Something like this:
Friday, August 25, 2006
The IT folks are back from vacation with a new inspiration for the nation of artists whose creation keeps me away from my Play Station. That would be paint. Easy, I thought. That's pretty much all I do, artwise. So I started to paint a landscape, didn't know when to stop, and wrecked it. No tragedy, happens all the time. So I set it aside, figuring one day I might be able to fix it. The only problem: what to do with all the extra paint.
It's not actually a problem. I just said that to build a little dramatic tension. I did what I always do when I have extra paint left over: I splatter it all on an aceo card. Sometimes it's a freshie, sometimes it's over a goofed doodle. I use everything, waste nothing. This is the way of my people.
On the splattered aceo, I try to make something out of it. Rarely are the results any good, but I get to try things without the pressure of creating something ebay-worthy. Here are a few with just paint (in accordance with ITs strict draconian rules):
This one is a mix of acrylics, gouache, and watercolor. The shiny part in the bottom/left corner isn't wet - it's some acrylic shining through.
This one is all acrylic - Obviously, I had alot of green and white left over. This is actually painted on another recycled splatter painting - there's some pinkishness coming through the green in spots.
Another acrylic. I started to paint a canoe in this trippy little landscape, but fell out of love with the idea. It's not you, little painting; it's me.
This is from very wet gouache. It's also the one from the remains of my IT attempt. So, I guess this is my official IT submission.
Do any of you, loyal readers, think any of these have potential? If so, what would you recommend I do? My very soul is bared. I feel so naked.
"I work in whatever medium likes me at the moment."
- Marc Chagall
A wise old man (he may have been Canadian - possibly even a Mountie) once told me that in art, it's not stealing if you call it "inspired by." So this painting is "inspired by" much of Chagall's work. You see, we here at HarmoniousJosh Inc. are not just about selling tiny art. We want to educate. But we're lazy teachers, so go google Chagall yourself.
You may (or may not; I'm going to tell you either way) be interested to know that the bouquet is actually in front of a window. I had painted a little scene out there, which was actually quite nice. Then I got carried away with the flowers. I'm quite happy with the final product, I just thought you should know you're actually getting two paintings in this deal. Unfortunately, you can only see one.
Ah, look at this happy, healthy individual. Sure, he could be watching tv on the couch, enjoying a bowl of ice-cream with cheetohs sprinkled on top, feeling a little more gravitational pull. But why would he want that? Look at the joy in his face!
As he looks at his watch, he realizes he did not enjoy his run enough - he is running out of time to meet his goal! He must run faster! That will make him healthier, pushing his knee joints and cardiovascular system to the brink. If you're not risking injury, you're not being healthy. If you're not thoroughly emaciated, you're a threat to yourself and the entire health system.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Ferdinand was a jealous man. He was jealous of the men who married Rita Hayworth. It has been said by none other than Rita herself that men never loved her - they loved Gilda (the main character of the classic movie with the same name). But not Ferdinand. He loved Rita. And that is the worst kind of jealousy - to covet something you can't have, and is not appreciated by those who do have.
The thing is, Rita probably wouldn't love a man who wasn't in love with Gilda. Life is a cruel Catch-22 sometimes.Of course, being all scary looking didn't do Ferdinand any favors, either.
Spend some green here.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Pity the school photographer who has to go to Satyr Valley High. It's tough enough to deal with beligerant human adolecents. Satyrs are a whole 'nother story.
This pic of Timmy here is the keeper. Imagine the deleted ones. His mom tried to pretty it up with a decorative frame. The operative word is tried.
But give the photographer his props. He got Timmy to sit still for the pose, which is relaxed and natural. The expression, while not exactly "smiley," convey's Timmy's true nature. He kept horn glare to a minimum, which is always a challenge. And try as you might, you can't look away, can you? You're drawn in. You feel the incredible urge to own this aceo...
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Glad to see some cyclists enjoy my bike pics. I would be chagrined to learn otherwise.
If anyone is interested in getting prints, or would like me to paint something for you (I'm really cheap), let me know in the comments. I usually sell on ebay, but will be setting up a
Anyway, I ride a '80s Fuji touring bike frame with a fixed set up. I use front brakes because my wife makes me. Actually, I'm too lazy to rely on my legs to do all the stopping, but the wife provides a nice cover for my lack of manliness.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Boxing. It's a messy business. Frankly, what goes on in the ring is the cleanest part of it. Hit, don't get hit. That's pretty much it. It's outside the ring where most of the damage is done.
First, there's making weight, which is just a nice way of saying starving yourself. For kids in the amateurs and golden gloves, that means starvation at a time of major growth.
Then there's the politics of sparring partners. Trainers lie to other trainers about their fighter's abilities, hiding their skills. so when they get in the ring with a supposed equal, their fighter looks really good.
Then there's racism. No explaination needed.
You're also dealing with a lot of kids who have very tough choices in life. Gangs seem like they provide a more secure and fulfilling life structure than other options.
But at the same time, the gym is like a team. If you're in, you're part of a family (like a gang, I guess. Only you can leave without reprocussions). You help eachother out.
And then you step in the ring. All that other stuff doesn't exist anymore. You are alone. You are tested on your own merits, no excuses. Sometimes you're having a good day. Sometimes, not so good. Doesn't matter. Hit and don't get hit.Bid here.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
This one came out of nowhere. I just painted the background and looked for images. Like tea leaves, only without the superstition.
On a sidenote, I think believing in superstition is bad luck. And no, you can't use that.
Anyway, I saw Mr. Apeman here in the swirls of acrylic. I think he showed up because I had just painted a banana (see my listings).Bid here.
This is a very serious picture of a very serious fruit: The Banana. There is nothing funny about a banana, so if you have the giggles, get them out now.
Done? No? Fine, I'll wait.
Ready? Good. Some people, like Kirk Cameron of TV sitcom Growing Pains fame, believe this fruit to be evidence of G*d. I mean, it comes in it's own wrapper! How convenient! In a nutshell (well, peel, actually), the banana is an icon for the MEANING OF LIFE.
In summation, Bananas: Not funny. Banana peels, however, comedy GOLD.Bid here.
Ah, memories. It seems like only a few months ago when I listed my first aceo, SKULL BOUQUET. That might, just might, have something to do with the fact it was only a few months ago. Maybe. Come, walk with me down the retrospective path of my art history:
I think there's something to that whole practice equals improvement thing. Here's a close-up of the detail of
For the record (call Guiness), this is my first go at acrylics that's not a paint-by-number.Bid here.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Here we are, continuing along the path on our way to breakfast. This is me. Why am I so colorless, you ask? Because I'm hungry. That's why I'm going to Herbie's. If you're not hungry, you have no business going there.
So this is my second listing this week that involves a picture of me. Am I becoming too self-absorbed? Or am I just self-absorbed enough? What is the perfect degree of self-absorbtion?
Anyway, here's a groovy little pic for your viewing enjoyment. Coming up next in this series: the building, maybe a waitress (she'll have to check with her agent, first. All waitresses have agents, right? They did in NYC), and the food. Mmm, good times.
Here is a Priloman. The dude lives on the planet, Prilosec. No relation to the pharmaceutical. His face is upsidedown-ish by our standards, though he'd say the same of us. And his hands aren't always in that position. That's just the trend, nowadays, to hold them like that. This Priloman is very trendy. You can also tell that by his fancy Brmmklippa.
Since I'm in a cityscape kind of mood (see my other listings), I thought I'd try something a little different. Here is a special scene from the planet, Prilosec (no relation to the pharmaceutical) As the three red-ish moons set in the yellow horizon, the Prilosecians join hands in their monthly celebration called "Whew, That Was A Close One (WTWACO for short)."
About thirteen Prilo-years ago, their planet was spinning through the universe (much like ours, fellow earthlings) when it chanced upon a whole bunch of asteroids. Fortunately for them, they have three moons that were able to run interference, so to speak. All the asteroids crashed on one of the three lunar heroes instead of their green and yellow planet (needless to say, they're GB Packers fans). In case you're curious, I've got a close-up image of a Priloman in my listings. Be sure to check the dude out.
The WTWACO festival is held in honor and gratitude to their moons. Good thing we, fellow earthlings, have three moons, for it's only a matter of time before we enter an asteroid belt ourselves.
What? We only have one? Um, oh. Right. Well, I'm sure we'll be fine.
Click here to bid.
Monday, August 14, 2006
The wife and I, we like to understand the culture we're living in so we can appreciate it more. I mean, you wouldn't move to NYC and never try a bagel, right? Fortunately, we've made some friends who have taken on the challenge of explaining the ways of our new home. So last Saturday night, we had dinner at a place called Hillbilly Hideaway, an all-you-can-eat no-menu kind of place with fried chicken, ribs, cornbread, beans, coleslaw, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, some other kind of delcious bread, ham, cooked apples, and of course sweet tea to drink. No booze and no dancing, so bring the preacher kind of place. I gorged.
Out back, they had a little stage where bluegrass and country is played to aid the digestion. I successfully resisted the urge to dance. It wasn't easy. I wanted to go up there and sing along.
After a while, we headed out to the drive-in to watch Talladega Nights. I haven't been to a drive-in since I was knee-high to a grasshopper (the movie was Bambi. I've been a fan of venison ever since). Yeah, I said it. I'll say it again: knee-high to a grasshopper. Got a problem with that? Didn't think so.
Drive-ins are far superior to movie theaters. The movie was very funny, even though they mixed up Busch series cars with Nextel. I managed to keep my NASCAR snobbery to myself so as not to diminish the experience for others. Another thing that was unrealistic: they had Kyle Petty qualifying 4th at Talladega. Kyle, you're great, but you and I both know that won't happen.
Anyway, good times were had by all. Next week: moonshine and snake-handling.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Hey, what do you know. I was painting around and out came a cityscape. My first. You can practically smell it. But I can't. That's because I'm living in Greensboro. Here, things smell like trees and BBQ.
I do miss seeing this view a bit, though. Correction: I miss seeing this view without feeling a familiar sense of anxiety, cynicism and failure. That was a long time ago. Before random bag searches.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
So the IT
folks are taking a little break, leaving the inspiration thing up to us. I'm not good at these things. Here are their questions, which lead to this AMAZING self-portrait:
1. What inspires me? I dunno.
2. Do I need to shake up my art? Uh, sure. I guess.
3. What is my passion? OK, that's an easy one. Ice cream. Wait... no... BBQ. Wait... no... this is an art blog... I gotta say something artistic... Neo-post-classical-modern-expressionism. And purty colors.
4.What are my favorite things about creating? Geez, don't know.
5. Least favorite? Man, I...
6. Why do I create? Aaaaargh!
7. Why am I an artist? Because, okay? Just because!
8. How do I describe my art? Stuff on paper. That's about it.
9. What are my goals? To attain a secure and responsible position within this organization. That one was easy - I just went on some job interviews.
10. My dreams? Can't say - I'm sleeping when that happens.
Whew. That was tough. I hope they get back from vacation soon. This line of questioning apparently turned my hair blue. And made my ears bigger - my ears are actually rather small. And you know what they say about guys with small ears. What? Could you repeat that?
Friday, August 11, 2006
ILLUSTRATION FRIDAY: PLAY
This is ME, playing an artist, who painted a Luchador playing a flute. What, You've never seen a Luchador playing the flute? Ah, how unpredictable, these winds of globalization! Cultural cross-pollination at it's finest. The more players, the more play. Borders are for sissy killjoys.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Sunday, August 06, 2006
I AM A CAPITALIST MACHINE
Not only do the wife sell vintage jewelry and tees over at NutmegNine (have you dipped into your retirement savings to pay for all the goodies your buying? If not, why not?), I have now opened a store at CafePress where you can buy postcards, greeting cards, and tees with images created by yours truly.
I just opened it, so there are many many updates to come. Now go and buy your way to happiness.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
"I'm a tell you whut - I seen him!" Rooster McCoy isn't the type to make things up. Still, he sees the smirks on the faces of his drinkin buddies. "Ah, nevermind." It'll be a long time before he lives this one down. Some things you just keep to yourself. Apparently, seeing some guy with a purple mowhawk in pantaloons without a shirt and a pencil through his nose dancing around all pagan-like, chanting in French, is one of them.
"You know, he could be telling the truth," said Booty to the others. Booty is one of those benefit of the doubt types.
"I've been reading in the paper about how a lot of folks from New York are movin' down here."
Booty has a point. The men at the bar lose their smirks, and start nodding in agreement.
"Yup, probably some New Yorker," they say, finishing their beer.Do you believe in the Belly Punker? Then bid here.
Friday, August 04, 2006
The Belly Punker was doing his Belly Punker Dance in the wilds of North Carolina. His chant echoed through the forest:
Je. Suis. Un artiste.
Tres. Sexy to say the least.
Like some primal hairy... Hnughmf!
A sharp pain hits him in his derriere. He looks down to see a small dart protruding from said region. Pulling it out, he reads it. "10ccs of TheMan serum... ungh." He passes out.
It is now 9AM sharp, and Belly Punker is ready for another day at TheMan inc. He pats his breast pocket to make sure his lucky pencils are still there. He doesn't remember why he keeps a couple of dirty pencils around, but they reassure him all the same.
Help the Belly Punker pay for his coffee here.
Previous Belly Punkers here, here, and here.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
As you may or may not know, I tried my hand at boxing for a while. I'm a peaceful kind of guy, more of a lover than a fighter. And I'm more of a joker than a lover, so take that for what you will. Anyway, I had never felt a punch let alone been in a fight before I signed up at the boxing gym.
While my defense wasn't too bad, I learned pretty quickly what a punch felt like. You know when you see a bunny hopping across the meadow as you're strolling with a loved one on a sunny day after a tasty picnic bbq? It's nothing like that. Except when you get hit on the nose, you do smell bbq for some reason.
You would be forgiven if you thought this was an image of a boxing skeleton. It's actually a regular boxer, who has dehydrated himself making weight to the point where all you see is bones.Place your bids here.
One of our concerns when the wife and I moved from Brooklyn to Greensboro was whether we'd ever walk again. Not that the move did anything to our legs, mind you. It's just that now we have a car, and things are farther away. Fortunately, there's a wooded path that leads right to a great little diner called Herbie's.
It makes for a great Saturday morning stroll. Lots of trees, cardinals and bluejays fighting epic battles, squirrels and chipmunks competing in the "Who's Cuter" contest, fawns prancing, the seven dwarves whistling, bunnies hopping, the whole kit n' kaboodle.
Also note the Mrs with her nice purse and sweater. I'm going for the country vs city contrast that exists in reality.
Herbie's, by the way, is awesome. We easily put back all the calories we lose on the walk over. As it should be.
Want it? You know what to do.
Last night's class we jumped into the treacherous waters of drawing/painting eachother.
So here is one of my classmates, who is actually much prettier than I depict here. She is in person much happier looking, too. She said she liked it all the same. That was polite of her. She did make me promise, however, that I wouldn't sell it on ebay.
In my defense, I wasn't really going for an exact depiction of what she looks like so much as getting the highlights and shading right. That part I'm pretty pleased with. I need a lot more practice, though. The thing about that is non-goofy stuff like this doesn't sell well for me on ebay, as I'm so out-classed in this area. I have to be disciplined and practice this technique for the sole sake of getting better without the positive reinforcement of ebay bids. It's like my current guitar situation. I want to play the songs I like, but have to force myself to do scales et al so I can play what I like better.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
I've been reading some art books about watercoloring. Because I clearly think too highly of myself, I started with how-tos for intermediate levels. I understand most of it, well, ok, some of it, but one thing I don't fully grock: Cohesion. Apparently, cohesion is discussed in the books prior to the ones I'm reading. Since I'm in an experimental mood, I thought I'd try better understanding cohesion by creating the opposite. Bizarro cohesion, if you will. Cohesion in a world where Superman is the bad guy.
So, I illustrated with a cartoon style, used a wash with a big brush for some parts, a dry brush for others, added a little nutmeg, and voila! This cool little ditty.
Yes, I've been using ditty alot. It's my new obsessive word. Bear with me, it won't last forever.
So do I understand cohesion any better? Not really. But I like this result of my attempt at self-education, and I hope you do too. Bid here.