"An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else's."
J.D. Salinger
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Who can say what about?
And why bother trying. Point is, the little critters have dreams. And ain't that something. Something quite grand. We all have something or someone we hold precious. It's an innate and essential thing for sentient beings. It gives our lives meaning and breadth outside ourselves. It allows us to feel, to care, to enjoy giving, selflessness.
Life itself is precious and those we love embody what is so special about being alive. Go find your precious and hug them with all the love in your heart. And forget not, you too, are precious. A lot of what an artist is, in my opinion, is about their relationship with their art. Where it comes from - the impulse. The motivation. It sets up the atmosphere, the backstory to every piece of art. The intention is where it begins and ends.
Georgia O'Keeffee is one of pure intentions. This is evident in the beautiful, serene clarity of her paintings. Truly glorious works, unique and timeless. Growing up in Tokyo in the 70's - there was no shortage of amusements on weekends for three gaijin (non-Japanese) boys (my brothers, Mook and Rich, and i). As well as game centres - where we spent most weekends - usually in Shibuya or Hibiya - full of pinball machines and space invaders type machines - there were the more traditional but equally exciting pachinko parlours. PACHINKO! One hundred yen would get you a handful of shiny ball bearings which you would try and translate into a whole lot more by getting them into the winning slots and multiplying your investment. The centre of the console is the main target and get that to open up and it's like heaven. Watch video below to get a bit of the vibe. After you fill up a bucket or two - if you're lucky (and skillful) - you would go to reception and exchange them for some prizes - or if you are in the know; lighter flints. Take these little plastic packs around the corner to a concealed tiny window and get some yen in exchange. Casssshhhiiinnnggg!! Even now, over thirty years later, when I watch this I feel the thrill and excitement of getting the centre console to open up and give you a chance at multiple winnings!
Jean- Michel Basqiat's work at a recent show in NYC at Gagosian Gallery.
One of my all time favourite artists. A genius, I believe. Something about the works... I dunno...the easy style - the pos/neg spaces, the colours, the scratchy lines... they just zing. I never get tired of looking at them. This clip could use a soundtrack, though. Found this old photo while going through some pictures of my artworks from the early 80's.
Can't seem to quite work out/remember what it is...?! Hmmm..... I know this is an ART blog but there are other things that make me high - or used to, anyway. One of these things is donuts. In particular donuts from the Japanese chain, Mister Donuts. I used to go there before school on my motorbike and meet my friends, Rich and Kurt, and we'd drink coffee, eat donuts and smoke cigarettes. Once we found a pube in one of our donuts and got a dozen free ones. In my twenties, when I was working as a freelance illustrator, I used to go to Mister Donuts in Shibuya or Shinjuku and draw comics and illustrations while eating donuts and drinking ice coffee. My usual daily consumption was three donuts and two ice coffees. Some fine art was made on the donut drug! For afficianados my favourites were: Coconut Chocolate, Old Fashioned, French Cruller and Angel Cream. OMG - I want one now! ORIGIN OF DONUTS - everyone should know this! Donuts first appeared in the 16th century as deep fried cakes known as olykoek by Dutch immigrants who then brought it to American soil. Legend has it how the hole-in-centre came to be is credited to a New England sea captain named Mason Crockett Gregory (also known as Hansen Gregory) and his mother Elizabeth, who made olykoeken for her son’s sea voyages. The centres of these donuts tended to not cook through the middle and to conceal this, Elizabeth would stuff nuts in the centre (hence one explanation for the name). Apparently, Captain Gregory didn’t like the nuts nor the uncooked centres, and during one of his voyages, the quick-thinking Captain impaled his donuts on one of the spokes of his steering wheel – and voila! The modern-day donuts was born! Below is a video of donut cannibalism. DO NOT WATCH if you are easily shocked or offended!! I used to eat these on the way to school in grade 9 at the International School in Tokyo. They're called 'melon pun'. They aren't actually melon flavour - they're kind of crusty on the outside and a bit sweet with soft bread and sultanas on the inside.
I'd wash them down with a 500ml ice coffee in a milk container. The tiny bakery were I bought them was between the train station and school. The owners were gentle and kind but some of the other kids from my school took advantage and stole stuff. One day the lady there had enough and pulled a big knife on this kid who was rude and stealing. After that, we were told not to go there. I had to find another source - which I did. In this era (mid 70's), snack-wise, I also favoured 'Crunky' chocolate, 'Choco Babies' and strawberry 'Softies'. My favourite drawing teacher from National Art School in 1981, Roy Jackson, is having a retrospective at ANU (click pic of his work above - Seenputseen, 2012 - to link).
He was an awesome teacher, full of energy and enthusiasm and a love for art and creation. I'll never forget our first lesson with him. He got us all to spend 2 or 3 hours drawing something and most people were pretty proud of what they had done. "Now rip them up!" he shouted. "Tear you drawing into pieces and stick it back down in a different way..." was the command. Some protested, others were stunned in disbelief - our precious works...? I was with the scattered few who ripped into them with delight and began re-assembling. It was liberating. It was exciting. It was exploring new ground, breaking the mould. Letting go and making new! Long live passion! Roy taught us good. Ain't nuthin' wrong with it. Keep it real. Dance to the beat of your own drums. Back yourself. Celebrate your unique weirdness. Admire it in others. Share the love. Peace.
I was at Paddington library this afternoon, tucked away in a corner, surrounded on three sides by high shelves of trustworthy tomes, hunting for and gathering new visual material to use in my artworks, when I took a moment to contemplate on just how much I appreciate libraries.
When I was living in Los Angeles, I went to the Santa Monica library (the courtyard of which is pictured above) four or five times a week. As a member, I could (and often did) borrow up to fifty items at any one time. They have the best film and entertainment section in the world. I eagerly devoured bios and autobios of cinema greats, celebrated and obscure, and delighted to find all the latest new release books on the up-to-date shelves in fiction. In Sydney, I visit the recently remodeled Woollhara library each week, as well as drop-ins to Paddo, Surry Hills and Waverly libraries. They all have charm, serenity and allure. They are sanctuaries. Indeed, if I was a philanthropist I would donate serious bucks to these bastions of books. Korean artist Jae Hyo Lee lived in near poverty for decades but kept following his artistic visions. He has now designed and built his own studio/museum (pic below, click to link to his website) in Korea with earnings from his the sales of his tactile, aesthetically pleasing sculptures to big hotels.
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ART GETS ME HIGHAuthor & ArtistLewie JPD Archives
September 2019
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