I sail on watered words
sinking as my raft of soft lines
assembles the creative loaded question:

What is the measure of art
to a dying world of make-believe treasures?

The way of an artist is not a part time job
Time is soul food
and we awake rubbing yesterday's eyes
looking for evasive inspiration

To create from nothing
some thing worth keeping
is what we call art.

It is not commercial in its primal state
but the only survival of humanity
A record of love
through war-filled ages.

Bit and pieces of heaven and wishes
assembled in spirit clouds
torture the thunder in the silken shadow
to find a way to
somebody's distant eyes.

The artist creates a well of water
aching to be spread
as nourishment on the world garden.
Withering flowers remembered
not for money, but because
WE ARE AMAZED.

The world of art beats
with a timid confidence
Insane sanity
and terrified insecurity.

Looking only for a tip of a hat,
a wink in a tear

searching
to give itself
to the universe.



kaibab
May 10, 2006

For this show I am culling work from the past, mostly old drawings, cast-off paintings, some photos I took after an ice storm. bits of nothing I once cherished, so kept and now relayered.

The African lady is someone whose face I found interesting and drew at a Lakefront Festival over 20 years ago. I rolled the drawing into my bike pack and kept it all this time. Some time later, I caught the old man coming out of the Wheel Inn and just loved his expression. My photo was poor, the drawing better. Are these faces worth keeping? I thought so. And now -- using technology that allows me to scan my worn old drawings and give them the color and personality I've always seen inside them -- I can share them with you.

A strange coincidence inspired me to layer these onto wood and metal. Since it's summer break, I enjoy creative explorations with my son Mike, age 11. We started collecting driftwood at Vallicito and leaving them outside with pieces of metal to endure the elements. One morning I was working with the angels, applying pastel over digital prints of drawings of my daughter Jessi, now 20. I took a break to go outside to check on metal I had thrown acid on the night before. I was humbled that God had done a better job with color on the copper than I did with my pastels. So I brought the metal in and jealously layered it over my angels on the table. The effect was inspirational, but with art papers, you couldn't see how nicely the materials offset each other. So, I reprinted the work on transparent vellum allowing the metal to ghost through as well as endure unintended consequences of blurring dripping ink.

"Not for money but because, WE ARE AMAZED"

I hope you enjoy!