Figmont

Here's a series of four views of the same ridge, not as it actually is but as what it became on the paper as I worked. While I'm throwing around the word "actually", this ridge doesn't actually exist. I guess I should call it Figment Ridge. Or maybe Figmont.

It seems to me that the differing color and value of the land make it appear to radically change from one painting to the next, so that any sense of an actual place is lost. I must say, watching that difference evolve made for a strangely dissociative experience. To a geologist, it may appear to be a continental shift and to a chemist, an atomic shift.

Come to think of it, psychiatry is all about shifting figments.

sweet and honest

Some photos of the sweet sky at the ranch

taken with my trusty Sony DSLR.

To be honest,

I took this next one here in town with that upstart iPhone.

Perhaps not quite as precise

but mighty handy.

excuses

WAIT!

Please don't throw me out of your Rolodex!

I'm still here!

I know it's presumptuous of me,

but I really think cranking out stuff

for the sake of occupying my place in the blogosphere

is counter-intuitive.

It's just that lately life happens faster than art does.

That's the bald-faced truth of it.

I know... most of my teachers didn't swallow that one either.

Good thing, cuz it's a black-hearted lie.

What really happened is...

I got an iPhone 4, and it swallowed me whole.

Hook, line and sinker.

.

Uh-oh, a large red ERROR has taken over this post.

Its footnote warns,

"Could not contact Blogger."

I suppose I should be grateful.

hair of the bee

Dogs don't like booze,

so that bit about their hair curing a hangover

makes no sense at all.

On the other hand, taking away the pain of a bee sting

almost instantly by putting a dab of honey on it

works like a charm.

window plein

Does it count as plein air if you're sitting at your desk

looking out the window?

Seems there wasn't near enough suffering involved.