went looking for this print recently, i had an idea what month it was from seeing it in the photographic record but when I dug out that pile of  prints it wasn't there.  tonight  I found it in a misc. pile i'd put it in;  it was on irregular stock.   reason I'd been looking for it was to make some prints and maybe even do a blow up of it.  for the moment I'm just really glad that I didn't loose the damned thing.

what's the fold? what am I holding back?  not sure which is harder at this point, working on the paintings or writing some halfway interesting copy?  last night I dreamt I was in a restaurant and there was a very light game of floor hockey about to take place.  about on the level of table top napkin field goals, but sticks were passed out... the one I got was broken in half and I had to go to he waitress station and find me a new one and some kind of a puck to slap around.  the one below was Bergen and the one above is pretty fresh.   not sure I'm not going to be able to leave it alone.  take a stick to it or something.   they're both about 46" x 50".

got that pink shirt altered.  I had a chance to wear it and I opted for black.  got a nice breeze thru window.  like to think about my feet being massaged.  yeah.  a nice foot massage.  walked all over town earlier.  just looking.  maybe bought some essentials.  had some ice cream.  this painting (50" x 46") started out pretty simple.

haven't worn a pink shirt in a while.  didn't even own one for the last few years.  found one on sale for a fraction of retail and couldn't resist.  now I got to get the sleeves shortened.

it's something of a crap shoot every time I try reworking one of these.  this certainly reminds me of something, but I can't put my finger on it.

worked for a sculptor once upon a time.  you know, he had a pit bull that loved to play fetch.  I took care of the dog one weekend when the sculptor went away.  nothing horrible happened.  he got rid of the dog when his little son came to visit.  of course the son was such a genius.  never heard what prompted the decision to get rid of the dog.  this painting used to be ovid but I was never that thrilled with the painting.

was a funny bird singing for hours in the middle of the night.  magpie was what it sounded like, a real derivative mocking bird type.  it was doing car alarms as part of it's repertoire.  might as well have been a mechanical bird... this got revised from the former post.  today everything is up for grabs.  this is the end of the magpie from earlier.  it's been going thru many permutations

surfing the web to find some images for Italian sculptor, Marisa Merz and a photo led me to an old review of the Venice Biennial, the Forbes critic was lamenting the fact that it was contemporary art, it had the Foxx news pander to it,  I don't understand it and I don't want to understand it. huh?

after reaching the frustration point on a new one I decided to attack a much too subtile painting (50 x 46")  from early april.  I suppose this is a collection of borrowed items.  

US Striker, Landon is the hero of the day.  this large painting (after six or so revisions) has got a little homage to picasso at the bottom I see now.

these are monoprints from the ancient era before I got back into the brush...  too revealing was my gripe.  didn't like to see that much about myself.  brush strokes were really annoying.  griffes were another matter.

somehow these were vague enough in relation to my personal narrative so as not to blow me out.  having things reversed and printed gave adequate distance.

the inside/outside

in between two pieces.  was shocked to find it in a pile last week.  it's not about cake.

was kind of stuck on a certain kind of a line, made it back in there with the less psychological blobs. just now something bumped me in the head.  Crack!  start wearing down the rigor of pseudo-formalist conceits...

cutting diamonds out of watermelon rind was natural enough process.

and where there's watermelon rind, there's some fool to print with it.

a revision.   there's always a story line.  pretending there is none is an invitation to make one up.  all roads lead to Rome.  continuity... what seem to be distortions occur so often that we automatically fix  them in what we think we see.  a face examined in minutia gives a full account.

I've got another big painting started and it's entirely too slow that this point.  I'm not used to these things going so slow, no coffee in over a week.  everything seems really slow.

this is another from the revision pile of last april.  more variety in line and less insistence on surface continuity has really opened this one up a bit.

chess on the mountaintop.