What a very full and wonderful day. Inspiring, invigorating and also calming.

Stephen picked me up at the hotel about 10 am and we walked down to the farmer's market at the Ferry building. Eating, wandering, smelling, and looking at the abundance and diversity of foods. I'm a sucker for farmer's markets.




Robbie picked us up and off we went to the De Young. He wanted me to meet a friend of his, another artist, and so Richard met us at the museum. The 4 of us had a grand time exploring exhibits, talking about art...what we enjoyed and what turns us off. It was juicy stuff.




After the De Young, they took me out of the city, over the Golden Gate bridge, into the hills and...we ended the day at the ocean. Those of you who know me well, know how important the ocean is to me. It was a perfect ending to a perfect day. Kicking off my sandals, I rolled up my jeans and strolled down to the water. Waves came up and at one point I found my legs entirely wet by one that rushed in much quicker and larger than expected. I turn into a little kid at the ocean. A buoyancy and a sense of peace both fill me. It's been years since I've played in the ocean.

Stephen and Robbie were fabulous hosts, sharing themselves and their city with me.

There is so much to sift through and hopefully share - thoughts and images. I am chock full of ideas for my painting as well as new experimentation in other mediums. Emotionally and spiritually, at times, due to memories, it's been painful. But I've refused to hide from the pain and at the same time not allowed it to paralyze me. I would honor the feelings as they arose, took quiet time when needed and still enjoy good company. In that, it's been a very rich and fruitful 48 hours.

I am so blessed.




The ocean!
Wow.

The ocean. It's home.

Seatac airport early yesterday morning.

Quiet, isn't it? Because I didn't really pay attention to my flight time, I ended up being about 45 minutes early...meaning, instead of waking at 3:30 am I could have slept in.

Oh well. I opted for decaf while waiting because I wanted to nap on the plane.

Fortunately, in SF, even though I arrived at the hotel at 9, I was able to check into my room and then went to meet Bob for coffee. The weather was beautiful. We chatted and then he walked me around the neighborhood, pointing out various architecture and museums. He makes a fabulous guide and we parted at the MOMA where I spent some powerfully provocative time. I'll right more about it later. It was a day of checking out art and doing some serious walking. Hills, hills and more hills.

The stairs and water tower I've been walking at home are paying off because my lungs didn't want to burst in a way they would have even two weeks ago. One day after walking up the water tower my body even began to run. It surprised me because I haven't run since 1983 and surprised me more because my muscles were already burning and yet my legs took off at an easy trot. It was pretty short, a block long, yet quite encouraging.

Due to the early rise, I was quite tired yesterday, yet chose to be really physical. I needed to push my body...feel my legs. Each bit of exertion brought me to a space of beauty.

A long hot bath for sore muscles and then after dinner I headed out again, this time to the piers. I kept away from Fisherman's Terminal because, due to tiredness, I wasn't up for the crowds but the water was calling to me.

Today, I'm getting together with a few friends, Stephen and Robbie, for the day...some art, a little farmer's market action and enjoying the weather.

This trip is turning out to be a perfect balance of people time and alone time. I really needed different scenery and knew I would be facing some hard stuff at the same time. My 48 hours in SF is a mini-retreat...a very untraditional sesshin.

Yesterday I took a buttload of photos and still need to sort through them. I foresee a few mini photo essays in the very near future.

It's a cool, misty morning...the kind of weather that cries for me to be curled up in a big chair, with a blanket, a cup of tea and watching an old movie. But instead, I'm at work finishing up some projects and making my list for my trip to San Francisco tomorrow.

In addition to seeing some friends and meeting new folks (which I'm very excited about), I'll be checking out art.

My hotel is a couple blocks away from the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art and I look forward to spending some quiet time looking at these exhibits on Friday.

Saturday, friends are taking me to the De Young. I never made it there on my last trip to SF and so I'm thrilled. Some of the exhibitions are the Amish Abstractions, the Wordplay Photography. The Diebenkorn monotypes arouse me.

Yesterday I received an email from the San Francisco Art Institute about a brand new exhibit that opens Saturday evening. I have no idea how I came to be on their mailing list but it's timely. It's a faculty and alumni show being held at Baer Ridgway Exhibitions, again, not far from my hotel.

The initial motivation for this trip is to see Russell Pachman's piece in a group show at the Geras-Tousignant Gallery on Friday, after checking out SF MoMA. The link takes you to a pdf of the show catalog. In flipping through the pages, there seems to be a lot of awesome work and I'm juiced to see Russell's piece in person.

More links because...well...work is really challenging this week and it's taking pretty much all my creative energy. Problems just cropping up and I'm scrambling to resolve them because they are all time sensitive. Some of this week's projects are exceptionally difficult and by the end of the day...I'm mush.

I don't mind times like these and do enjoy the challenges, but it leaves little room for anything else. Including art.

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Crayon Art

Here is a very quick cool crayon thingy. Little crayon sculptures.

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Punk Bach

Yesterday, Jen Graves posted a youtube link to Bach's Toccato and Fugue in D Minor with what become hypnotic animation for me. Afterward, being curious, I went to youtube to see if anyone else did something interesting with that Bach piece and found a rambunctious live performance of Toccata by the Toy Dolls. I think Bach is definitely suited to punk.

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Freewill Astrology

Here is this week's Freewill Astrology.

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Street art goes to the White House!

Wooster Collective is one of my favorite sites I check out daily. They've been around since 2001 and showcase artists, especially street art. This morning they wrote about their trip to the White House after being invited to participate in a briefing with other organizations about the Arts. Read their entry here.

An excerpt:

We know that a lot of people will hate us for going to The White House. But for us, the goal of attending the meetings yesterday was not to attempt to “partner” with government on anything. Or to ask for their acceptance. The power of street art is that you don’t ask for, nor need, permission. At best, it’s about tolerance and understanding.

For us, we felt the issues related to the disappearance of common access to our public space and the need for a deeper understanding of what is and what is not “art” should not be limited to those who read blogs – especially ours. Talking solely to “the converted” will get you only so far. We learned a while back that when you have a chance to sit at the table you take it. Even if those around the table are not people you fully trust.

So all of this is to say that we felt that by going to meet with officials in the new Obama Administration we were representing not us, but all of you. It wasn’t about stroking our ego or having a photo-op with the President (which didn’t happen). It was about letting people who make decisions at the highest level know that the definition of what "art" is needs to change in our society. If art is "over there" and health and science and transportation is “over here" - then art will always be something that is perceived as elitist, misunderstood, undervalued, etc. It will always be something that is only found in museums and in galleries, not put on our streets and on our walls with the artist taking the risk of getting arrested.

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Steichen Sirens

While writing this entry, I just received an email from my friend Dan in NYC with a link to a blog that has some gorgeous, glamorous photographs. Check out Steichen Sirens here.


Now...off to my therapist and then full immersion in work.

Today, I'm getting back to a regular schedule...for a few days anyway. I'm off to San Francisco on Friday for the weekend to see art, have some good conversations, hang out with a few friends and meet some new ones.

Before I truly immerse myself in my work, here are a few links~

Artist

Kim emailed me a few days ago with an introduction to an artist I'd never before heard of and have fallen hard for her work - Chloe Piene. What prompted Kim to contact me was these stills from a video piece.

Check out the website...and the drawings. Damn. Good stuff. The drawings are clean and yet at the same time raw.

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Gays and Scallops

A 3 minute clip of Jon Stewart on shellfish and then on Marion Barry. Funny.

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Don't Fire Me

Here's an open letter from a soldier to Obama and the members of Congress. It's been making the rounds of some news sites:

He begins with:

I have learned many lessons in the ten years since I first raised my right hand at the United States Military Academy at West Point and committed to fighting for my country. The lessons of courage, integrity, honesty and selfless service are some of the most important.

At West Point, I recited the Cadet Prayer every Sunday. It taught us to “choose the harder right over the easier wrong” and to “never be content with a half truth when the whole can be won.” The Cadet Honor Code demanded truthfulness and honesty. It imposed a zero-tolerance policy against deception, or hiding behind comfort.

Following the Honor Code never bowed to comfortable timing or popularity. Honor and integrity are 24-hour values. That is why I refuse to lie about my identity.


And later on closes with:

As an infantry officer, I am not accustomed to begging. But I beg you today: Do not fire me. Do not fire me because my soldiers are more than a unit or a fighting force – we are a family and we support each other. We should not learn that honesty and courage leads to punishment and insult. Their professionalism should not be rewarded with losing their leader. I understand if you must fire me, but please do not discredit and insult my soldiers for their professionalism.

When I was commissioned I was told that I serve at the pleasure of the President. I hope I have not displeased anyone by my honesty. I love my job. I want to deploy and continue to serve with the unit I respect and admire. I want to continue to serve our country because of everything it stands for.

Please do not wait to repeal Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. Please do not fire me.

Read the entire letter here.

Here's the "after" photo...



...and a couple of the "before" images~






Today was Cornish College of the Arts Commencement ceremony. Michael, on the right in the top photo, was graduating with his BFA in Art and had sent me an invitation to be present at this important occasion. I looked forward to attending...for him, and yet at the same time expected the typical graduation ceremony.

The ceremony, held at Benaroya Hall, I discovered was not your ordinary graduation, beginning with a very different processional played by the Cornish Gamelan Ensemble. Gamelan is new to me and so I had to look it up as soon as I got home.

From the Gamelan Pacifica (Seattle based) website, here is a description:

"Gamelan is a spirit, not an object," says noted Indonesian musician Sapto Raharjo, "the instruments are just the medium."

A gamelan is often described as a gong-chime percussion orchestra. These beautiful instruments have their origins in the islands of Java and Bali. Unlike the western orchestra, which features predominantly winds and strings, the gamelan is dominated by percussion instruments, although plucked and bowed stings, flutes, and singing are also important. The instruments of a gamelan are usually built as a set. Each set has a characteristic tuning which may be unique or may be copied from another gamelan. The bronze instruments are produced by a complex process of casting and forging."

The Cornish Gamelan Ensemble (the student group) plays on the same instruments as the Gamelan Pacifica.

As soon as the first notes were struck, its uniqueness welled up inside me and brought tears to my eyes. What a refreshing change to Pomp and Circumstance. It was light, joyous and highly creative. Perfect for an arts college commencement.

I noticed the students weren't in traditional cap and gown...except for one, because she chose to wear it. Most were in nice clothes, with a few in jeans, and a couple others in what almost appeared to be vintage clothing and hats! Loved the hats. One female student looked as if she had stepped out of Seurat's Un dimanche après-midi à l'Île de la Grande Jatte minus the parasol. It was wonderful!

The speaker was Eric Liu and I hope to find a transcript or video on youtube soon. He spoke of artist as citizen and citizen as artist. It was about mindfulness to our origins...learning to see and be continually aware of how everything is connected. Our art isn't separate from our society, our environment. In addition, citizen as artist...he spoke of how the imagination, the creativity, the out of the box thinking should be more often applied in traditional fields and tasks. Co-author of "The True Patriot", he defined "true patriotism" as leaving your world, your space, a little better than what you found it.

He spoke of service. Our gifts and talents, used not only for ourselves, but in addition, in service to our world. Again, it's about connectedness.

Powerful talk.

Honorary degrees were awarded to sculptor John Frame and theater artists Susan and Clayton Corzatte.

The entire ceremony tremendously moved me. It brought me back to my BFA graduation, and forced me to look at the time between then and now. I hope (but am not promising anything) to write about those thoughts and feelings. Let's see if I can get it on paper.

But as far as today goes, I felt much excitement for the students graduating and honored to have been included in such a special time. Thank you Michael.

Today was opening day at the Broadway Farmer's Market. After brunch with some seriously good french toast, a few of us headed over to poke around. They always have wonderful produce, meats and cheeses.

And yes, it's Mother's Day. I've tried calling mine three times and the best I could do was reach my sister, who was getting together with the entire family, and asked her to send Mom my love. I'll try again tomorrow.

Here are some flowers for all the moms who read...and for anyone else who enjoys posies. While shooting it almost felt sacrilegious to take this in black and white. Feel free to imagine big bundles of vibrant color.

Yesterday was a zoning out day, taking time for self, until last night's art opening for the Cornish BFA students. It was a good show.

This morning is sunny and my body doesn't feel as heavy or my mind, stupid. It's time to get back into the studio. It feels like it's been forever since I've painted and I'm chomping at the bit to work on a piece I began last Friday.

There is a growing urgency inside to create some type of statement for my new series. Normally, I'm not a fan of artist statements because of my belief that the art should speak for itself. I detest spoon-feeding adults nor tolerate masturbatory bullshit gracefully. I don't believe all statements do this but rare is the statement that speaks to me. When it does, it makes an impact.

I think there is a delicate balance between giving the viewer too much information and just enough to assist with the beginning of their journey into the work, if the work calls for it.

In speaking with people about these paintings, I see that words need to be written. I've come to the realization that my original stubbornness to not do a statement for this series is an icky type of arrogance. So my latest challenge is to create something...and keep it simple and short. The evolution of the work is a big story that needs to be whittled down to the fewest words possible.

This puzzle has been whirling in my head for days.

EDIT: (after writing this I realized something else.) My thoughts on statements doesn't mean I'm not happy to speak about the work in more detail. I've had a few experiences in the last month where I've been approached by people for further explanation. There is a genuine desire to engage and in that, I'm delighted to talk with them and have. I'm not quite sure how, but it is different than a statement. Maybe because it's more personal and it's a dialogue.


Here is the small (9x12") oil painting that led to the larger fuck painting I posted a few days back. I've become really frustrated with how all these paintings photograph. They come alive in person.

Last weekend at the Seattle Erotic Art Festival there was a piece, about the size of a fullsize bed, covered in penises. It was lit from underneath and emanated blue light.

Last night, at the Art Walk, in a studio down the hall from mine, I saw the penis bed. It's really a fascinating piece and makes me wonder what it would feel like to lay on a bed of penises.




Mike, Bill, Daniel, Eric and Craig spent the evening, romping through the building and hanging out.

Quickie~

First Thursday Art Walk tonight. Meeting friends for food beforehand. Hanging big painting this evening instead of leaving it on the easel. It means I feel really excited about the direction of the piece.

Busy work day, but was emotionally spent in a good way and so left a few hours ago to have time for resting and quiet before heading down to the studio.

Just got back from the coffee shop because a caffeine/sugar concoction was needed. A card on the counter grabbed my attention and I picked it up. It was an announcement for a concert, but it wasn't the concert that intrigued me. It was the name of the concert:




I've been having various conversations about darkness, isolation, pain and how they can be gifts if we don't run from it yet instead go through it.

"This darkness is your candle" - quite the delicious paradox.

The blurb on the other side of the card says:

In dark and troubled times ancient peoples turned to the poets and mystics to find solace, understanding, and inspiration. Those old "knowers" knew that whenever we are lost or "at a loss" the soul is nearby. For the soul finds its way by touching darkness and releasing the hidden light. "Allow the dark times to season you," says Hafiz.

It's what my therapist used to tell me over and over...and what my mentor used to teach as well. It's only recently that I can now see, instead of only taking on faith, how my darkness is a gift, a candle.

It speaks to the work, it speaks to my life, it speaks to my heart. 5 little words - "this darkness is your candle."

Bill and Daniel have been in town for almost 3 weeks and we've been spending a fair bit of time together. These photos were taken a few hours after they landed. See how quickly they settle into Seattle as we all enjoyed a cup at Victrola, near my house.

Today Bill and I finally had a chance to do a shoot. You can see one of the shots here, in Bill's LJ. He's an amazing photographer and always manages to pull and capture something deep when we shoot together.

Here is this week's Freewill Astrology.

A very cool sculptural bookcase called "The Wisdom Tree" by Spanish designer Jordi Mila.

I went to the studio last night with hopes to paint. Instead, I tended to the space, setting up for the Art Walk, tossing trash, abd sweeping the floor which hasn't been swept in about 4 months. It was a sweet time that felt nurturing. I'm still creatively tired and having a "chop wood, carry water" activity in the studio was quite fulfilling.

And here is a very special letter written by Stephen Fry.

35 years ago, when Fry was 16, he wrote a letter to his future self. Recently, he decided to return the gift.

Here's an excerpt but I recommend you read the entire letter:

I know what you are doing now, young Stephen. It's early 1973. You are in the library, cross-referencing bibliographies so that you can find more and more examples of queer people in history, art and literature against whom you can hope to validate yourself. Leonardo, Tchaikovsky, Wilde, Barons Corvo and von Gloeden, Robin Maugham, Worsley, "an Englishman", Jean Genet, Cavafy, Montherlant, Roger Peyrefitte, Mary Renault, Michael Campbell, Michael Davies, Angus Stewart, Gore Vidal, John Rechy, William Burroughs.

So many great spirits really do confirm that hope! It emboldens you to know that such a number of brilliant (if often doomed) souls shared the same impulse and desires as you. I know the index-card waltz of (auto)biographies, poems and novels you are dancing: those same names are still so close to the surface of my mind nearly four decades later. Novels, poetry and the worlds of art and ideas are opening up in front of you almost incidentally. You spend all your time in the library yearning to be told that you are not alone, and an unlooked for side-effect of this just happens to be a real education achieved in a private school designed for philistine bumpkins. Being born queer has given you, by mistake, a fantastic advantage over the rugger-playing ordinaries who surround you. But those rugger-playing ordinaries have souls too. And you should know that. I know you cannot believe it now. They seem so secure, so assured, so blessedly normal. They gave Cuthbert Worsley the Kipling-derived title of his overwhelmingly important (to you) autobiography The Flannelled Fool: "these are the men that have lost their soul/ The flannelled fool at he wicket/ And the muddied oaf at the goal".

You look down at the fools almost as much as you fear them. The ordinary people, whose path through life is guaranteed...

...Somehow, as you age, a miracle will be wrought. You will begin by descending deeper into the depths: expulsion, crime and prison - nothing really to do with being gay, but everything to do with love and your inability to cope with it. Yet you will, as the Regency rakes used to say, "make a recover" and find yourself at university, where it will be astonishingly easy to be open about your sexuality. No great trick, for the university is Cambridge, long a hotbed of righteous tolerance, spiritual heavy-petting and homo hysteria. You will emerge from Cambridge and enter a world where being "out" is no big deal, although a puzzlingly small number of your coevals will find it as easy as you to emerge from the shadows. Before you damn anyone for failing to come out, look to their parents. The answer almost always lies there. Oh how lucky in that department, as in so many, you are, young Stephen.

But don't kid yourself. For millions of teenagers around Britain and everywhere else, it is still 1973. Taunts, beatings and punishment await gay people the world over in playgrounds and execution grounds (the distance between which is measured by nothing more than political constitutions and human will). Yes, you will grow to be a very, very, very, very lucky man who is able to express his nature out loud without fear of hatred or reprisal from any except the most deluded, demented and sad. But that is a small battle won. A whole theatre of war remains. This theatre of war is bigger than the simple issue of being gay, just as the question of love swamps the question of mere sexuality....

It's a week of rejuvenation which includes diving back into my day gig, prepping for this month's First Thursday Art Walk, seeing a friend's BFA show on Friday at Cornish, hanging with dear friends, and grabbing lots of quiet time.

A bunch of new paintings for First Thursday...
The isolated boxes that morphed into blocks and windows and doors and people…each broken and grouped in various ways, are slowly evolving into orgies of dancing and fucking. The painting below is another new one, approximately 30"x40".

This morning I read an article in The Guardian about another theory regarding the slicing of Van Gogh's ear. Two German art historians have spent 10 years researching and believe his ear was probably cut off not by Van Gogh's own hand, but during a fencing match with Gauguin.

Oh yes...the above list? I had begun a "to do" list yesterday. This morning, when I arrived at work I noticed a coworker added one more item. Would that fall under "...other duties as assigned"?

My job rocks.

Okay, I'm slowly going to begin playing catchup.

This is a fuzzy photo from last Thursday's dinner during Dining Out for Life. We chose that evening intentionally, knowing a portion of the proceeds would support Lifelong AIDS Alliance.

Hopefully I can remember all the attendees...

Bill
Daniel
Michael and his partner Stan
Phil and his partner David
Another Michael
Eric
And even another Michael
Mike
Gary
Bearhedded
Shannon
Pete's brother Alec and his wife
Brian

and Bryan with a Y, who has a wonderful blog over at Salon and hopefully he'll resume his writing. One piece of his that cracked me up was a conversation with his mother. It begins with:

"Since I live on the opposite side of the continent, I call my mother once a week. She's says I call once a month. There's no knowing which is true since neither of us is a reliable source of information about the other."

Within the entry he shares a conversation he had with his mom about his GI Joe's and his early love of bondage. Read the entry, "Totally Homo Joe" here. Definitely a worthy read.

I think there are a few others who I am forgetting. My head is still foggy.

The table was filled with writers, artists, costumers, musicians, runners, computer geeks, chefs and pervs. It was a wonderful evening of conversation and camaraderie.

David gifted me with signed copies of his two latest books. It was wonderful meeting Bearhedded for the first time, and I really enjoyed getting to know Alec and his wife better.

All in all...for a large group, a perfect evening.

Yesterday morning it was snowing blossom petals.

My photo in the juried portion of the Seattle Erotic Art Festival, held at the Seattle Center Exhibition Hall this weekend. The majority of the comments made to me on the photo went one of two ways...opposite ends of the continuum - either a flat "oh" or a surprised and emphatic "now that's dirty!" or "nasty!".

Sunday, May 3, from 12-4pm is an open house with free admission to the exhibit and festival store.




It was a good show and I hope to write more about it later...but it's been an intense, full week and now it's time for bed.

Bill, a good friend, came by with Kim, my house guest for last night and tonight, noticed the nastiness that had accumulated on my fan blades and asked for a rag. I've seen the dust many times before and meant to borrow a step ladder but never got around to it.

What a guy!

This made me so happy I had to capture a photo.

Kim couldn't make it to dinner with us because she had other plans but she was here at the house when I returned. The original table of 12, turned into 16 by yesterday afternoon and then we ended up with about 21 folks for dinner. It was a wonderful group - a mishmash of creative and pervy folks.

Today K and I are spending the bulk of the day in the studio and then tonight we are headed to the erotic art festival. Last night was the artist only reception for the exhibit but I opted out, to conserve energy for this evening.

The weather this week has been phenomenally glorious.

Tonight is Dining Out for Life and we've gathered a group of 16 for dinner at one of the participating restaurants.

Check out the link to see if it's happening in your city.

The photo is of the Dining Out Poster. I saw the fly just hanging out and had to shoot it.

Now I need to get back to work before hopping into the rest of my day.

I don't expect to be posting much more than on the fly entries because the next 4 or 5 days are pretty full with an out of town guest, some shared art time, the art festival, and a big dinner of 16 on Thursday evening. Yesterday afternoon I assisted with unpacking shipped artwork for SEAF and then worked a little installation until my brain died and I couldn't measure anymore due to hitting a 13 hour day mark. There is some pretty special work in this year's festival, including a piece I'm very tempted to buy.

It's also been a time of cleaning dust bunnies, literally and figuratively.

Somehow April has flown by and May seems to be shaping up to be busy as well, including a short San Francisco trip smack in the middle of the month that I'm looking forward to. It'll be nice to get away, even for a wee bit and I couldn't beat the deal I received on airfare and hotel.

I'm thrilled with the direction of the new paintings.

I haven't picked up my camera...probably since Friday.

A bath was needed...to relax, slow down, and take a breath before heading to the airport to pick up a friend.

My kitchen table needs tulips. I'll pick some up later.

Here is this week's Freewill Astrology.

Very short entry because I have to finish a few things at work before I head down to assist with art installation for the Seattle Erotic Art Festival about noontime.


Here's an interesting article in today's NYTimes about a small factory in Pakistan that makes fetish gear for export needs to keep it on the down low.

From the article:

"The Qadeer brothers, Adnan, 34, and Rizwan, 32, have made the business into an improbable success story in a country where bars are illegal and the poor are often bound to a lifetime in poverty.

If the bondage business seems an unlikely pursuit for two button-down, slightly awkward, decidedly deadpan lower-class Pakistanis, it is. But then, discretion has been their byword. The brothers have taken extreme measures to conceal a business that in this deeply conservative Muslim country is as risky as it is risqué."