August 12, 2008 – 9:08 am
She’s still searching around for the perfect domain name, but Carrie is determined to establish an artist’s portrait network in her hometown.
Carrie Jadus @ Interior Motives
August 12, 2008 – 8:58 am
I did these little 18×24 paintings last week. I am trying to remember what I saw when I was a kid in the ‘burbs, with a lot of time and nothing to do. I am noticing that what I remember at this point is women my parents age who could potentially give me food. Maybe this is the way my dog Toulouse sees the world.
Groceries & Car
Well, one more, anyway. More to follow. I have more fun drawing these little pieces of fragmented memory from my distant youth than I do painting them, but painting them is pretty great, too. When I get enough of the images together, they will come together as a story or series of stories, and I will scan the pencil sketches into Photoshop, export them to Illustrator for inking, and then back to Photoshop for color and effects, then back to Illustrator for page makeup. At that point I can do web comics or actual printing. I’ve done this process before, and it is laborious and takes me away from the easel, but it’s really satisfying for me.
Neighbor Lady Asks For An Ashtray
Edit-The upgrade to WP 2.6 has totally wrecked my permalink structure, so I apologize for the editing and double-posting.
August 7, 2008 – 11:44 am
And as long as the hot wet blanket of August makes it hard for me to slap paint, I’m going to do the most funnest thing I can– paint cartoons. Cartoons about suburbia when I was a sunbelt teenager.
Mrs. Crowell Waters The Garden
August 7, 2008 – 10:03 am
I saw this RV in a big hot flat empty parking lot on US 19.
Elvis RV
My first action as regards this story yesterday was to blast it out to my Upper Left Coast media buddies so that they could heap further well-deserved abuse on the rubes of Florida and add to the merriment of the rest of the nation, who scorn us with unwavering scorn. As is appropriate. More grist for that woodchipper and all. I take pride in being so close to the source and yet surviving, more or less, kind of like dancing on the teeth of an alligator. Or something.
And now, after 36 hours to reflect, I will observe that I am glad that the government of St Petersburg has progressed from slashing the tents of the homeless to the closing of the businesses of the shopkeepers. I predict that in a year or two’s time they will have worked their way up the economic ladder and will be making the lives of the underserving rich miserable. See if they don’t.
At least 2 of the 101 Photos of Roser Park, St Petersburg have been used as references for paintings so far. As I have previously stated, by midsummer my use of color becomes deranged from the heat and I will not return to a reasonable palette until January. This is not really a choice. It is more like a mineral deficiency or something.
roser-park-1roser-park-2
I was going to make some sort of observation about how I captured the flowing nature of glass, which technically a super-cooled liquid, but it turns out that the notion that “solid” glass continues to flow very slowly at normal temperatures is crap and in the category of such gee-whiz urban legends such as “we only use 10% of our brains” -type Parade Magazine chain email nonsense.
So I will just comment that when I paint stuff it tends to get all flow-y, and like that. Not Dali drippy– that stuff makes me seasick– but more like myopia swirly. You know.
Bottle Study At The Gallery
There is a pretty good argument to be made that in terms of numbers of deaths and long term social repercussions all over the globe, as well as the misery inflicted over many generations and hundreds of years on millions of people the peculiar institution over which the southern confederacy explicitly seceded was an even greater horror than the European Holocaust of the mid-20th century. And that’s sayin’ something, pal. If this is the case, then displaying with pride a flag of the defenders of African enslavement is more despicable than the flying of, say, oh, I dunno, the black-on-red swastika, for instance.
I have seen plenty of condemnation of the flying of the ConBat flag over Tampa, but little attempt at an antidote for this poisoning of the local atmosphere. Via the Seminole Heights blog, I found this call to artists at the Alley Cats Players blog. Good on them!
The prison-industrial complex has spread into the Caribbean. I saw this sign on a lawn in Old Northeast neighborhood of St Petersburg, Florida. I have friends in the landscape maintenance business, and I feel this kind of competition is just unfair, although I will admit it does alleviate unemployment in the just-might-possibly-be-a-friend-of-a-terrorist’s-chauffeur’s-cousin sector.
Habeus Crabgrass
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