Friday
So today I was painting on the side of the highway. A lovely place to sit with a great view of the Watsonville Power Plant. As the cars sped on by to
thier unknown destination, I was lost in my own little world watching the shadows creep across the smoke stacks. I would not of expected to come
across anyone to talk to, but about halfway into the session a guy rolls up on his bicycle. After a brief introduction, he tells me that he's drunk.
Now, I'm not sure about most people, but I know if I was drunk and riding my bike along the highway, my mother was pissed off.
We started talking about art and painting. He was giving me his commentary on what he would have done if he were to paint the power plant. I'm used to
these types of comments and I always listen, because in reality, everyone is a teacher and I'm just a student. I can learn from a great teachter,
I can learn from the masters in the galleries and I can learn from the drunk guy on the street. I make no judgements. Pretty soon he rolls off, and I'm
left alone.
Not more then ten minutes later a couple walk on by. They say nothing as they pass me, but a few minutes later they return and their holding a big
basket of the freshest most delicious looking strawberry's a hungry artist on the side of the road has ever seen. The guy ended up being a trucker on
his way from Salinas to New York to deliver some veggies. It was a four day trip for him. The girl was just some hippy he had tagging along for the ride.
Both of them ended up being very sociable, but I find most people are when I'm out painting. We talked about travel and he noticed the book I was reading,
'Desert Solitaire' by Edward Abbey. I ask if he's read it, and he says, 'Nope, but I've had lots of desert and I've had lots of solitaire.' His girlfriend
was talking about the last time they were out in the desert and she made a comment about it being such a long time ago - back when you could get vials for
$300. I wasn't sure what the current going rate for vials was, or what type of drug you might get in a vial, but I played it cool and said, 'whoa that's
a must have been awhile ago.' After some pleasent conversation and more strawberry's then I've actually ever ate in my entire life, they departed too. And it was
back to painting. Now that I think about it, I wonder how many strawberries, I've had before this incident. It couldn't have been more then twenty. Twenty berries
in thirty years.... hmmm. I'll have to work on that because I found out that I really really like fresh strawberries.
Tuesday
How to respond to the standard comments, "Oh I like it. You can paint such a pretty painting."
Usually I don't say much. Sometimes, if I don't want to be bothered or if the person is annoying, I'll just say 'thanks.'
If I find the person interesting in themselves and interested in the process, I'll elaborate.
In reality, I don't have much say in the final product. Once the canvas gets underway, it takes on a life of it's own. I don't know where it's going to end up, it just moves along at it's own pace and of it's own accord. I'm only there to facilitate the process. I react to what's going on, but usually there is no goal or ending I'm trying for. It's like children. You have no idea what the end product will turn out to be like. All you, as a parent, can do is to guide and direct. Like a ball rolling down a hill. Initially you have lots to say about the general
direction and speed. But eventually, the snowball effect takes over and the painting or the child takes on a life of it's own and now we can only watch it do it's thing and hope we pushed it in the right direction.
Monday
"Thanks" is a generic response that really means: 'I have no desire to say anything interesting to you right now."
Once I'm done interacting with a painting, it just is. It becomes whatever my intent was.
If my hand was sure, and my mind was honest, true and steady, then the results will be a good painting. If the painting sucks then it's because I wasn't paying attention to the
Saturday
Big Sur. What a ridiculous place. I camped down here for a few days and worked on some paintings and gathered some source material for future paintings. When I was painting the ocean one day, a guy came up and
stopped his truck and called out to me, 'Hey Chief.' Right then and there, I cursed him in my head. Don't ever call me 'chief' or 'guy.' But I didn't let my annoyance get out of my head, I just kept it to
myself cause I knew I was trespassing. So he tells me that I was on private property and he starts asking if I can read signs and such. I respond with respect and apologize and I keep talking with him and
the next thing I know he's telling me all about the land, who owns it, how I can get permission to paint here, and all this really helpful stuff. We say our goodbyes, he drives away, and gets a quarter mile
away and I see him backing his truck up. He comes back to give me a couple more ideas on how I can convince the landowner to let me on his land. It was a good lesson for me, to hold back my tongue when
people initially annoy me. I'll have to give peole a little bit of time and conversation before I make my assement on their intelligence and character. But still... dont' call me chief.
Monday
I woke up and went down to the beach before sunrise. After a nice pastel session, I went up to cook some breakfast. While I was waiting for the my oatmeal
to cool, some cat rolled up and started chatting with me. He ended up being a jazz guitarist from Vegas. We started chatting it up and he started playing his guitar, then I brought out mine and he started
giving me some tips. See, I still suck. I thought after eight months I'd be a grand master, but I was wrong. So we're chillin, then some other guy comes up and he starts smoking and we're just hanging out
and chilling all afternoon. Then the light started getting good and I propped up my easel and got to work.
Thursday
It's interesting to watch the crowd just come and go. There's so many different types of people and so many different conversations and I get to watch and listen to them all cause I'm on different schedule then most people.
Most people don't hang out at in one spot for four or five hours. I'm realizing that I don't do this enough, eventhough I try to do it everyday. It's healthy, it gives me a good idea of what the world is like now-a-days.
Plus it gives me the opportunity to talk with so many different types of people. Today on the beach I talked with these two gangster guys who actually stopped and checked out my work. I spoke with this
one eleventh grader with hickeys all over his neck and his young girlfriend. I talked about life with this general contractor and I saw a guy walk by with a python around his neck.
Tuesday
Today I enjoyed watching people take a second look at their surroundings. It was a little gray, cold and slightly miserable today, but I was out painting because the mist gave everything a really nice
subtle feeling that I can't describe in words. I can only translate it into color. Some people would walk by all wrapped upa nd then stop and look at what I was doing, then we'd talk and they'd be like, 'wow that is really pretty.' It sucks that it takes some outside person to show people that the world they live in is beautiful.
Thursday
This afternoons entertainment was three guys playing frisbee. They were working themselves up and towards the end they decided to revel in their own glory. So one guy would throw the frisbee, another guy
would chase it down and at the last possible moment, he'd dive for the disc and crash in the sand. The remaining guy was documenting the entire scenario with his digital camera. Then five seconds after
the action, they'd spend 60 seconds reliving the glory of the previous ten seconds. It reminded me of the lameness of watching football on TV. It's always one short boring play followed by video recapping
that short boring play from four different angles and then about five minutes of commercials.
Friday
If you see a painter out painting, do me a favor. Don't ask if he's famous. That has got to be the lamest question anyones asked me. "Are you famous?" "It depends who you ask?" I'm famous if it means
you're going to buy some art. But I'm not famous if you're just interested in my stories of a life filled with fame and glory. Even if I was incredibly famous instead of just mildly famous, I wouldn't
say yes, because I'd be sick and tired of all the fame and I'd just want to go back to being a nobody again.
Monday
I like going out with no music. Headphones take me out of the present moment. They take me out of the now. Plus it's so anti-social. I walked the streets years ago and it was only kids walking around with headphones on.
Now in post-ipod America, everyone and their grandmother wears headphones. It's ridiculous. It's not like everyone was chatting it up on the subway before, but there was at least a small chance of meeting a stranger.
I enjoy the random conversations I have with people when I'm out somewhere painting. It only ads to the scene. Those conversations somehow come through in the final work of art. Not sure how, but I know they do.
They have to, because when I'm out painting I'm noticing all around me. I'm paying attention to everything without paying attention to any one thing.
So I'm usually aware of the presence of people watching me paint, but I don't acknowledge it and I'm trying to stay focused on the process.
Sometimes cool little kids come up and talk. I'll always talk to children. I just feel they usually have something to say that is insightful and is something I can learn from. Not always, of course, but more often then not. This evening a cool kid and his mother came up and he asked if he could watch what I'm painting. I said sure and invited him over. We started chatting and talking about art and he said, 'you should draw.....umm..." And he began to look all around him. I liked that cause I like people to be aware of the present. And he was exploring it looking around expanding his mind and viewing his surroundings in a new light. Turning his world into interesting objects and colors.
Of course, I'm only projecting because in the end he said, ".... you should draw.... Nascar!" Then he got all excited and started making vroom vroom noises and spinning in the sand. I told him a dinosaur could be driving the car. He thought that was the silliest thing ever, but it caused him to think some more. He was silent for a moment, then all of a sudden a big grin came on his face and his eyes lit up and he said, 'You could draw me driving it." I think he never visualized that, but he put that mental picture together and it made his day.
His final question was, ":What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"A real famous painter."
"Well I want to be in Nascar." And he sped away muttering engine noises.
Wednesday
It's nice being out painting, cause you just never know who you'll run into. It's not always fun though. For instance the other day, this guy came up to me and started chatting away.
Occasionally there was something intersting in his words, but for the most part it was all nonsense. Which is fine, it only added to the scene. I accept the good and the bad when I'm open to what's around me.
So eventually I was able to zone him out. Which wasn't hard because he was constant and monotonous. The trick is to not stop painting. Keep painting and make it look like I'm too busy to listen. Which I am, but I just let my body language tell my story and see who picks up on it.
The other morning I passed a guy who asked if I was able to capture the right light. He posed it like he knew what he was talking about so I gave him my attention and I said, 'well I tried, but it goes so fast so I'll have to come back out tomorrow.'
Then he says, 'I remember you.'
'Oh yeah, from where?' I say.
You might not recognize me. I'm a hermefradite. I was dressed as a girl last time. But then everyone started beating the crap out of me.'
Then I realized it was time to move on and let the manly beared lady have the beach to him or herself.
First Impressions
Santa Cruz, California. Just the name brings up so many images and ideas. Spending time here I get to learn which stereotypes are true and which are just fluffed up nonsense.
It is an interesting change from spending the past two winters in Washington DC. I doubt I could find two more opposite places in the United States. Yet each of them is amazing in thier own way.
I like the laid back attitude out here, but it has it's downside as well. Nothing is more annoying then coming to a four way stop sign in Santa Cruz. 'You go ahead, no please you first, No no no, I must
insist you first, no I'm going to sit here awhile until you go. Well I'm going to do the same thing then.' And it just goes on and on. DC is far from that and I like that driving style.
I find that I'm a slightly aggressive out here compared to all the hippies.
Then you have the whole bike riding scene. Santa Cruz is a cyclists town. Bike lanes, beaches, tons of bikes, etc. The problem is that cyclists think they have the right of way. It's so annoying, when
it's dark outside it's hard enough to watch for other cars, I don't want to have to be watching the sidewalks as well. And when you're on a bike, it's even worse because the behavior of the motorists is
so erratic and random. The cars are always stopping and letting you ride across the road or stopping at weird times thinking a cyclists is coming. It's total chaos.
On the opposite side of the coin is DC. What a great place to ride your bike. There's hardly any bike lanes, if you're lucky you get a bus lane. The cars never stop for you. They have thier own agenda and
because of that their behavior is predictable. A car in DC isn't going to stop regardless of how fast you approach the intersection. I know this, so I can slide right in behind them. In Santa Cruz, I have no
idea what the car is going to do, so I can't prethink anything. It disrupts the flow. DC may seem chaotic, but it's just on the edge of chaos. So it's slightly predictable.
Out here people are so health conscious, which I like on one level, but on another it's so annoying. I'm looking for a studio and people actually ask for vegetarians and are very bigoted against people
who eat meat. I don't really eat so much meat cause you need a fridge and electricity and then you have to eat it in a certain amount of time or it goes bad and I never eat it in time. So I just pretty
much stopped buying it, but I'm no bigot. If you want to be fat and greasy, that's your choice I could care less I'll still like you so long as you're not annoying. On Craigslist it mentions
how you can't put an ad that says 'Christian Household' or 'Crackers Need Not Apply' but you can be predjudice against what's on someone's plate. Where's the line?
I'm allowed to be a bigot against your palette just not your thoughts?
Since I get to spend time here I figure I'll learn how to surf as well. Now there is a scene for you. You'd think it's all peaceful chilling out in the water, amongst friends, catching waves, enjoying the sun. Well
that may sound dreamy and nice, but actually it's different. It's all agro, people get pissed off for getting in their way, cursing is usually involved, and the whole happy scene is easily ruined by a few
bad apples. I suppose it's the same as the rest of America though.
Horizon Series |
Oils |
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