Squint...

This is a very helpful tool in painting. To bad we can't do the same thing with our minds. You know squint so that you can hi-lite the important stuff. Let the shadows be shadows.

There are some good things happening in my world. But everyone seems to be paying attention to Barry Bonds, Andy Card, Britney or one of the many Jessica's. I am thinking about doing an art workshop. Actually someone asked that I think about it and I am. My wife's aunt is traveling some 1500 miles to visit us. She is in her nineties. My kid is making another trip to Africa. And it starting to get warm in Arizona.

Under Pressure...

Well its that time of year, NCAA March Madness, NBA, and in between paintings I watch basketball. I love basketball. If I had been 6′9” and 230lbs and could leap tall buildings, I would have been a basketball player. “I could have been a contender, I could have been somebody”. Alas, I’m just my body, which is fine. I watch these young men and women, being scrutinized, being made accountable by “Talking TV Heads” for things that maybe their young minds and bodies are not ready for. Stuff like “She should have passed the ball. That was a silly foul, what was he thinking” Its constant criticism, pitting one individual against another, be they dead or alive. Like this past week, Kobe Bryant found out that he is not the next Mike Jordan, but that Dwayne Wade has become MJ. I just wonder whose body Michael Jordan is using now that Dwayne Wade is occupying his.

Some people have asked that I consider teaching an art class which I think I would like to do. So I have been thinking about what I would want to teach, like the particulars. I’ve done some work on creativity, the kind of work you need to do in order to be different. Then it hit me, we all spend a lot of time and energy trying to be different. you know, like being somebody else.

Me with a mug by Cybel Martin

Buy Art, It’s the best investment!...

There is a lot talk about our individual debt, how we are all doing badly, that this country no longer makes anything and that we are mostly involved with moving money around, that our kids will never be able to pay off their education loans, regardless of the degree.. (if you have young kids, there is still something you can do about this).

Well while your trying to find a way to work all of this out, I suggest that you buy art. It may increase in value, but if you purchase what you like and love it will make you happy for a long time. I promise.

Looking for a smile...

I am recounting events that seem to make me want to smile, like Natalie Portman’s SNL video or Chris Bliss. Last night, we went to this restaurant in the Neighborhood. I think its called the Painted Pony, something like that and had babyback rips, which I should not have, but you only live 1, 2, 3, or maybe 4 times at best. Now I’ve always heard the term babyback, but it seems I didn’t understand what it meant. I had this visual in my mind that they were small. they were not. This was the larger plate of ribs, other then at family reunions, that ever saw. They were great, but almost medieval.

What’s another word for Journey?...

This past Friday I was out again painting from a model, outdoors chasing the light. A new friend was with me and was very excited about something that she was about to do that evening. She was totally lit with joy and it was contagious. What I noticed was her joy in that immediate moment, if that makes sense. It wasn’t what was going to happen. And so I stopped trying to get it right with my painting and just enjoyed the fact that I was doing something that I love to do and it didn’t matter how it turn out, but that I was lucky to be there. After all, all I suffered from was POP “Problems Of the Privileged” a term that another new friend introduced me to on Friday. So I took in the weather, the beauty of mountains and smiled. On Saturday I stopped by the Trailside Galleries (Scottsdale) to check out “Pino’s” one-man show and I learned something about simplification, which is very rarely taught. Most people I know, regardless of the task, look to put the kitchen sink into everything they do. So what I enjoyed about Pino’s work was how much was missing.

Later, I received a copy of an article, “Failing Grades” (The Pennsylvania Gazette) which is about how higher educations is not delivering on what it promises. Why this is important to me is that for some time now I had been thinking that we have gone credential crazy. That we have given up our ability to judge for ourselves. “It must be good, he/she has a masters.” We want someone else to approve our lives before we live it. So we have people looking to get degrees in things that like “movie critics masters or restaurant sitting phd” (i jest). The cost for getting these super credentials is placing tons of people into debt and that many of them will not be able to recover, especially (ironically) minorities and poor people. The article tells of a time, long time ago and far away, when people actually went to school to learn something.

Why Wait...

Pay me now!!. I love the old masters. When you consider they had no TV, NBA, Electricity. They deserved to get paid good money. I wonder how they will spend it.

And the Winner is!...

For Some reason I wanted to see the Oscars. I had not seen most of the movies, preferring to wait until they come out on DVD, (“cause its hard out here” period) and I could not cheer for my favorites, other then Crash. There was a lot of chit chat about the best place to see movies was at the movie house, but just about everyone has a big screen, a dimer switch and can make popcorn. So I wonder what is the reason for going to the theater. It used to be a cheap date, but no longer. Its not to watch the commercials that you ignore at home.

I can remember a time when you could listen to people as they left the movie talking “what did you think” “wasn’t it beautiful” “when did you figure out who did it” stuff like that. We were all on the same trip and sometimes you would find out what you had missed, didn’t understand or what you agreed/disagreed with. Now I float out into the lobby where there are hundreds of people, most of them having just seen a different movie, no community. I am not longing for the old days (Karl Lagerfeld says the good old days where not as good as think) but I find it interesting how we have changed.

Painting from Life...

I was telling a friend yesterday, that I have not painting a live model in such a look time, that it was like being 16 years old, with the keys to your father car, a false ID and a date with an 18 year girl. It’s a plan to create something bad and I did. Thats to say I wasn’t happy with what I painted.

This morning a friend turned me on to Chris Bliss
and I smiled and felt very pleased with myself. (Don’t know why, but who cares)

Book Stores...

Stopped by Borders books today and there are no Art Books. What was once 120 or more shelves is now down to 20? Just one wall of books. I noticed that there were considerably more books devoted to religion and like wise philosophy It may not mean anything at all, just that I was disappointed. Not only was there nothing new, there was hardly anything old.

There was not a lot of people, they must all be at Amazon. I wonder what that must be like, the social interaction? In a short while I will be outside painting, looking to enjoy myself with some friends and maybe create something that is wonderful.

Old School...

It seems you could always count on old school art to tell what was going on, now that seems to be the domain of photograph. Some recent photograph are those of the war, Katrina, tsunamis, earthquakes etc. Mostly a different kind of stun and awe. Recently Ive been looking at some paintings of Jacob Lawrence. Even though difficult times but signs of hope.

Sign of hope– Hip Hop at the Smithsonian! I keep wondering how the displacement of song writers, musician, singers, writers and artist from culturally rich New Orleans will impact the rest of the country. Will people move back? What are the artist saying about going back home?

Members 06
12×24 Oil and Arcylics
Bob Martin