This is one of the funniest stories I’ve ever read. Take a trip down memory lane with a boy and his father.

If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!

God, I hope not. I recently picked up the latest issue of New American Paintings which is always a constant source of inspiration. It’s also a constant source of disdain because of the ridiculous artist submitted bios. Indulge me and read some of these for yourself.

I seek to undermine the delineation of the human subject from the space it inhabits… I am concerned with the conflict that arises between the desire for presence and the fear of absence - Frank Ryan

Frank, it’s a painting of a guy getting a haircut outside, next to a trashcan.

Most important to the process is my strong conviction that intuition is integral in the development of the individual. - Thomas Pathé

Funny, looks like big blocks of color to me.

As I spend much of my day in meditative intimacy with my subject, I cannot help but be ever more deeply aware of the water’s vital importance and precarious fate in the world - Will Noble

Precarious fate? It’s water, not a lemming. Can we be a little less melodramatic?

The whole book is filled with stuff like this. I understand the desire to paint a verbal picture of your work even if the reader is staring right at it, but is it really necessary to go on these esoteric jaunts in order to sound more artistic? Whatever happened to straight talk? Perhaps not as colorful, but a little less off-putting if you say, “I like water features. The idea of the journey that water makes is compelling.” Or how about, “I paint large swaths of color because they remind me of certain memories from my life. This yellow one represents the day I got kicked off the school bus for teasing Jenny Harper.”

As an art fan, I’d much rather hear the story behind the pieces than some fluffy, transcendental exploration into your subconscious, or whatever it was that compelled you to mix those odd combinations of phrases just because that’s what the other artists in the book were doing.

I’ve also noted that the more education an artist has, the more “colorful” their descriptions become. Some college attendance equals some basic descriptions and a dabble into the depths of their thought process. BFA’s equals philosophical justification behind the artwork. A Masters degree obviously gives you the right to embellish your words to the fullest extent because it’s if the reader doesn’t get it, well, then they shouldn’t be buying art in the first place. I didn’t see any PHD’s in fine art, but I’m sure that means they only speak with their minds and ignore all underlings completely.

I have complete respect for all these artists regardless of their subject matter, but please, get over yourselves. We’re impressed with your brush skill, not your big brain.

It’s Labor Day. Leslie and I just got back from three days at my parent’s vacation home in Indio. For those not familiar, Indio is just East of Palm Springs. We were invited to come out at the last minute to join my mom and since we were already driving out that way on Saturday for a birthday party, we decided to make a short trip out of the event. The only downside was the 112 degree heat, but we cured that by staying inside the air conditioned home for nearly the entire time. Ok, so not a very exciting vacation, but we did get to relax.

When my mom isn’t designing interiors for the well-to-do of South Orange County, she’s putting paintbrushes to canvas, something I’ve been inspired to do myself lately. In fact, I did this piece just last week. It didn’t come out as abstract as I had hoped, but not bad for a first attempt, don’t you think? This one is entitled Derrick #1 Island White #1 (I just found out that this island has a name). It’s my interpretation of the oil derrick that sits in the water just off Bluff Park in Long Beach. My plan is to create 3 similar pieces and hang them together.

Mom is stoked, Leslie is stoked and I’m really pumped about doing more. I really enjoy the painting. If I could do this for a living, I’d be set. Of course that’s every “artists” dream, right? So I plug away at a new piece and have ideas for my next few. The interesting part is that when I started this piece, I had no idea where it was going. I was stuck for a muse, but the vision came to me finally and I ran with it. Now I’ve got all kinds of ideas for new paintings, a lot more than I have canvases to paint on. I’ll need to sell a few if I want to make another trip to the art supply store.

So overall, it was a really creative weekend. Mom painted, I painted and even Leslie collaborated on a piece with my mother. It took a little bit to get her started, but she reluctantly joined in and surprisingly had a good time. Hopefully she will do it some more and we’ll be the couple that paints together. Maybe we can even get Freckles into the mix. Perhaps a bit much, but that dog hair looks just like some of my brushes.

This is going to be a quick thought, but I’ve been digging around a lot of galleries and their respective websites. I’ve bought and sold numerous vinyl art toys and I’ve come to the conclusion that if you want to be successful as an artist in this new boom, choose your subject matter carefully.

The morbidly cute or sweetly horrific images seem to be selling the best. You only have to look as far as Luke Chueh, Camille Rose Garcia or Kathy Olivas to see what I’m talking about? Mix some Barbie with Ozzie Osbourne and sprinkle with fairy dust and you’ve got an instant winner.

As I’ve been fiddling around with my sketch pad recently, I’m troubled to find my vision, my muse, if you will. I have a tendency to draw the macabre, but I every other half-assed, would-be artist can draw a skull with a cigarette. Making it unique is something completely out of my league right now. Frustrating, but I’m determined. Wish me luck.

That’s what I need!

I swear, I don’t know how many times I’ve told myself to get off my butt and get down to business with my art. Granted, it’s not really art at this point since I’ve been away from it for pretty much 7 years now. I’m afraid if I don’t start soon, I may forget how. Have I done anything about it though? No, because I suck.

I don’t really suck at art, at least I hope not. My suckage comes from the constant procrastination that seems to eat it’s way into my head at any given opportunity. Meanwhile, Kathy Olivas, a very young artist, is selling her pieces for thousands of dollars. Now, I’m not claiming to be anywhere close to her talent, but there’s got to be a chunk in there for me somewhere, or am I getting to old to be relavent?

I don’t really believe that last statement. It was merely a device to get you to keep reading, and so you have. Honestly, I believe I’ve got a lot of creativity left in me. It doesn’t get much action these days, but it’s hybernating. Besides, if old dudes like Frank Kozik and Ron English can make major headway on the other side of the hump, why can’t I? I’d rather be rich now, but I’ll take rich later if need be.

So what does all mean? Nothing really, except that I’m putting down this laptop and cracking open my sketchbook. Mom would be proud.