A Polite Request

Radiation City asked me to make a poster for their upcoming show. And they said, "Can it have mice? Living in a city? Under water?"

Crooked Man

I recently got to spend a day in the Portland studio of my son Marc, who is a gifted printmaker. We had a great time and under his tutelage I made my very first woodcut. It's just a toe in the water, but I hope to do more in the future.

And yes. I did just use the word "tutelage."

Floater

Inked

I never wanted a tattoo, they are so permanent and my mind is so not. I knew that I would become tired of whatever art I chose without waiting too long.

Then a few weeks ago I saw a tattoo on the arm of a local artist/carpenter called Floyd Davis. It was a lined spiral-bound notebook with nothing written on it. He uses it to write lists of what he needs to pick up at the hardware store. Wow! How pragmatic! I thought that if I was ever going to get inked, it would have to be something along those lines.

Then I remembered my art school buddy Chuck. Whenever we saw an unusual character walking down the street we would shout "Where's my sketchbook?!" That's it. A blank sketchbook page would be the perfect solution for me. Always present, waiting for those moments when I saw the perfect thing to draw or a light bulb appeared above my head.

The next week Debra and I flew out to Portland to visit our three kids. Deb's daughter Lizzy plays in an amazing band called Radiation City and as luck would have it, they were participating in a benefit while we were there. The show was on a ship that cruised the Willamette River and raised money for a local radio station.

As we boarded we passed a table where they were selling raffle tickets for a dollar apiece. One of the prizes was for one hour at a local tattoo parlor, and Debra's other daughter Christine won it! As I walked up to congratulate her she proudly held out the winning ticket and said, "I want you to have this!"

Bluff called. The universe was telling me to get my sketchpad, and I have found it unwise to argue with the universe. From now on, whenever I have a "Where's my sketchbook?" moment, I will know the answer. Maybe I'll start a new blog and post all of the drawings...

Now where's my pen?

Round-up

"You can tell a true cowboy by the type of horse that he rides."