New Year's Eve 2011-already?

As the last day of 2011 runs its course, I'm taking moments throughout the day to reflect on the highs and lows of my year.  Collecting the highlights and thinking of ways to make them reappear throughout the year so they can be shared with loved ones.  Taking time to reflect on the difficult memories and learn from the mistakes.  It's often hard to spend time on deep thought when our daily lives feel too rushed and chaotic to.  So sit down, turn off the television, put your phone on silent, close the laptop, take a breath, and recollect a year's worth of living.  I think this is the best way to grow and improve.  

  

One year = 525,600 minutes.  

What can you do next year to make every moment count for something you believe in?   

If your passion is missing, find it.

If your passion is there, wield it.

 

 

In The Great White North

After my successful weekend of finding an apartment and registering for classes for when I return to Bozeman in January, I traveled up to Whitefish (also known as Stumptown) to visit my friend Mike.  He's had to work during the days so I roamed around this resort town full of saloons.  It's definitely a ski/snowboard bum town but also a destination for families with the all of the gift shops and a co-op art studio.  That's where I've been spending the last couple of days, working on a couple of mosaic pieces.

This is the top of the box.  

I recently drew a Peruvian Lilly for a friend's birthday, 

so this is what was floating around in my head at the time.

This is the inside of the box.  I wanted to do something a little more geometric after seeing so many beautiful Moorish tiles in Andalucía in Spain.

Wintry Spirit

Bozeman, Montana in early Winter is cold.  -2 degrees Celius cold, but hey, I'd rather bundle up like an Eskimo than sit in air conditioned buildings all day.  It's hard to believe this city has quadrupled in the last ten years from 25,000 to 100,000 because it still feels a bit small.  Yet there's a lot of community packed in to its small size.  Main St. is full of locally owned businesses like the two Co-Ops, art galleries, and non-franchise businesses.  

A metal sculpture bench made by Kirsten Kainz.  

I'm pretty excited to move here.  There are a lot of interesting people here and some big nature to explore as well.

View of The Gallatin Range South of Bozeman from the "M"

I'm feeling a bit inspired by this trip.  Hmmm, what to create?

Autorretrato

Like I said before, since I've got a bazillion hours during my days, I might as well be productive.  Needless to say, painting a self-portrait is not as easy as it looks.  This is my first foray and after quite a bit of self-critique, I can do better.

  After the gesso dries on a new canvas, something a little more divisive is in order.  I'll let the key phrase "Broad Sweeps" lead the way.

Too Much Technology

I've decided that from now until January 11, which is when I start school again, I am going to make a piece of artwork everyday.  There is ample time to pursue all of my hobbies for several hours each.  Due to my chosen unemployment.  Yesterday I spent a few hours on garageband working on my sweet techno song.  Being my first attempt at layering so many loops.  I'm quite proud of it.  So there is a way for you to listen to it but you'll have to suffer through looking at some highlights of a my summer road trip through Las Vegas, The Grand Canyon and the greater Yellowstone National Park.  I call the song Afternoon Jaunt because I picture a stick figure with a bounce in his step walking through the park but coming across some angry dogs who are then distracted by a hot dog vendor, so our protagonist keeps on strolling.   I am going to try and put up my daily art pieces, IF I deem them worthy of public viewing.

Jellyfish legs.

This morning, my future came to visit me.  In the sense of what it may feel to move like a turtle.  Slow and steady without any hurry.  Not that I could have if I wanted to.  My legs felt like two pieces of pulverized ham in a bag hastily sewn on but with about 100 times more nerve endings.  Such is the pain the day after running a hilly half marathon through the rainy city of Seattle in November.  What are 20,000 numbskulls(literally) thinking even going out in that weather nonetheless spending hours in it?  Fitness?  Challenge?  Glory?  I'm going to go with the last one.  The sense of accomplishment did feel really good.  I beat my planned time of a 8 min/mile pace by 4 minutes.  1 hour 39 minutes.  I think starting late (I hate you ferry and city traffic) gave me that mental edge because I felt like Flash racing, first, past the walkers then the slow runners and even up to the steadies.  Hills be damned!  I felt unstoppable.  As I sit here in my crippled state, basking in my glory.  I plan for the next conquest.  Another wintry run?  I think so.

Body Glide, oh Body Glide,
how I treasure your presence.
Water resistant and easy to apply,
without your appearance,
I'd surely have cried.

Orchestral Indie Art

This being the inaugural post it's about one of my favorite things.  Music.  I'm talking all types.  Even country occasionally.  Everybody loves a good story but not all appreciate a twang or drawl.
The past weekend I went to a couple of shows.  Saturday was Hey Marseilles with my buddy Ray.  This band was super energetic last year at the Fremont Dive so, while purchasing the tickets I thought to myself, "I better get four because everyone's going to want to go to this show."  Well I learned that none of my friends are as obsessed with them as I.  Nonetheless the opening acts were entertaining and acoustic, keeping to the theme.  Hey Marseilles showed off their new songs and got the crowd riled up with their old stuff.

Fellow revelers enjoying Neptune's underwater feel. 12Nov11

Normally I can say I've got Irish luck, which isn't lucky at all, but I won a couple of free tickets to We Were Promised Jetpacks.  All I had to do was send an e-mail.  Can't say I've never won anything now.  My friend bailed so it was a solo show for me.  Which I don't mind.  It gave me a chance to formulate my thoughts on the first band, Bear Hands.

Driving bass and drum lines/Celestial harmonies rising/Through the offbeats/A slide into the middle/Between genres/A longing voice cuts/Through undulating rhythms/Pausing/For guitar echoes

-Got me moving

We Were Promised Jetpacks had the crowd jumping and swaying.  Usually the lead guitarist is not the singer but Adam was piecing together a wide arrangement of chords in quick time all while singing just like the album.  Impressive.  If you're feeling like youth is slipping go see these guys and you may forget your age.  Just make sure to toss a few back during.  C'mon they're Scottish.  Have a single-malt.