Reading Paintings

I have this weird habit with my artwork and I'm not sure if anyone else can relate with this one, though it'd be kinda cool if I could.
See, after I finish a painting or drawing, when I look back at it, I can actually reread the conversations that were going on around me while I was painting. This also works with movies and TV, but not so much with music.
If I follow the brush strokes and lines and even the layers with me eyes, I can listen to the conversation that was going on around me pretty much verbatim. Sometimes sentences are interrupted, but of course, I'm not painting non-stop, I rinse my brush and stretch and smoke, so that sort of makes sense.

For instance, to this day, if I look at "Morning Catch", I can listen to scenes from "V for Vendetta" because while I was painting this, Doc and Andy were watching it for the second time. This was back in China in mid 2007.
Around the seam in the smaller sale, V is making Evey eggs. At the bottom of the boat, V is promising Creedy that he'll die "With my hands around your neck."

In my Medusa painting, the Pig people of "xenophobia" are accidentally torturing a man while trying to show their highest form of respect.

Over time, it gets harder to read and sometimes only general themes or stories remain, but it takes a long time before that happens.


I've talked about this a few times with some of my friends, and my best guess as to why this happens is based on focus.

You tend to associate your senses to memories; smell, color, heat, music. While I'm painting, I'm extremely focussed on the painting and the details, and so everything I hear gets mixed up with it, so that the little highlights on the pail sail at the back of that boat are forever attached to Evey opting for death behind the sheds rather than to talk about V.

When I paint, I don't tend to feel my body as much as I usually do. I've noticed that after hours of painting, I get up to the realization that my back is aching or that I've forgotten to eat or that my head hurts. I also get flare ups of some sort of arthritis when I paint too much, but while I'm painting, I'm none the wiser. It's not until I'm done painting and focusing on the wider world around me that I take account of bodily aches and pains.

So it would be safe to assume that when I'm painting, my two basic senses at work involve seeing and hearing, and because I'm so focussed, both of these get turned up a few notches, so that anything I hear while painting gets stuck in the paint too.

I'm not sure why this doesn't work with music. I think it might be because when I'm listening to music, I generally day dream and make up my own stories in my head, and those get stuck in the painting just like the movies and conversations do.

The interesting question that goes along with this is whether or not any of this has any effect on other people who see my work. I've only tried once or twice to concentrate on one theme and story while painting to see if other people get any of it, but I've yet to really experiment with it.

Because of this, I don't like to have depressing conversations going on while working on a piece that connotes love and affection, and I don't like to hear love stories when painting about pain or loss. It gets mixed up and I'll always see those things in there. It's like watching Fear Factor while eating a romantic dinner; you just don't mix the two.
The other day I had to leave the room because Andy was watching The History channel and it was a story about Hitler. I was drawing two lovers and after just a short while of drawing to this, I was uncomfortable. I looked at the drawing and saw these horrible things in the pencil lines and I couldn't stand it. So I went to my room and put on some good music. I think I was listening to some of the soundtrack from The Legend of 1900 and of course some George Edmonson.

This is kind of strange, and maybe a bit loony to some people, but it's something that is deffinely a part of my art. I'm going to do some more experimentation and see if any of this can have any effect on other people. For all we know, all artists do this, and it might have to do with why people are drawn to certain paintings. Maybe they're reading what the artist was fantasizing about, maybe a painting they can't stand was painted over the sounds of a couple fighting.

Red Dog

Red Dog Art Gallery is one of the many galleries that participate in First Fridays in the Roosevelt area in Phoenix. The gallery is a cool little house that rents out rooms and wall space to artists, as well as their front yard during First Fridays.
On my first trek through the First Friday experience, I had an affinity for the place. First of all, you gotta love these "house" galleries. Recently Phoenix started offering monetary incentives to home buyers in exchange for sprucing up and arting up the area. The idea was to reinvigorate the neighborhood, and it spurred on a pretty cool art movement. (At least, that's the story I've heard.). So now, the streets are filled with houses that have been converted into galleries and general art spots or bars, which makes for a pretty cool vibe for the galleries.

I spoke to the co owner, Sylvia Frost, and went back yesterday to show her a few of my pieces, to see if she'd like to put any of them up. So now, I have two paintings up a Red Dog, and I'll be showing up for First Friday this time around as well. The two paintings I have up are "Ice and Fire" and "Hong Mei" (Red Beauty). After I get a few more of these framed, I'll be thinking about renting out a room.



Red Dog is at
812 North Third Street in Phoenix.




I'm also working on a new pencil series that I'm really excited about. I can't tell you about it yet, because I don't want to jinx it, but once it's done, I'll be going around to the other galleries in town and seeing if I can't get them shown.

Out of the Cave

American life is coming back to me. For the past two and a half years, we've lived on our own schedules, doing our own thing on our own time and not worrying about the usual things you worry about in a usual life. We've been back for seven months and yesterday I went to a job interview. That's the crux of the usual life, and the thing we are always wary of.

It's not the usual day job though. The place is called Phoenix Art Group and I'd be interviewing for a position as an artist. So this isn't the usual trip, but it's still working for someone else, and that's something I haven't done for a while. The interviewing process itself is a bit...weird. I'm not used to it. The thing I wasn't expecting was being nervous. I wasn't in the beginning, but then I realized I actually wanted the job. If it was a waitress interview, I couldn't care less.

My error was asking the receptionist to explain how it works there. As it turns out, there's a lot of learning in the job. If you know me at all, you know learning turns me on. That's right, I can't get enough of it, and I'm particularly hungry lately for learning things pertaining to art. I'm an alright artist, but I make it all up, and lately I'm looking for some technique. Well it just so happens that they teach exactly that in this job. So this is how it works:

A designer creates a piece: acrylic, oil or metal sculpture. Then they have a show. When a company or person diggs it, the designer comes back and gathers up all his little artists and then goes on to teach them how to recreate the piece. Yeah, it's mass production, and it's for companies. A lot of it is "contemporary", the kind of artwork I can't stand, but I can't help but think of correlations to the age old art apprentice. The head guy designed it and then taught his little artists how to paint it for him. Michelangelo was not the only artist who laid his brush on the Sistine Chapel, it was a big project and you can be damn sure that he had all his apprentices painting that ceiling too. For all I know, the Sistine Chapel is the exception, but that's how it went.
Okay, this ain't no Sistine Chapel. This is corporate art. I'm not looking at it as great artwork, but it's the teaching in there I'm looking at. They have TECHNIQUE. They teach you how to put the paint down, what to mix it with, how to order the layers, how to use materials that I DON'T USE, and if they let me, teaching me how to do metal sculpture. I could use all of that in my own art, and make it something really great.

See, now I want the job. And now I'm nervous.

I didn't have the actual interview yet. I just went in and talked to the receptionist and did the application bit. When I first came in, I just brought my portfolio. Rachel, the receptionist, tells me they only take CDs or slides and that they won't see anyone until after they have that with the application. So I take the application and ask her questions. Rachel tells me they're not looking for anyone right now, but would hire someone who really shines. She asks if she can look through my portfolio while I'm filling out the application and of course I let her. She "looks" through my portfolio, if you can call speed skimming "looking". Surprisingly, when she finishes, she jumps on the phone and calls up the person who will be reviewing my work and tries to get me an interview right there on the spot. Needless to say, this got my hopes up a bit. Unfortunately, the woman on the other end of the phone stuck to the rules and said she'd have to see the cd I put together first.
So I gather up my portfolio and go home to make the cd, put on my bio and 10 of my best pieces and hurry back.
So now, I'm waiting.... impatiently.

This is weird. I want them to be impressed by my work and give me a chance. This is a job, and I want it.

By the way, these are two new pieces of mine that I put on the CD. I think I'm getting better recently. I've been asking people to critique my work and I've been actually taking notes on what I need to improve. So these are the first two results of my note taking.

Phoenix Art Scene

I've been in Arizona for a little while now, and I've recently had the opportunity to see the Phoenix art scene. It's an interesting mix here. I went to First Friday this month. We were worried there wouldn't be much to see because of the heat, thinking that most people would be staying inside with the comfort of air conditioning. Regardless, I wanted to see the area, maybe stop into some galleries and get a feel for the area, maybe even pick a few brains.

As it turns out, First Friday was swamped. There was probably about a thousand people out and all the galleries were packed. There's also rows of houses that have recently been converted into art centered businesses, and these too were packed with artists and buyers alike. It was a very young scene and very accessible. Most prints were about $10, and originals were affordable. I never saw anything in the thousands, but there was a lot there, so there is a chance I missed something.

I've been hearing about Phoenix's First Fridays for a while now and it seems to be all it was cracked up to be. After nearly 3 years in an artist-deprived China, I have to admit, I was a little overwhelmed. I couldn't comprehend how this town has so many artists hiding within it. There's a surplus here. It seems just about everyone has something to offer in the art world here: prints, contemporary paintings, sculptures, found art, clothing, design, accessories, jewelry, postcards, furniture, pins: there is no end.

Needless to say, I'm excited to get involved, but this brings up a bit of a problem. With all these artists flooding the streets of Phoenix, I'm now one in a million. Being an artist and Designer gives me an advantage when dealing with businesses. When they need marketing or branding or a mural, I can give them what they don't have, and something they generally don't know how to find. In Phoenix, though, with this popular art scene, artists are at their fingertips. All they have to do is visit Roosevelt Row and pick and choose from the artists lined up on the scene.

So this is my new little conundrum; how do I make myself more accessible and stand out in this scene, in a town I don't know?

Every city has it's language, built off of the preferences and beliefs of the towns, as well as the trends, the economy and the local talent. Towns become proud of the characters and successes within them, and it colors how they see things, how they talk, dress, what they buy and how they act.

Just look at the difference between Seattle and LA. Both have very active art and music scenes, but you'd be hard pressed to see swarms of girls at a Seattle music venue dressed like the next Bunny of the year, ready to bend over for a little diamond prize. Being a skanky rich bitch isn't cool in Seattle. Sure there are some, but it doesn't color Seattle as a whole, and the general public there views that as pretty unattractive. So you wouldn't do too well to open a slutling clothing line in Seattle.

Compare Jersey to Sacremento in how they'd react to a mom spanking her kid. Chicago to Texas on Affirmative Action. FLorida to Boston on sunglasses. That last one might seem a little extreme, but it's true; whole cities and towns will have an unspoken consensus on fashion, music, culture and politics, and while it varries house to house, the town as a whole knows their issues and the fences that sepparte the general public on all these issues. They might not think about it or realize it on a daily basis, but it's there, and you'll see changes in these personal preferences when people move around. Some of it hangs around and never goes away, but venacular and popular trends tend to shift based on your area code.

Now that's a long drawn out way of saying I don't know this town. I in no way intend to start painting a bunch of Puma Indian artwork just because it might be big here, but I am aware of the fact that I'm at a disadvantage. I don't have the leg up that I did in LA. I know how people work there, what they value and how they act, and because of this, I knew exactly how to talk to them. There are variations, but everyone's not their own unique little butterfly; there are patterns in people, types, and you get to notice these things after a while, so that when you're talking to someone about a website or mural, you know how to sell it.

One of the things to note is the economy out here. At First Friday, most things are cheap. If you go down there with a hundred bucks, you'd be able to decorate a room of your house. Whereas, at the Mesa Arts Center, unless you had a few grand, you'd have to stick to the gift store. So at First Fridays, I'd have to bring down the prices and maybe sell smaller pieces, or accessories, but I'd have a huge crowd to sell to. Whereas at Mesa Arts Center, you'd be able to put a nice price tag on your work, but you'd be lucky if a hundred people saw it. Mesa Arts Center was dead. Maybe two other people where there besides us.

I'm not really sure where to start here. I've been taking mental notes on the town and I'm starting to figure it out, and hopefully soon I'll start to see how best to present my work here. What aspects of what I do will turn people on here? What parts of my work should I focus on and do more of? I'm looking for the Phoenix Sienna package, or something like it.

Vector Illustrations and Why Windows Sucks

I've always dug vector illustrations and design, and I noticed that when I was designing, I was often faking vector design. So I decided to bridge the gap and just get a vector program. I'm using Inkscape. It's an open source, totally free alternative to Illustrator.
First of all: Linux is the proverbial "Man" of the OS world. The more I use it, the more I like it and the less I like Windows. Just the usability is worlds better.

When you're in a Linux program, you interface with the software. With nothing but my right hand on the mouse and my left hanging over the corner of my keyboard, I can work uninterrupted. It was unusual at first, but now it's second nature. I'm so used to it, I keep using Ubuntu hot keys and navigation when I'm in Windows programs and I keep getting frustrated that I have to stop what I'm doing to go grab the zoom or some other thing. Linux OS and software let you operate in them uninterrupted. It's just little amounts of time that you're waisting in Windows programs, but these little hickups get in the way of your designing/work flow.

Maybe it's not for everyone, but if a die hard Windows fan actually tried it out, I think everyone would come to the same concussion: Linux software is more productive and easier for long time use. If you only ever use your computer to check emails and write reports in Word, then Linux isn't much use to you and you'd probably give up long before you saw the benefit. But to someone who's designing all the time, or working on 3D or animation or editing or any project, it's easy to see the benefit.

I was hesitant at first. I use Feisty Ubuntu, and when I first got it, I was always worried I would fuck it up in some unrepairable way. I think it was because of the terminal and that you can change so much about the OS, and I didn't trust that kind of power in my hands. Anyway, now it's just awesome. Everything is easy, and maintenance is a frelling dream. (yes I said frelling. It seem fitting here. Okay, how about fracking? ;P / )

I just wish I had known about all this before. The OS and all the software (pretty much all) are open source and totally free, and usually miles better than their pricey competitors. The only downside I see here is that it took so damn long for me to know that it was out there.

This might sound a little preachy, possibly pluggy, but I can't help being excited, partly due to the fact that I work a lot, and Windows likes to make that difficult for me. The programs devour ram and when a bug comes out, you're shit out of luck, because they're sure as hell not going to fix the problem. Whereas in Linux, while there's bugs, there's always fixes, and updates, and fucking progress people!




If you're new to Inkscape, here are some links I reccomend:

Illustrating a Mouse (good for familiarizing yourself in the program)
Tutorial on Swirls
Tut on Grunge
More on Grunge
Download Inkscape (note: works worlds better on Linux then on Windows)
Ubuntu (A Linux OS)

(This blog designed in Inkscape)