...or not

Resonant: Having a lasting presence or effect; enduring. Strongly reminiscent; evocative.
Enigma: A person or thing that is mysterious, puzzling, or difficult to understand.

Some things you might find here: Paintings; drawings; abstract and representational; sketches; doodles; photos; thoughts on art and its processes, my influences; thoughts on meditation and so-called "spiritual" teachings, non duality, Taoism, Zen, etc., and teahers/sages like Chuang Tzu, Lao Tzu, Krishnamurti (both), Wei Wu Wei (Terence Gray), Galen Sharp, Steven Norquist, Eckhart Tolle, Ramana Maharshi, etc.... and doG knows what else, really...

No sidebar because I like to post big pictures. Lists and whatnot are at the bottom.

Saturday, December 19, 2015


This is an experiment with a $15 go phone I've had for about 3 months, and just discovered it has a camera, and video. Who'd a'thunk it?
 That's my finger flitting back and forth in front of the lens. Psychedelic huh?
It also has audio, so I'm liable to be singing at you before it's over. No. No. I won't do that. (Be relieved, very relieved.)
But I am intrigued by the potential. It's a medium I haven't really considered before.


Saturday, December 12, 2015


~ I call this one "Ice Cave," kinda just to have something to call it. I don't like "Untitled" for a title. 20x16" oil on canvas. The first version is from 2012 and I just did the second one, effectively destroying the first, which I did because... When it was new someone remarked, much to my surprise, that they could see part of a face in it.

See it? I can't not see it anymore, and that's so contrary to what I liked about it, I started despising it.
Finally decided, what the hell, if I hate it that much might as well destroy it, see if that helps.

Some of my best abstracts have come about that way, destroying what I don't like until I do like it. So I went after it, obliterating the most bothersome parts and winding up with one of my favorite obliterators, a big brush full of drippy paint.
But the pareidolia's in overdrive. Now I see more faces. I give up.
At least the color is more accurate in the second photo.


Friday, December 11, 2015

H.R. Giger, 1940-2014

~This is on Netflix now. I watched it last night, very much enjoyed, and recommend that it's well worth poring through a few subtitles - about two thirds of it is in German - but one of my favorite parts is in English, that being the analysis/commentary by Stanislov Grof, who sees Giger's work as expressive of the perinatal journey, which makes a lot more sense to me - makes his work relatable to all - than any of the other (more speculative and personal, imo) interpretations offered by others in the flic.
You get to see his home, how he lived and worked. There are great scenes showing him at work, a real treat, daunting and inspiring at once. He was a Master.
The filmmaker, Belinda Sallin, clearly loved Giger and his work and imparts a mood and feeling that fits the subject well.

Enlarge these. It's worth it. This one's from his "Biomechanical Landscape" series.

OK, a little hambone here. A sketch I did shortly after seeing "Alien" back in '79.

I don't know the name of this one, but it's probably something Ridley Scott saw that moved him to approach our man about working on the movie.

Another in the "Alien Monster" series.

Cover fold-out from Danzig's 1992 album "How the Gods Kill." A slightly modified version of "Master and Margarita," shown in it's original form below.

Notice the difference?

"The Spell" He has a whole room in his house dedicated to this one.

Giger's biomechanical take on Arnold Bocklin's "Island of the Dead."


Monday, November 23, 2015

Domestic Alien

 This^was the last one taken, the one I was looking for.The rest, the "trip to get there," should enlarge to the light box by click, but things go wonky when I drag and drop in here, so I'm not sure...

Aliens living in the walls, having turned the microwave into a transporter, are stealing my iron skillets.

Things go wonky when I drag and drop in here, so these are kinda haphazardly "arranged," But I kinda like it.
Kinda like ignorance interfaced with algorithmic quirk.


Saturday, November 14, 2015

20 Things Only ADHD (Highly Creative) People Would Understand

 An article via Facebook via Go For Health via Life Hack.

"18. They have difficulty finishing projects.
The initial stage of the creative process is fast moving and charged with excitement. Often, they will abandon projects that are too familiar in order to experience the initial flow that comes at the beginning."  -- From the article, which is linked in the post title, or you can go HERE.

Most of it seems to fit me like a glove, with maybe an exception or two. I'm still not sure what ADHD has to do with it though, unless it's just that there are striking similarities.

Pretty interesting article, though. And fun, if you find yourself in there.


Wednesday, November 11, 2015



16x20" oil on canvas, 2013

This was a spontaneous interruption type of thing I tend to label "autosurrea" which harks back to the original surrealist attitude of allowing "subconscious" impulses and whatnot to direct the work, rather than regular conscious intellectual  processes.
The creative impetus clearly originates unconsciously, and although it will have its way, to some extent, no matter how hard you try to control it, the surrealist idea seems to have been sort of like mine: unrestrained, natural creativity is more intelligent than the intellect can ever pretend to be. And I believe that's what led, eventually to abstract expressionism and action painting.
So, when I am able, I like to give the impulse - it comes from deeper; it can be felt - so I give it the lead and intellect becomes the helper, a tool, so to speak. It knows how to mix whatever color you're having the impulse for, for example.
Anyway one day I had a really good, deep - unexpectedly deep - meditation. I actually experienced - somehow, a sensation I don't know exactly how to classify - the entire world inside of me. That's what it felt like. I don't know how the mind can conjure up such a seemingly complex sensation in such a simple, direct experience, but there it was. I don't know. Ask Eckhart Tolle. He was leading the meditation, via live online feed.
I felt indescribably good afterward, had a bite to eat, and went into the studio, where I was working on a piece I had designed in my mind. I had every aspect of it plotted out and thought it would comprise a very modern looking statement, but when it was finished it looked more like a (not very) glorified doodle. I hated it and decided to wipe it off, forget about it. But as is often the case with autosurrea, I had an impulse: What if I did this, put some more of this color here; what would that be like. Then the floodgates opened. Next thing I knew I was painting furiously - with giddy delight, more like - with both hands, a brush in each, going at it. I couldn't "think" what I was doing. It just happened.
The result completely destroyed my original idea and produced a better painting, in my opinion, than anything I've ever consciously conjured up.
I put it here now because this type of thing may be what's coming next. I can't seem to find it in my heart to pursue representational painting ideas these days, even when I think they're really good ones. But the urge to touch a wet brush to the canvas is bugging me more and more, rising up, as it were.
So I am preparing some canvases...


PS: If you please, should you have a thought on this, click the word "comments" right down there and leave it here.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Reynold's Park, Nov.8, 2015: Clear Blue Skies, at last

After 5 consecutive days of complete gray, dismal, depressing, pale, high thin cloud cover - of a sort I never saw for 15 yrs. in Texas, but that I remembered shortly after my return to NE Arkansas as a major contributor to my mopey sad-sack depressed feeling/attitude/condition, in these parts. I won't show you pictures of that depressing kind of sky, because in their presence I'm generally too discouraged to go out and make any.

...when they break, the most uplifting, moist, rich forever blue is revealed. I looked forward to this when I headed back for Paragould.

We have a lot more great old trees here, too.


Monday, November 9, 2015

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

November Fog 1

Looking across west Court St. into Paragould High School (or whatever they call it now) parking lot. Nov.1 just after midnight. Digital photo.

Monday, November 2, 2015

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Missing White Rock Lake, Dallas TX

Live 11x8.5" pencil sketchbook drawing; just inside the southeast entrance at Lawther and Garland Rd.

Pen sketch, 8.5x11" of the spillway.

White Rock Pump Station, 16x20" oil on canvas

Pen sketch, 8.5x5.5" sketchbook; East Lawther.

Second sketch from same day as previous. Over by the baseball field, on Emerald Isle Drive.

5.5x8.5" ballpoint sketch, looking over at Winfrey Point.
I'm almost sure it has nothing to do with Oprah.

Another 5.5x8.5" ballpoint. From over by the Bathhouse, I think. I got a $200+ ticket that day for having a case of UNOPENED beer in the car. From a cop on a bicycle. How you doin', Officer Dethloff?

5.5x8.5" ballpoint, sketchbook, under Mockingbird, surrounded by kayakers.

4x6" pencil of Winfrey Point.

One of the few sketches here made from a photo. 6x4" pencil painting of the old bike path just north of the spillway.

Ballpoint in a 3.5x5.0" sketchbook. I don't remember where exactly this was, but the wind was cold that day.

4x6" pencil, from a photo. Pump Station from East Lawther.

5x7" oil on canvas panel, from the same photo and sketch as above.

3.5x5.0" ballpoint from the ball field.

3.5x5.0" ballpoint overlooking the old boathouse. Middle of September and it was raining a warm drizzle, so warm and light nobody even seemed to notice. Mmm...north Texas weather...

4x6" ballpoint, from Lawther up near Winfrey Point.

Ah, I sat at a picnic table on T.P.Hill, in direct July sun, gettin' burned. A family was bar-b-queing at the pavilion about 100 feet to my right and a slight breeze brought the aroma right under my nose. Tantalizing. I wanted to stay longer, put some background, sniff some more q-fumes, but I could feel my skin burning and had to walk away, slightly light headed. Maybe next time...


Thursday, August 20, 2015

Recent Sketches

Backside Blurry, 5x7"oil on canvas panel. Photo-referenced, zoomed in to obscure details, just to get the juices flowing, since I haven't painted in a while. "Backside" of Uptown P'gould.

Dinosaurs At Reynold's Park, 5x3.5" sketchpad, ballpoint. Overworked. Some kind of grey crane with black and white on the underside of its wings, which were at least 3 feet across.


Thursday, May 14, 2015

T.B.T.: Stormy Funday, 20x16" oil on canvas panel, 1978-79


"Regardant par la fenêtre de salle de bains." According to Google Translate that's French for "Looking out the bathroom window," which is what this painting should be classified, instead of "en plein air," as it was based on sketches made from said window, then running back and forth from my work station, two or three rooms over, to the window again for reference while I worked on it. Then apparently it was touched up about a year later; I noted this on the back but don't remember what I did then.
This was back when I was shuttling back and forth between here and Fayetteville, AR, at least part of the time in that blue Mercury Comet you can see the top of in the lower left. Good car. Ugly, but good.
It was storming the day I composed this piece, and I felt the influence of El Greco in the effort. Everything looked so abnormal being buffeted about in the wind and swirling rain; that was a lot of fun.


Saturday, April 11, 2015

R mode


Sans Barn, 3.5x5.0" ballpoint in sketchpad

Sometimes I'm amazed by how little difference (none, exactly) it makes what thoughts are going through my head when I get to the point of putting pen (pencil, whatever) to paper. All that jibber-jabber goes out to the edge somewhere - I still know they're there, but - for the duration my conscious focus fills with shapes, lines, textures... How can I put it into words? The drawing is what I was thinking.
They used to call it "R Mode," (don't know if "they" still do) because it's the type of mentation characterized by more activity in the right hemisphere of the brain than in the left. Best I recollect, some controversy arose over just how physically lateralized this activity turned out to be, each of us being different and all. All I do know is, when I'm "in it," speech and all its worries are somewhere else.
Kinda like Frederick Franck said in The Zen of Seeing, "It establishes an island of silence, an oasis of undivided attention, an environment to recover in..."

Oh yeah, regarding the title of this little sketch: When I first looked up on this little hill and thought, "Draw it!" there was a barn. I put it off because it was late summer and all the foliage was so thick I couldn't get the view I wanted. I resolved to come back in winter, when the trees were bare. Too cold, my car heater wasn't working. "Spring," I thought, and when I finally got around to it, they'd razed the damn barn. Cue laughter at self, procrastination. So today the sun was just right and they've put up one of those orange construction site fences that caught the light so bright, it was like it was mocking me for missing the barn. So I put it in the drawing, that whitish bar across the whole top of the hill there.


Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Overlooking the Overlook, Wishing Well, Crowley's Ridge State Park


"It isn't easy. Nobody has ever done it consistently. Those who try
hardest, scare it off into the woods. Those who turn their backs and
saunter along, whistling softly between their teeth, hear it treading
quietly behind them, lured by a carefully acquired disdain.
 We are of course speaking of The Muse.
 The Feeding of the Muse seems to me to be the continual running after
loves, the checking of these loves against one's present and future
needs, the moving on from simple textures to more complex ones, from
naive ones to more informed ones, from nonintellectual to intellectual
ones. Nothing is ever lost. If you have moved over vast territories and
dared to love silly things, you will have learned even from the most
primitive items collected and put aside in your life. From an ever-
roaming curiosity in all the arts, from bad radio to good theatre, from
nursery rhyme to symphony, from jungle compound to Kafka's Castle, there
is basic excellence to be winnowed out, truths found, kept, savored, and
used on some later day. To be a child of one's time is to do all these
 - Ray Bradbury (via http://whiskeyriver.blogspot.com)


Saturday, April 4, 2015

What is aware of this...?

I awe of the reality
of awareness
the least thing
is a miracle
Dogs barking