Are you well? (Now, with more art...!)

Yeah, sure, I'm making art! Imma artiste...! At least, that's what I was telling myself.  I'm sure we've all been here. Artistic constipation... Ima go a little off topic, but bear with me, there will be art involved.

I am not the first artist to live with pain, and I sure won't be the last...all that angst, with no creativity...!? Makes me shudder to think. I know I'm not the first to seek help outside of conventional medicine. Nor, am I the first to find relief. And that is why I am making a big f'n deal about it. It can be done. It has been done. My way may not be your way. Find a way. There are actual resources out there, finally.

I've been dealing with chronic pain issues since I was 18. Staying in shape helped. Then, one day, I wasn't in shape any more, and suffered a herniated disc. That turned into several. That's when I found out I had a cracked vertebrae just above my tailbone. Tough place to have surgery. The surgery the doctors offered me didn't seem to even work in my case; he said that's just what they offer. 

 I've also been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, been pre-diabetic, had high blood pressure and cholesterol, and borderline obese. Really, none of these issues are all that unusual. What is unusual, is how I learned to deal with it. Over the years, I've been prescribed pain killers, steroids, muscle relaxers, and antidepressants. And, of course, blood pressure meds. I only took the ones Dr. dad said would have the most potential to help. Meaning, no prescription pain killers, muscle relaxers,or, after the first course, steroids. Antidepressants hit the trash soon after. 

Then, I got cancer. I'm told if you live long enough, you'll get it too. Not tryin' to be a bummer,but the statistics rule. My father had it, that made me 50% more likely to get it. According to the statistics. So, surgery, recovery, good as new, right? Well, no. They removed some lymph nodes, to make sure the cancer hadn't metastasized. It turns out I was still using 'em...! 

I've experienced significant pain since the surgery . Much worse than I'd experienced before. Among other symptoms, mental processing problems, then, the final straw, muscle convulsions. The diagnosis is a cyst pressing against the scar tissue from the cracked vertebrae... Amazing coincidence, that cyst right there, so close to all that trauma...but, I digress!

You may have heard of toxic accumulation. I had, but dissed it. "That won't happen to me, I eat healthy!" 

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neurotoxicity

The World Health Organization identified toxic accumulation as the cause of most health problems, worldwide. This was in the 1980s. This morning, their website has a universe of links about chemicals, waste,fertilizers, additives,etc, and their affect on your health. Long, long story short. Medical checkups didn't turn anything up.follow ups with the Cancer docs showed I was recovering nicely (based on their statistics, anyway), even though had days I couldn't put weight on my right leg. I finally went to see a nutrition doctor. She had a blood screen done, like every other doc. Then, she put my blood under a microscope. She said it even looked toxic.  Diet, therapy, 18 months, and 50 lbs later, I was some better, but still in pain. My old college roommate reentered the picture at this point. He does exercise, nutrition, massage, alphabiotics, and uses a number of black box gadgets. Fast forward again, 6 months.  The pain has gone from a daily 8-9 on a scale of 10, to about 3, with bad days around 6. 

It ain't easy. It ain't cheap. It ain't a pill and a promise, or an operation based on a statistic that doesn't even  represent me (stats for recovery from prostate cancer are based on 68 year old men, of a different race, under multiple medications. I was a 50 year old only using blood pressure meds).  That's the practice of medicine, in the 21st century. Statistics, drugs, and surgery. That may work for you. I hope it does. My experience? If you feel poorly, educate yourself. Understand your real situation. Are you under constant stress? Do you sleep enough? Do you drink enough water? Anything 'off' with your excrement, skin, or breath? What's your muscle tone like? Why?  How's your diet fit your body type? What does your blood actually look like? If you know at least some of these answers, chances are, you are on a path to real wellness.

I have been at it, though. I've started a bunch of work. Here's a taste:

Bubble Buddhas in progress

1918 HD Board Track racer progress.

Leaves in crisis

I know there are a lot of major issues going on right now in the world. The planet is in ecological crisis. There are refugees of war who have no safe haven. Domestic violence. Occupying stuff. Major issues going on in the world. All I'm prepared to rant about, is leaf mold.

Imma kinda green 'n crunchy dude these days. Save the trees, recycle, eat local, sustainable, and organic type person. I had previously joined the City Greèn program. They sent a flyer talking about how we should rake the leaves into our planting beds, to help the plants winter, and the leaf mold forms a base for next year. I'm thinking "sweet, I can do that!" Did that, check. 

I called my guy, and I asked him to come by one more time. Told him I needed it bad, I had guests coming. The yard looked like hell, and I just couldn't have folk tripping over rootsnshiz. Long  story short, dude showed up early, blew all the leaves out into the street. "Man, you live on a corner! Wind'll take those right on away...!" I decided to cage the Green monster. I paid him, mentally took him off the list, and resolved to drag all those F'n things back the following evening, assuming they were not scattered to the winds. 

Fell into a dreamless sleep early. Been grinding as hard as I'm able this year, so I was tired. Woke up, went to work. Doncha know when I got home, there were no leaves in the street at all; the were back in my yard. 

Kinda like what happens to your problems if you decide to deal with it later, rather than sooner. They wind up right back in your yard. It's just a blessing if that's what you intended in the first place.easy for me to say, I know. 

Just remember who's yard those leaves start in. 

Yeah, I see you over there, raking the maple leaves off your property into the yard with the maple trees, like over half the yards I the neighborhood. Mr and or Ms. big time...can't even be bothered to perpetrate that you disposed of them sustainably. Maybe y'all don't know. S'all right, I'm still not letting the Green monster out. Talk is cheap. Yelling doesn't work. Chicks dig scars. Wait, where was I...

I was about to talk about how absolutely critical it really is for folk to tread more lightly on this earth. She is broken. We broke her. Have absolutely no idea if we can heal her. It's gone way past that, anyway. It's really about doing the right thing. Making sure you take those leaves, put them in the beds, and don't let them get blown all over the joint. Things be nice and neat when you do that. Tell the man before he blows them all over. Educate him about why the leaves should be in the beds, and how beneficial that is. 

Here's the thing. Dude's business is not to leave stuff in your yard. Puts him at a little disadvantage, on the market. Negative marketing by competitors about him being lazy, or whatever. Maybe, he's just old school, and they taught hi the way he's doing his thing in yard school. Whatever. I'm just wondering, wouldn't it be an easier sell, if you step to him with some understanding? Put yourself in his shoes, just  for a minute?

I mean, after all, you got leaves left that will need to be dealt with.

kga has been busy. Gratefully so. I've posted progress on much of my whip. Here are two commission pieces:

"She watches over"oil on canvas, 10"x12"

"The journey continues" oil on canvas, 10"x12"

Peace 

 

That's life, Doc

Selfmade. Brilliant. Charming. Funny. A meticulous dresser. Flashy. Well travelled. Sometimes, you can throw all the adjectives you've got at a person, and barely scratch the surface. In his younger days, he could have been a movie star. More adjectives. He graduated second in his class, in an era where coloreds didn't go to medical school. He knew, fro the age of 12, that he was going to be a doctor, and be able to help people, instead of being forced to stand by and watch them get hit by a bus and die. Worked in the steel mills, piecework, to get through school. Bought a Harley with some of that money, rode it back and forth from Kenyon for undergrad and the University of Michigan in Medical School to Elyria, Ohio. He had tried OSU first, they weren't taking coloreds.

Fought through  Stage IV prostate cancer. Lived more than 20 years after he was 'posed to die.  Two heart surgeries, knee replacement, neck fusion. 

One of the first programs for mental health in Ohio. One of the first programs for unwed mothers. One of the first programs for drug abuse.  

More adjectives. 

I got no words.  Right now. No words that could properly represent this man.

I'll try a story about how he died. 

Last week, he was feisty. Giving eryone hell all morning, I was told. Said, to the lady who'd been there 3 times a day since he'd been there: "you need to come around more! I haven't seen you in a year!" 

Had a little pneumonia. Bounced back. Good days, bad days. Knew us. Didn't know us. Babbled some. Other times, De Niro: "I don't have any cash." "I just need to hold onto a little cash!" 

Three days ago, he declined a little. Less energy. Said he wanted to die. Just matter of fact like.

Next day, less responsive. I get a phone call. Meet for lunch. Hold each other up.

Next day, I'm there. Hospice day. Several hours of meetings in his room, with him laying, unresponsive, in his bed. Discussing what you discuss. With him right there.wish I had that do over. 

Several hours. Then, we are standing over him, talking about him. Telling stories. About him. Great stories, actually. Clear approbation. You see, his signs started sliding, so the Hospice nurse drifted over there. We followed, because even there, news of who my father was had travelled. Nurses and staff had beef great the whole time,  it today, they were always there, checking. Serving. Cleaning . Serving. We'll  come back to that. We were telling the Hospice nurse about what he had done, and as usual, SHINY. None of us can keep to the plot. Both of us finishing each other's sentences about what a great person he was. Don't need THAT do over. Then, I told him. "Dad, you've always been there for me. Your entire life has been about serving people, fixing them. You said you didn't want to linger if your mind was gone.  We heard you say you were ready to go home. We all love you dearly. If you want to go home now, that's OK" . Mom said that she loves him forever and that if he's ready, to go on home." Two big breaths. *drops mic*

I just have no words.

Except "thank you". 

Night, pop. Rest well. 

Learning to fall

When I was a kid, my mom sent my brother and I to judo classes. We spent a long time learning to fall. That has gotten me out of a lot of trouble... 

Life sometimes, is all about knowing how to fall. Not that I'm any big expert. This is a two icy hot kinda day, for me: 

Yep, maybe if I paid more attention in those classes...

I found myself with some forced downtime over the last few days, trying to fight the latest bug. Funny how quickly I'm thinking about art'n.  Finishing works in progress, mainly, but also new stuff coming. I found about a dozen short logs, and I have been off to the races. Not on those, of course. Gotta clear the decks. I'm still underpainting these pieces, so I gotta get goin'...! The new studio is still under destruction, so forgive the presentation: 

I've got to thank Ric Stewart for the gift of the plaster figures. I wish I remembered the name of this dude. I am digging that background color of the dude on the right. Let's just call the rest WIP and move along...

Making progress on Board Track Racer. Remember where this started? 

From there, to:

,

Then, through the magics of bronzecasting:

After several hours of grinding:

Next section coming, stay tuned. I think it's time for the heating pad...

Peace!

Cycles and cycles

Or something like that. think I jacked that title from a Grateful Dead song. I'm not a Dead head, but I've got friends who are.

Not to be Deadist, tho... 

This has been a year among years. Ages and lifetimes are passing in front of my eyes. As fast as they come and go, some, I've actually been ready for. As I've previously posted, several months ago, I moved from my home of almost 30 years.

Somehow, in the mix, I am still building a 1918 Harley Davidson BoardTrack Racer. It's coming along, though I have no photographic evidence. Ric and I learned that "Black Racer" is named Milton Halł. 

We learned about the Atlanta "Black Streaks". A "colored"racing team forum early in the 20th Century:

Feeling a thang coming on...stay tuned.

Been all over the Midwest, and back and forth to the south. I am always going to have a spot for my southern peeps. Politely tell you to go F yourself, in that awesome accent that I usually pick up in a hot minute. I got love for directness. Being a dense human being, I def got love for folks who say what they mean.

I've also been witness to a dear relative aging right in front of my eyes. Ages and lifetimes passing. This, I'm not ready for. How can one ever be ready for this? Been there, done that? Bullshit. And yet, if you pay attention, the man still drops bombs. We are sitting there, talking yaya, and he suddenly looks like Marlon Brando, emoting, and says "I just don't have any cash, and I'm sitting here in my pajamas."  Laughing, but that just yanks your guts right out.

We, as artists, are trained observers. We notice things.  We're human. So. Human. Feels happen. Art gets made. Maybe, it doesn't. But, life goes on.

"Dancing in da Sun" just came out of the Ohio State Fair Fine Arts Show.

 I was accepted to the Vanderelli Room's benefit show, recently. "Grandmother" is one of my favorites:

"Bluemoon Flower"was created for the Columbus International program:

Life does continue. Reminders to stay in the moment. The trick is, you have to be in the moment to notice. Or, they may just land on your front porch.

I heard a loud pop tonight, followed by skidding and crunching noises, right outside the door. I waited to see what direction to jump, but heard nothing else. At the door, I could tell nobody was getting out of their cars, so I called 911. Apparently, along with both drivers. Long story short, everyone is alive, maybe a broken leg and some concussions. And I need a landscaper. A couple feet to the right, and they would have hit a fairly significant tree. A couple feet to the left, and they might have cleared my front door.

The cycles of life. Moments in time. They all got blessings.  Just gotta pay attention. 

Peace.

Running until I'm tackled

As I mentioned, briefly, I recently left my home of almost 30 years. Lot of memories I that place. I sig the Short North, and that little shotgun house was sanctuary, right in the middle of it. I hope the new owners can give her what's he deserves.

KGA needed space and I need supervision... This place can give me all that. So,on to the next chapter.

A thread I'm just gonna drop and move on is how chronic pain changes my whole creative process. Bad days, I mostly plan work, or think about new work. Everything tries to get crammed in those good ones. Runnin' as hard as I possibly can...till I'm put down, again. Lots of new pieces that aren't finished...

KGA has had a great year, even though I missed a deadline I've been working toward for years. Some art works at its own pace, or the artist suffers the consequences. That Board Track racer is such a piece. I'd much rather be right and tight than on time. 

I attended the National Motorcycle Museum's opening for the show "2 Wheels and a Motor", along with several others from the 614. 

There was a custom chopper show and the yearly rally was happenin'. That's "Cruizin" above and left of the awesome portrait of Indian Larry, "via con dios".

Holding me up in this photo is Ric Stewart, my mentor and the curator of this awesome show. To our left are five of my paintings. "College Bound",  the sculpture, is also in it:

Even if you've seen this in Pickerington, go see it again.CBus arts everywhere in this exhibit:

Ric Stewart

Gavin Bruce, with "Wrench in Hand" to his back, sharing a laugh with Ric.

Eric Shook, the "Mad Tinkerer", in his interview, holding his recent work:

The gang;

Happy birthday, America. Peace.

Hitting the wall

It is starting to feel like the 21st century is about feast or famine. If you have work, you have a lot of it. 2015 for me has been about feast, for me. I've been having many blessings. Among them, an amazing, cool artist friend as my mentor who is also a curator. I have, I think, 6 pieces in the National Motorcycle Museum "2 wheels and a motor" Art Show. I'll post that and pound my chest some more later. The trip gave me a lot of time to think, and I feel like I have to post this. 

Driving through the Heartland on my way to Anamosa.

 I blow past a semi truck full of pigs.

Little pink snouts sticking through the grating. Reaching for air under a huge, shifting, Iowa sky.

NPR is telling me about IS,  and what's happening with Greece,  and the shooting in South Carolina. it's raining, then clear, alternately.

 I've got a long drive ahead of me, still.

I've been looking forward to seeing some good friends  I haven't seen in awhile.

Motorcycle rallies are a new experience for me.  

A world I haven't experienced.

As an artist we all spend a lot of time observing.  

Creating experiences that elicit a response.

I remember telling somebody the racism as we knew it was dead. Perhaps.

Or, it is very possible it's been replaced with a much more radical, isolationist version of the same thing.

Yeah, I don't get pushed to the back of the restaurant. 

Yeah,  I can get a taxi. 

I absolutely can buy a house in the neighborhood i want.

Will I get stopped driving across this great state of Illinois, "DWB"? 

Can I go to a movie?

Is the water safe?

I might have a great credit rating but if I get stopped by the side of the road will they do right?

I feel secure cuz I have a nice house. A late model car.

But, when somebody can come into a place of refuge just start blasting people, just what the F is up?

Does that even matter. "It's the Nature of Things", right?

"Life isn't fair, but it's even"

Words fill the car so I almost can't breathe.

I open the windows. 

I change the station.

I breathe the air. Under a huge, shifting Iowa sky.

On my way to see good friends I haven't seen in a while.