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.