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This painted, The Plumed Hat, from the artist Henri Matisse was attcked the other day at the National Gallery in Washington, DC.  There wasn’t any apparent damage to the painting itself after the attacker took it by the frame and slammed it a few times against the wall.

That in itself is not that interesting except when one note that the attacker was the same woman who had attempted to deface Two Tahitian Women from  Paul Gauguin at the same museum in April of this year.  After being tackled while trying to protect the Gauguin painting from its protective plexiglass case she was quoted as saying, “I am from the American CIA and I have a radio in my head. I am going to kill you.”

It’s pretty rare when the same person makes such an attempt at the same museum.  With the Gauguin there seemed at least a hint of her motivation in trying to destroy the painting that she described as “evil” and “homosexual.”  To some, could the the idea of two bare-breasted women standing next to one another might be perceived as evil?  I guess.  And could the idea of one woman looking over at the other could be seen as homosexual to some folks?  I suppose, although I think she is actually casting a hungry eye at that watermelon.

But why attack this Matisse?  There is nothing overtly evil or gay in  it that would offend delicate sensibilities.  It’s hardly provocative in any way.  Or attractive.  It’s not a piece I would give much thought to in any way, other than thinking it is definitely not one of Matisse’s finest examples, at least in my eyes.  I don’t find much in it that excites me in one way or the other.  Certainly nothing that makes me want to freak out and try to destroy it.

So what is here that I’m not seeing that might excite the obviously troubled mind of the woman who attacked it?  Is it that same thing in it that another mind might perceive as beautiful?

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Different Sultans

I wanted to show a performance of a song today to illustrate how hearing a song done differently makes it feel new again, in the way I feel about changing how a picture is painted changes my perception of that same composition.  I have talked about this before here, where a composition that may seem very familiar when done in color takes on a different gravity when done in the grays or sepias I have used in the recent past.

Here’s a version of Mark Knopfler and Dire Straits’  Sultans of Swing, a song that came out back in 1978 ( has it really been that long!) and has become a classic bit of rock, one of those songs that keeps rolling long past its own generation.  It’s done here on Spanish guitar by Pedro Javier Gonzalez and while it maintains its form, it feels newly revived.  Give a listen.

The painting at the top, by the way, is a small piece from my upcoming West End Gallery show.  I call it Audience.  I guess it fits here.

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Clarence Clemons passed away this weekend after recently suffering a stroke.  He was 69 years old.  His name might not be a household one but to fans of Bruce Springsteen he truly lived up to his moniker, the Big Man.  He played saxophone for Springsteen’s E Streeters since the the very beginning back in the early 70’s.  He was Springsteen’s dancing partner on stage and his tenor sax’s wail defined the band’s sound through the earliest years including the classic 1975 album, Born to Run.  His solo on that album’s Jungleland is revered among fans.

Good bye, Big Man.  You will be missed.

Here’s a fave from long ago that features the Big Man at the forefront of a live version of an early Springsteen song, Paradise by the C.  That’s how I will remember the Big Man.

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Father’s Day

 

My father carries around the picture of the kid who came with his wallet.

***

I remember the time I was kidnapped and they sent a piece of my finger to my father. He said he wanted more proof.

–Rodney Dangerfield

The Father’s Day cards I saw this year were awful, nothing but pull-my-finger jokes and blubbering sentimentality.  So I thought that free beer and a Rodney Dangerfield line would fit the bill for my dad better than anything I saw.

Anyway, Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

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In my post yesterday I wrote of a small painting with a scenario where boogie woogie music transforms the life of a WWII German soldier.  I had a piece at the end by boogie woogie pianist Albert Ammons that showcased  the style.  But afterward I wondered about the legacy of that musical style, this boogie woogie, and had to do some research.  After doing a little digging, I was going to write about the irony that  the boogie woogie sound is largely kept alive by Europeans now with people such as Axel Zwingenberger and Silvan Zingg, a  pianist known as the Ambassador of Boogie Woogie  who hosts a boogie woogie festival in his native Switzerland each year.

But in doing my search I came across a name that was my first real intro to boogie woogie many years back.  It was George Frayne, who is better known as Commander Cody of Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen fame who emerged in 1971 with the hit Hot Rod Lincoln.  Their first album, Lost in the Ozone, was classic that mixed country and rock and the counter-culture of the time into a meaty syew that was sometimes funny and always enagaging.  It had songs with titles like Down to Seeds and Stems Again and Wine Do Yer Stuff, all great numbers, but my favorite was and is their cover of the Andrews Sisters’ Beat Me Daddy Eight to the Bar.  I have been singing along to it for nearly forty years now and still gett revved up by Frayne’s rumbling left hand on the keyboard every time.

Unfortunately, the band’s followup albums never reached the promise of  Lost in the Ozone.  But the Commander has always been entertaining throughout the years and that’s enough.

Frayne is an interesting guy.  Despite his somewhat haggard appearance through the years, he is a pretty accomplished painter, having graduated as an art major from the Univ. of Michigan.  He has a real distinct style, often painting musical legends  such as the portrait of Billie Holliday shown here.  He shows some of his work on sites that art painted by rock stars but his best work is much better than that.

Anyway, he was one of the keepers of boogie woogie’s flame and my first introduction to the swinging sound.  Here’s his Beat Me Daddy:

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This small painting is titled Seat of Memory.  It’s a new piece on paper that measures about 6″ by 8″ and is due to be part of my upcoming show, Now and Then,  at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA.  The show opens June 10.

The title of this piece and  show  refers to memory, a subject that has often been portrayed in my work recently.  Memory and history are often interchangeable in my thinking as I view both as that thread, that continuum, that ties our present and past.  That which gives our now definition and perspective.  The list of ingredients, the recipe, for the concoction we call the present time.

You hear a lot of people say that one must live only in the present and I see the wisdom in that.  But I think there is value in holding on to and examining that thread of memory and history, if only to see those patterns in our behaviors that remain consistent over time so we can avoid making the same mistakes over and over, in the present and in the future.  There’s a great quote on this but I can’t remember the exact quote or even whose words they are.  It goes something like: He who disregards history lives every day as a child.  Every step is a new step.  Every discovery a new discovery.  Every stumble a new stumble.

I view my painting as a way of bringing the past into a perpetual now.  I want them to always feel as they portray the present but are firmly rooted in a visible history.  By that I mean that I want people to see the work with childish eyes of discovery, as though it feels completely new to them.  But at the same time I want them to feel a sense of familiarity in the work.  Maybe the familiarity of a shared history, common memory.

I don’t know if that’s something I can do with my work.  I don’t even know if that’s something I should be trying to accomplish.  But when I look at a simply put piece like the Seat of Memory it gives me hope that maybe I am on the right road.

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As I walk down to get the newsapaper in the morning, often in the dark, I will sometimes begin to think about what I might write in that day’s blog entry.  But sometimes the my mind might be occupied with the chorus of some long past song that mysteriously pops into my head without my permission.  Sometimes it’s pleasurable and sometimes I find myself asking how this annoying ditty became entangled in the synapses.  Today was such a day.

Up, up with people
You meet them wherever you go
Up, up with people
They’re the best kind of folks I know

Oh, god, no!  It was chorus from Up With People!   If you have never heard it, it’s a sugary sweet tune of upbeat energy that spews a love of all people everywhere that sprung from a traveling group of youths that began touring the world in the mid-60’s and are still doing so to this day.  Growing up, they quite often came through our area and the airwaves would be filled with television and radio commercials of this annoyingly happy song.  The TV ads showed very attractive young women and men with exceedingly large smiles and neat Osmondish hair.  I think there were sweater vests and pressed bell bottoms but can’t be sure if my memory is correct.  We forced by a grade school teacher to learn this song and to this day it has periodically wormed its way forward through the tangled mess in my brain to emerge, much to my chagrin.  Some people have LSD flashbacks, I have this damn song of ultra optimism.

Which brings me to the painting shown above, a smaller 12″ by 16″ canvas that I recently finished.  It threw me for a loop as I neared completion, it’s feel so completely different than that I had envisioned as I worked on it in its earlier stages.  It may be the mosy overtly optimistic thing I have ever done.  It is bright and happy and even the dark edges that I often employ as emotional counterweights seem far removed and less ominous.  It oozes positive energy.  As I said, I was taken aback by this.  Much of my work is forward looking and has an optimistic perspective but this seemed to push optimism to the extreme and made me a bit nervous because I found myself really beginning to like this small piece that wore its positive message like a badge of honor.  There is a simple naivete to it of which I find myself  feeling very protective, as though it is something I know can’t exist for long in this cynical world without someone looking out for it.

Days of viewing this painting has not changed that feeling.  I’m still surprised by this piece but it somehow works for me.  I’m thinking of calling it Pollyanna.

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#1 Full Silence-- Current High Bid $650

#2- Seems Like a New Sun - Current High Bid $800

Here are the paintings and current high bids that are up for bid in an effort to raise funds for the Japanese relief effort.  The winning bidders will receive the painting and a signed copy of my book and I will also add $5oo to each of their bids for the donation to the Red Cross.  Bidding ends at 12 noon EST on Monday, March 21 A note:  Please make any new bids at least $10 above the current high bid

Many, many thanks to all who have participated.  It is most appreciated and will hopefully make some sort of difference, if only a small one.

Here’s a little bit o’ soul from the immortal Otis Redding.  I think that, with this disaster and a looming war in Libya, we should all try a little tenderness.  This is a great version from the Stax Tour of Europe in 1967.

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Snow Blindsided

Well, I wasn’t ready for this one.  I know that I’ve espoused my love for snow in this blog but this storm caught me off guard.  We ended up getting about 15″ which should be no big deal but with the thaw of the last week the plowing was hideous.  I spent about five hours this morning just getting a rough path through the heavy snow which is five hours less in the studio, shown here draped in white, which can make me a little testy.

But it is beautiful and, being March, the snow piles will soon be gone.  Anyway, the day is melting away and I must get to it if I’m going to salvage any of it for my work.

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Music to Plow By

Monday morning and it’s snowing hard outside.  My morning will be filled with shovelling and plowing  and not painting, which throws off my rhythm a bit.  But that’s a small price to pay for the beauty of the snow outside, coating the tree limbs and glowing white and clean.  It’s gorgeous out my window.

I thought I’d play a bit of music today and found a lovely piece from Esperanza Spalding.  I have to admit that she was not on my radar before the last few weeks, when she emerged into the larger public’s consciousness with her Grammy win as Best New Artist, beating out teen heartthrob Justin Bieber.  I guess an upright bass playing  jazz chanteuse (who was teaching at Berklee at age 20!) probably seems an unlikely choice over the teenie bopper who inspires Bieber Fever.  But finally hearing and seeing her play, as well as hearing of her life story,  has convinced me.  Just good stuff, whether you like jazz or not.

Give a listen:

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