over a canvas board and found this really old self-portrait I had begun YEARS ago. The drawing was good in a technical sense but lacked emotion. Vivacity. So I thought to myself, “Self, why not do that blue and rust thing right over this old self-portrait?”

Then, devilishly, I continued, “BREAK THE TOY.”

Bwa ha ha ha!

I broke it. I borked it. I smashed it into little bits. I covered it up in thick paint then rubbed it back out again and left the canvas raw and the paint rough and the strokes mish-mashy and every which way, and I threw in a thought that I couldn’t dismiss as I was painting: “My, you’re a dirty little boy, aren’t you?” Mmm, yes, deliciously dirty.

There’s a powerful moment when I ride my motorcycle, when the man-machine connection swells up and washes it all away, when I am. When I just fucking am. I arrive and put on the mask. I reject this.

There’s a part of me that does it because I must. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to. There’s a part of you that I see and I think as I narrow my eyes at you, “Liar.” There’s an inner monologue that just won’t quit. There’s a little bit of it that I wish I could just turn off. The nag chooses me and I begin to melt into the mould. I reject this.

I look across and see the danger and the white triangle consumes my thoughts. I push it down. I reject it. I reject this.

I see what you’re doing. I hear it in your voice but I go on like I didn’t notice. I see the sacred path unfolding. I hear the “musts” and “shouldn’ts” and I hear you whisper, “Conform.” I reject this.

The fire burns cleanly when it’s hot. But looks can be deceiving. That’s why, just when you think you’ve got your shit figured out, that god-forsaken deck of cards comes tumbling down around you.

Only thing is, most of the time, for all your stalwart appearances, nobody notices. You quietly control the countenance. Just enough so you’re allowed to be alone in your inner fire. Just enough so it’s only you that knows you’re falling.