Monday, November 30, 2009


the fighter saw stars.

celestial bodies. forms. grace. the space between him and what he was fighting for. he'd seen stars before. certainly.

this was the first time.

time was different. this time. the stars grabbed his attention. slowing time down. he inhaled it all in. life in.

the celestial bodies brightened. milky way's magnitude stepped back. revealed her gems. orion's belt followed it's imaginary line to the north star, bounced toward the bull and paused upon it's twinkling strength.

he'd never known such bright stars. such black. space.

he began to connect dots. stars. moons. galaxies. forming his own ideas. patterns.

heavens began to fade. he bid adieu. inhaled it all in.

the bell rang. round 14. he realized for the first time. the first time. what it was. why it was.

he was fighting forward.

the ref summoned the 2 prize fighters to the center of the canvas. jeers issued. encouragement. issued passion. ring side.

the fighter stood in the center of the square. lowered his hands. his arms. let his shoulders soften. as the opponent landed a direct hit. a massive attack. his bludgeoned face...

Sunday, November 29, 2009

"slander the skies" - (a play in 8 acts)


1) starve the palms

2) beat the pigs

3) slander the skies

4) tip toe near ledges

5) count the stones

6) hammer the nails

7) hoist the lumber


eight) make the ugly beautiful


Saturday, November 28, 2009

Friday, November 27, 2009

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

not as random as me thinks


my cosmic hero... issue 1 from august 1968.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Monday, November 23, 2009

two ideas to consider



1) do your best not to litter

2) do your best not to surf with sharks



Sunday, November 22, 2009

putting words in winslow's mouth


coffee pours
as hot oil
down
a burnt throat
trying
to speak

throwing a voice

over quiet lake
babbling stones
cast fly's
snagging rainbows

down down down
go the color
up again
flash speck silver
train muscle
stoned cold flesh
under liquid ice
blacker than blue

as pine
hint low
qunicridone red
cheeky blue
giving way
to silver

bright white
slivered silver

no moon
lunar eclipse
fond twinkling
friendships
here

a grand overseer
reflectively forlorn
over sincere
creatures
struggling below
upon below
lake quiet

clicks spinning
life blood
hands of hunger
flesh scent
scales
earths blood

watch close
end is near

jump
air test
silver shine rainbow
silence broke
painless

kindling cracks
burns black crust
mud takes back
the insides of it's own

fresh consumption
flesh and water
quiet lake offering

stars beckon
sister moon's
full bloom



click on the link below to learn more about winslow.
have fun...

Saturday, November 21, 2009

for the aged






i hear sometimes getting old can be a real drag...

Friday, November 20, 2009

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

for a painter...















you are
the most interesting
disinterested creature
ever known
and
not really known

wonder why you
captivate so

was it a simple need?
a created empty hole fix?

suppose

i'll never know
anything

today i painted for you
a work you'll never see
because upon finish
i wiped the linen clean

a gesture
to what we had
and
to what we never had

someday
when i create
my masterpiece
upon that precious linen
you'll be there

buried under

beneath it all

beneath everything

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

not a story mind you, rather a simple memory...


"those boots look so fucking stupid."

he said it so loud. even the new mother scurried to get the stroller going. probably thinking she should've parked her van at the south end of the lot rather than the north side, where she currently stood.

the north end of the lot. home of the "burnout boys".

"cute billy, do they make them in mens?"

the iconic, unmanageable, mold breaking "t-boy" levy yelled as if billy were a hundred yards to the south. some of the boys ignored the 6:00 am proceedings, a few chuckled. one even groaned in billy and levy's direction, "them is fighting words levy".

"bring it on" t-levy said with a thunderous solid put-on laugh.

"what'd you do last night t-luxe?" billy asked. "t-luxe" was just one of a thousand variations on the themed nicknames given to tom leventis.

tom was the one burnout boy NO ONE fucked with.

once levy was up on the hill, kneeing a sweet, hefty interval, north grounder at lowers on his "jl". chatting in no more than one or two word sentences with some of the "bay boy" crew. upon "their scene" levy knew and was well known by some of more important "boys" from meeting at some local bar, rager, neutral lineup, mainland mexico or from the territorial gaza-strip like stretch of beach known as "rat" where the two rivaling packs seem to, but not all the time, behave themselves. "rat" was the summer intermingling place where the two tribes scammed on the others chicks, shared weed, talked story. as often is the case among tribes of the sort some of the girls were drawn or lured to the other greener pasture of the opposite crews invisible yet very real fence.

upon returning to his ford twin I beam after the slippery goat trail climb up to the top of the bluff, the place where outsiders vehicles were under constant threat and surveillance, t-levy found that all four of his tires had been flattened. "heavy levy" as he was known by the "bay boys" went full throttle ballistic. he sauntered over to the top of the trail head where a posse of at least six of the boys stood ground. tom knew most of them. pete the trust fund heavy was the tallest and demanded "what's up levy?" "you forgot something?" to which the smallest, youngest rat, grommet of the crew laughed really loud not knowing tom and feeling safe amongst the pack. tom grabbed the youth by the throat with his large mitt sized right hand and squeezed as hard as he could. With his left hand levy pointed in the young punks face. "you little fuck, i'll kill you... one of you guys better fix my tires right now or i'll squeeze this little fucks head off." pete started at "t-boy levy" who by this time was in full "hulk" mode. cocking his left arm back while still maintaining control of the grommet levy landed his iron hammer fist to pete's right eye. "what the fuck levy?" one of the other bay boy acquaintances shouted.

"no one fucks with me... ever... you should know that by now" "fix my tires" as he released the punk. "i gotta get back to burnout."

tom cracked a tall can and pounded. took an enormous hit off charlie's joint and exclaimed "i'm fucking out there."

now in his wet wet suit t-levy scrambled down the ice cold ice plant hillside, jaunted across the wet sand, nodded to a lady jogger as if to say "we could hook up later." then with his perfect timing launched into the shore pound. landing upon the bone chilling, december morning, gray, storming water. floating beyond the sand t-levy attached fins to his feet and muscled his way through the lineup.

back up the iced plant hill at the north end of the parking lot where the chest high wood fence stood the burnout boys mingled, some drinking, smoking, talking story. i heard billy as he walked to his truck say "levy is so fucking heavy."

it was just the beginning of a winter day.

Monday, November 16, 2009

i love...


i love water,

i love pigment,

i love cotton,

i love john sargent.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

jon "boy" brion...


Brion is renowned for his regular Friday-night gigs at the Los Angeles club Largo, which feature covers and original songs, a variety of instruments and occasional guest musicians and comedians. He works without a set list, instead using audience suggestions as a jumping-off point. His extraordinary use of layered loops and frequent adoption of a "jigsaw puzzle" approach to performing songs (starting often with drums, then adding piano, bass, guitar, and vocals in turn) have captivated the capacity crowds at Largo and earned Brion a strong following. Recent shows have featured spontaneous appearances with vocalist Rickie Lee Jones, singing old jazz standards like "My Funny Valentine", with upright bassist Stephen Patt (ex-Chambers Brothers), percussionist Matt Chamberlain(ex-Wallflowers), bassist Sebastion Steinberg (ex-Soul Coughing), and fiddler Sara Watkins.

In April 2006, recurring tendinitis in Brion's right hand forced him to cancel all of his upcoming Largo shows. As a temporary 'farewell', he played one show only using his left hand, even looping his songs as he normally does and playing the drums with one stick. He is now back to playing at Largo on a regular basis.

Recalling his approach to the Largo shows with Chicago Tribune music editor Lou Carlozo, Brion said: "I taught my hands to follow whatever was coming into my head—and wherever my consciousness would go, I had to push my hands to follow. And at some level, you just had to abandon any concern about how you’d look. Performing without a set list: That was special."

Saturday, November 14, 2009

6 strings...


The time I burned my guitar it was like a sacrifice. You sacrifice the things you love. I love my guitar.
Jimi Hendrix

Friday, November 13, 2009

antique docks


oil in progress...

most likely it will be painted over.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

the black hole...


i seem to have a way of losing everything. keys, notes, pens, phones, phone numbers, my mind. the list could go on forever.

due to this sad fact, friends and i have always joked that somewhere in my house is one of those extraterrestrial, light and gravity, hideous sand sucking black holes... you know, the kind that astronomers calculate the existence of although they really have no concrete proof thereof.

that is until now...

for instance. i came across these two slides today.

the first, a study from this pink umbrella period. the second an early coastal plein-aire sketch.

seriously i have no idea where the paintings are... trust me, i searched and searched.

maybe i painted over them. maybe the dogs ate them. maybe they're being used as shims somewhere. maybe the kids used them as frisbees. maybe some old lady is using them to cover up a hole in her chicken coop.

or maybe they've been taken by that mysterious black hole...

or maybe, just maybe it really doesn't matter.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

the mind of rose...


Charles Peete "Charlie" Rose, Jr. (born January 5, 1942) is an American television interviewer and journalist.

Emmy Award-winning Charlie Rose entered television journalism full-time in 1974, when he became the managing editor of the PBS series Bill Moyers' International Report. He later worked with Moyers on two other series: Bill Moyers' Journal and U.S.A.: People and Politics. From 1984 to 1990 he anchored Nightwatch, the CBS television network's late-night interview series, and won for himself what some observers have described as a cult following for the in-depth conversations that have since earned him a reputation as "the best interviewer around today," in the words of Marvin Kitman. "[The Charlie Rose Show] is the purest extension of my skills as an interviewer," Rose told Joyce Saenz Harris, who interviewed him for the Dallas Morning News (May 2, 1993). "Whatever craft there is, that's what it's about: stripping away all the barriers to good conversation. I'm looking for people to be at their best, their most real. If I can do that, it makes for telling television."


click on the link below to enjoy experiences to be had via his website.

www.charlierose.com

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

painted fact...


single fresh off the vinyl.

bird

video

time for a chuckle...


laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, snort, snort, snort, snort...

i peed my self.


Monday, November 9, 2009

poet laureate of planet earth...


for your pleasure, mr. dan bejar.

have fun...






Sunday, November 8, 2009

indie t...


danny aka "d-boy"
has a thing for
the spray can.

zach, his bud,
dubbed him "baldy".

so when you put a can
between "d" and a "t"
something creative's gonna
go down.

stencil and green paint design on white t
by baldy...

Saturday, November 7, 2009

t'was a good season...


d-boy
throws
a mean
cutter.

boy wunderkind...










so,

i
suppose
some of us
feel
we
live
rather diverse
artistic
lives

just
when
i
start to
feel
that way

i
remember

mr. arroyo

all images
conceived and executed
by
oscar arroyo

oops... no blog yesterday...

simply nothing to say.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

fresh from the oven...


alright,

i know
one post
a day
is probably
too much.

but i'm just feeling it...


model on the beach
20x24 sketch

painted this morning.

boats in blue


i tip my hat to mrs. wood.

thank you kindly...


painting collection of mr. and mrs. patrick wood.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

mr. hassam





Frederick Childe Hassam (b. October 17, 1859, Dorchester, Boston, Massachusetts – d. August 27, 1935, East Hampton, New York) was a prominent and prolific American Impressionist painter, noted for his urban and coastal scenes. Along with Mary Cassatt and John Henry Twachtman, Hassam was instrumental in promulgating Impressionism to American collectors, dealers, and the museums. He produced over 3,000 paintings, watercolors, etchings, and lithographs in his career, and was a founding member of The Ten, an influential group of American artists of the early 20th century. His most famous works are the “Flag” paintings, completed during World War I.

Monday, November 2, 2009

a game of guess who trivia...

let's play a game.

can you guess who painted the image in the video before you see the name at the end?

you gotta think fast though as the clip is very short.

here's a few hints:
born in the 1800's he was famous for his lithography prints and illustrative posters. he lived and worked in paris. he grew to just under 5 feet tall as a result of inbred health related issues after breaking his legs as a child.

this beautiful painting hangs in the getty museum here in los angeles.



video

Sunday, November 1, 2009

snap shot of sophia from last evening...


dressed as a monarch, she fluttered bout the neighborhood in search of candy.

it was a good night for butterflies everywhere...