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dsc_0393-small-snakes1Saturday morning, the sun is shining and I find myself cautiously optimistic.  It makes me somewhat suspicious.  

So let me show a small piece that I recently finished, simply called Snakes for the time being.  It’s the type of piece I like to do periodically to more or less cleanse the palette, clear the head and try to reboot the brain.  Shake things up a bit.  I’ve done others like this, some with fish-like squiggles in a swirl, and find myself strangely drawn to them.

I like the abstract quality and and I like the process of painting them, weighing each new element as its added against the existing pieces of the picture.  Like putting together a jigsaw puzzle that changes with each piece that goes together.  

I guess I used snakes for this composition for their shapes and flexibility of form.  I have nothing against snakes but I’m not a big fan of handling them and when I run across them I give them their space.  This past year we stumbled across one basking in the sun behind my studio.  He was coiled in a pile like a short piece of thick black hose.  Must have been at least an inch thick with slightly blacker markings running up each side of his dark length, biggest snake I’ve seen around our place.  We gave him some room.  Later, after looking up what type he might have been we concluded he was some sort of rattler (we couldn’t see his tail’s end) or ratsnake.  Impressive.

How that brings us to this piece of music makes little sense.  This is a piece from Karl Jenkins, his version of Dies Irae, which translates as Day of Wrath, taken from the  Latin hymn of the 13th or 14th century.  I guess the suspicions of my early morning optimism have spawned a severe reaction in that I find myself playing a piece of music based on the biblical Day of Judgement .  Go figure.  Make of it what you will…

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Delivered in the LightWill the wind ever remember the names it has blown in the past?

Jimi Hendrix

 

That’s a line from the Jimi Hendrix song The Wind Cries Mary.  It’s one of my favorite songs from Hendrix and is a delicate quiet song with a ghostly quality  that I think fits Hendrix’s existence in this world.  It’s both strong yet fragile.  On this quiet morning, before the world is fully stirring in a fury of spring activity, I thought this song would fit the moment.

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dsc_0392-small4Contest Reminder!

I’m asking for your help in naming this painting and am offering a prize (it’s better than you think though it doesn’t involve air travel or posh resorts) for the title that I deem fitting for the piece.

So put on your thinking caps and let me know your title for this painting.  Even if it’s not chosen as the final name, your title will be included on the painting’s reverse side for all of eternity.  Well, for an extended period of time.  I’m just not so sure about eternity.

So, submit your title by simply commenting or email me at  info@gcmyers.com

I look forward to your titles.

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Far WatchI use a single bird sometimes in my paintings.  The most common meaning for me is of the bird being the watcher, overseeing everything.  It represents patience and wisdom in this case.

I see the bird most often as a hawk but sometimes it’s a crow.  I admire both, the hawk for its physical prowess and the crow for its intelligence.  I remember watching a group of crows chase a hawk and when it appeared the hawk had nowhere to go he started leading the crows upward in  long loops.  As he rose, the crows closed in and just as they were about on him he made this powerful dive that carried him from above the spot where I was on a hillside to a point in the valley below, nearly a mile away.  The crows couldn’t match the dive and were left so far behind they gave up the pursuit.  It was an impressive escape.

Sometimes the bird represents to me a type of memento mori, a reminder of our mortality.  The bird is still the watcher but more of a spirit guide.  

In the spirit of this meaning, I’m segueing into a video of the old gospel song I’ll Fly Away sung by Allison Krauss and Gillian Welch. It feature scenes from the movie from which was taken, the Coen Brothers’ O Brother Where Art Thou?, one of my favorites.  It’s one of those films where when I see it’s on television will turn in it at any point to see what point the movie is at.  I particularly like the look of the film, the way they pulled a lot of the color out, replacing it with a sepia tone that kind of gives it a dated look.  The title of the movie is taken from the great Preston Sturges  film, Sullivan’s Travels.  In it, Sullivan is a movie director of mainly comedies who wants to make a deep, socially conscious film chronicling the poor and downtrodden, to be titled O Brother Where Art Thou?  He sets out disguised as a tramp to get a first hand look at the conditions of the poor and encounters many obstacles along the way.  Ultimately, his film is not made.  That is, until the Coens took the baton and finished the job.  Both are great, great films.

Anyway, here’s I’ll Fly Away


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Total FreedomI came across a snippet of an interview with Bob Dylan where he was asked about his favorite songwriters.  It was a short list with some interesting choices that might surprise some.  He mentioned the late Warren Zevon and Jimmy Buffett, two artists who were more or less pigeon-holed by the success of their best known hits.  For Zevon it was Werewolves of London and for Buffett, Margaritaville.  But when you look deeper into their work you find a treasure chest of beautifully written, poignant songs.  For instance, in the years before he became a caricature as the leader of the parrotheads (and vastly wealthy as a result) Buffett wrote several powerful albums.  Living and Dying in 3/4 Time is a beautiful album.  

But he also mentioned John Prine.  

I don’t know how well known he is among the general public but for me he has been a giant for about 35 years, writing simple songs that mix wit, wisdom and raw emotions.  His wordplay is wonderful and his melodies have deep hooks that instantly catch in my head.  His first album, John Prine, is packed with classics.  Angel From Montgomery, Sam Stone, Donald and Lydia, Six O’Clock News, Spanish Pipedream and on and on.  But my favorite is Paradise, a song wistfully recalling a young boy going with his parents to visit relatives in western Kentucky.

It brought to mind how the idea of paradise changes as we grow older, hopefully gaining wisdom.  When we’re young paradise is defined by place.  Where to find paradise.  For some, it might be a beach in the sun or a mountain in the snow.  For others, it’s being in the midst of a big city with everything at their fingertips.  We run to these places hoping to find what we define as a paradise.

But as we grow, we come to realize that paradise is not place.  You can be in the perfect place and still not be happy or fulfilled.  Paradise is an inside thing.  You have to find it in yourself to really find it.  Much like the kid in the Prine song.  Doing simple things in less than glamorous environments but feeling happy, safe and secure.  Kids can find paradise everywhere.

Anyway, I wanted to show this song.  There are other versions out there but I like this one from many years ago.  A much younger John Prine sings from his backyard.  Enjoy the paradise…

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Soul of IndependenceIt’s Easter Sunday.  

While I wasn’t brought up with any religion in my life and don’t consider myself religious in any traditional, organized sense of the word, I am still respectful of the day and the gravity associated with it.

So on this holy day, I wanted to say something fitting in today’s post but it’s one of those situations where the will doesn’t match the task.  Maybe I’m tired.  Maybe I just don’t have a damn thing to say.

I don’t know.

Just don’t ask me questions…

I guess all I have to share today is the painting above, a personal favorite called Soul of Independence and a song that somewhat goes with it.  It’s Dont’ Ask Me Questions from Graham Parker about 30 years back.  It’s a song that has stuck in my head for all these years and whose chorus always has me thinking.  This is not a great video but please give a listen…

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the-ten-commandments-1956-movie-05Well, it’s the day before Easter which can only mean one thing:  the annual showing of The Ten Commandments, the 1956 epic film from Cecille B. DeMille.  

I always look forward to watching this movie not so much from any admiration of its quality as great cinema (though it is great moviemaking with its beautiful cinematography and color and the great musical score) but more so for the treasure trove of kitsch it bears.  I love the clumsy, stilted lines of dialogue.  The stylized overacting- Anne Baxter’s Nefretiri and John Derek’s Joshua are right out of the earliest, clumsiest silent films.  The boo-hiss quality of Yul Brynner’s Rameses.  And how can you not love Edward G. Robinson playing Dathan, snarling, “Where’s your Moses now?”  in that oft imitated voice straight out of Little Caesar.

But the star is Moses.  Love him or hate him, Charlton Heston was the perfect specimen for this or any epic movie.  Don’t get me started on Ben Hur. His physical stature, his deep voice and his ability to deliver the most wooden lines with complete commitment make his portrayal a complete pleasure to watch.  A tour de force.

Modern moviemakers always try to remake these epic type movies with full attention to every detail, trying to bring realism and authenticity to the story.  But while there may be realism there is no entertainment quality and they never measure up to the very films that some of these people mock.  This is is real entertainment.

So if you get a chance tonight, look in for a while (because it is a very lonnnng movie) and enjoy…


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ShadowmaskIt’s been about six months since I started writing this blog and in that time I’ve become a lot more familiar with this odd shadow world of blogs.  

I’m not so sure it’s a world with which I would want to spend too much time.

Oh, don’t get me wrong.  I’ve enjoyed writing about my little world, getting to hear from a lot of diverse people and I often enjoy reading the blogs of others.  There are many people who produce wonderful blogs, full of humor and insight.  But on the flipside, all too often, it’s a non-stop freakshow of anger and hatred.  Idiocy and lunacy.  An endless display of  moronic babble, people who nitpick and dissect every miniscule detail of whatever happens to piss them off that day.  These are people whose idea of reasonable debate is to yell louder and longer than the next guy, throwing all logic aside and spewing venom from the behind the veil of their cyber-anonymity.

As you can see, their rants incite rage.

Hey, I understand anger.  I understand rage.  But my anger and rage can be quelled with reason and rational thought.  Many of these idjits remind me of those poor dogs who are chained to doghouses all alone.  They have no contact and become increasingly mad, barking and snarling at everyone and everything.  

I don’t know, maybe these people are like those pitiful dogs.  Maybe they need some compassion.  Perhaps they need some kindness.  Maybe they need to shed a tear or two…

Well, here’s a song from Johnny Cash singing his version of the Loudon Wainwright song, The Man Who Couldn’t Cry.  Maybe these folks should put down their poison pens and give a listen.  Couldn’t hurt…

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bass1It’s yet another Sunday morning.  Time to stop and look back at what has transpired over the past week.  Have a cup of tea.  Read the paper.  Watch the deer walking through my yard.

Just time to stop and release some of the anxiety that builds up in a chaotic world.  A time to breathe.

Something we all need, probably more often than the occasional Sunday morning.

I’ve decided to share a little music from the Beatles.  This is And I Love Her from their first movie A Hard Day’s Night.  I chose it because it always brings back pleasant memories and there’s something calming in those opening notes played on the acoustic guitar.  Something very protective and very soothing.

And we could all use a little soothing…

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dos-equis-boringI kept seeing this ad on television for some time, kind of out of the corner of my eye, never really paying attention.  I never really even saw what product was being advertised.  All I would think as it was fading from the screen was, ” Why are they using a werewolf as a spokesman?”

Turns out it’s an ad for Dos Equis beer featuring this character as the Most Interesting Man in the World, a jet-setting, sword-fighting, arm-wrestling bon vivant whose personality is so magnetic that he can’t carry credit cards.

Who cures narcolepsy by merely entering a room.

Whose blood smells like cologne.

Whose beard is listed on his organ donor card.

Who has alien abductors ask him to probe them.

Who ends each ad with his catchphrase, “Stay thirsty, my friends.”

When I finally paid attention to the words of the ad I had to laugh.  It was goofy and offbeat and seemed to have little to do with the product.  But it eventually had me looking at it.  There’s something captivating to me about goofiness in advertising.  I appreciate the fact that they’re willing to be creative and not go with the obvious.  Like the  Caveman in the Geico ad  or the Snickers ads with the Viking, Pilgrim and Polynesian characters, it’s at least an attempt at making an individual identity.

Here’s one of the ads.  While you’re taking a look I think I’ll open a Dos Equis and have a Snickers.  Don’t laugh, it’s possible.

Stay thirsty, my friends…

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A Sense of Grace

Once Was Blind...You know, sometimes you forget in your day to day life to stop and just take in the moment, putting aside chores to simply breath.  To bask in the sunlight and look at the sky, to feel the world drift dreamily over you.  It’s at these moments that you realize the things you’ve been looking for for so long are imminent.  There is a sense of grace in this moment, one that is at once humbling and uplifting.

Grace doesn’t come in a thunderbolt.  Grace comes quietly like the sun shifting behind the clouds.  Like a shadow cast in the bright light of day.

To this end, here is a lovely piece of film set to Allison Krauss‘  version of Down In the River to Pray.  In the sound and imagery there is a sense of this grace…

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