ISOM SYMBOLIC ART

Saturday, January 8, 2022

The case of the missing blueberry.

“You don't stop laughing when you grow old, you grow old when you stop laughing.” ― George Bernard Shaw

Here at The Rockwood very small incidents often become fodder for my personal amusement. Like most of my stories, the “blueberry incident” provides innocent insight in to the process of aging. I have lived here with my wife for nearly two years. It is a place filled with aging artists, educators homemakers and people who have lead very interesting lives.

Lively conversations fill the air each morning at breakfast and in the evening at dinner Two days a week we have a social hour in the early afternoon and we laugh and talk about our experiences and the foibles of the “younger generation.” We also discuss and joke about our “misspent youth”.

This morning a retired college history professor was adding blueberries to his cereal when one of the blue orbs missed its mark and rolled off the table. “I have dropped a blueberry” he said, “we must find it before someone steps on it and falls”. The concierge rushed to the scene of the mishap and four tables of seniors immediately stared at the floor to see if they could spot the missing berry; complicating the matter was a rug pattern and color that was perfect for camouflaging wayward fruit. The room was soon filed with raucous laughter and an over abundance of blueberry jokes That is good aging in a nutshell; laughter and fun each day sparked by seemingly meaningless incidents.

Friday, January 7, 2022

Covid Series print 2020

This print is still available at https://www.graficafinearts.com

Covid Series 2020

Alpha and Omega

Lessons in work and play.

My dad had a strong belief that work was not play and you should not have fun when you are on the job. I think his strong conviction come from the fact that he spent many years without work and struggled to find employment during the depression. He was very demanding and he expected me to work hard and never complain. If I complained he would just create more work for me. His favorite refrain was “stop playing around”. I was expected to come right home after school and do chores before supper. After supper I had to go to my room and do my homework and go to bed. During the school year it was simple work and school. He was a bit more lenient during the summer. I was allowed to play with my friends for a few hours in the late afternoon and sometimes during the long summer evening. However, most of the time I was playing with my brother and taking care of him. When I was about 12 years old my dad put me in charge of mowing a vacant lot next to our house.

I was surprised when my Dad purchased an old gasoline powered mower to make cutting the large lot easier. I had been using a push mower and it took about four hours to cut the grass. He was a very good mechanic and he was proud of his restored mower. He showed me how to start the mower and gave me a lesson on maintenance and safety. I was thrilled with the mower and for the next few months I breezed through the cutting process. The mowing became routine and I started to vary the cutting pattern. I would cut zigzags and circles; it was sort of an early form of crop circles. When my dad returned home late at night he did not check my work until the next morning. I had removed all traces of my patterned cutting and he was proud of my work and was not aware that I was having fun during work.

My creativity proved to be my downfall one hot summer afternoon. I decided to cut my initials into field. I had a great time making the large block letters. When I had finished putting the final touches on the “I” the mower began to sputter and smoke. Apparently, the aggressive use of the mower as a sculpting tool had taken its toll on the refurbished mower. I checked the gas and oil and both tanks were nearly full. I pulled and pulled the starting cord and checked and rechecked the carburetor settings. In a panic I loosened and tightened screws. The final attempt was removing the spark plug. The wrench slipped and I broke off the tip of the plug. I was in deep trouble. I tried to remember my maintenance lessons as the sun set on my “fun project”. I was frantic and my dad would be home soon. I spent a sleepless night knowing that in the morning my dad would see my handy work and I would suffer his wrath. In the morning I went to breakfast. I received a cheery greeting from my mom and a stern question from my father. “Did you finish the mowing” after a long and painful pause, I confessed that I had encounter a little problem. He looked at me and sternly and said “that is what you get for playing around”. I will not bore you with the details of my punishment but I still remember it over sixty-two years later.

It is both strange and prophetic how we remember and react to little dramas in our life. I am thankful for that harsh lesson it just made cherish the fact that throughout my working years I never separated work and play; and I still do a lot of “playing around”.

Thursday, January 6, 2022

Dream Car Contest

In 1953, my freshman year at Belleville Township High School, I spent many hours drawing cars. The car culture was in full swing and all young boys were dreaming of sleek custom “hot rods”. My ideas were influenced by the futuristic cars illustrated in Popular Mechanics magazine. My Grandpa had a huge collection of the magazines in his workshop. It was the first place I went when we visited him in Coulterville, Illinois. I would study the picture intently and dream of building a car. There was an ad in one of the magazines about the Fisher Body car model contest. I sent for the information and received all the details of the contest. My favorite part was the schematic . I was able to locate one on the internet and it still gives me the sense of awe I felt as a teenager. I like plans and schematics. I still fill my drawings with symbols, lines and shapes that look like diagrams.

I was really eager to start the build but money was tight and wood and paint for the model would be hard to buy. Also, I did not have the proper model tools or space for working. I did manage to get some wood but it was not the smooth pine wood that was suggested and I tried carving it with a pen knife. I would work many frustrating hours on the back stoop of our small Gunnison pre-fabricated house on Wabash Avenue in Belleville, Illinois. Sitting on the concrete and carving was problematic and dangerous. I suffered many cuts and scraped knees. Well, to make a long story short, I never finished the model. I still think about that failure. I had expectations of creating an award winning model and I would have a special assembly at school; all the students would marvel at my achievement.

I have come to realize that the car debacle was a learning experience and I incorporated it into my life and teaching. I have had many unfinished projects and many of my students struggled to finish projects. It sounds quaint and old fashion to say that you learn from your failures, but I think it is true.

http://deansgarage.com/2009/fisher-body-craftsmans-guild/

Mechanical Drawing

I do not know it I have the necessary skills to write a book about art education but I have been compiling small snippets about my career in education and sharing them on Facebook. Tracing the twists and turns of my seventy-five year journey has been a enlightening experience.

Of course, art teachers, course work, family and the creative process have been my main influences. When you dig deeper, small things reveal a complex network of influences. In high school, I was an average student hoping to go to college. The men in my family were laborers, farmers, railroad workers and mine workers. I was encouraged to obtain a skill. Most students in my situation enrolled in “shop classes”. During the 1950’s the vocational education department was popular. Auto shop classes and drafting classes were very popular. One of my favorite classes was Mechanical drawing. Projects were drawing on light green paper with specific borders and precise lettering which were called “plates” Neat rows of helvetica letters indicated the title of each projects. Clean drawings with tracing paper cover sheets were very important. I remember the Thomas E. French textbook illustrations and the wonder of isometric drawing (the word seems prophetic ). I was a good students and learned to be neat and precise. That element is very evident in my work today and do enjoy detailed work with no erasures.

http://www.ebay.com/itm/Mechanical-Drawing-Board-and-CAD-Techniques-by-Thomas-E-French-and-Jay-D-/181756270788?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item2a518498c4

Mr. Harpstribe was my teacher at Bellevile West High School. 1953-57

Belleville Township High School East Variety Show

I began teaching at Belleville East in the fall of 1966. The school was still under constructions and many of the classrooms were not ready; it was a new school without traditions. Ever school activity that first year would be the starting point for developing the schools image. Before I was hired, he community voted on the mascot and school name. It was decided that the new school would be called The Belleville East High School Lancers. No one had any idea what the mascot would look like. After considerable discussion, it was determined that the mascot should be a knight, I guess it was because knights used a lance. I could never quite see the connection. In my mind, the image was a British lancer. I later found out the graphic designer hired to create the school logo, use a Portuguese Lancer wine bottle label for the type face which really confused everything. The final logo design was a shield with lances.

With the name a logo in place the principal began searching for new activities for the fledgling school. He approach me one day and asked it I would like to organize a school talent show. On my application, I listed my participation in a college review presented by the Blackfriars a theatrical fraternity. I told him I would give it a try and I quickly enlisted the help of the new music instructor, Jim McHaney. We decided to call it a Variety Show with a subtitle for each year. Jim and I worked on sixteen shows together and became good friends. The work was divided up and I took charge of the stage, publicity and house. Jim work with staging the acts, sound and lighting. The lines of responsibility were loosely drawn and many activities overlapped.

One of the major problems was the lack of performance space. The school did not have a theatre only a lecture center that was the new trend in school architecture during the nineteen sixties. It did have a small concrete floor stage. However, there was no wing space, dressing rooms, lighting, or sound equipment. We decided that we would use the gymnasium as a performance center. Trying to work around the gym scheduling was very difficult. We would have to create a stage complete with lighting on a very tight schedule. The Easter holiday was our choice. The spring break was Thursday to the Monday after Easter and we were able to use the gym for the remainder of the week. The tryouts were held in the music room several weeks before we started work on the stage. We selected several acts and divided them into two groups. The acts were responsible for their own rehearsals. Early on Thursday morning, the first day of spring break we started converting the gym into a performance area. We set everything up during and rehearsed half the show on Tuesday and half on Wednesday, On Thursday we had a dress rehearsal and Friday evening we presented the show. Everything was cleaned up an the gym was ready for classes on Monday. We followed that format for fifteen years. It was ten twelve hour days plus the tryouts and planning. The first show was a success and as the years passed it became an important school activity with large audiences. As it grew we rented a portable stage, lighting and created back stage area complete with curtain.The bleachers on one side of the gym were used for seating. Our trade mark was a group of students wearing candy box costumes and singing “Let’s go out to the lobby” and leading the crowd to the lobby for refreshments. My art classes created acts each year that pushed the envelope of what is talent. One such act is hard to visualize, imagine a student in a Hormel Spam can costume signing “Mr. Spam man” ( to the tune of Mr. Sandman} featuring four back up singers, performing Detroit style, dressed in wedding dresses. At intermission Mr. Spam man served spam samples and signed autographs. I don’t know what it meant but you could not forget it. We also had a panel of judges and trophies were award after the show. We had local celebrities as judges and in keeping with my off beat humor, I had a pro wrestler as a judge one year. Every one looked forward to the special judge each year. My last year directing the Variety show was 1984. I had a busy schedule doing technical direction for two or three plays a year plus my department head duties and I just did not have enough time. The show hung on for a few more years but eventually died out. Belleville East is now a large school with a new theatre and a large drama department. I would like to think those early years helped East develop into a fine school.

The first show in 1968 was called Lancer Laugh-Out a homage to the popular television show Laugh-in. Over the next fifteen years, with a two year break in 1979-80, the names of the show would be taken from pop culture. The name of the shows and years are:

1968 Lancer Laugh-Out
1969 Gotcha
1970 Do your own thing
1971 Hey don’t that look like someone we seen before
1972 All in the family
1973 Tell me what it is and I will tell you what to feed it
1974 Thanks, I needed that
1975 Aaargh!

1976 Hooray.
1977 Gong show
1978 Friday night live
1981 We’re back
1982 B.T.H.S.E. TV
1983 This is your night Charles G. McCoy
1984 Puttin’ on the Ritz
1986 Happy 20 th. Birthday East
1987 That’s the ticket

Wednesday, January 5, 2022

Still life just like real life

Painting is from the Governor French Academy permanent collection circa 1970.

Acrylic, ink collage. 4' X 4' on paperboard.

Saturday, January 1, 2022

Scrub your windows

Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won't come in.”

― Isaac Asimov

Parenting, teaching and just plain living, is often a process of dealing with personal opinions and assumptions. On many occasions my children and my students had opinions that clouded the truth. Their “window on the world” not open to new ideas and opinions. The most common example is an assumption based on rumors or tall tales that seen to morph into the truth. Students entering a new class have already been prepped by older students and have made assumptions about the teacher. During my teaching career, I had a habit of saying off the wall remarks to help stimulate and motivate students. The frivolous remarks sometimes took on a life of their own and over the years they were assumed to be true. I had a very shy freshman student who seemed to be troubled and would not look me in the eyes. He was quiet and his work was exceptional but sporadic. I kept him after class one day to see if I could find out why such a good student was so troubled. After a lot of prodding he told me that their was no way he could make an A in my class. I informed him that he could certainly make an A, if he would turn his work in on time. He said it was impossible because his sister was in my class and made an A and everyone knows that you only give one A to a family. One of my off the wall comments had come back to bite me. His assumption seemed absurd and I never thought anyone would take it serious. That’s the problem with a cloudy outlook on the world, it dims our view of reality.

My children often fell victim to many faulty assumptions or opinions. They had to struggle with keeping a clear vision of the world. Like most children they fell victim to stories about neighbors with a dark past, or stories of eccentric street people who steal little children and countless stories about teachers and their methods. However, it is good to be wary of strangers because the world can be a dangerous place. But, it is good idea to help them “scrub their windows” once in a while

Friday, December 31, 2021

My first job...working for the queen.

I had my first experience in the work force was when I was sixteen years old. Before my “real job”, I helped my dad build four houses and for the most part I did not receive payment for my work. My dad felt that my help just covered my room and board. When I turned sixteen, I wanted a car and my dad told me to get a job and he would consider advancing me some money to help pay for the car. One of my high school friends Alan Obst, had a job at a store that sold and repaired vacuum cleaners and he wanted to quit because he found another job. He said I should stop by and he would show me what he did at the store. It was a very small storefront in downtown Belleville nestled between a movie theater and a restaurant and across the street from a furniture store. The sign on the window said Compact Cleaners with a script cut line below stating “Queen of the American home renovating systems”; below that was a notice: we repair all brands of vacuum cleaners. Inside the store there was a small counter with a phone, a pad of work tickets and a small container of business cards. There were also vacuum cleaner posters on the wall and a picture of Jack Bailey, the host of the popular television show Queen for a Day. It was very sparsely decorated except for the space age looking vacuum cleaner in the window display. The machine was aerodynamic in shape and looked like something from the future. All the attachments were chrome plated. It was a very impressive sight. I was interested in science fiction and fascinated by planes and rockets and it reminded me of the television show Space Patrol popular in the 1950‘s.

There was a narrow back room, that you entered through a curtain, with a work bench on one wall. The workbench was equipped with rudimentary tools, a buffing wheel, a device to rewind motor armatures and a small cabinet full of screws, switches, plugs and brushes for repairing motors. Hanging above the workbench were parts to repair vacuum hoses and cords. I was familiar with most of the items because my dad and grandfather had similar tools in their workshops. On the opposite wall there were stacks of old vacuums cleaner carcasses piled to the ceiling. The worn wood floor was littered with remnants of the repair process. In the back of the workshop, there was as very dirty bathroom and a doorway to the alley. Just outside he alley door there were more piles of assorted vacuums cleaner parts.

My friend showed me how he refurbished the old Electrolux cleaner bodies. He clean them and put put a new vinyl skin on the bodies and polish the chrome trim pieces and replace the cord and hose if needed. He also inserted a new cleaner bag to give the appearance of a fine restoration. The local high school shop teacher recruited him for the owners and he received rudimentary training from a previous repairman. Most of the vacuums he reconditioned were the Electrolux brand that were taken in trade for a new Compact cleaner. Many other brands of old upright cleaners were stacked in piles. The canister style had just hit the market and old models like the Kirby had Hoover were taken in for trade. I found out later that the owners new Stan Kahn a regular on the Charlotte Peters show and vacuum cleaner collector. He had been in the store seeking machines for his collection. Electrolux was a main competitor in the door to door market. They were mass produced and were easy to refurbished with parts cannibalized from the mass of old parts stored in the workshop. I never found out what they did with the refurbished Electroluxes. I did help load some of the reconditioned and used machines into their black 1954 Cadillac trunk for some unknown destination.

Alan’s duties also included answering the phone. He was told to just take the name and phone number and tell the caller he would receive a call back when the the manager returned. He also took in vacuums for repair and would make out a work ticket and tell the customer the technician was out and they would receive a call detailing the repairs needed and the cost. In addition to reconditioning the Electroluxes, he did make small repairs to cords and hoses and occasional put new brushes in the motors. However, the owners would tell the customers that the vacuum needed major repairs and they could get a great deal by trading it in for a new state of art vacuum as advertised on Queen for a day.

I worked with my friend that afternoon and he told me to stop by tomorrow and the owners would be in town. I met the owners the next day. There name was Mr. and Mrs. Hollander. The man was short slim man with an ill fitting double breasted suit and a fedora. His wife was about a foot taller and out weighed him by at least fifty pounds. Her attire was over the top. She wore bright dresses lot’s of jewelry and makeup. She also had a fox fur with little beady eyes that were creepy. However, to a young boy of sixteen from a small town she looked like a movie star. I can’t recall them using their first names. They used to refer to each other as “honey” or “sweetie.” He was very talkative and after a brief interview, he said, ”son your are perfect for this job”. The job paid twenty-five cents an hour and I could make as much as fifty cents helping them with special events. I started work the next day. I worked with my friend for about a week and then worked by myself each day after school from three to five and every Saturday from nine to five. The first Saturday I worked, the owners spent the entire day at the store making phone calls and recording the information on index cards that they bound together with rubber band. They told me with stories about the product and the money they were making. However, I was surprised that they did not give me more instructions for repairing the cleaners. I did manage to do a few simple repairs. Mysteriously, most customers opted for a new space age cleaning machine and not the repairs. I did have a few problems with customers questioning me about repairs but the owners were very cleaver in turning every problem to their advantage .The Hollander’s were more interested in the information I could get from the customers. Mr. Hollander said that a good memory and attention to detail was important for a salesman. The couple confided in me that they were high school teachers in Missouri and they invested in an exciting new company called Compact Cleaners and were working part time to develop a business. The were very motivated and it was exciting to be with them and hear stories about their fantastic adventures. I was wide eyed and thought I was part a some grand money making scheme. I went on a few sales calls with them and it was amazing to see them at work. They dazzled the customer with many facts and left with a signed contract that they sold to a local loan company. I did not understand this process at the time. l learned later in life it is was called “selling or passing” paper. The small loan companies did not have much regulation and the customer was tied into a long term high interest contract.

One of their demonstrations showed the cleaners suction power. They attach a plugger head to the hose and pick of a bowling ball. The customers would be awe struck by this simple manipulation of physics. Mr. Hollander would also demonstrate the strength of the cast metal case by standing on it. Not only was it a vacuum cleaner, it was a floor polisher, and a sprayer. I soon realize it was not about repairing vacuum cleaners but about selling the amazing new American cleaning system. One exciting adventure was helping they set up a display at the county fair. I passed out brochures and sign up cards for a free cleaner. I gathered hundreds of leads for future sales. I watched them work the crowds like carnival pitchmen. I worked there my junior and part of my senior year and when I returned from college my junior year I went to visit them. The store was closed and the building was abandoned. I always wondered what happened to them. They were from Missouri and I know they had stores in the St. Louis area but I never tried to find them.

As you have probably guessed the moral of this tale is “it is looks to good to be true it is probably is” It is a cautionary tale but once upon a time I worked for the queen.

Thursday, December 30, 2021

Southwestern Illinois College Exhibition

Wonders of the unconscious.

Sketchbooks

A few sketchbooks from a lifetime of art.

I have been using sketchbooks since my college days 1957-1962.
Looking back at a sixty-two year career in art and teaching is a wonderful experience. The process of documenting your growth as an artist is an essential part of any artistic endeavor.

Wednesday, December 29, 2021

Imprinting

“With sons and fathers, there's an inexplicable connection and imprint that your father leaves on you.” Brad Pitt

I am not a psychologist but I play one in daily life. Observing human behavior is a cottage industry in the world of aging. There is no better way to observe how we have become who we are than by the observation of our children. Observing the imprinting of our offsprings behavior gives us clues to what was meaningful and sometimes what was detrimental. I am imprinted by my mom and dads child rearing techniques; some good and some problematic. I have the perfect case study in my youngest son Lowell. Moving to Webster Groves to be near him and my grandchildren was fortuitous in many ways. Getting a chance to see him make his way through raising a family and developing a career is a wonderful learning experience. I have also given thought to my other four children and they also provide examples of imprinting by my wife and I.

Small things that were not particularly traumatic seem to be imprinted, in some cases, more indelibly than major emotional events. In my case, my fathers harsh techniques and personal emotional problems did not take root as much as his love for building and inventing. Those traits served me well for seventy-five years. It is also evident in my son Lowell. I was not aware that he was observing my every move as tried to keep the family home repaired and constantly remodeling to improve our living conditions. Observing him rehabbing houses and raise his family I can see subtle reminders of our relationship. I often catch my self repeating one of my father’s aphorisms and it is astonishing to hear my children use the same worn out sayings.

More boxes

More decorative boxes. It started out as a small project but I got "carried away" I have spent over seventy years as a teacher and artist and I am still fascinated with Sharpie pens.

Decorative Boxes

I had a great breakfast and meeting with Lynn and Lary Bozzay owners of Grafika Art Gallery in Webster Groves. The decorative boxes are a project for Lynn.

Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Reflectaphors

Reflectaphors April -July 2003 80 pages. Hand drawn book. Pages from book.

Monday, December 27, 2021

Enlightenment.

“A choir is made up of many voices, including yours and mine. If one by one all go silent then all that will be left are the soloists.

Don’t let a loud few determine the nature of the sound. It makes for poor harmony and diminishes the song.”

― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

There is a lot of hand wringing and whining on the internet regarding gun violence, police brutality, bullying, torture, religious violence, prejudice and in general the brutal nature of society. I am not a scholar or a social scientist but it is evident to me that all of these things have been part of human experience for some time. My introduction to this behavior was subtle a first and it just became part of my life. Early on my father used teasing, spanking and bullying as a way to disciple me and “teach me a lesson.” His techniques were not unique, many of my friends during the nineteen forties and fifties had the same experience and few were “spared the rod”. In Catholic school we were told of the horrors of hell and that we would be tortured for eternity if we did not shape up and “fly right”. We also were served a daily dose of quilt and the need for repentance. Our playground was a hot bed of teasing and bulling. We also all played cowboys and indians and killed a lot of “redskins” and played with cap guns, our weapon of choice. We had lot of violent toys, bb guns, tomahawks, slingshots and many of my friends killed birds and some use their bb guns on animals and humans. Saturday theater matinee’s were filled with good old western justice with shoot outs and an occasional hanging. Before I had a family, I witnessed two wars and saw scores of war movies that glorified killing. My children were brought into the world during the Vietnam war and a new batch of war toys was given to the public. As I write this I can hear that old refrain that the good old days produced strong adults with a good sense of right and wrong and the kids of today are coddled and spoiled. We complain that video games are making them violent and they have no respect for authority. If your parents were raising you now, vs. decades ago, they’d be subject to these influences, too.

It is evident to me that most Americans like or tolerate violence in some form. You might enjoy the quarterback throwing a “bomb” or a great tackle rings a players bell. Perhaps you like secret agents dispatching a few bad guys with explosives. Watching a boxer get his “brain rotated” might be something you enjoy. A vengeful pitcher “beaning” a player to get even might be your cup of tea. You may also get your fix of violence and bigotry from soap operas, reality shows, or police dramas. Some simply enjoy bad behavior over and over on U tube. I can’t forget about videos of racing accidents that are often slowed down so we can see someone die in slow motions.

What a surprise. Everyone is now decrying the violence of society. At seventy-five, I am becoming resigned to the fact that we cannot overcome the propensity for violence,

revenge, and prejudice. I do not believe marches, committees, religion, as it is practice today, or science will help us climb out of our prehistoric cave into the light of knowledge. We are already serving time in Dante's hell. Allegorically, the Divine Comedy represents the journey of the soul towards God, with the Inferno describing the recognition and rejection of sin.

Our journey of of the dark cave of despair and toward our god and the rejection of violence, will only happen with enlightenment and leadership. Like the enlightenment or Age of Reason, from the 1650s to the 1780s, the cultural and intellectual forces in Western Europe emphasized reason, analysis and individualism rather than traditional lines of authority. It was promoted by philosophers and thinkers and it challenged the authority of institutions and practices that were deeply rooted in society; there was discussion of ways to reform society with tolerance, creativity, cooperation and reason.

Human cooperation, even more necessary than violence for survival, has evolutionary roots as deep as those of human conflict. Groups may fight because of environmental pressures or resource scarcity, they may also have strong incentives to expand trade relations and build alliances that benefit both parties. The capacity for peaceful and cooperative relationships was surely more essential for the survival and success of the species than bellicosity. Violent resource competition and population density certainly influenced human evolution, predisposing us to competition and violence. But those same pressures can predispose us to cooperation as well.

Competition and Resource Scarcity

And NUH is the letter I use to spell Nutches,
Who live in small caves, known as Niches, for hutches.
These Nutches have troubles, the biggest of which is
The fact there are many more Nutches than Niches.
Each Nutch in a Nich knows that some other Nutch
Would like to move into his Nich very much.
So each Nutch in a Nich has to watch that small Nich
Or Nutches who haven't got Niches will snitch.

Dr. Seuss - On Beyond Zebra (1955)

The total cost of violence to the U.S. was conservatively calculated to be over $460 billion while the lost productivity from violence amounted to $318 billion. California was found to have the highest state burden of violence at over $22 billion per year while Vermont has the lowest at $188 million. For each state taxpayer, the total economic cost of violence varies greatly, from $7,166 per taxpayer in Washington D.C. to $1,281 for Maine taxpayers. [2012 US Peace Index, Institute for Economics and Peace] - See more at: http://peacealliance.org/tools-education/statistics-on-violence/#sthash.pbVoLVs9.dpuf

Friday, December 24, 2021

Bricks in the foundation...searching for the creative nexus.

The unexamined life is not worth living.

Socrates, in Plato, Dialogues, Apology

Greek philosopher in Athens (469 BC - 399 BC)

Finding the starting point for your chosen profession is not easy. We often miss the simple decisions that lend us to our place in this world. It may have been something buried deep in our subconscious or an event that was transformative. Trying to identify this elusive nexus has helped me understand more about the meaning of self and consciousness.

Very deeply imbedded in my mind is a warm memory of my Mom making small boats and hats out of paper scraps. We would sit on the floor, put on our hats and sail the boats on a sea of wooden flooring, around cliffs of furniture and landing on the edge of a carpet island. The island was patterned with lush floral images and teeming wild imaginary animals. We would travel the world and evade sinister pirates and terrible storms. That small connection to the past is imprinted on my mind. It is the basis of my interested in manipulation of material and creative imagery. Throughout the years, I would amuse my students with this simple paper folding. I would create voyages for them using nothing more than simple materials and mental creativity. We would put on our creative hats and explore the world. When I fold scraps of paper to make boats for my grandchildren, I am transported back to those wonderful adventures with my mom and students. That early exposure may have been the cornerstone of my artistic foundation. Many more creative bricks were added each year of my life.

Another brick was placed in the foundation when I was in seventh grade.

My mom gave me a large scrap of brown wrapping paper and challenged me to make a picture. It was near Easter, and my mom suggested that I make a picture to celebrate Easter. I decided I would make a picture of an Easter bunny. Since I was attending Saint Mary’s Catholic grade school, my mom suggested that this secular image would not be appropriate. Undeterred by political correctness, I proceeded with the pagan symbolism. However, a simple decision changed what could have been an embarrassment into an artistic triumph. I added a basket filled with eggs decorated with Christian symbols that the bunny was offering to the heavens. The manipulation of materials and creative story telling showed me the way and solved the problem. My mom kept that picture with her for many years. She shared the picture with everyone and I remember how carefully she would unfold and spread the tattered image on the floor for all to see.

Rediscovering the bricks that support my creative mindset is an ongoing projects. Bits and pieces of images are revealed that contain codes the mind keeps under lock and key. Examining the symbols within my spontaneous drawings and paintings continue to reveal secrets from the recesses of my unconscious mind.

Miss Murray my first art teacher

I attended Belleville West High School from 1953 -1957. It was the start of an educational odyssey that ended at Belleville East High School in the spring of 1994. No one had more influence on me than my high school art teacher. Miss Marjorie Murray was my mentor and started me on my journey. She was a small “schoolmarm” looking women, soft spoken and intensely involved in her teaching. Her background was simple but her passion for teaching was a complex mix of small town attitude and an awareness of the world of art. She was an accomplished watercolorist and a scholarly advocate of design education. She finished her career at Belleville Area College. She established the college art department and spent many hours developing the program. When I returned to Belleville to teach she welcomed me and became my biggest fan. She help me get hired as a art teacher and a night school instructor at Belleville Junior College. She passed away quietly a few years ago. No fanfare and just a faded memory to some. She lives in my soul and is forever responsible for my art teaching career. Thank you Miss Murray.

Dirt, rock and debris; working with my dad.

When I was about eight years old I began to help my dad build homes. He built five homes in the Belleville area and I worked with him until I was about eighteen years old. My dad has some general knowledge about construction but most of his expertise was obtained by on site training. His dad, who was a signal maintainer on the Illinois Central Railroad, built his family home using a Sears Roebuck kit home. My dad grew up around tools and electrical equipment and he was trained for an electricians mate rank in the Navy. However, he did get demoted for fighting and lost his stripes. He had a natural aptitude for anything mechanical and he was always curious how things worked. He spent many hours tinkering with old machinery and electrical equipment. After he returned home from the Navy he had a series of jobs that help him hone his mechanical skills. He eventually received an electricians apprenticeship at Scott Air force bace in Belleville and began his career. He had jobs at the Armour meatpacking plant and Ober Nester Glass Company in East St. Louis where he worked in the electrical department. He ended up as an electrician foreman at Granite City steel blast furnace in the 1950’s.

My dad process for building a home was one dictated by the times. He bought the plans from a Pollman mail order catalog. I remember being fascinated with the catalog and blueprints and I spent hours trying to figure out the architectural symbols. Searching for a lot would be the next step. After purchasing the lot, he would use it for collateral to get materials on credit. Building loans were not readily available and this was a way of paying for materials as you built your home. This was a common practice after the second world war. Although it took the world quite awhile to recover from the affects of World War II, the 1950’s were more of a prosperous time than in times past. Vast improvements in housing were made during this period and a priority was placed on building homes for war veterans and their families.. Many young veterans started to move the suburbs near Belleville and build homes. When he finished building, he obtained a loan from the local building and loan and paid off his lumber bill.

Construction began with roughing in the plumbing and pouring the house footing foundation and a concrete slab for the garage; he would then build the garage and install wiring and plumbing. We lived in the attached garage until the home was finished. My dad would work his regular job, as an electrician at Granite City Steel and work on the house when he got home from work. When I was young I got him water and tools and cleaned up the building debris. As I got older I started to doing framing and roofing. I also helped pull wires, tiled floors, hung drywall and I did some finish carpentry.

Living in the cramped garage space was very difficult and challenging. My dad would build a simple bathroom with a shower stall in one corner. Near the bathroom he would fashion a kitchen area with a portable gas burner for cooking. My mom washed the dishes in porcelain pan that she filled in the makeshift bathroom. She created rooms using furniture with passages between the furniture and moving boxes serving as as doorways. When my dad worked the midnight shift at the steel mill it was difficult to keep quiet while he slept. However, playing outside was great fun. The yard was just dirt and rocks and the large piles of dirt from the foundation were great for digging tunnels. I would burrow into the hills and create my own little world. My brother and I would spend hours playing in the dirt. There was also many building scrap and I would turn the odd pieces into forts, guns, wagons and all sorts of strange sculptural items. I also stepped on a few nails and had to get my annual tetanus shot. I slept on an old army cot and my brother slept on a feather bed on the garage floor so he could easily get in and out of bed. This would be our home for about six to eight months.The winter was particularly difficult because my dad did not insulate the garage. Only the sheathing and siding kept out the summer heat and winter cold. He did leave the windows and garage door covered with siding until the house was finished.

Moving into the house when it was finished was very exciting. Watching the house rise from the surrounding farm land was amazing. We saw an entire community spring up before our eyes. Those early days of construction and play were an important part of my early education. I became quite proficient in electrical wiring and plumbing. Between drinking binges and problems with anger and depression my dad managed to build some fine homes. He was a stern and sometimes cruel man troubled by his fate. However, I do thank him for those early lessons and childhood adventures, played out in a wonderland of dirt, rock and debris.

New digital images

Digital images created with Procreate and I Pad pro. December 2021

Wednesday, December 22, 2021

Sketches December 2021

What is difference between drawing and sketching?

While sketching is a freehand drawing that focuses on capturing the essence rather than going into details, drawing is a slow and more careful expression that makes use of tools and uses colors too.