duck and sir #2

Pushcart Gallery

Inspired by hot dog carts, gypsy wagons, and carnivals- my pushcart art gallery.

I kept it small so there wouldn't be any room for the "Snooties" to walk the floor and stroke their chin and contemplate the depths of my tortured soul.

Actually, it is a reaction to the high-brow, splatter paint painters...what can I say? I guess I'm just low-brow and easily bored with the whole "accidental art" abstract expressionistic trained-monkey paint smearer club. (yeah, it's fun to do, but DANG! How many smears can a person make without going mad?)

And as I view these photos, I stroke my dirty beard and ask myself. "What tortured soul would spend precious time producing such a thing from the junk laying about his yard?"
And I wonder." Would it not be more enlightening and mentally healing to just clean up the yard?"

So, that's that. That's all it is. (...and it's kind of empty, but I'll get on that soon. I guess.)

junky

Your soul dripped off your lip and soiled your shirt. What do you care? You followed the leader. Soiled shirts are acceptable, now.

Duck and Sir

Hunkered down in Sandytown while waiting for the rain to stop or the lights to stop, I found moments of peace in making pictures.

my shack life and junk

 

Sometimes I need to step out of the digital concentration camp for a minute and feel something...too get away from one dimension into six...

                    When we moved into our shack I had a door. One door.

                              I found some junk. Now, there's almost five.

                    I can't seem to settle for letting things be what they are.
                                ...and I can't go for "sterile"...or closed in.

nutbush flats #19

After crawling under the bed, after pushing aside papers and books, after looking through pockets of dirty jeans...after looking behind dirty dishes, behind bowls of tomatoes, amongst toothbrushes, beside the phones and alarm clocks, and in winter coats, I found a dollar bill. But, I was looking for a black technical pen that wasn't dried up...

and I didn't find one. Although, while on my quest, a bottle of ink and a new dip pen did appear. So, I burned the nib and set to work and realized that I shall never return to a Micron. 

Well, maybe I shouldn't say that. Dip pens are mighty difficult to manage when one has a sketchbook propped on his knees while in bed..

Car 54-extended version