LET'S GO TO BED: January 2011

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

mutilated wave

James Jean will rip you a new hole

Tiger, Acrylic, Oil, & Pastel on Two Canvases, 104 x 60", 2010.

Mutilated Wave, Ballpoint Pen on Paper, 10 x 9", 2010.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Monday, January 17, 2011

para gordita linda

if there's a light, move towards it.

if there's a warmth, move towards it.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

love sic

directed by this particular being

finding better sleep in the sleepless city.

the yoga teacher ended with this quote today:

This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.

I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community, and as long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can.

I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no "brief candle" for me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.

George Bernard Shaw

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Vertical Farming

reading Dr. Dickson Despommier's The Vertical Farm.

so is this the way of the future?

Koyaanisqatsi

Life out of Balance

American Cinematic Symphony

and the incredible process:

Ben Shahn

Art, as I saw it one day when I helped hang a National Academy show while I was a student there, was about cows. In those days, early in the twenties, there were many cow paintings. More than that, the cows always stood knee-deep in purple shadows. For the life of me I never learned to see purple where there was no purple -- and I detested cows. I was frankly distressed at the prospects for me as an artist.

But there came a time when I stopped painting, stopped in order to evaluate all these doubts. If I couldn't see purple where there was no purple--I wouldn't use it. If I didn't like cows, I wouldn't paint them. What then was I to paint? Slowly I found that I must paint those things that were meaningful to me--that I could honestly paint in the shapes and colors I felt belonged to them. What shall I paint? Stories.