Sometimes a few little lines do the trick. Share the sentiment. Relay the message. I ♥ u so much. kiss kiss. Sometimes there is too much clutter and chatter. Shut the thoughts off please. Perhaps I could work in a labor farm to give me time to think–time to get my mind “right” as they say. In the meantime we should be kind to those around us. Cotton textures. Sun on my back and arms. Manna from heaven. Soft smile down on me.
I went to Puerto Rico. I got married. It was a beautiful time with family and friends. Now I have a wonderful and lovely bride. Yes it is true. I have to keep reminding myself it really happened.
I saw lizards and fish– birds that were new to me and jungle thick. I met local folks spreading their passion for food and love and flowers. I saw roadside chickens and horses– dirty happy dogs and fruit on the tree. I ate the best food I ever had in some of the most unlikely locales.
We climbed the mountains and walked into a cave- floated through the mangroves and saw underwater gardens. The green land and the happy people and the warm sun was good for my soul.
We have one life to grow (a reminder to myself).
The following came to me in a blast– the quiet lightning. I wrote it down quickly after seeing a photo made to look like a western plains town in the 1950′s. I also was influenced by the new Damien Jurado album Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Son as well as the Felix Baumgartner skydive record jump.
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The lady had silver blonde hair. The man had grown gaunt over the last 8 months–the night shakes-the silent screams. That’s how long it had been since i saw both of them–he with his high waist dark pants–jeans I believe. Her with her west texas free-style curls and that blasted patched vest.
The scrub brush was rough and only soft from a distance. Kind of like harsh words sometimes can soften over time–from a distance. Through the hazy mid-morning sun i saw the little town. It looked like something out of 50′s post war americana. The dinner and the TV show and all the proper dress. pleasant from a distance. No one smelled poorly or caused too much grief. All said yes ma’am and held the door for the next, even if a little too far behind. Everyone paid their taxes– their “fair share” they liked to quote.
I on the other hand was a couple miles out of town behind Waymore’s Butte– Chester County West Texas. I was cold and I had cut both legs up pretty bad on my escape. They had tied me to the bed in that unused room.
I knew if I jumped it would kill me but I was still considering it. They would never catch me. If they didn’t it wouldn’t be pretty. I wasn’t going to take it anymore.
The man and the woman and the silver curls. The dusty existence I was growing too found of. Always wanting a hot drink but getting none. White cups on the counter. Some of them stacked three high. The coyotes night call–stars.
I should have called her back. I was only going to be gone a little while, but they got in my way. They made me see red. When he left the silver balloon there was no sound. Only a cold unbreathable static.
I cover my face for a few minutes with my hand. Breathe out. Stars again. I see two large eyes in the sky. They rarely blink. They only stare down at me– mostly kind. Translucent and bizarrely immense.
I always see the eyes. The eyes that take you home.
Posted in writing
Tagged art, atlanta, blackcattips, brooks, Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Son, butte, Felix Baumgartner, illustration, jurado, silver balloon, waymores
As I ride south I watch an old black sign. I ride by time after time. Something was painted over. It sits blank for months–maybe years. Leaves blow by on the cold wind.
I wanted it to speak again–life on a dormant sign. Cats come back. We miss you. I forgot the crazy things you said. I pick up the phone and call. Come back. It is time to make a Cat Call.
I get upset a lot. I get upset all the time. I get upset several times a week or several times a day.
I can be happy and sad all in the same 10 minutes.
I can curse and swear and spit and stomp. I can laugh and hug and thank the God of all the Earth and Sky and have joy in my heart. All of this can happen side by side. I won’t lie.
I want to express myself and usually do. I often say too much or say it too loud. If I lived in another time I might be done living by now. They would take care of me. I am still here for now so I will keep on talking and yelling and painting out words for YOU to read.
I want to speak loudly and share my thoughts. Red paint slightly pink and an old crackly brush will do the trick. You do not have to read or listen or respond but I do have to talk and paint.
I work through it.
I am not upset.
The guy in the middle. He sits beside me and beside you. He makes the weird noises at the wrong time. He smells like a full vacuum cleaner bag.
The guy in the middle always wants a ride to the grocery store. He rolls open his window and yells down to you whenever you go to your car. The guy in the middle wants you to be insane.
The guy in the middle upsets your mother when she comes over to visit. He has a dog that is old and rotten. The guy in the middle wants to be your friend.
The skies turn dark and the winds set a straight course for you. The guy in the middle knocks on your door as leaves blow past. The guy in the middle bangs on your black metal door and wants you to answer it. You hide in your kitchen near the dog bowl.
The guy in the middle goes away for a while.
I have been staying busy lately on a bunch of small projects. This time of year you can become limited by workspace and daylight and temperature. The tests of time.
People will take your 6 dollar bills. Don’t let them. Please?
Cover your highway eyes–lead them to the mountains. Days and the river are all made of distant patterns.
A van full of red angels. Who are those masked men?
I thought I saw you standing by the door last night.
I always get paranoid about my vehicle. Did you say something?
I get concerned over the welfare of machines. I’ve stumbled over the same roots for years.
My neighbor has a lot of pizza delivered to her door/ I am a painter. People die. Existing is hard sometimes.
My life is going to change soon. My life has changed so much already. I found an old letter you wrote today in the bottom of a box. It was wonderful and painful all at once. You did not plan on that.
I painted on my wall again. This time it is something a little more official. I had sporadically painted images around my little place but this was the biggest assembly of images yet. I think I will add to it– tattoos for my house.
When I leave here one day someone will get a surprise. I like looking at these colors and faces.
(p.s. it is really cold)
(p.s.s buy these guys on a shirt)
Posted in mural
Tagged art, atlanta, blackcattips, brooks, cat, fish, happy, happy times, mural, painting, wall painting
Posted in mural
Tagged art, atlanta, blackcattips, bowtie, grim reaper, hats, kirkwood, mural, neofolk, painting, wall painting
I was asked to paint a couple panels for the mailroom of the Spire Midtown condos in Atlanta. I hope the residents and the mailman enjoy them. I surely enjoyed building and painting them.
I titled this art piece The Messenger (1&2). The birds are on breezy wing, bringing you news from beyond the hills.
Thanks to Walter Mazzanti of Abitato Inc. for asking me to create this for Spire Midtown. Thanks to Mark Gale for helping me install it. As one famous dude said, “I think it really ties the room together.”
Posted in painting
Tagged Abitato, art, artwork, atlanta, birds, blackcattips, brooks, mailroom, neofolk, painting, spire, spire midtown, walter mazzanti