Thursday, October 9, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
The Artist put down his brush. He looked at his painting and knew that it was finally finished. When his mind accepted his statement, he poured himself a drink. He drank while he painted and he drank the rest of the time too. He was happy that the painting was done as it was a bear, unwilling to succumb to his masterful hand. Many times he had wanted to throw the canvas on the fire but he pushed through and now was very satisfied with the resolve. The painting was a good one. It had lots of magic. He figured it had lot more than all the others he had painted.
The Artist poured himself another drink in his dark and cramped studio. He lived in a forgotten part of the city, and his work was never seen by the public. The painting before him was going to get him a lot of money or get him into a lot of trouble. He was getting too drunk to really care. He didn't paint for the money and he did not want trouble. He painted for the simple reason that he had to.
The Artist could only paint about three pictures a year. he worked odd jobs to make ends meet once the money from the paintings was gone. He tried to paint more than three but found the others to be trash, utterly without a trace of magic. So he settled for the three.
The Artist poured himself a drink and thought about the people who came to buy his paintings. Some of those people, the Artist thought, should not own one of his paintings. Of course, when they offer more money, he took it and gave them their prize. One time, the Artist refused the collector and burned the painting so no one could have it. That cost the Artist a third of his income and he almost starved that winter but he felt strangely good about it. The Artist knew that there were other artists like him who sold their work to the highest bidder. The Artist thought that letting his paintings and their magic into the hands of those who would not appreciate it a horrible crime. But that wasn't a crime. What was a crime was painting what the Artist painted. If the Artist was every caught by the Government there would not be a trial. The Artist would be swept away into the night and never be seen again. This would happen, even though the Artist lived in a great Democratic Society. Yet, in the face of all the danger, the artist still painted what he painted. He had to . He was a Doof Painter.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Today is the opening of the show, "The Art of Diorama," at the Bedford Gallery, in Walnut Creek, CA. Twenty three artists give their interpretation of what a diorama is to them. I am exhibiting a small installation of my Doof collection, including Frozen Doofs, a very chilly diorama of doofs huddled together from the cold. Also, on display will be Doof World, a minature roadside attraction that boasts a museum, cafe, picnic area and ample parking. Surrounding these works are items from the Doof Culture collection; paintings, photos, news articles and souvenirs. This installation is an exercise in developing my project of creating a museum of Doof curiosities that some day will beckon travelers to pull off the road for something cool to drink and nourishment for the mind.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Two Doofs met while traveling from opposite directions along a rural dirt road one fine sunny day.
"Doof", cried the Doof from the east in greeting.
"Doof", cried the Doof from the west in reply.
They then stared at each other, face to face, quietly waiting for the other to move first.
"Doof," said the Doof from the east to pass the time.
"Doof," replied the Doof from the west.
They did not move for the rest of the day. The next day, they patiently waited, with smiles on their faces until noon time when the D0of from the west spoke.
"Doof'," replied the eastern Doof and they both remained facing each other, smiles on their faces, not moving a muscle. They remained there as the days passed. One day little birds used the shadows cast by the Doofs to shade themselves as they pecked for food. Another day it rained and the Doofs got soaking wet. Another day it was so windy, tree branches and other things pelted the Doofs but they did not notice. They just faced each other waiting for one to make the first move.
The seasons passed, and on a crisp spring day, a man appeared on the horizon and soon came upon the Doofs. He smiled to himself as he watched the two Doofs stand quietly facing each other, waiting, and the man said to himself, "Silly Doofs."
The Smiling man put his hands on his hips and looked over the situation. With a knowing nod of his head, the man picked up the Doof from the west and move it three feet to the left of the eastern Doof. The Doofs now seeing their ways cleared, gave themselves a happy sound and started merrily on their ways. The man watched them as they headed in opposite directions until they faded away into the horizon. He then made his way north through a beautiful field of golden wheat.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Lately I've been painting landscapes that deal with the Doof as an inanimate object that is part of the landscape. When I was 11 years old, My parents bought me a set of acrylic paints, a pad of canvas paper and some brushes. I then got an art lesson from my father's friend who had recently took up painting. He showed me how to create a landscape in ten minutes. Later that year, my parents arranged for me to have painting lessons with Minion Kimes, who gave lessons in her home on Saturday mornings. There were seven people painting in a spare bedroom converted into a painting studio. Mrs. Kimes had her paintings stacked against the walls and I would sneak peeks at her still lives, portraits and landscapes. There were only two children there, myself and a girl whose name I can not remember. I do remember that everyone was quiet and busily painted on their paintings. There was a fellow who was making paintings of every Spanish Mission in California. he had a very bohemian haircut and he wore Birkenstocks. Mrs. Kimes, when she accepted me as her student, first had to learn how to use acrylic paints. She and I learned how to use them together. We also composed landscapes out of our imagination at times. It was sort of a collaboration. She would paint on my paintings. I tried to copy what she did.
Now almost 4 decades later, I find myself painting landscapes out of my head again, and now the landscapes have a new feature; a forgotten Doof, left in the wilderness.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Welcome, my friends. I now have a fully operational blog. It will be my way of being more spontaneous with the internet. Now it will be possible for me to show all of you out there what is going on inside my studio on an almost daily basis. Plus I am able to write down what is in my head, which may or may not be the best thing.
Today, I will not pontificate, but leave you with a quiet small survey of my ever expanding collection of Doofs.