“I paint objects as I think them, not as I see them.”

What do you do when you have one lame arm and too much energy to watch one more movie of the week as you are driven to the brink of your sanity by the fact the you haven't been able to do anything active in over 4 months? Paint.


Yesterday I embarked on painting a collaborative painting for the first time ever. I picked up a 30" x 40" canvas, a pallete, and some brushes. I have never been to excited about the whole art scene in general, other then the gallons of free wine associated with Second Saturdays in Sacramento.
There are a couple of things I noticed right away as I dove into the world of the artistic;

1. The employees at the art supply store know I am not overly serious about art just by looking at me, and thus hate me.
   
2. A rounded pallete, even though it consists of far less actual material, is obviously far superior to a rectangular one and thus should be at least twice the cost.

One thing I can say about walking around an art store pissing everyone off with your existence, is that you at no point feel the need to fear for your safety. It isn't the same as if a person walked into a local dive bar wearing capri pants and Prada glasses, wherein every man there might stab him at any moment. No. It is more equated to a bear walking through a stream while all of the salmon mumble discourtesies to one another under their breath.
I'm sure they feel that I like many members of the uncultured, gainfully employed public, just cannot possible grasp the intricacies involved in their creations. I'm not even sure if I understand what an "Artist" is. Do you think that Da Vinci or Michelangelo would have called themselves artists? Or would they use another term like designer, painter, or inventor? I have to think it would be the latter. To me "Artists" are those drop outs who sit around coffee shops all day listening to Fish and peeing in jars (calling it art). Those are artists.
In this case I myself would say that I am a painter, no Bob Ross mind you, but I'm on my way. The above picture is layer 1. Once it dries we will add more and see where it goes from there. I don't really have some sort of overall vision for the piece as mostly I am just learning how to get the paint off of my pallete and onto the canvas. See if you can figure out which half of this painting is mine.

Enjoy

It has been a while since my last update, it is in the works. In the mean time, enjoy some Cyanide and Happiness:

Chop wood, Carry water

“The fact is,” said Rabbit,“ we’ve missed our way somehow. ”They were having a rest in a small sand-pit on the top of the Forest. Pooh was getting rather tired of the sand-pit, and suspected it of following them about, because whichever direction they started in, they always ended up at it, and each time, as it came through the midst at them, Rabbit said triumphantly, “ Now I know where we are!” and Pooh said sadly, “ So do I,” and Piglet said nothing. He had tried to think of something to say, but the only thing he could think of was, “ Help, help!” and it seemed silly to say that, when he had Pooh and Rabbit with him.

“ Well,” said Rabbit, after a long silence in which nobody thanked him for the nice walk they were having, “we’d better get on, I suppose. Which way shall we try?”

“How would it be,” said Pooh” slowly, if, as soon as we’re out of sight of this Pit, we try to find it again? “What’s the good of that? said Rabbit.

“Well,” said Pooh, we keep looking for home and not finding it, so I thought that if we looked for this Pit, we’d be sure not to find it, which would be a good thing, because then we might find something that we weren’t looking for, which might be just what were looking for, really.”

“ I don’t see much sense in that,” said Rabbit…"If I walked away from this Pit, and then walked back to it, of course I should find it."

“ Well I thought perhaps you wouldn’t,” said Pooh.

“ I just thought.” Try, said Piglet suddenly. “We’ll wait here for you.”

Rabbit gave a laugh to show how silly Piglet was, and walked into the mist. After he had gone a hundred yards, he turned and walked back again… and after Pooh and Piglet had waited twenty minutes for him Pooh got up. “I just thought”, said Pooh. “Now then Piglet, let us go home.” But Pooh cried Piglet, all excited, “ do you know the way?”

"No," said Pooh. But there are twelve pots of honey in my cupboard, and they’ve been calling to me for hours. I couldn’t hear them properly before because Rabbit would talk, but if nobody says anything except those twelve pots, I think, Piglet , I shall know where they’re calling from.“Come on.”

They walked off together; and for a long time Piglet said nothing, so as not to interrupt the pots and then suddenly he made a squeaky noise.. and an ooo-noise.. because now he began to know where he was, but he still didn’t dare to say so out loud, in case he wasn’t. And just when he was getting so sure of himself that it didn’t matter whether the pots went on calling or not, there was a shout in front of them and out of the mist came Christopher Robin.

After all, if it were cleverness that counted most, Rabbit would be number one, instead of that Bear. But that’s not the way things work.

“We’ve come to wish you a very Happy Thursday,” said Pooh, when he had gone in and out once or twice just to make sure that he could get out again.

“Why, what’s going to happen on Thursday?” asked Rabbit, and when Pooh had explained, and Rabbit whose life was made up of Important Things, said “ oh I thought you’d really come about something,” they sat down for a little… and by- and- by Pooh and Piglet went on again. The wind was behind them now, so they didn’t have to shout.

“Rabbit’s clever,” said Pooh thoughtfully;

“Yes,” said Piglet,” Rabbit is clever."

"And he has a Brain."

"Yes," said Piglet, "Rabbit has a Brain."

There was a long silence.

“I suppose,” said Pooh, “that that’s why he never understands anything.”

I'm sick of T.V.

I can only handle so much. And being confined to my house has subjected me to my limit. I find that the only thing that even interests me is a show called "How It's Made". The show is purely fascinating from an engineering standpoint. I find it interesting the machines that have been developed to produce a numerous amount of items on mass scale. Other then that I pretty much can't stand anything else. As I flip through the channels it is almost as if the shows are constantly regurgitating on me. I'm just over the whole zoo of it.

"Life is like a ride in an amusement park. And when you go on it you think its real, because thats how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and around and around. It has thrills and chills and is very brightly colored. And its very loud and its fun for a while. Some have been on the ride for a long time and they begin to question is this real or is this just a ride? And other people have remembered and they come back to us and say "Hey, don't worry don't be afraid, ever, because this is just a ride." and we kill those people. "Shut him up, I have a lot invested in this ride, shut him up. Look at my furrows and worry. Look at my big bank account and my family. This has to be real." But it's just a ride.

Why do we always kill the good guys who try and tell us that? Did you ever notice that? and let the demons run amuck.

But it doesn't matter because it's just a ride. And we can change it entirely, it's all in the choice, no effort, no work, no job, no savings of money.
Just a choice right now between FEAR and LOVE."