The Door - 3/20/15 - Image-a-day

I took a different route home today to avoid the Friday traffic. Along the way, I saw this mysterious door in a stone wall protecting a hidden space. This door is an eccentric detail for the neighborhood; the entire area as there's not much in the way of original architecture here. I wondered who carved the door. Was it a commission? Did the homeowner carve it him (her?) self? I will carve a door like this one day.

OK HW

Love Yourself by Ralf Schulze - 3/17/2015 - Image-a-day

Today's image is a drawing done by my good, old friend Ralf Schulze. It was in a crazy package of bootleg movies and music and random DaDa bits and pieces. Ralf and I met through the underground comix zine scene way back in the late 1980s. We have managed to some how through the years, maintain a friendship. He's always been good at constructing elaborate packages full of art and silliness. It's like unpacking some lost time capsule from a tribe that got wiped out by unknown forces. I've tried to repay in-kind with my own packages, but they always seem to fall just short of Ralf's weird, eccentric glory.

I love this demented piece of art called, "Love Yourself". I see a skull fragmenting across some cyberpunk universe. If you can't love yourself, then who will?

OK HW

Where Do Lo-Fi-Ga's Come From? - 3/15/15 - Image-a-day

One of my regular hiking routes takes me through a nearby park that has several Hickory Nut trees along the path. I'd seen the broken nut husks on the ground for years and never thought much about them until I was invited to take part in the "Small Works" art exhibition held at the Charles H. Taylor Center in Hampton, Virginia ever fall. I was looking for a fresh idea and seized upon these naturally discarded nut containers. Their shape suggested to me tiny, primitive masks and so the Lo-Fi-Ga's were born! Im careful to only select sound fragments that won't break or crumble. Today's image is the harvesting grounds.

OK HW

Happy Birthday Jack Kerouac - 3/12/15 - Image-a-day

My Portrait of Jack Kerouac

In 1922 Jack Kerouac was born today. He only lived to the age of forty-seven when he died in his Mother's bathroom from internal bleeding brought on by acute alcoholism. His best known book, "On the Road" has inspired me to try and live a life of adventure and non-conformity. I reread it every few years and find as I grow older my perspective on the book changes. Now it seems naive and nostalgic and magical, were once it was the future. I still love it and love the beats and the prefect, neverland of beatnik Ponderosa that I'll always be chasing.

Sleep well Jack and know your words still ring true in the hearts and minds of a billion earnest dreamers searching for kicks beyond the work-a-day life.

OK HW