February 23, 2004
Pigeonholes
Man, the name-giving animal, is in rare form these days. We're just stalking the planet, hell-bent on slapping labels on others, stuffing them into compartments, and spewing vast generalities about things we don't understand well enough.
Religion is dividing the world and our country like it hasn't since the Dark Ages. The promise of immigration on which America is founded has become an evil tangle of anxiety and finger pointing as broad swaths of our neighbors are labeled and fingerprinted, then shown the door or locked up without due process. The media pundits have been wrong time and again throughout this presidential election, as they have tried to adhere dusty nameplates and bankrupt maxims on phase after phase of the campaign. Instead of observing wisely, they insist on prognosticating and tripping over their mike cables.
For a while it seemed like the forces of globalization would push down the walls that subdivide the planet, providing a global culture of inclusion, one huge Benetton ad. Instead, we've been given too many McDonalds outlets, too many Nike logos. Instead of religions and nation states, the folks in Davos wanted to give us all SKUs, compartmentalizing everything to fit neatly into Walmart's inventory.
The Internet was another beacon of hope, connecting us all, one to one, allowing us to found and find our own communities of interest. We'd have labels but at least we got to put them on ourselves by signing up for this chat group or the other. But the anonymity and lack of accountability that rules the ether has made it hard for people to translate their keystrokes into action. Howard Dean showed us that. We can connect and agree, slapping each other on the back and exchanging wild emoticons, but the results are amorphous and hard to turn into anything concrete and enduring.
Among creative people we find similar divides and so many of them are self imposed. Aesthetics are ruled by professionalism. Be an actor but you can't then be a writer too. You can act on TV but not in movies. You can write comedy but can't paint murals. You can be a rocker but don't expect to be taken seriously as a composer.
Sure, some people climb over a wall here or there, the Sean Jean/P Diddys, the Will Smith/ Fresh Princes, the Carrie Fishers, the J-Los.
But we much prefer to know which section of the bookstore to find our favorite authors and the more they repeat themselves - the John Grishams, the Tom Clancys, the James Pattersons - the more we will reward them. The same goes for bands and movie stars and fashion designers and chefs. " Be consistent. Let people know what to expect. Be a brand"
And how we draw those barriers through our own lives too, imposing restrictions often through sheer inertia. "I don't eat Indian food. I don't read mysteries. I hate French wine. I'm not into documentaries. I don't look good in red. I hate history. I never go to the opera. Blah, blah, blah."
And then, deeper still, we carve labels on our very Selves: "I'm not talented. I'm an amateur. I can't draw. I've got two left feet. I'll never make it. I don't have a degree. My whole family is tone deaf. I never read. I'm a woman. I'm too old. I have to make a living. I never finish things. Blah, blah, blech."
Spare me.
Can't we all be a litter more subtle, a little more aware, a little more creative, and start seeing the world in all its shades of grey, and all the hues of the spectrum?
We don't live in a box. We live on a ball, always revolving, always changing, moving ahead, never in the same place for more than a moment. That's the nature of the universe. That's the true nature of man. And that, my label hungry friends, is what Art is all about.
February 22, 2004
Counting Blessings
I hope this is legible. If you can't read it, just click on the picture and a larger version of it will open up.
February 21, 2004
Leave some of the details up to God
Early inspiration
Richard's view from the Cafe Casbah with all those layered earth tones made me look around for my watercolors (they were by the couch, under Jack's new Calvin and Hobbes book). His drawing of a Swede, a sort of rutabaga thing, so loose and yet so accurate, and the way he gives depth with those extra dark lines around the edges of the shape, sent me padding back in the bedroom, where I had to turn on a light and wake Patti up as I searched for my new Rotring Rapidoliner in the drawer in my bedside table where I'd emptied my pockets. But it was his drawing of lower Petergate, so intricate and evocative, that really got me going. I love his observation: "drawing a subject like this is a bit like doing a jigsaw." I know that feeling so well, filling in each section of the page, tonguiing and grooving until the picture is complete. That's how I wanted to open my day.
It was still dark. The view out the window was just starting to pick up the first fingers of dawn reaching down deserted East 3rd Street. I filled the kettle, put it on the hob. As I did, I saw my subject. None of the picturesque charm of York perhaps, but here was a lot to explore in the reflections on chrome, the nubbly brittleness of the sponges, the translucent soap bottle.
February 20, 2004
I'm teaching a class
I don’t know an awful lot about Artiology but I know that some of the people in our group have been there in years past and are quite enthusiastic. I am really looking forward to my first teaching experienec and am constantly formulating new things to teach and talk about.
If you’d like to join us, check out the Artiology group or write to Nikki Charles, who runs the event.
Here’s the course description:
Journals can be a source of enormous creativity and clarity. We will explore the broad range of ways journal keepers use visual elements to enhance their books. We'll discuss photo collage, rubber stamping, design, lettering and above all, the importance of drawing as a way of seeing.
If you don't draw right now, all the better. We'll be discussing techniques to break down the barriers that make you think "I can't draw". We'll be working in the spirit of Dan Price, Hannah Hinchman, Peter Beard, Dan Eldon, and Frederick Franck. If those names are new to you, all the more reason to join us!
Bring along your favorite materials: water colors, pencils, markers, stamps, I-zone polaroid cameras, collaging materials, glue sticks, whatever you like. I also suggest you bring some sort of journal. My preference would be a decent pad of heavy bond or watercolor paper, spiral bound, but nothing too precious. If you can't find a book you like, just bring loose sheets.
While this class will involve hands-on journaling, it will also be a chance to open your mind, expand your creativity, and have fun. Hopefully, it will be the first step of a lifelong journey.
February 19, 2004
Deaths in the Family
He was a good animal, silky and grey, who hunted the woods around her house and brought small moles and mice back to her house as offerings. He was the most dog-like and friendly cat I've met.
She buried him in the small pet cemetery in her back yard. It has headstones from the 1920s and now contains about nine bodies, including that of my sister's cat.
This morning, as Jack is sleeping over at his friend Cosmo's house, Patti went in to feed Tiger, his goldfish, and discovered him, belly up. Here it is, a few weeks from the anniversary of Frank's death and we are petless. Only Miranda's small, brain-addled cat remains.
Mum is resolved to get no future pets. Patti and I grow more and more attracted to passing mutts in the street but it'll probably be a while before we act. Jack wants a Chihuahua.
"But I don't have time to draw"
Draw lunch as you eat it : 1 drawing
Draw the news as you watch it: 4 drawings
Skip 1 sitcom: 3 drawings
Skip 1 basketball game: 11 drawings
Overtime: 2 drawings
Draw in the locker room at the gym: 2 drawings
Draw the coffeemaker while you wait for the coffee to perk: 1 drawing
Draw in line at the supermarket: 1 drawing
Stay up an extra 10 minutes: 1 drawing
Get up 10 minutes early: 1 drawing
Draw during commercials: 6 drawings per hour
Draw every time you smoke a cigarette: 1 drawing
Draw every time you smoke crack: 4 drawings
Draw till the waiter brings dessert: 1 drawing
Draw in the tub: 1-2 (waterproof) drawings
Draw on the phone: 2 drawings
Draw during a pedicure: 2 drawings
Draw in the doctor's/ dentist's/ therapist's waiting room: 1 drawing
Draw at the red light: 1 drawing
Get to work early, stay in the car: 1 drawing
Take the bus: 2 drawings
Draw while waiting for spouse to get ready: 2 drawings
Draw what you're cooking while it cooks: 1 drawing
Draw on the john: 1 drawing
Draw instead of reading this blog: ? drawings
"It is only by drawing often, drawing everything, drawing incessantly, that one fine day you discover to your surprise that you have rendered something in its true character." — Camille Pissarro.
February 18, 2004
The neighbors have called the police!
I didn't get a chance to check on the new Yahoo! group until just now ( Patti and I went to the movies; saw "Osama" and " The Butterfly Effect" — we gave them both a 7) and when I did, the roof was coming off!I am so amazed that so many people (130 members on the first day) have shown up and begun sharing their lives and passions so openly. It's beyond my wildest plans for the group. Who spiked the punch?
If you haven't yet, do drop by. Even if you're not a journaler or drawer or writer or creative person (yet), come on in!
February 17, 2004
Party invitation
Let's talk to each other!
One of the wonderful thing about having an online journal has been the dialogue I've had with people posting comments. But I would prefer it if the series of dialogues turned into a gigantic cocktail party with people roving around and chatting with each other too. I think the energy will grow exponentially. So I've set up a Yahoo! Group for anyone who'd like to participate. Just go to Everyday Matters - the Group sign up, then join the chat, vent, hold forth or just lurk.
So, as I stand here in the empty room, rearranging the hors d'oeuvres and hoping we have enough ice... I can't wait for the party to begin! Who's that at the door?
The Open Book
I am a member of a wonderful community called "Artist Journals 2" which is currently conducting a discussion on whether or not one should share the contents of one's illustrated journals with others.
I had to chime in:
I'm a journal keeper who feels okay about sharing (most of) his journals with other people. In reading other posts I get the sense that there are two key reasons why people are reluctant to share what they make in private: a) violating their sense of privacy and b) embarrassment at their more humble efforts.
My own journals have never struck me as terribly private. True, I talk about the daily aspects of my life but frankly they are no more intimate than the things I share in small talk with the people with which I work. For me, my journal is not a confessional but an historian in the best sense of the word, someone who not only records the facts but develops themes and meaning that weave them together, explicating my life and showing me what’s important, lending deeper value to the things too easy to take for granted. Generally, I find that these themes and lessons are universal and by sharing them I get a chance for a sounding board.
I am a reserved and private person by nature so perhaps my journals are a way to let it out. But I am always amazed at how much people will share with others. Even in the posts on this group among a group of relative strangers, we have little hesitation to talk about our health, our relationships, our fears and anxieties. This is a group in which we have all been granted (albeit loosely) a membership so perhaps that's why we feel we have this freedom. Still, I feel the same sense of connection with the people with whom I share my journals. Granted, that membership now extends pretty broadly because my journals have been published, but I still assume a certain kinship among the people who bother to read it, a kinship of the soul.
As to embarrassment at my experimentations —I'd rather not share lame drawings, failed experiments and inattention but that doesn't prevent me from sharing my unedited pages. I find that by having a sense that what I am making will be seen by someone, sometime, I am actually driven to take more care with what I am doing, to polish my words and drawings and make sure my observations ring true. As to really experimental things, pen wipes, color combinations, etc. well, I usually do those on a piece of scrap paper and chuck em out. They would be meaningless to me in a few hours anyway. The one really solid reason to not share your journal is because, frankly, most people don’t care. They're not interested in what you had for breakfast, whether it's raining, how the cat is, whether your hair's turning gray. Most people are interested only in themselves. Even if you cram your book with intimate revelations, chances are most readers will flip through, say, "Very nice" and hand it back to you, None of us is that important! But I find sharing is an enriching experience. It connects me to others and makes me see how universal my concerns and experiences are. It drives me to make my pages less sloppy, my writing more terse. It is a gift of myself which often leads to wonderful conversations and gifts of all sorts on return.
Diaries with locks on them are things of girlhood. Open your life, I say. Be brave and share yourself.
February 16, 2004
The Big Draw
I'm not big on writing about things that are already on the Internet but I think this one is quite interesting and one may not normally stumble across it:
"Drawing Power has a simple but ambitious aim - to get everyone drawing. The Campaign was initiated in 2000 by The Guild of St George, a small charity founded by John Ruskin, the great Victorian artist, writer and visionary. Ruskin saw drawing as the foundation of visual thought. His mission was not to teach people how to draw, but how to see. (sound familiar?).
The annual October Big Draw brought together thousands of people at over 650 venues across the UK. With 825 events to choose from, they discovered that drawing aids observation, communication and creativity and, above all, gives pleasure."
The website for the event is fairly useful and includes photos of the events and quotes from all sorts of people on why drawing is a good thing and downloadable instructions for making a camera obscura and a camera lucida.
Many of the patrons were successful artists like Quentin Blake, David Hockney and Gerald Scarfe. Wouldn't it be wonderful if this movement spread to America and the rest of the world?
Imaginary friends
February 15, 2004
Class 5H
Dear Class 5H, Hazelwood Junior School, London, UK:
I am so very happy to hear that you enjoyed my book, Everyday Matters, and that you are now keeping journals of your own. I was blown away to see how good your drawings and writing have gotten already.
I can only imagine how happy I would be if I had been writing and drawing in a book ever since I was your age! Your drawings are excellent and you seem to be taking your time and really studying what you are drawing. That’s the key: take your time, relax, enjoy yourself and don’t worry too much about how it all comes out. Keep doing that on a regular basis and you will become great artists (not that you aren’t already).
Now to your questions:
What do you like about your drawings?
I like the act of drawing itself, the calm careful way I can sit and empty my mind and let my eyes drift over an object and my pen glide over the page until I am done and then I look and am surprised to see what I have made.
I like having drawings I’ve made to look back at, to remind me of another time and place. Sometimes I walk down the street and say, “hey, I know that building, I drew it three years ago, it was sunny afternoon, I was on my way home from the store, I hadn’t eaten lunch yet, and I was going to go see a movie with my family right afterwards.” It’s like running into an old friend.
I like drawing really complicated things like engines or detailed buildings or dogs with lots of hair.
How old were you when you started your sketchbook?
I guess I was about 39 or so. Now I’m 43. Really, really old. I have some of my hair, all of my teeth, and am still able to hold a pen without shaking much.
Do you enjoy living in New York?
I really do. I was born in London (Elgin Crescent, Notting Hill Gate) then I lived in Pakistan and Australia and Israel and I came here when I was thirteen). It’s a very interesting city, full of life and things to draw. There are great parks and museums and shops and we are near the ocean and something is always going on. We have thought of living in other places but we’ve never found a place as perfect for us.
Was it hard to become an artist?
I worked hard at drawing until it came easier. I try to find new ways to draw, study what other people do, play around with new kinds of art materials, draw new sorts of things.
It was hard to think of myself as an artist. I had to wait until other people started calling me one. When I was little I thought it would be really hard to be successful at it and so I decided not to go to art school. I wish I had started earlier in life but I really enjoy making things.
How do you draw objects and people that are moving?
It’s a little hard. The trick is to keep your eye on the thing that’s moving you’re your pen on the paper. It’s like climbing a mountain. Trust yourself and don’t look down a lot. Sometimes I just watch for a while and draw little snips and details. Then I use my imagination to fill in. If the conditions are really horrible and I must draw this thing for some reason, I take a bunch of pictures with my digital camera and use them as reference.
Do you practice drawing an object before you draw it in your sketchbook?
No. My journal is just a record of what I’m doing, so everything goes into it, warts and all. I rarely can be bothered to draw the same thing twice and I think I would lose spontaneity and fun if I did a practice sketch. If it’s ugly, well, too bad.
Does your son want to become an artist too?
Right now he wants to be a drummer. I am trying to raise him with the idea that it’s okay to be an artist but he is also a good writer and handsome. Maybe he’ll be a supermodel. Or a professional video game player.
What kimd of objects do you find easier to draw:
Eggs. Nails. Naked ladies.
Do you find it hard to add to your sketch book every day?
Sure. Sometimes I do many drawings in a day. Sometimes I don’t draw at all. At one point, I didn’t draw in my sketchbook for a couple of years (sad years). I find it’s like going to the gym. Once I start doing it again I wonder why I stopped but sometimes I’m just not in the mood. There are periods when I force myself to do it and my drawings tend to be sort of crappy at first but then they get better and then I forget that I was forcing myself to do it. I think the trick is to find reasons to keep it interesting. Draw weird collections of things. Go to interesting places. Show your stuff to other people who will tell you it’s great and encourage you to do more. Stay disciplined but don’t be mean to yourself about it. And try not to write in your journal how bad you think a drawing is. It makes the drawings feel bad.
Well, class, it’s been fun chatting with you. Keep drawing. Remember that in the time you play one level of Nintendo or watch one cartoon or pick one nostril, you could do one drawing. And soon you will all be in the Journal making Hall of Fame, be world famous, get stopped by people in the street for your autograph, have a line of pens named after you, and live a richer, happier life (well, at least the last one).
Your pal,
Danny Gregory
February 14, 2004
Happy Valentine's Day, PL
Feast your eyes on the most beautiful girl in the world. I hope your day is as full of love as all of mine are.
How are you?
Today my hypochondria is in remission but I never know quite when it will flair up. I was a little light headed yesterday and assumed I had internal bleeding, a cerebral aneurism, a tumor. Today, I feel fine but I've gone through this so often. Mild symptoms metastasize in my mind into full blown and incurable diseases. A tickle, an ache, a twinge and I am polishing my obituary.
In one of the surprisingly few books on the subject, I read that hypochondria is called "woeful imaginings" and I wonder to what extent it is a function of the strength of one's imagination. I like to think I am a particularly sensitive person, more likely than most to zero in on the normal changes my body undergoes. That sensitivity, bolstered with sketchy medical knowledge, blooms into obsession as I check and recheck my self, comparing my observations with the old wives' tales and half read articles in my cerebral database.
Maybe it's hereditary. When I was a kid and the evening news would run a preview, threatening us with a story on the latest cure for pancreatic cancer or a mysterious new epidemic in Central Africa, my Mum would grab for the remote and zap whatever might infect our imaginations with fresh material to obsess over. It must have worked --she's in perfect health and her father is still alive and well and 94.
Or maybe it's just a subconscious excuse to fill idle time with self-indulgence, narcissism, and other attractive traits I already know I possess.
A lot of hypochondriacs run to the doctor with every symptom. But I have a different form of the disease which causes me to avoid doctors altogether, fearing that if they just catch a sight of me they'll immediately identify a half dozen fatal end stage diseases. Ironic, considering how much time I've spent in hospitals with Patti.
A year ago, I summoned enough courage to have a physical. It was terrifying but I experienced near orgasmic release when I received a complete clean bill of health. Since, I actually managed to take a severe case of melanoma in for the doctor's opinion. He diagnosed it as poison ivy and released me to my fate.
Hypochondria is pathetic, a joke. For doctors, it's just a waste of their time and energy. People who don't suffer from it have no clue how tenacious and debilitating it can be. Medically, it is essentially an unstudied malady and the only current treatment is a healthy dose of antidepressants. The only permanent cure, it is said, is far worse than the disease: to actually contract something real and deadly serious that will replace the writhing of one's imaginations. It's just a variation on the old joke about the hypochondriac's epitaph: "See I told you there was something wrong with me."
But, I'm fine.
Really, I am.
Why? Don't I look fine?
February 13, 2004
My foray into fashion
I have designed a t-shirt and mug for Bookslut, the venerable publishing site. If you're interested in getting one (it features books enjoying positions from the Kama Sutra),place your order and lend 'em your support.
Toppling giants
As I had hoped, my entry "Unplugged" has sparked a brisk debate on the aesthetics of digital drawing. Having taken on computers and drums, I shall next turn my attention to, in turn, pastel drawings, cilantro, and the films of Dianne Wiest. Stay tuned and prepare your rebuttals.
February 12, 2004
Unplugged
Things have come tremendously far since then but I have the same reservations I had twenty years ago.
Whenever I make a picture on the computer, it is a completely different experience from working with paper and pens and far less satisfying. This could be a function of skill but I doubt it. It certainly not due to any lack of variety on the part of the folks at Adobe; they give you enough tools and filters to fill a dozen art bins. And my computer can't blamed; it's wicked fast and I never feel constrained as I did in the old days waiting for things to render.
The problem comes down to how easily human error can be fixed on a computer. I can adjust and readjust, move things up and down, tweak this way and that, and burn hours and hours in repetitive, tedious monkeying around. If I don't like it, I can immediately zap it.
And for me, that's where the Art gets trashed.
There's so many protective barriers between my humanity and the page. I can't puddle my water, handmix my greens, rub a spot with my coat sleeve. I probably could get the accidental sprays of ink that come off my steel nib but it would take hours to do and the impulse would be gone. There's no chance for serendipity, no forks in the road that force me to deal with my mistakes, no messes to clean up, far fewer lessons to learn.
It simply isn't enough like Life.
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*I'm sure I have some of these historical facts wrong but, all you technohistory buffs out there, please don't feel compelled to correct me.
February 11, 2004
My Name is Mud
Most artists aren’t so controlled. Many of us sit down to a blank page with only an inkling of what we will do with it. Then we lay down the first lines, the first words, the first notes and begin to play around. While some novelists plot out their stories on index cards and detailed notes, others enjoy discovering where the plot will twist as much as their readers.
There is a danger inherent in either approach.
For the Planner, there is the danger of staleness, of uninspired, mechanical execution. Hitch found shooting a film to be quite a bore— he was simply executing the comprehensive instructions he had already laid out for himself and his crew. His films, while beautiful and gripping always have a certain cool, artificial quality because of his iron grip, and he rarely got the best performances from his actors.
But for the Free Spirit, there is quite another danger: the descent into mud. You look out the window to see the sun shining and the road beckoning and stride out, a sandwich in your pocket and a breeze in your hair, off to look for adventure. But, at some point in the journey, a storm may brew. The sky darkens, the horizon disappears behind clouds, the road fills with potholes and puddles and you, still driven and unwitting, plod on. Eventually you collapse — dirty, wet, miserable and lost.
Sometimes, particularly when I am painting, I will get a picture to a certain point and then, unhappy with the way it looks, I’ll go too far. I’ll deepen the shadows, I’ll strengthen the outlines, and then when I’m very desperate, I’ll introduce some garishly bright color to distract the eye, vermillion skies, chartreuse skin. It never works.
Painfully, it’s when I am doing a commission or making a present for someone that I am most likely to encounter this problem. Some part of my brain will not let go and sits in the background, whining and harping and firing suggestions. Instead of letting the piece takes its natural course, I try to twist it in a direction it doesn’t want to go and the results is mud.
I’ve seen this phenomenon in my career in advertising so many times. Because the process requires the approval and opinions of many people and compromise is often the watchword of the day, we slop a lot of mud. How often I’ve been working with a composer on the score of a TV spot only to have a client wade in with ‘issues’ and suggestions. Soon new layers of drums and strings and effects are thrown over the music until it is muffled under a blanket. The same happens with writing, as adjectives and claims get inserted at the last minute like tumors metastasizing on paragraphs that had been edited and polished until they were organic and easy on the ear. So often the reason is stated: ”Sure,you understand it the way you’ve written it, we understand it, but will the consumer understand it? Let’s emphasize the main points more strongly. "And so additional legs and wings and humps are sewn on to the monster, not because anyone’s gut instinct requires them but because of second guessing and lack of vision.
When Jack was in preschool, there was one teacher whose class always did the most amazing paintings. Each one was clear and sharp and intelligent, Picassos in a sea of muddy fingerpaints. I asked her what she taught her kids, what she said to keep their visions so pure. She replied, “I don’t tell them anything, really. I just know when to take their paper away.”
February 10, 2004
Interview
If you aren't sick of me yet, read this interview in The Gothamist.
February 09, 2004
The final Chronicles
This evening we shipped out the last of the extra Moonlight Chronicles. They went to Judith M., Donna B., Soren MT., Gerri C., Wileen H. (envelope surgery, tssk, tssk), Samantha H., Judy H., Stephanie T. and Shana I.
I also got a got call from d.price who tells me that he's gotten a rush of new subscribers including quite a few folks interested in buying a complete set of all 38 issues out so far.
Soon the snow will melt and he and I will be hitting the road for a joint drawing trip. Stay posted. Oh, and to diminish the quality of future Chronicles, I am to become a regular monthly columnist, staring with issue #40 in a months or so.
To all those people who asked me for my address in order to join the MC parade, I am sorry to have emptied my personal stash. However, you can start a regular subscription at just $5 a hand drawn, 100 page issue by writing directly to the hobo in the hobbit hole, dandy dan price himself. POB 109 Joseph OR 97846.
Midpoints: my response
Interesting how the mind works.
February 08, 2004
What does not kill me makes me stronger.
Two years ago, the manuscript of what was to be "Everyday Matters" was lying in a drawer. At the time, it was pretty much like the book that's in stores today but it was called simply "A New York Diary".In late January, 2002, I had lunch with a friend who had just published a monograph of his work. He encouraged me to pick a list of publishers who had made books I liked and just send out my manuscript. "Invest a hundred bucks in copies and stamps and see if anything happens," he urged.
So I made a list of thirty publishers and over the next few weeks, filled the mail with manilla envelopes. It took a year for twenty six of them to get around to sending me rejection letters (I'm still waiting on the last four).
This morning, inspires by my 24 hours of nausea, this morning I took out the file of letters and present some edited selections from the nicer ones:
Although, my efforts may seem futile they weren't. I believe by making the effort, I set wheels in motion that through twists and turns caused my life to change, books to come out, this dialogue with you to happen. a disproportionate amount of energy on the works of two dozen best selling and second rate authors. The movie business barely scraped a top ten list together last year. Network television bemoans the final act of geriatric shows like Friends and 60 Minutes, unable to generate anything new that mass audiences will flock to. Instead of intelligent, adult programming, they program sleaze. Fashion’s top designers have become factories or left the business. Advertising is unable to come up with any strategy to combat Tivos.
There seems to have been some confusion about this process. I have had quite a few subscriptions bounce back to me recently. I gather that many hosts have toughened up their email filters and, as a result, my notifications are being knocked back through the ether to my mailbox.
Destiny is hard to seize. It's impossible to control every step you will take. But by doing, by making, by generating energy, you cause things to happen.
These letters hurt me when they arrived. But they didn't stop me. Though I felt like I was facing an endless monolithic wall, I finally found a toe hold and climbed into the Promised Land (a scary place where feelings of rejection continue to abound. More on that some other time). It's not just because I am brilliant and devilishly handsome. I think it's primarily because I kept beavering on.
Now... what do you have in a drawer?
Chronicle shipment II
Patti & Jack packing up Moonlight Chronicles for:
Sharon H., Serena BC, Stacey B., Donna B., Jacqui S., Heather E., Alan. M., Deborah C., Jacqueline P., Kathleen A., Amy LM., Wendy C., Rita C. Valerie T., Kathy T., and Erin E.
Thanks to everyone who sent in nice notes and drawings!
February 07, 2004
Sick as a dog.
Patti and I have both contracted the stomach flu that attacked Jack earlier in the week. I shall be working in the bathroom today.
February 06, 2004
Moonlight Mail
Here's Jack sorting the first wave of Moonlight Chronicles packages heading out to: Laurie M., Katrien VDS, Dinah C, Tracy P., Emily L., Jan B., and Cynthia N.
We hope you like 'em!
If you're so great, why aren't you rich?
(Drawings done while watching a little over an hour of network TV)
These are dark times for the nexus of art and commerce. Every industry that tries to make a buck from others’ creativity is moribund or in flames.
The music business is more intent on suing children for downloading MP3s than trying to incorporate innovations in technology. The publishing business focuses
Over the past decade, conglomerates have engulfed each of these industries. Huge businesses demand regular, increasing profits to feed Wall Street and are loath to bet on anything but a sure fire hit with mass appeal. They slather on bureaucracy and centralize decisions to minimize risk and surprise. But risk and surprise are the food and drink of creativity.
And yet, despite this Armageddon, we are in the middle of an enormous renaissance of creativity. Look around you. People are taking digital pictures. They’re recording their own songs. They’re shooting, editing, scoring movies. They’re scanning artwork. They’re writing essays. They’re sharing stories, and recipes and patterns and ideas. They’re supporting each other, inspiring each other, feeding and cheering and promoting each other.
The only ‘problem’? Oh my god, no one’s making money off all these blogs and personal websites and zines and chats. So they can’t be real. They can’t count.
If they were any good, they’d turn a profit, right?
Just like cave painters had three picture deals. Just like Shakespeare had licensing partners. Just like Mozart was a millionaire, Van Gogh was pursued by paparazzi, Nijinsky had his own MTV pilot… For most of human history, creative people made creative things because they had to. Now, perhaps, we’re getting back to an understanding of how essential and human that is.
By the way, if anyone knows a major corporation that would like to sponsor this blog, please put them in touch with my corporate parent. Just kidding.February 05, 2004
Midpoints
Here is a fun and challenging creative exercise sent to me by Lori in San Francisco:
Above are several pairs of objects. The trick is to determine what the midpoint is, whether physically, ideologically, conceptually, or ridiculously,
between one object in a pair and the other. It's sort of a one degree of separation thing and the most elegant answers are simple and unambiguous.The idea is to pick a thing that is the midpoint between two otherwise unrelated things.
Most literally: A car, a house. Midpoint: a garage.
A piece of cloth, an eagle. Midpoint: a flag.
I spent a couple of days scratching my head and came up with answers for only five of the pairs and then did a little drawing of my choices. I'll post them in a few days after you've had a chance to think of your own.
If you come up with some interesting ideas and would like to share them, please post them in the comments below.
Remember, like most things in life, there are no right or wrong answers.
February 04, 2004
For PL, PJ, JT, CT, RB, DP & You
Moonlight quite heavy
To everyone who is sending me a Self Addressed Stamped Envelope:
1. Get an envelope that will accommodate a magazine that is 4.5 x 6 inches.
2. Write your address on it.
3. Affix enough stamps to mail 3 oz. between 10012 and your address. That's at least 83 cents first class.
4. Put that envelope, unsealed, in another one.
5. Write my address on that one.
6.Put a stamp on this second envelope and seal it.
7. Put it in a US mailbox.
8. Draw while waiting excitedly.
Thanks.
February 03, 2004
Free Moonlight
d.price, the hobo publisher, author, illustrator, grave digger, and visionary behind Moonlight Chronicles, has long been my friend and teacher. He recently sent me a complete set of the Chronicles which, with his permission, I'd like to hand out to you.
I'll be picking random magazines and sending them off to anyone who has sent me a SASE envelope. Each one weighs 3 oz.(83 cents) and is 4.5 x 6 inches. The response today has been somewhat overwhelming so let me deal with however many envelopes arrive in the next ten days and if there are some MCs left, I'll tell you all and we'll do another wave. In the meantime, if you'd like to support Moonlight Chronicles, please do visit his website and buy one directly from d.price. About the price of a Starbucks grand latté but far more satisfying.
If you visit his site, you can also watch a great video about how he lives and draws
As you can see from the two drawings above, Dan has come along way in the decade or so he has been drawing. His line is slower and so much more confident and he takes great risks with dramatic angles. The image on the left is from the first issue, the other from the newest issue, #38. (Issue 38 is a collection of things he never published before including a lot of things from a trip he and I did to Chicago a few years back.)
Another important note: Dan's How To Make A Journal of Your Life is being reprinted by his publisher. Contact him for details. It's a great instructional and inspirational wee book.
Oh, and for those who have been frustrated in sending Dan email, bear in mind that he lives in a small hole under ground and once a week rides his bike to the library to get on the Internet. Much better to write to him on bits of wood at: POBox 109, Joseph, OR 97846.
I, however, am permanently grafted to the Internet and am never off-line, not to eat, sleep, draw or read back issues of Moonlight Chronicles. Pathetic.
Fine! Drummers are cool.
I see my attempts to dissuade Jack from his focus by pretending drummers are uncool has met with a fair amount of objection from readers.
My point was twofold: a) that dads and other authority figures will do many things to steer us away from our passions and b) that the hard job of learning a new skill can be made harder if the training is too academic, too intellectual, too left brain. My comments were really aimed at people having difficulty learning to draw.
I'm not sure how this breakdown in communication occurred and I am launching a bipartisan investigation to get to the bottom of this, pronto.
February 02, 2004
Marching to the beat of your own drummer
Jack's been fairly adamant about it since last summer. He wants to learn the drums. I suggested the harmonica, the ukulele, the Jew's harp, but he won't yield. I point out that we have an apartment and neighbors, that drummers are the least cool guys in the band, that you have to wear a sweat band... he won't be budged.
So this afternoon
I sat in with him as Frank taught him to read music and to whack away at the cymbal and the snare while hoofing at the bass drum.
I drew as they drummed, listening as Frank explained music notation, the part of music lessons that I could never grasp, incomprehensible gibberish that led me to give up the keyboard, the guitar and to keep my harmonica in the shower where I can wail away without an audience or any sheet music.
Amazingly, Jack seemed to grasp this foreign language and was hammering out a coherent tattoo by class's end.
Two things: 1) there's no feeling as amazing as when your kid does something you can't.
and 2) Music is built into us, just as drawing is. It's hardwired into our motherboards. But musical theory, notation, and just talking about music in the abstract is a very different matter. It uses other parts of the brain that make me feel like rubbing my tummy and tapping my head.
I don't know how you could learn it efficiently without discussing these concepts but I have never been able to get over that hump. And I do love music so.
So many books on drawing begin by explaining all the different sorts of pencils you could use, all the different kinds of paper there are, the laws of perspective, anatomy, composition, etc., all studded with works from the great masters, insisting you use every part of your brain except the part that sees and draws.
I think the basics should start with the basics. Having fun, letting it out, getting some visceral, sensual reward immediately. As soon as Jack got his very own pair of sticks, his teacher let him wale away randomly at all the drums, smashing the cymbals with all his might, not music anyone would recognize but food for his soul, pure joy. Hooking him.
Think about that exuberance next time you worry someone will see your awful, cramped drawing. You've got to wale and flail and fail, before you headline at the Garden. And I know Jack isn't thinking about that.
He just wants to play ... music.
February 01, 2004
A martini memory
This is a photocopy of a watercolor I just made for our friend, Cynthia. It commemorates the night I introduced her to Patti, four years ago. We went to the Pierre, had too many martinis and, upon leaving, Patti shot out of the bar and spilled (out of her chair) and onto Fifth Avenue! Cynthia was so cool about this debacle that we knew she would be our friend.
I am fairly happy with the uptown, 1950s feeling of the drawing and I hope it'll look good in her pad.
Spam I yam not
My general policy is to remove those names that bounce, particularly since I have no way to get in touch with them.
If your host has changed its policy of late or if you have not been getting regular notifications, write to me at danny@dannygregory.com and suggest an alternative. Obviously, I'd like to keep everyone who's interested apprised of newly posted essays.
Cool?
A record of my exploration into all aspects of drawing, illustrated journaling, creativity, and the inspiring aspects of art. By the author of "Everyday Matters," "The Creative License", and "An Illustrated Life" and other books.