Gargh! Curses!

It looks likes me plans be foiled, maties! Against all odds, the stars have aligned to pass down upon me a loser of a card. It looks like all islands I will happen to visit in the near future will not be private ones. They will have the stink of Marriott and Senior Frog.

By the gods, I will re-align those finicky stars to amass a small fortune and then I will take matters into my own hands. You can't come. Unless you can cook tasty mango delights, or have suppressing-native-uprising experience.

Fernando Botero

There is a thin line between fine art and illustration, and it is loaded with contempt. Fine artists generally feel that they are doing work that is fundamentally true, at least to themselves. Whereas illustrators are doing somebody else's work. They are merely immigrant field workers compared to the majesty of office work. Even graphic designers look down on illustrators. They might be prone to think, "I've got plenty of stock photography and Photoshop filters to last forever." So illustrators are stuck sitting on a fence. Maybe I chose this field of work due its martyr status (which I generally believe I am anyway), but really I like the reach it has. Everybody reads magazines, children’s books, the newspaper, and sometimes movie posters. Not everybody goes to the art museum. In fact, few people know who Fernando Botero is, even though he is currently one of the most famous painters in the world. Statistically, he is a nobody compared to Dr. Suess. Yet, in the art world, which I am currently entrenched, the roles are reversed. Interestingly enough, this very same snotty art world has elevated some illustrators to the status of fine artist, and never gave it a second thought. I’m talking specifically about those famous chums -- Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Bosch, David, and all the other Renaissance masters. They are merely illustrators, hired by the church to paint bible scenes. No different, functionally, than Ralph Steadman hired to paint a beer label.

Brad Holland has eloquently stated on the subject, “Everybody is an artist these days. Rock and Roll singers are artists. So are movie directors, performance artists, make-up artists, tattoo artists, con artists, and rap artists. . . . The only people left in America who seem not to be artists are illustrators.”

So why does the hierarchy remain? “Fernando Botero, Colombian painter. In 1948, he started work as an illustrator.” This implies that he no longer works as an illustrator, which is good because it is only a decent place to start. I would contend that he is still an illustrator, and that only the venue has changed. He now gets paid (and mighty well) after he does a work instead of before.

Either way, I would pay big money to have one of his fatties hanging in my house! His work really strikes me as the perfect balance between whimsical and profound. In truth, it makes me giggle with delight, even more so from the melancholy almost all of his people project.

In America

I knew that I should avoid this movie from Mr. Jim Sheridan. From the first frame of the preview I started to tear up, like the baby I am. Marigold would look over and scream with laughter while pointing at my baby tears. So last night we rented it, and I fought the "deeply poignant" parts. I did inner battle with "mesmerizing performances." I chocked on popcorn, like a dozen toddlers without their dollies. Even though we were alone, Marigold pointed and laughed like a practiced schoolyard bully. It is good she is there to keep me real. Real wussy. Nobody likes a sensitive man. Even wittle baby girls can't respect that shit.

Ol' Saint Nick

This is my new Amazon wish list. Maybe it is too heavy on the DVD's, but it is a good starting off place if you have absolutely no idea. Of course, if you have no idea what to give me, then you haven't really been paying attention. I am a very covetous person, who frequently drools at petty material trinkets.

Also, more than any of that I would really prefer that you give LOVE this year. Especially in these times, all we need is love.

The Beautiful End

This was my last piece for my techniques class. I could do whatever I wanted, so I did a sort of collage and tissue paper (for that great texture) and paint. The reason it exists in this form is that it could eventually be used for a Georgia Music Magazine cover, which explains the somewhat funny dark space up top. But there is some stiff competition for that slice of pie from my class alone, nevermind real illustrators out there.

Tuesday was the last day of school for the quarter, and I am thankful that I made it through in one piece. In fact, I think I maybe (fingers crossed) did pretty damn well. Unfortunately, I work myself up into that black and white world of pass or fail in situations like this, so I generally have an unhealthy outlook on the big picture. I like to say that grades mean shit to me, but really they make or break me. And in all that stress I put on myself I forget that they really actually don't mean shit. If I am hired as an illustrator for a job, they won't care two ways till Sunday what grade I got in my art history course. So now I have this crazy come down with my time management. What the hell do I do now with five weeks of time? I should be a good student and work, work, work, but will I really just sit on my ass with computer games and silly books? Stay tuned for the exciting results . . .

P.S. Sadly Douglas Adams died last year (I just found out), so my reading of his particularly wonderful brand of silly books is limited. I still haven't played the Starship Titanic comupter game though . . .

Giving Thanks

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Yesterday is the day we celebrate getting a day off work. Except for those unlucky bastards who are too poor to have a decent job or inheritance and are forced to work. Let's all give thanks for them. And that we are not them. Yet. (When I say "we" I really mean, "me and my tapeworm" not any implication of "you". So relax. Unless "you" are like "me". In that case "we" should see a "doctor" about that worm.)

Real Jesuses Wear Yellow

This is just something fun I put together when I noticed that Mr. Big Man here was in a crucifying pose. Being sacrilegious sure beats the pants off being depressed.

No Man is an Island Giveaway

I used to troll the internet for giveaways. Stores too. I would laugh in the face of threats of junk mail. That's what trash cans and span filters are for. But I have lately been distracted from this dubious activity by life and whatnot, so it took me a while to register that Capital One is giving away an island. I am a Capital One card holder. Why haven't I been given the chance to win?!? I can't think of a better prize/gimmick than giving away your own private island. Sure, I could take the million dollars instead, but that's no fun. I would rather be poor with my own island - Steve Land. You can't come.

So I guess I need to send a self address stamped envelope to Capital One for a chance to win. I don't want to, but I think I have to. Even though my chances of winning anything are something like infinity to one (especially given my luck), I feel I have to try. You can laugh at me all you want, but I know that you buy Lottery tickets when that sucker gets up to $300 Mil. The thought of such a insurmountable mountain of cash wins over the sensible part of your brain that knows there's no chance. My own island is like that mountain, but surrounded by water. You can't come.

Keepin it Real

All right! Good ol' USA did it again in Falluja ! Now that that whole insurgency thing is done with the American troops will be home in a few weeks. Maybe NOW Bush can do the whole "Mission Accomplished" navy boat show again. "U.S. Lieutenant-General John Sattler declared on Thursday his forces had "broken the back of the insurgency". . . [but] Washington says Zarqawi probably escaped from Falluja." They are trying to pass it off as a clean mission with few civilian casualties, but we know there were as many as 50,000 civilians who couldn't leave the city, and there were thousands of shells that were poured into the city. I find it hard to believe those 50,000 civilians were having picnics, shopping, or going to the movies. No, they were dieing. Or asking God what kind of world it is that He created to only see it turn to Hell. Yeah,"We sure liberated the hell out of that place.". . .

I was going to go off about all that, but you either know all about it, or you don't want to. Ah well. Lets just distract ourselves with mind-numbing reality TV instead.
Tonight is Survivor and Apprentice night. Nothing trumps Television tonight. If I have work to do (this is the last weekend on the quarter so I DO have work to do) it can get done in front of the boob tube. Wasn't it Thomas Jefferson who said, "I've done all my best work with the TV on!"?

Yes. Yes, it was.

Also, it is a little known fact that Hemmingway wrote For Whom the Bell Tolls while watching RoadRules - Season 2.

Almost Here

This is a "test patch" for using gouache. It is pulled from the least tasteless of the buildingheads drawings in my sketchbook. The other ones had airplanes stuck in them, like a toy arrow. If I were to put that on the internet, a bunch of nuts out there would accuse me of being tasteless.

Sara has come and gone, like the cool breeze she is. Her visit was worrying me more than I would have thought. You see, I really wanted to hang out and get drunk with her and Marigold, just like all the old, fun times. But I also needed to get a fair amount of work done for my soon to be finished classes. In a miracle of science, I was able to do both. Not only did we see and do just about everything we could have, (Marigold did a smash up job portraying it here) but I was also able to use the weekend as it was designed -- to catch up on overdue projects. Now, my research paper (which steams like hot shit, it's so good) and personal journals are officially scratched off the to-do list. I have one more project for each of my two Illustration classes to complete, but I laugh in the face of such petty tasks. Ha!

I can hardly believe that I will get almost five weeks to sit on my ass, if I so chose. Although, I'm sure that there will be plenty of that going on, I really would like to get some personal projects started and finished. You know how I am without deadlines though. You also know how I am with Christmas shopping. Let's not talk about Christmas shopping.

Three Cheers for USA!

Yay! GO USA! When does the draft begin, by the way? I mean, aren't there a bunch of other evil, nuclear-weapons-seeking Rogue States out there we should be decimating? Or maybe we'll just nuke 'em.

Banksy

Banksy is a London based graffiti artist that uses stencils exhaustively and has effectively branded himself there and in other urban areas. It is extremely interesting how such an anti-establishment artist can make a living making art. He is totally against capitalism/consumerism as can be seen in his cleverly delivered graffiti. And yet, like everybody, he is trapped by capitalism. He needs money to live, and so he sells out every now and then. Consumerism has got in its grip no matter how hard you want to fight it. That being said, I'm glad there are people out there so actively and visibly fighting it. We should all fight it, if not so explicitly as Banksy. Buy less crap, drink less Coke, Eat less fast food, Drive less, walk more, bike more, drink water, slaughter your own cow/pig, think more. (I am preaching to myself more than anybody reading this, but it would be good for you to do too.)

P.S. Suck less. I don't care about Random Acts of Kindness. That can come later. First, we need to people to stop sucking. Don't deliberately start wars, pick on others, or step on people. If you are unintentionally mean, due to bad temper or sloppiness, apologize later. Take the risk to be nice. Do this individual and it will catch on with others. Make it a personal responsibility to not suck.

Bring Me a Dream

I will be very happy to have gotten through this quarter in exactly two weeks. It feels like I have stretched myself too far right now. And there is still more to go . Two more weeks. I don't have doubts that I will do okay. I just have doubts that I will get much wife time, proper TV time, sleep, and healthy drinking in while worrying about quality. I have a feeling that my next two years here will be like this, and hopefully afterwards (with a successful career). Marigold will just have to put up with a goofy-houred Man (I'm her Man, and she is my Lady). Or maybe I will learn and implement an effective time management strategy. And maybe Bush will be impeached.

Serious Stuff, Folks

This is from a scan of a cool leaf I found on the walk home today. The text and the meaning it gives the leaf (front and back) was a last minute addition.

Plakaty

This one of the best posters for one of the worst movies ever made - Weekend at Bernies. There are hundreds more really great posters on this site. It is a Polish poster design site that just blows my mind. I have always lamented the loss of art and craft in recent movie posters. They are almost always a giant headshot of the superstar actors/actresses with bright colors in a setting. Almost like a family snapshot in a scale-wacky world. Boring. Who even looks at them anymore as eye-catching art? Apparently the Polish do. What a great people.

Your Generosity is Quite Profitable

So I haven't been here in awhile. I apologize from the bottom of my heart. All the "real" fans of this blog have probably left the fold. Bye-bye. Well, know that it has gone both ways. My Blog reading regimen has suffered, and now my spare tire is growing. I'm a fatty. Call me, Fatty "Obese" McFatFat.

In the "real" news - there are only a few weeks of classes left for this quarter, and I think I'll make it. This is in spite of Dubya trying to ruin it all for me. (Why does he always try to ruin everything for me?) Well, even he can't get me down today. I rocked my Art History presentation like Bob Dylan (on a good day). I blew the roof off my collage piece like Axel Rose (of Guns N Roses fame). I set my guitar on fire like that Lenny Kravitz guy in a Baby Gap commercial. This is all incredibly true, except for the parts that aren't.

Kurt has prooven that old addage, "You can't beat an old lady with a stick, if you don't have a stick." No, wait, that's not it . . . Here it is, "Invest in generous friends who reward your kindness with Filet Mignon and art books." (hint, hint, Sara) Kurt stayed with us for one itty, bitty weekend and the time he fed us (nicely, too!) and charmed us with witty banter. We were sorry to see him go until, we found out that he would send us this book upon returning home. Hatch Show Poster Print Shop: The Book! is a fine example of rural, aural, choral Americana at it's most whoral. Oh, yeah! He also gave us a personally produced CD soundtrack to our lives. Very fine choices indeed, Mr. DJ! In conclusion, I would highly recomend Kurt Schlough as a weekend guest.

In Lieu of Steve, Marigold

Since Steve is so busy with School and The Ladies, I've decided to post for him. As his dutiful wife, it is my responsibility to keep his blog following from dwindling too much. So sit back and enjoy this edition of:

Hey There, Steve Haske, What's Swingin' With You?
by Steve's Wife
Steve spent this weekend preparing a term paper and oral (huh huh. oral.) presentation on Claes Oldenburg and his influence on humor in postmodern art. He was the first person in his class to present and he received an "A". In addition to this term paper (which comprises approximately 40% of his final grade in Contemporary Art History), Steve also completed an illustration of naked ladies playing volleyball in gouache (which should not be confused with gauche, even though, frankly, it is).

Steve rounded out his weekend by ignoring his sickly wife.

Today Steve tried to buy some beer in preparation for Sara's visit next weekend, but discovered that, in Georgia, one cannot buy alcohol on Election Day until after the polls close. Lest one get drunk and accidently vote for Bush.

Steve's current projects include: a collage of mosquitoes bombing Baghdad, test patches, an illustration for submission to a music magazine, and continuing to ignore his practically dead wife who may soon turn to other sources of "pleasure" (see Lyin' Eyes). Oh! except he did cook dinner tonight.

As of 9:32pm, Steve has not had a sucessful bowel movement today.

Or has he?

Fun Facts you may or may not know about Steve:
Steve was an "accident"
Steve has travelled in two regions of Canada, including the Toronto area and Vancouver. He is half Canook (maternal), and yet is surprisingly ambivilaent about mayonaisse.
Steve is a "butt" man
Steve has never smoked, or even puffed, a cigarette
Steve was 17 when he first kissed a girl on the tongue
Steve once peed in a laundry basket while sleepwalking. Also, one night while sleeping, he poked me in the butt and said "200 points" and giggled.