Memory lane and Candy Kane

Today I venture back into a year of many things.  As usual, some good and some bad.  As it should be.  And the things I wanted to share are in Art of course, but in things I did for the first time or that an event changed my own thinking or my own course.  One of these events took place at the Capital arts gallery in Jefferson city, MO.

I have been volunteering at the gallery since it opened in 2009.  Many art and many shows later I have witnessed Jefferson city mature into a small haven for those that create.  Art is not mainstream here by any stretch, but to have a place to show work and see others work is a form of therapy.  Every time I walk into the gallery I act as if I have never been there before.  I now it is childish, but it makes for an interesting walk into the womb of art.  To surround yourself in beauty is just the first step.  You must be able and willing to take time and enjoy it.

And as for this post, I share a first for me.  I showed work this past year at the gallery that is a standard large piece for myself, but also a piece that is in honor of the main reason I took up art-Bob Thompson.  A fauvist painter that did not live very long but one whom illustrated color the way I see and feel the world.  He is a wonder and a pain at the same time.  He died so young and it makes me feel sad to think about the paintings he didn't do instead of appreciate the ones he did.

I post some photos taken during the cities gallery crawl.  My work of Thompson is seen in the background.

And another view of Thompson...

I know it made a difference to me to show the work. I felt proud if maybe for the first time in the cause of my own work. For a few weeks he was alive again on a wall in Jefferson city. A new york jazz painter came to Missouri.

Thank you.

PS...it is eddie vedders birthday today. Happy birthday Grunge poets.
http://www.pearljam.com/

Everyone begins somewhere

I have always been interested in how artist develop.  The uniqueness of their art is found in the uniqueness of the road traveled.

I started my journey into art while I was a young.  I started taking piano lessons at the age of 9.  The beauty of classic piano and classic violin still moves me as it did back then.  I stayed with the piano until the age of 13.  But by then something else had replaced it.  It was as the age of 12 I started working for my grandfather.  It was when I started being a plasterer's apprenctice.

I was trained to labor for other plasterers.  I was taught to set up jobs properly as to not interfere with other trades.  I was also trained to mix mud.  This is the chief responsiblity of the apprentice.

The term mud does indeed represent plaster.  When you are up to your elbows in it, it then becomes mud.  If you have never mixed plaster for a crew on a job site in the demonic heat belt of August in Middle America then I am afraid you must call it plaster.  It is a rite of passage with titles in tow and courtesy of protocol much like the house of commons.  You must earn the right to call it mud, because if you don't respect it, you will never master it.

I was 12 when I started out.  My very  first job was an old summer house that had originally been built around the turn of the century by some nuevo riche from Chicago commodity trade.  A money baron to be sure, but a Chicago money baron, so there was of course a few moments of tribute and dance.

The job was the pool house.  It looked like a huge loaf of rye bread with a foam layer of white powdered sugar.  I could break pieces off with my hands.  The structure itself was still intact and strong, which I thought was amazing, but the exterior was in dire need of repair.

My job, as the apprentice, was always the worst job on the job site.  On this particular job site, this meant I had to chisel and hammer off all loose plaster in order to get down to the raw structure so we coudl fasten wire lath, which would hold the new coats of plaster.  I learned immediately that a apprentice has no decision making requirements and also has no input on how the job is to done.  No complaining.  My grandfather made it clear to me that my best chance of making  lunch was to serve him in silence, and remember everything he did.

I believe each human should understand the scientific mode of transportation of plaster dust and lime.  Learning how things travel would be a great benefit when understanding just what a job entails.  I was amazed where one might find such things while combing your hair or taking a shower.  Plaster dust and plaster chips can appear like magic in the strangest places in the might unknowable of times.

You might find dust in your ears.  You might find it in your nose.  You notice immediately when it gets in your eyes.  It even gets in your fingernails while you are wearing gloves.  Physics might be interested in this one.

At the end of my first day, dealing with the plaster, my arms were ready to fall off, my forearms looked like Popeye, my hands didn't work enough to allow me to open the truck door handle without a significant amount of effort.  I was sunburn, coated in sweat, which caked the plaster dust on me which built a suit of lime, which burned.  I had plaster chips in every part of my body and with three feet of my person.  I was so tired I couldn't even roll down the window in the truck, not that it mattered.  I didn't have any more moisture in me to sweat out.

I thought I was dying.  Then in my desire for the end of days, the truck stopped in a parking lot on a main street.  I heard the words ice cream.  I found the strength to open the door and stumble in after my grandfather.  In line and placing a order for a double scoop, this was my reward.  My grandpa and I sat down and ate ice cream.  We didn't talk.  The ice cream was really good.  When we finished, I felt brand new.  Like it was morning all over again.  Although we were going home, we talked about when he started.  I didn't feel tired anymore.  I didn't feel hot or wore down.  I can't explain it even now.

One plasterer and one apprentice.  A day of work.  My grandpa and me driving down the road.  That is how I got here.

A new year with a new beginning

I have decided to start a blog that will focus on my art.  I work in stucco.  I also work in wood burning, wire lath, and other forms of texture.  I hope to spread the word about Mid Missouri art in Jefferson City.  I am involved in many activities around Mid Missouri that deal with the arts, and I hope that this will help get other people involved.  As I am just getting started, it might seem a little sparse at first, but in the summer months I hope to post many videos of my technique and to show my materials.  I use both construction and artist grade material.

I hope this coming year will be a fantastic one for the arts in Missouri.  With the gallery crawl becoming more and more of a main event, I can only assume it will grow bigger and bigger.  It will make people interested in the arts and also the city itself.  Forever forward.

Create, and live full speed.