tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324742802024-03-07T18:18:20.809-05:00Artist Tim Gardner I've been maintaining this blog for several years now, and a viewer, if he/she wishes, can go back and observe my progress as an artist (and otherwise). Facebook site: www.facebook.com/TimothyBrentGardnerTim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.comBlogger238125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-32980181178426732922013-12-21T17:25:00.001-05:002013-12-21T17:25:28.392-05:00Better Lighting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Yeah, there's better lighting on this shot, and this angle really shows the weakness of the hair sculpt.</div>
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<br />Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-18093404089338515952013-12-21T16:49:00.000-05:002013-12-21T16:49:41.403-05:00Adding Hair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The hair really is way off, but it's nice to see our Anime girl start to come together...</div>
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<br />Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-87124150310966417022013-12-21T14:57:00.000-05:002013-12-21T15:05:05.979-05:00Initial placement of head<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Trying to rough-out the head and face in my sweltering pick-up camper (85 degrees outside) is almost impossible with my oil clay turning to mush... But I'm slowly getting it done.</div>
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<br />Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-10667987444828976052013-12-20T20:48:00.001-05:002013-12-20T21:07:55.181-05:00sculpt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Well, I spent a couple of hours getting back into Blogger and putting up a nice post. I published, verified it, and went elsewhere. Shortly later, my post is GONE. Anyway, I'm not writing all that again. Dammit. ....I'm trying to tr</div>
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<br />Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-88945412353673229092011-09-09T11:09:00.002-05:002011-09-09T11:12:18.679-05:00Wine and Jalapeno<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lw2T-8azrcCiVSHe05xqu3uic-1VJF2_6oqTO_cQR7X02tkZVb8-_6vMv7LuL9sgPcJUD-eb7VliKC8LTG04S9Gk0m9BzAQyCZXiNi76O5sPHvBwAmRkImUd7HmfSs-QXfc3/s1600/080.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lw2T-8azrcCiVSHe05xqu3uic-1VJF2_6oqTO_cQR7X02tkZVb8-_6vMv7LuL9sgPcJUD-eb7VliKC8LTG04S9Gk0m9BzAQyCZXiNi76O5sPHvBwAmRkImUd7HmfSs-QXfc3/s320/080.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650393066896760786" border="0" /></a><br />A better photo of the painting. My first foray into the genre of still life, technically speaking. 5"X7", oil on canvas board, from life. Not for sale.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-16503081756692625492011-09-08T10:08:00.001-05:002011-09-09T11:15:20.429-05:00Daily Paintings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bUBeOU2DWD4xT-HBO_8EnqHNRvAQwjn4Rb-dzvaIgzqCOndkq9QfGD-jF0jhaYPntMO-qd_fwP6TEKJyEI-idctdJmXZ9m3jsqJ0S8reQJGab-JN1jMSyxuzUXwXuDZ4kyvJ/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bUBeOU2DWD4xT-HBO_8EnqHNRvAQwjn4Rb-dzvaIgzqCOndkq9QfGD-jF0jhaYPntMO-qd_fwP6TEKJyEI-idctdJmXZ9m3jsqJ0S8reQJGab-JN1jMSyxuzUXwXuDZ4kyvJ/s320/001.JPG" height="240" border="0" width="320" /></a></div>I'm now attempting to do "a painting a day" (or close to that). Here are the first two, already sold or promised away. The "Wine and Jalapeno" is 5X7 inches, and the "Toy Elephant" is 6X8.<br />I'll put following paintings on eBay, starting at $99.<br />Unfortunately, this month, I have some obligations which will dramatically distract me from painting each day. I'll do as much as I can until my time is freer.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-35700207649832899442011-02-16T19:46:00.005-05:002011-09-08T13:43:12.157-05:00Mermaid Commissionclick to enlarge:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheT8DvVn7KovPLyI2hi_j7xALnMrupOoT4OorpDgs-IwtZ8eoZOw0y7uiWDtFPPnwTcLgoEcyTNYIEdnXeN6ybhifRoYXmwSQ_ZSmEoPexjV9Ko8b3G1Re0tO1hUVzXCawZhar/s1600/SANY1001.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheT8DvVn7KovPLyI2hi_j7xALnMrupOoT4OorpDgs-IwtZ8eoZOw0y7uiWDtFPPnwTcLgoEcyTNYIEdnXeN6ybhifRoYXmwSQ_ZSmEoPexjV9Ko8b3G1Re0tO1hUVzXCawZhar/s320/SANY1001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574453630667659714" border="0" /></a>I just posted these comments on Facebook, in regard to this painting:<br /><br />"Inappropriate? I just did this commission over the weekend, per very specific requests by the client. I enjoyed bringing it to life, and concerned myself with color, shape, beauty, design, etc... But afterward, I realized that this was not simply a nude/fantasy study, it was a sexual tease. That lowers it from the classical tradition to something in the trailer park tradition, I suppose."<br /><br />Anyway... It's acrylic on wood panel, 24" X 36"...<br /><br />But, you know, as I do more and more paintings, I learn more and more, and I'm gaining confidence. But I have a serious problem: I'm making almost no money. Murals, portraits, signs, special little commissions... and of a high quality, it seems to me. Of course, I'm still LEARNING TO PAINT fundamentally, but I have the feeling that I'm HERE, I've made it! Woo-hoo! I can paint realistically! And... I'm freaking starving! Woo-hoo!<br /><br />Honestly, today, I woke-up with no money AT ALL in my pocket or the bank, and little gas in the van. I drove to my studio (yes, I have a studio now) and finished the lettering on the mermaid sign. I then drove to the client's home. Not home. I so I drove back to my sailboat and parked. No breakfast, no lunch. Some tuna and rice on the boat, but I'm saving that for tonight so I'll have something in my stomach to help me sleep. I finally catch-up with the client in the afternoon. He loves it, but he wants it varnished. Cool. I drive by to the sailboat and park, because I'm nearly out of gas. I walk two miles to my studio and retrieve the varnish, and walk directly back to the sailboat, and varnish the painting. I then walk to the client's house, CARRYING the painting over my head. He loves it still, and says he'll pay me in a couple of weeks. I walk back to the sailboat, still broke, still hungry, and more and more disillusioned. <br /><br />Anyway, later, I was given some food without even asking, which I devoured immediately.<br /><br />Tonight, I have the very clear thought that I am finally a classical artist, and always will be, and that this is my life's intent... and that I'll never make a decent living doing it. I've never been a better artist, and I've never been so wretched.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-63061461183839891132010-12-25T13:11:00.003-05:002010-12-25T13:24:59.979-05:00Oil Portraits again<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54WUG-RUQERYGxurLxwkLAnNZ5f1C_cdsfUdDwkcfYuEnkiy79ZSVQPHl5YUgpjJJimDUcvrZb4MuPT7hM5pWysUzUhmzHAq3lwr5XM1xtC-hz5LJ3yzLTd_7xNLE1sIL9ovu/s1600/newbaby.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54WUG-RUQERYGxurLxwkLAnNZ5f1C_cdsfUdDwkcfYuEnkiy79ZSVQPHl5YUgpjJJimDUcvrZb4MuPT7hM5pWysUzUhmzHAq3lwr5XM1xtC-hz5LJ3yzLTd_7xNLE1sIL9ovu/s320/newbaby.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554684415147790050" border="0" /></a>After a nasty rejection several months ago, I had more-or-less decided to take a break from portraits. I did NO art for 2 or 3 months, and made myself sick on a cheap diet of Ramen noodles and whatnot, basically insolvent financially. Then I got into murals a bit, but I'm not sure how much I enjoy murals, to be honest.<br /><br />So...<br /><br />Recently, a sculptor acquaintance of mine wanted a pastel portrait of his neighbor's newborn, a little girl, but instead of pastel, I chose oil. I delivered it yesterday, on Christmas Eve, and all were pleased. And I am pleased. I enjoyed the act of painting again in oils, in a portrait. It went well in most of its stages. About 20 hours perhaps.<br /><br />I'm realizing how much I disdain pastel, and that rough scratch-scratch-scratch, and that pastel chalky "smoke" which rises and gets in my mouth and nostrils and lungs... I LOVE the smell and feel of oil, however.<br /><br />Anyway... The canvas was 24 X 18 inches, but the portrait area inside the white border is about 11 X 8. The reference photo, you see, was cropped just like this, and was about an inch or two wide, so I just painted what I saw, which is a lot easier then trying to <span style="font-style: italic;">imagine</span> how the head and body were completed. The photo had a white border and a pink field surrounding it.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-74495772446300867472010-11-11T21:23:00.005-05:002010-11-14T11:49:17.904-05:00Residential Mural, first wallAcrylic on cement block. This is a south-facing wall, and even in November it is too hot to touch. Miserable working conditions, and the paint was drying almost instantly as I stroked it on... but the overall effect came out OK. "Decorative palm trees and foliage, and a little southwestern motif sun... or something. Nice customers.<br /><br />BEFORE:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3p9NZMyKgzLUTF7kS5y_s_-HUtQsU3mdkfIuB-1g6eIIUEUaIGfBqfqTwY0qKmGpstQ-qWKXlP3OGPvBTfeeWCt-sekPw_J2QJKTv0AZnXJj76ArzQtUvcHWtgt_pPBVRw88/s1600/SANY0890.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3p9NZMyKgzLUTF7kS5y_s_-HUtQsU3mdkfIuB-1g6eIIUEUaIGfBqfqTwY0qKmGpstQ-qWKXlP3OGPvBTfeeWCt-sekPw_J2QJKTv0AZnXJj76ArzQtUvcHWtgt_pPBVRw88/s320/SANY0890.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538483656481337634" border="0" /></a><br /><br />AFTER:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2zsuH4TweHm_tV5DZBrIzPeOUd7tih1Imf9lQaKHt7HGLeL4bYq-dhlokKT0egiaSBkiWYB7mOdx8j1FgObxXvtXbV1jGTwFrYdLcbLKdC11fCXf_kZpo-zWhF_dWCEhzh4Z/s1600/SANY0928.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2zsuH4TweHm_tV5DZBrIzPeOUd7tih1Imf9lQaKHt7HGLeL4bYq-dhlokKT0egiaSBkiWYB7mOdx8j1FgObxXvtXbV1jGTwFrYdLcbLKdC11fCXf_kZpo-zWhF_dWCEhzh4Z/s320/SANY0928.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538483652700273330" border="0" /></a>Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-44008742229956583392010-11-07T12:02:00.003-05:002010-11-07T12:05:25.154-05:00Boat PortraitI took this photo before it was finished... Later I adjusted the clouds, and added more clouds, and whatnot, and then didn't get a photo of the finished piece. ...Not completely happy with this, but landscapes are new to me.<br />...Acrylic on wood panel, 36 X 24 inches. ...For a hundred bucks, I'll do another one... hint hint...<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhd2KrDiYEbobl9s37nHdUpReg4S9TMghI34OWyDnxPvf2tNx2JYJndOmMoqd9VLBmOPHZxhm5__rY9cDgGESIZMEdfYs0kjqPGuxu_GQcNix98LBhmK0sJ6LN__JoPaaf8n51/s1600/SANY0921.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhd2KrDiYEbobl9s37nHdUpReg4S9TMghI34OWyDnxPvf2tNx2JYJndOmMoqd9VLBmOPHZxhm5__rY9cDgGESIZMEdfYs0kjqPGuxu_GQcNix98LBhmK0sJ6LN__JoPaaf8n51/s320/SANY0921.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536854323478500482" border="0" /></a>Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-1839215035562497732010-11-07T11:40:00.004-05:002010-11-14T11:50:04.892-05:00Convenience Store Murals...ContinuedEach head is about four feet high. Acrylics again, of course. Owner wanted more girls eating sandwiches, and is happy with the result, apparently. (I actually went back a week later and made the sandwich much thicker and meatier, and I adjusted the teeth of the dark-skinned girl, slightly.)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ccYVUrC_jbs09btsUP_FQ-slryUrQzghUrZa9eZmYifowkv-Jgut_dPUBr2qcHut4kRIF1DQOFMC1bQkSvJloMAn8iwGqFOhCHepFPKTg4AUo_UPBYoXpxVUJGpOkhSar32B/s1600/SANY0886.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ccYVUrC_jbs09btsUP_FQ-slryUrQzghUrZa9eZmYifowkv-Jgut_dPUBr2qcHut4kRIF1DQOFMC1bQkSvJloMAn8iwGqFOhCHepFPKTg4AUo_UPBYoXpxVUJGpOkhSar32B/s320/SANY0886.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536849105991155042" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx4xUDQqGEvORTaWrMmLyvgYZucekmN3a16XSWSDndj7HoYLL_KhIAjYlnC_mbP1fIOZMrxYdf1SjhJzFMd5Lo0HvoIld_jeulogMcRruxOu2uwr63xhHqHyo1oKstKdqimhWk/s1600/SANY0888.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx4xUDQqGEvORTaWrMmLyvgYZucekmN3a16XSWSDndj7HoYLL_KhIAjYlnC_mbP1fIOZMrxYdf1SjhJzFMd5Lo0HvoIld_jeulogMcRruxOu2uwr63xhHqHyo1oKstKdqimhWk/s320/SANY0888.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536849099178612162" border="0" /></a>Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-51195030097832910922010-10-02T14:44:00.005-05:002010-11-14T11:51:08.288-05:00Mural at Convenience Store<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMvyFDG8Bla1Hgc0IQXX_GfvtWjdspsV74f6bNDVhb_8hsON473uPwI8TwGoG7vYWbM_580Okk4lEwoADJX-cZwJmPkaE5Ftx0rIyGYWI0Slcid8zvzNQglUcSe95wIuxms6q/s1600/SANY0878.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMvyFDG8Bla1Hgc0IQXX_GfvtWjdspsV74f6bNDVhb_8hsON473uPwI8TwGoG7vYWbM_580Okk4lEwoADJX-cZwJmPkaE5Ftx0rIyGYWI0Slcid8zvzNQglUcSe95wIuxms6q/s320/SANY0878.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523537755242440306" border="0" /></a><br />Acrylic on Latex... First time using acrylic for flesh tones... <br /><br />I was nervous about this. I realize that there is no more difficult subject for a muralist than a human face and/or figure, and my acrylic experience is limited. But I knew that if I could wrap my head around people in acrylic, in a water-based paint, in a mural, large-scale, that I can paint <span style="font-style: italic;">anything</span> in acrylic, in a water-based paint, in a mural, large-scale.<br /><br />It was surprisingly easy, and I think it came-out quite nice. From the proper viewing distance, it looks almost to be a photo plastered onto the wall...almost.<br /><br />Or maybe I'm wrong. ....There are lots of people saying WOW and whatnot, but I don't have any artist friends saying anything like that, so far. And artists are the ones who know.<br /><br />...Oh well...<br /><br />I never know. I painted a portrait last spring, got it rejected, and then I freaked-out and didn't do anything for 3 months. My very specific thought was, "If I am not an artist, I do not wish to live." It was a very specific, very powerful thought, and it chilled me. Am I not actually an artist? But rather a poor fellow with misconceptions?..., poor poor Tim, ha ha ha, so sad really, him thinking he's a real artist continuing the tradition.<br /><br />Alas... I do not know. I've been a failure so long, it seems the appropriate designation. Just ask any of my previous employers. I love 'em all, but they were GLAD to see me go. Heartbreaking.<br /><br />Again, I know, I'm reveling in delicious self-pity. But everything is such a mystery. Everything. Waking in the morn, scratching my eyes, "Is that really the beginning light of day?" or a memory of being home, being loved, a child, a Saturday, and my long-lost Mom rubbing my thin child shoulders, and telling me to sleep more if I wish....?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLMvyFDG8Bla1Hgc0IQXX_GfvtWjdspsV74f6bNDVhb_8hsON473uPwI8TwGoG7vYWbM_580Okk4lEwoADJX-cZwJmPkaE5Ftx0rIyGYWI0Slcid8zvzNQglUcSe95wIuxms6q/s1600/SANY0878.JPG"><br /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ylMTJniH7UHAzR_hRR-Pq5tH8UiUt_PgSwWDZ9R49b5aVsbL1_kdhPsu7fF4y_iu1unR4kW-FwHOEYOmRMfqCR7Hi5ze3OSfTTafrAGEKnYB_vueHfhR9d-FeDpQZRVXHf3Z/s1600/SANY0879.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ylMTJniH7UHAzR_hRR-Pq5tH8UiUt_PgSwWDZ9R49b5aVsbL1_kdhPsu7fF4y_iu1unR4kW-FwHOEYOmRMfqCR7Hi5ze3OSfTTafrAGEKnYB_vueHfhR9d-FeDpQZRVXHf3Z/s320/SANY0879.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523537750770783090" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPU5kho5RepDy2ULPSv3r3jvqE7tcqn-yg0no_7wHvekkhTwzciQPhn31cKFnMao6MWdxLRyt3l5kTiDGnKouK2RVTDm9KyHUP07D7ys7AamZOBn8Cds4M0QSZiNfjIviuVR-B/s1600/SANY0877.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPU5kho5RepDy2ULPSv3r3jvqE7tcqn-yg0no_7wHvekkhTwzciQPhn31cKFnMao6MWdxLRyt3l5kTiDGnKouK2RVTDm9KyHUP07D7ys7AamZOBn8Cds4M0QSZiNfjIviuVR-B/s320/SANY0877.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523537744131774050" border="0" /></a>Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-8022312800453283212010-08-29T16:01:00.005-05:002010-08-29T16:33:19.568-05:00Losing all hope is freedom<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALF4hjxNPro4bSY53J-OHdCAXaO3FFYjbKaULCt_8-4gok37Wj6Hvq39My34wx4Erfh_djRKr5Llhnm3AyvTUvPkasmraUxy4vQ0rXn7ABboxaKAZB2mcseRVzLPjPte_RjYf/s1600/lohi5.jpg"><br /></a><br /><b>"Losing all hope is freedom." ...This quote is from a fellow named Timo Noko in Finland. Here's his website:<br /><br /><a href="http://koti.welho.com/tnoko/">http://koti.welho.com/tnoko/</a><br /><br /></b><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALF4hjxNPro4bSY53J-OHdCAXaO3FFYjbKaULCt_8-4gok37Wj6Hvq39My34wx4Erfh_djRKr5Llhnm3AyvTUvPkasmraUxy4vQ0rXn7ABboxaKAZB2mcseRVzLPjPte_RjYf/s1600/lohi5.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALF4hjxNPro4bSY53J-OHdCAXaO3FFYjbKaULCt_8-4gok37Wj6Hvq39My34wx4Erfh_djRKr5Llhnm3AyvTUvPkasmraUxy4vQ0rXn7ABboxaKAZB2mcseRVzLPjPte_RjYf/s320/lohi5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510941251217567842" border="0" /></a>This fellow has a dry wit and a strange perspective. He travels by kayak in places all over the world, alone, and spearfishes, cooks on open flames, and generally thumbs his nose at all convention.<br />He has several videos. It's worth watching one or two just to get a sense of someone this unusual.<br /><br />I often think that simple kayak/canoe travel, and simple fishing, simple living, selling simple art, alone, and seeing the world... is the ideal scenario for myself. I did a lot of that sort of thing on the weekends back in Orlando, (canoe camping, that is...) traveling with eagerness to the east coast of Florida whenever I could, and camping, swimming, watching the stars at night, ...seeing...<br /><br />And, these days, it seems as if I AM losing all hope, just like this Finnish fellow. All hope for a normal life. ....In recent months I've been told (by friends) that I'm a poor and even dangerous sailor, and that if I were lucky enough to get married and have kids, that I'd be a poor father; and I've had my artwork rejected; I've been rejected by business friends as well, basically; and, of course, a few women over the years have bluntly rejected me in startling fashion.<br /><br />Losing all hope is freedom. That's an idea which seems delicious as I try to <span style="font-style: italic;">avoid eating</span> in order to save money. Losing all hope is perhaps my best hope at this point. My youth is finished, and my careers are disasters. I just had another mural job get postponed, and spent my last dollar again.<br /><br />Perhaps I've lost all hope already, all hope, that is, for the normal. Or perhaps all hope, flatly, is the best description. Just accept it and give up and go. Fascinating.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-50398139616157108822010-08-27T09:40:00.005-05:002010-08-27T10:48:23.748-05:00Living Hand to Mouth...What does that mean?I found this answer on the 'Net:<br /><br />' Hand to <a id="KonaLink0" target="undefined" class="kLink" style="text-decoration: underline ! important; position: static;" href="http://www.blurtit.com/q797925.html#"><span style="color: rgb(17, 131, 201) ! important; position: static;"><span class="kLink" style="color: rgb(17, 131, 201) ! important;font-family:";font-size:14.3px;" >mouth</span></span></a> is a phrase which is used to denote living with the help of <a id="KonaLink1" target="undefined" class="kLink" style="text-decoration: underline ! important; position: static;" href="http://www.blurtit.com/q797925.html#"><span style="color: rgb(17, 131, 201) ! important; position: static;"><span class="kLink" style="color: rgb(17, 131, 201) ! important;font-family:";font-size:14.3px;color:transparent;" >bare </span><span class="kLink" style="color: rgb(17, 131, 201) ! important;font-family:";font-size:14.3px;color:transparent;" >essentials</span></span><span style="position: relative;" class="preLoadWrap" id="preLoadWrap1"><div style="position: absolute; z-index: 2147482647; top: -32px; left: -18px; display: none;" id="preLoadLayer1"><img style="border: medium none; width: 22px; height: 22px;" src="http://kona.kontera.com/javascript/lib/imgs/grey_loader.gif" class="preloadImg" /></div></span></a>. Living from hand to mouth means having absolutely meagre resources. What the phrase actually means is that, as soon as the resources are coming in, they are getting spent on basic necessities. To live from hand to mouth is to have a precarious existence. It literally means to intake or <a id="KonaLink2" target="undefined" class="kLink" style="text-decoration: underline ! important; position: static;" href="http://www.blurtit.com/q797925.html#"><span style="color: rgb(17, 131, 201) ! important; position: static;"><span class="kLink" style="color: rgb(17, 131, 201) ! important;font-family:";font-size:14.3px;" >eat</span></span></a> whatever one can lay their hands on. For example, "he was living hand to mouth after he was fired from his workplace". '<br /><br />Anyway...<br /><br />That's what the last few days have been like. Counting my change, looking for coins on the boat, running through the dwindling inventory of rice and noodles, and instantly taking and eating any food a friend or stranger gives me. (No, I'm not begging.) However, I do actually say things like, "If you have any FOOD you don't want...." Or, "You're SURE you must cancel that commission? Yesterday you said--"... whatever...<br /><br />I guess it's an interesting experience that I'll always remember, especially later when I'm rich and famous. lolTim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-50593426954957884942010-08-26T20:06:00.005-05:002010-08-27T09:12:34.158-05:00Trying to have some fun todayWhy so serious?<br /><br />I don't know. Just broke, I guess. And hungry, a bit. Not too bad. Hard to get good food.<br /><br />Graphite on regular ol' printing paper, 8 X 11 or whatever. ... Almost got him:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3529W3ynhRQm6NXi4832PSNTxEYyELTpNmKykksWp1x32pO6CvixG7H2F0N0-mk2yoq9EV-rFhR76X-oBda-czgW0QAJXPxlf1A9mp4dADNmzLPOKt6JE0MrO-oUpg5K4Eu4/s1600/SANY0854.JPG"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgai0QRHJH8rEnEkYj1TFC_qgugzh_gwYdizoYvn5VFFFtdUA2evOF0zaSJqkraroYDS7alsitR1ebFLYtrcLoZmkCUgHiyGHh1FruPvrY0njoHwCJtHS-QUPHAjTGYNyc1y_AA/s1600/SANY0856.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgai0QRHJH8rEnEkYj1TFC_qgugzh_gwYdizoYvn5VFFFtdUA2evOF0zaSJqkraroYDS7alsitR1ebFLYtrcLoZmkCUgHiyGHh1FruPvrY0njoHwCJtHS-QUPHAjTGYNyc1y_AA/s320/SANY0856.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510092167140732914" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNX6U1E4PrelfPakGGNA5Jt1CHIDinMsDjzEaBEPT-46mSlgRtcfEyuU_SsYSbYD_lDSGEier3OYt3DG_cKFTmbEW25ZlZw0TJ2m-kQDaJdYqulwzKNTEHFJk2uSqlhoEAKysq/s1600/SANY0849.JPG"><br /></a>Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-75843283123938116752010-08-26T12:45:00.003-05:002010-08-26T12:54:08.172-05:00Sketches of the DayBall point pen stuff.<br /><br />Sitting in the doc's office, waiting for a friend (to drive him home), and reading William Silvers' (of Disney fame) new book on acrylic painting... I got out the blue pen and doodled:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBT02BZAaS0LQJIlyLbZaceOGSRmcNot39oXh4VsnVHUwuQjrc03_WmR5-YOtw8lKj9-ZzXq-MrdJMEaa6lDEITmeXwHkawFhRwEKxWpYSlo048V4maZxA-c573n5IRVhbo9Wq/s1600/newtiger.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBT02BZAaS0LQJIlyLbZaceOGSRmcNot39oXh4VsnVHUwuQjrc03_WmR5-YOtw8lKj9-ZzXq-MrdJMEaa6lDEITmeXwHkawFhRwEKxWpYSlo048V4maZxA-c573n5IRVhbo9Wq/s320/newtiger.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509776460886188754" border="0" /></a><br />Reading V for Vendetta, and thought I'd practice on a few of the characters:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvSvuFVoqeTNWTFiow1O819eu0oerz3morAMZ_LnZaC7-eQhEeuAfkVFPTcoxAZAktrsnp_WwU-_iArsAL7gLTIN1zubz7If8L7yzNKypFtHO7M-92miEXlYGBoSrAmtbP7IOG/s1600/newvsketches.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvSvuFVoqeTNWTFiow1O819eu0oerz3morAMZ_LnZaC7-eQhEeuAfkVFPTcoxAZAktrsnp_WwU-_iArsAL7gLTIN1zubz7If8L7yzNKypFtHO7M-92miEXlYGBoSrAmtbP7IOG/s320/newvsketches.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509776449635482530" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Not so good....My portrait sketching often looks like caricaturing, with too-big eyes, etc...:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MIsyzo58h5hj6onHCjHAtVIs3oYnV4Uw0qQHM6gWSO7SyjJFUPMOYcI0QFc-ltlGUrjWho1gsxtFewGV_Dj5WlgZFtN_9fbTKMiiwN3s4-IKkRJKZA5MxnbTR0XC3WVET3Sl/s1600/newlu.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MIsyzo58h5hj6onHCjHAtVIs3oYnV4Uw0qQHM6gWSO7SyjJFUPMOYcI0QFc-ltlGUrjWho1gsxtFewGV_Dj5WlgZFtN_9fbTKMiiwN3s4-IKkRJKZA5MxnbTR0XC3WVET3Sl/s320/newlu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509776443388629762" border="0" /></a><br />Overall, blue ballpoint pen sketching is convenient and a good exercise. You can't erase.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-72924043683482861632010-08-26T11:59:00.003-05:002010-08-26T12:22:19.332-05:00Poem of the day<span style="font-weight: bold;">How Death Got His Start</span><br /><br />I found<br />this lullaby in my head this morning<br />in those moments flashing<br />between sleeping stupor and awake:<br />Roses are red, blood is like red, red is red, my roommate is dead.<br /><br />The police don't like me, I can tell, I told<br />their questions.<br />The sweetly cold wall on my face for a moment or two, my mouth<br />upon it;<br />it was new latex;<br />it tasted of ammonia, and at that moment<br />it occurred to me<br />that my mouth can be upon someone without kissing.<br /><br />And I remember the horrible pain of the handcuffs, but later they sent me home.<br /><br />But later that year when my cousin was dead, they left me in the cell.<br />And when my cellmate died They put me in a room alone.<br />But, my Goodness, I escaped. A huge riot! Many of us got out, many died, many had red blood.<br /><br />Running in the woods I found a stream but could not drink.<br />Running in the woods I found an elk and killed it but could not weep.<br />No, that is ridiculous.<br />No, yes, it is dead.<br />And a poor woodpecker with red head, dead.<br /><br />I desired screaming, I desired kisses, I desired.<br /><br />I found a large highway and walked straight out into it,<br />and the wreckage began.<br />...There were people in the upside-down car, moaning.<br />I crawled in and put my kiss on each.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-39302398368477339282010-08-18T11:39:00.002-05:002010-08-18T11:47:13.750-05:00New Mural WebsiteYeah, so I'm trying to get my mural career going again, so I started this:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.timgardnermurals.blogspot.com">www.TimGardnerMurals.Blogspot.com</a><br /><br />Right now, I don't have much of a portfolio of murals, so I'm trying to create many murals ASAP. I may be painting a really huge cuban SANDWICH on the side of restaurant tomorrow. We'll see. Funny. ...I figure I can try to make it the most realistic and cool-looking cuban around.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-79394555877318053452010-08-14T09:30:00.003-05:002010-08-14T09:39:47.804-05:00Continuing to not paint portraits<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4bMIy0oy2TC62JUqavnz5kXg5SPru7249ltIJiFP8rNnKfuKKd2_hYs6YXkOxLZ65yMhQtFzUr4vdlcfYrJEvwWnC3tUnQBSyBcw6R_jRHKks_K-8J3KY-Th2aAZt52-g0Jf/s1600/Portfolio+image.jpg"><br /></a><br />I may never do another portrait, I've decided. I'm not sure I enjoy the subject matter. Perhaps I'm feeling constrained. I'd like to paint <span style="font-style: italic;">everything</span>... I like the idea of murals. The scale. The variety. I especially like large outdoor murals. Something about me, psychologically, finds that huge scale appealing.<br />Here's a photo of Eric Henn. An excellent artist who became a muralist specializing in large-scale outdoor works. This is the size I want to work with:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4bMIy0oy2TC62JUqavnz5kXg5SPru7249ltIJiFP8rNnKfuKKd2_hYs6YXkOxLZ65yMhQtFzUr4vdlcfYrJEvwWnC3tUnQBSyBcw6R_jRHKks_K-8J3KY-Th2aAZt52-g0Jf/s1600/Portfolio+image.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb4bMIy0oy2TC62JUqavnz5kXg5SPru7249ltIJiFP8rNnKfuKKd2_hYs6YXkOxLZ65yMhQtFzUr4vdlcfYrJEvwWnC3tUnQBSyBcw6R_jRHKks_K-8J3KY-Th2aAZt52-g0Jf/s320/Portfolio+image.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505274885599597634" border="0" /></a><br />What does this say about me?Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-21409052374971432412010-08-12T10:02:00.004-05:002010-08-12T10:10:32.771-05:00Gallery UpdateYea! I've finally updated my gallery. Go to<br /><br /><a href="http://www.TimothyBrentGardner.Blogspot.com">http://www.TimothyBrentGardner.BlogSpot.com</a><br /><br />...or not...your choice...But, really, I mean, why not? Go ahead and see my gallery...or not... Or you can, yes, you CAN go there and see my gallery of art, oh yes...yes...YES! ...or not... YOUR choice... Nobody's twisting your arm here, you know... No pressure... OK? OK... All is well...Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-39512703952797365392010-08-08T10:55:00.004-05:002010-08-08T11:19:55.403-05:00Our One Possession<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycISJquLF22GdST3oQK6avncfwaa8JxIam0_mQowmM8GGZGiNPUQjqvAFfzhoecaDcMdAAAUFa9yLgU1YItkDiWSLnGvIMGJRaO-PjFr7dHsjPPhJ1zzEyNdV_V7Nz7Ymta6N/s1600/V.jpg">From V for Vendetta, by Alan Moore:<br /></a><br /> "But it was my integrity that was important. Is that so selfish? It sells for so little, but it's all we have left in this place.<br /> "It is the very last inch of us.<br /> "But within that inch we are free." ...<br /><br /> "It is strange that my life should end in such a terrible place, but for three years I had roses and I apologized to nobody.<br /> "I shall die here. Every inch of me shall perish...<br /> "Except one.<br /> "An inch.<br /> "It's small and it's fragile and it's the only thing in the world that's worth having.<br /> "We must never lose it or sell it, or give it away.<br /> "We must never let them take it from us.<br /> "I don't know who you are, or whether you're a man or a woman. I may never see you. I will never hug you or cry with you or get drunk with you.<br /> "But I love you.<br /> "I hope that you escape this place.<br /> "I hope that the world turns and that things get better, and that one day people have roses again." ...<br /><br /> "I know every inch of this cell.<br /> "This cell knows every inch of me.<br /> "Except one."<br /><br />...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycISJquLF22GdST3oQK6avncfwaa8JxIam0_mQowmM8GGZGiNPUQjqvAFfzhoecaDcMdAAAUFa9yLgU1YItkDiWSLnGvIMGJRaO-PjFr7dHsjPPhJ1zzEyNdV_V7Nz7Ymta6N/s1600/V.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycISJquLF22GdST3oQK6avncfwaa8JxIam0_mQowmM8GGZGiNPUQjqvAFfzhoecaDcMdAAAUFa9yLgU1YItkDiWSLnGvIMGJRaO-PjFr7dHsjPPhJ1zzEyNdV_V7Nz7Ymta6N/s320/V.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503070208165873154" border="0" /></a>EXECUTION :<br /><br />Guard: "It's time. ...Unless you want to change your mind. ...Sign that statement. You could be out inside three years. Perhaps they'd find you a job..." ...<br /><br />Prisoner: "Thank you. ...But I'd rather die behind the chemical sheds."<br /><br />Guard: "Then there's nothing left to threaten with, is there? ...You are free."Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-70003451490046814132010-07-18T12:29:00.005-05:002010-07-18T13:16:07.582-05:00Charcoal Portraits<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMDrnLd2ZeC79PpIQjyiQBTiMNjtZqT-ovu4z1dzT1vFS3hlcP7zq2R4yMldJv5zCYRkcet-99-fryYCrDkYKMenbBeEAlGu3-Vcjz58GaYT5IKswhY3cTk_yHoJtrL8mk8wZT/s1600/SANY0565.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMDrnLd2ZeC79PpIQjyiQBTiMNjtZqT-ovu4z1dzT1vFS3hlcP7zq2R4yMldJv5zCYRkcet-99-fryYCrDkYKMenbBeEAlGu3-Vcjz58GaYT5IKswhY3cTk_yHoJtrL8mk8wZT/s320/SANY0565.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495299984169670178" border="0" /></a>I drew this charcoal several months ago, while experimenting with different papers. This paper was actually Newsprint, which I loved, but which yellows and deteriorates quickly. I couldn't find another other paper I liked, so I stopped doing charcoals. Silly, I know.<br /><br />You see, I've long had this idea that I should make money by doing live charcoal portraits. I did caricatures for years, which I think can ruin a traditional artist if he's not careful. But don't get me wrong. Caricatures are wonderful, but for artists they're mainly wonderful if you're a cartoonist. All very respectable, but not my dream. Charcoal portraits (from a live model) are a demanding step up from caricaturing, and one step below the discipline of oil portraiture.<br /><br />Of course, I've done plenty of oil portraits (although I've been taking a break for the last 3 months, to get my head straight). But my oils have been from photos.<br /><br />I have this romantic notion: if I want to participate in the tradition of the old masters, then I must do my oils LIVE. The artist observes a thing in the world, and then recreates it. From the caves in France, to the Athenian artisans, to Michelangelo, and John Singer Sargent, to my doorstep now. It is one thread being stretched through the centuries. When you see those drawings in the cave, you know that MAN was there. This is the skill which defines the human as human, and abstracts us away from the animal.<br /><br />But to make a living, and to increase my skill, I believe charcoal portraits, done live, and quickly, are a perfect compliment to, and enhancement of, oil portraiture. I have this image of me setting-up on a sidewalk, with or without permission from whomever thinks they are the giver of permissions of whichever site, and doing fantastic, mind-blowing, beautiful charcoal portraits for 10 bucks a pop or something. ...Maybe I can do it one day, maybe not.<br /><br />But to do live charcoal portraits, I must be sure of my materials, I must understand my materials. As of yet, I can't find the right combination of materials. Mainly, I cannot find a paper I like, which is readily available, and inexpensive, but of better quality than Newsprint.<br /><br />And here's my confession. While I've taken a break from portraiture, I've also just realized that I have drawn NOTHING. Three months, NOTHING. I have found myself taking a break from all I know or understand or love. It has been a quiet Hell of sorts, walking through the days, doing whatnot, surviving, and unable to find the merest scrap of ambition.<br /><br />And then, two days ago, I grabbed a blue-ink ball-point pen, and started drawing. I found it strange that the ability to draw, to see, still resided in me. A mystery, a joy.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-70215602943683380512010-07-18T12:13:00.004-05:002010-07-18T12:29:11.386-05:00Beautiful<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tN9lsMyouYY&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tN9lsMyouYY&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />I found this accidentally yesterday. I keep replaying it for the music, but also for the technique and the beauty of the charcoal portrait. Looks like vine and/or compressed charcoal. Notice how the artist blocks-in roughly and darkly, then "washes" the face, then drags a rag to soften and sink-in certain areas like the hair, and then restates dark areas, and then lifts off the highlight areas, bringing the visage to life, and then the final details. I'm guessing it was about a 20-minute drawing from a live model, but I don't know. If you go to the artist's YouTube channel, he has several more videos.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-74619122589430735322010-06-26T11:03:00.005-05:002010-06-26T12:26:09.094-05:00Nightmarish WeekThis last week can be called, without reservation, a nightmare.<br /><br />First, I got news that my friend, Michele Nichols, was killed in a small plane crash. Michele was an artist in Orlando with whom I'd often worked, and whom, I must confess, I loved. Of course, she had a boyfriend, and he died also in the plane crash, but I would have married her in a second if she'd been single and if, miraculously, she would have wanted such a thing. But life rages against our desires often. Michele and I occasionally talked on the phone or emailed, and she had bought my old PC when I left Orlando last year. She paid more than it was worth, and she asked me, "Are you all right? Let me give you more money." And just a couple of months ago, I "borrowed back" my computer from her, visiting her at her apartment in Orlando for a couple of hours. She never used the computer she said, and I needed one for a while, promising to either bring it back or pay her back. "No, no, " she said, "Keep it, keep it." ... Sweet, sweet Michele is all I can think about, and her terrible final moments. Her face is so clear in my head. And my artist's imagination keeps playing a vivid reel of the plane's violent crash and explosion, with sweet Michele being mercilessly twisted and destroyed in the middle of the inferno, over and over in my head. I know this will torture my soul for a while, but like everything it will pass, and that will be sad as well. Then again, my suffering is certainly less than that of her family and closest friends. And I hate myself for being so interested my own suffering, fascinated by it really. I am an egotist.<br /><br />Another thing happened, and this within 48 hours of the news of Michele's passing. A special friend of mine emailed a long letter to me which can be best described as a complete evisceration of our friendship. The man and his wife are portrait clients of mine, but more than that they are a couple to whom I have, in the past, looked for guidance and respect. I especially have wanted their respect. He is a boat captain, but he retired last year, and he and his wife moved out of state. I haven't spoken to them in several months, and then, suddenly, I receive this horrible email. I won't go into details, but it was bad enough that it makes me concerned for my friend's physical and spiritual health. Of course, it makes me doubt myself. My confidence in all things wavers constantly ... And so I'm stuck between incomprehension, anger, and love.<br /><br />On lesser news, all my money-making efforts here in Apollo Beach have been defeated. I thought, for sure, that a couple of little commissions were developing, and I wasn't worried, but suddenly I was completely broke. I absolutely am unable, psychologically, to return to a normal job, but I won't go into details of that. Besides, I <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> how to make money with my art, but this whole thing snuck up on me. Maybe I wished it so. I don't know. I never planned to stay in Apollo Beach, and I've found myself glued to the place, unable to ascertain the proper will, or understand the proper will, or discover the proper will. I only know that I want to do my art, and travel simply, and not have friends die or friends deny me their friendship or... or...<br /><br />What this all culminated into is, I have sold my cruising sailboat. In my current emotional/soulful state, I just wish to <span style="font-style: italic;">go.</span> I'd like to photograph and paint wildlife and marine life, and I thought, in fact, that I'd buy the simplest craft I know, a canoe. Deck it, put a sail on it, grab a few items and my art supplies, and, indeed, <span style="font-style: italic;">go.</span> Build a series of serious paintings.<br /><br />But I compromised. I found a $200 sailboat, old and taken-apart and half-customized, but with almost all the parts, all the (OLD) sails, and with a decent trailer, and nothing but potential. It will be ready to go into the water in just a few days. The sailboat is only 20 feet long, and one-forth the weight of my just-sold cruising sailboat. It can actually be <span style="font-style: italic;">rowed</span>, and the mast is rather easily put up and taken down. And everything is cheaper about such a small boat, and simpler. This is crucial. Perfect for my starving-artist/lamenting-soul mindset right now.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">The $200 Sailboat:<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeac8f_AsV7Rm4CQhqv00mdB0JvAf8oy6eva5VWbdslbTiI1MfsxTulGoz14Ff1nRiCFNqxnmH7cXhPyjpKQT2K7uIcUBANClc0dKOh2WAaLcEZJTetosQRoOA6WUijd0QB2qU/s1600/SANY0822.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeac8f_AsV7Rm4CQhqv00mdB0JvAf8oy6eva5VWbdslbTiI1MfsxTulGoz14Ff1nRiCFNqxnmH7cXhPyjpKQT2K7uIcUBANClc0dKOh2WAaLcEZJTetosQRoOA6WUijd0QB2qU/s320/SANY0822.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487126363590434674" border="0" /></a><br />Yes, I will live on her, and go to The Keys, and find tourists to buy my paintings, and begin working on a real portfolio. And I need to commit myself to improving my draftsmanship.<br /><br />Being truly <span style="font-style: italic;">mobile </span>is precious to me. With this boat, I can take all my art supplies and even most of my books and whatnot, and stay relatively dry. I think of it as a fat canoe, really. It has ballast in the form of a 400 lb. iron swing keel, and should be fairly stable yet nimble. My 22 lb. Danforth-style anchor, 30 feet of chain, and 150 feet of 1/2" three-strand anchor line should hold this vessel through everything up to a hurricane.<br /><br />So I conclude the horror of this week with a touch of hope. And tomorrow is a new week.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32474280.post-89458174183348541312010-06-13T20:25:00.005-05:002010-06-15T09:00:01.353-05:00The Prisoner... Thoughts and Quotes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpZ8vpf2Xp5raNrvQl_p5zrZQPsz4VxQT2OVy0ZRrrmdWJFIe4e1ayV_uUiUJR-LNkbRDza0QgY4jszgogobKLI5raAzKEsb3jC_qQ8IK-kDP5ko1GuRZFs2PLqm-l2jtWAWz/s1600/the-prisoner-1967-logo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpZ8vpf2Xp5raNrvQl_p5zrZQPsz4VxQT2OVy0ZRrrmdWJFIe4e1ayV_uUiUJR-LNkbRDza0QgY4jszgogobKLI5raAzKEsb3jC_qQ8IK-kDP5ko1GuRZFs2PLqm-l2jtWAWz/s320/the-prisoner-1967-logo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482435726705104738" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjjnrgyLKC82Okv9Suza6DmWwB_mED0XaR-RFjAHKeymVpPB6Gy4uh4-xRA6We6ajHP6yepRMTm0ZZfFOMQPD50uMw3myo5GOxN4YZyIuT9z8jJJqOxIRNlzAa6rHfD_JAvT90/s1600/The+Prisoner.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjjnrgyLKC82Okv9Suza6DmWwB_mED0XaR-RFjAHKeymVpPB6Gy4uh4-xRA6We6ajHP6yepRMTm0ZZfFOMQPD50uMw3myo5GOxN4YZyIuT9z8jJJqOxIRNlzAa6rHfD_JAvT90/s320/The+Prisoner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482435420676663330" border="0" /></a>The Prisoner. How does one describe this thing? First it must be noted that it is a British television show from the 1960's. I still remember watching the reruns in the 1970's, as a kid. The premise, superficially, concerns an intelligence agent, ala James Bond or similar, who tries to escape his professional position and his unsatisfying life. But as he tries to retire, he is drugged and taken to a mysterious island. The island is populated with ostensibly happy people, and the environment is a lovely seaside village. And everyone is identified by a single number. Our protagonist is given the "name" Number 6. <br /><br />Number 6 doesn't know why he's there at first, but then it becomes clear that some para-government entity has put him there. And all they WANT is for #6 to tell them WHY he resigned and WHAT he knows. And, generally, they want him to be a good citizen of the village, and conform, join-in, be nice... normal and friendly.<br /><br />Of course, #6 immediately thinks of nothing else except ESCAPE.<br /><br />In the end, the television series explores the relationship between an individual and the community. This is an ancient problem. The ancient Greeks ruminated excessively upon this very thing. And, philosophically, it is not in any way clear which is more important, the individual or the community in which he resides. <br /><br />Our contemporary instincts tell us that the best good is that which is best for the most people. But it may come as a surprise that this is a rather new idea, or at least it's an idea which is only now popular, briefly, historically speaking. Surely it can be argued that great men, men like Socrates and Plato and Ben Franklin and Thomas Jefferson, are more important to the very core of mankind than the teeming masses. <br /><br />In my own estimation, the individual is at least as important as the community, and perhaps is of greater value. The individual human must be protected and respected as the most precious thing alive. That's why we have laws protecting the lone man against the tyranny of the many. The lone man stands aside the group, forever glorious and irreplaceable. <br /><br />With that said, here are some quotes from The Prisoner:<br /><br />First, my favorite:<br /> “I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or <strong>numbered</strong>! My life is my own.”<br />--No.6; Arrival<br /><br />And more. Peruse at your leisure:<br /><br /><br />New No.2: “Good day, Number Six.”<br />No.6: “Number what?”<br />New No.2: “Six. For official purposes, everyone has a number. Yours is number 6.”<br />No.6: “I am not a number, I am a <em>person</em>.”<br />--Arrival<br /><br /><br />No.2: “We can treat folly with kindness . . . knowing that soon his wild spirit will quieten, and the foolishness will fall away to reveal a model citizen.”<br />No.6: “That day you'll never see.”<br />--Dance of the Dead<br /><br /><br />“Unlike me, many of you have accepted the situation of your imprisonment and will die here like rotten cabbages.”<br />--No.6; Free For All<br /><br /><br />The Queen: “I want to be near you.”<br />No.6: “And everybody's near in this place . . . far <em>too</em> near.”<br />--Checkmate<br /><br /><br />No.2: “Tell me. . .are you still as keen as ever to leave us?”<br />No.6: “Any more questions?”<br />--The General<br /><br /><br />Chairman: “We deplore your spirit of disharmony.”<br />No.6: “That's a common complaint around here, isn't it?”<br />--A Change of Mind<br /><br /><br />No.2: “I assure you, that no matter what significance you may hold for me, to the Village and its Committee, you are merely Citizen Number Six, who has to be tolerated, and if necessary, shaped to fit.”<br />No.6: “Public Enemy <em>Number Six</em>.”<br />--A Change of Mind<br /><br /><br />“You still have a choice. You can still salvage your right to be individuals. Your rights to truth and free thought! Reject this false world of Number Two . . . reject it <strong>NOW</strong>!!”<br />--No.6; A Change of Mind <br /><br /><br />“He told [those kids] a . . . a blessed fairy tale. That one wouldn't drop his guard with his own <strong>GRANDMOTHER</strong>!”<br />--No.2 [concerning No.6]; The Girl Who Was Death<br /><br /><br />AND THE FINAL TWO:<br /><br />“He has revolted. Resisted. Fought. Held fast. Maintained. Destroyed resistance. Overcome coercion. The right to be a person, someone or individual. We applaud his <em>private war</em>, and concede that despite materialistic efforts, he has survived <em>intact</em> and <em>secure</em>!”<br />--The President; Fall Out<br /><br />“All that remains is . . . recognition of a <em>man</em>.”<br />--The President; Fall Out<br /><br />Final note:<br />I suppose, too, that I should tell you the ending of the entire TV series. So if you don't wish to know, then stop reading.<br /><br />Throughout the series of episodes, Number 6 continued to plead to see Number ONE. But he could never get passed Number 2. Number ONE was the only person who could, in the end, grant Number 6 freedom. Of course, finally, Number 6 is allowed to meet Number One. And who does he meet? Himself. That's right, Number One is his own self. The entire time, the person who was holding Number 6 PRISONER was his own self, his own fears... A great metaphor, for sure, beyond all the concerns of society and the individual within. In the end, WE are the people who stop ourselves from success. We fear escape. We fear success. We enslave our own souls by adhering to the ideals of the familiar.Tim Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08952300416087576056noreply@blogger.com3