TEPEE STUDIO, BEING STONED, PAINTING AND SKETCHING

          Winter has slowly been melting into spring and although the weather forecast calls for snow over the next few days, since it's supposedly accompanied with rain, I expect very little will stick. Many people complain about winter, the snow, the cold, the mostly cloudy days but I quite like it. I suppose if I have any qualms about winter, it's the fact that it seems to take up half the year, leaving 2 months for spring, 2 months for summer and 2 months for autumn. And, where I live, at the base of Green Mountain, bugs the size of WWII bombers that take great enjoyment eating people, exist for about two of the warmer months. 

Sad Looking Tepee

Painting in the Tepee Before I Knew I had Cancer

          I'm looking forward to summer even though I'll soon be having an operation, perhaps two if all goes well. I left the tepee up for the winter, thought it would be kind of fun to start up a fire, put the kettle on and maybe cook something. However, since my health took a huge kick at my ass end, put me into a tail-spin so to speak, I haven't been up to going out for a visit. Because my immune system is on the low end these days, the last thing I need is to catch pneumonia. I'm actually surprised the tepee is still standing; it looks so forlorn out there at the edge of the yard with about 3' of snow packed around it.
          I used the tepee quite often last summer to work on a large painting and I'm hoping I'll be well enough to use it again this summer to complete Cleopatra. The tepee made a great studio and besides, it felt great being outside painting away and listening to the music of the birds! And although there were fire restrictions most of last summer, I always had a little enclosed fire going that kept a kettle of water boiling for my bottomless cup of tea.  (I'd sooner have had a cold beer but sadly, I've had to give up drinking.) On hot days, the tepee was mostly cool but when I tied up the sides, there was usually a pleasant breeze blowing through it. Because the tepee has been in use for around 5 years, the tarp I cut to fit the shape is getting worn thin in places and the poles have weakened, I expect this will be it's last year. Since I never used the tepee this winter, I'm wondering if a family of coons has taken up residency or perhaps a big black bear thought it would be a good place to hibernate, after all, there's some patio furniture inside to lie on.

I was a Little High When I Drew This

          Since I'm not having a particularly good day today, quite a bit of pain to deal with, I'm not sure if I will resume painting. However that being said, the other day to dull the pain I partook of a wee joint and when I told Sarah, I didn't think it was a good idea to work on my painting, she said, "Why don't you try drawing something while you're stoned?" which I did. The result is this pen and ink sketch. Funny, now that I'm looking at the drawing while straight, although there is a lot of symbolism going on, I'm not sure if there was any specific meaning to it or if it was just a mind-altered experience. Either way, it was fun to do...peace eh! Trip

       
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TO WEED OR NOT TO WEED, that is the question

Just started a painting - any ideas for a title?

         It's Friday morning and the odd thing that I find about Friday, actually not just Fridays, everyday seems like Saturday, since my energy level was suddenly dropped kicked right out of the stadium. Since some days can be quite painful and I've never been the sort of guy that takes pills because I haven't been feeling well for one reason or another, I discovered a wee toke or two of marijuana usually does the trick. I can't be certain if the weed actually zeros in on the pain center or if I just can't keep my mind on it but either away, the pain for the most part sometimes completely dissipates or is at least bearable. Now just because my hair is getting quite long doesn't mean that I'm a revived hippie pot-head - no - I actually received a doctor's prescription for marijuana a short while ago. Not that I wouldn't have used marijuana without the prescription but since it's legal for me, packing a joint in the vehicle shouldn't be a problem if for some reason we were pulled over, because the thing about pot is that it has it's own distinctive pungent aroma - hence the occasional comment, "Smells like skunk."

          Since I've heard some rumours about my condition like, "He has a cancer tumor the size of an orange," I thought I'd put it all in the proper perspective for my friends and why it's so painful. During the past year, I'm not sure if the unusual episodes I experienced and wound up in the hospital via ambulance are cancer connected, but it's more than a little unnerving to find myself standing next to my wife and then saying just before I dropped to the ground with my eyes bugged out and flicking around like a fish out of water, "I have to say good-bye now because I'm going to that place you don't come back from." Or when I passed out with my head in the sink while brushing my teeth; luckily my head turned off the tap or I may have drowned or the time I came to and was blind for 15-20 minutes, which is pretty scary for an artist...well...for anyone really.

         The size of my tumor is measured in small centimeters, not very large at all. It's where the tumor is located, which is the problem. The little bastard is situated in my rectum or as the doctors politely describe as the "back passage". Sounds rather secretive doesn't it, as if someone could sneak in through a concealed back door and steal the family jewels, which I highly don't recommend - ewwwwww - very smelly passage I would think! Fortunately, the cancer is non-life-threatening at the moment but because of its location, there isn't much room to cut it away and leave me with a functioning asshole. This means, the doctor is going to rearrange my guts, mainly my colon and then manufacture a second arsehole and attach a colostomy bag to it. (Perhaps I'll decorate it with hearts and peace symbols for our road trip across Canada in 2019,) The doctor and of course my wife Sarah and I are hoping the operation will be successful so that it can be reversible. If not, then the doctor will sew my rectum shut and I guess the only good thing about that is that no one will be able to call me an asshole anymore. As for the pain, the best way to describe it is that each time I have to take a crap, which is usually once a day, it's like I take a knife with me up to the toilet and then cut myself a new asshole in order to take a dump. So hey, if marijuana can get me through the day, I'll toke up or eat a brownie like I did yesterday, which incidentally gave a whole new meaning to the word "high". Trip be trippin' is what I was, but in a good way.

          Just because I may be a little stoned and my energy level is at an all time low doesn't prevent me from doing things. I've gone back to renovating the upstairs landing, almost finished cutting and nailing up all the trim, which will then just leave me the floor to work on. Although I've bought all the flooring laminate material, I may have to hire someone to do that part of the job for me. I don't have a problem getting down on my hands and knees, it's the getting up that's the killer. And if I'm not cutting boards and nailing them in place, I'm downstairs working on a painting or writing, like writing this blog, which keeps my mind off my problems. My wife won't let me go out in my studio anymore and I can't say as I blame her because the last time I was working out there, I began shaking. Since it was dark and even though the distance from the studio to the house isn't that far, because I was shaking all over so bad, I almost didn't make it to the house. I'm sure she would have come looking for me but being in the dead of winter, she most likely would have found a frozen two-stick Popsicle lying face down in the snow. 

          I've been painting pretty pictures lately, perhaps to get my mind off the ugliness of my condition. Although some of these paintings depict skyscapes as I call them, I find them easier to paint than some of my realistically whimsical stuff. I mean, is someone going to say, "That cloud shouldn't be that high or it's not puffed out enough." No, that's why it's pretty hard to mess up on clouds, rocks, trees and such. However, that being said, I may have spoken out a little prematurely. because I've posted the beginning of my new work of art, which means painting some waves rolling in, crashing against the rocks and kissing the shore, which could prove challenging, at least I hope it does. Even at this old age and all my physical problems, I still look forward to a challenge and learning new things - keeps my mind active, which I think is important...peace and love...Trip

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BAT-SHIT CRAZY FLIES AND WINTER BLUES

Winter Blues - view from our kitchen

          

Sunrise Behind the Ridge - my studio waiting for me

          I awoke this morning in the semi-darkness, a feint glow emanating from the bathroom directly across from our bedroom. We leave the light on during the night to attract the flies that have inundated our bedroom during the daylight hours. They look like the common house fly and seem to mysteriously propagate each day from within the cracks of the windowsills. The lifespan of a fly is approximately 28 days, however, these flies are bat-shit-crazy and seem to die within a day, of course they have a little help from bat-frenzy-Lenny armed with a giant fly-swatter. And of course, I leave the window open to help them unknowingly commit suicide outside as they embark into the freezing outdoors, their last efforts being lying on their backs in the snow and creating snow-angels with their wings. Ah yes, wonderful boyhood memories of lying on one's back in the fresh snow, perhaps even while the snow is still falling, big snow flakes gently landing on my face or tongue as I tried catching them with my mouth.

          Snow is a wonderful creation although it's beauty and silence can kill just as deadly as a poisonous passionate kiss. For the past week, the temperature slightly above zero degrees feels balmy. Thankfully the snow has finally disappeared from the roofs and tiny rivers of icy water can be seen everywhere wandering across the yard, alongside the driveway and road before disappearing into the snowbanks. The snowbanks that were so high from the plows of winter they were impossible to see over are now miniatures of themselves and at the rate the snow is melting, perhaps within another week, there will hard be any remaining.

          We have lived in Fosterville, NB for eight winters and up until the last couple of years, I always cleared the driveway and the walkways with a snow-shovel, albeit was hard work for an old man because sometimes they needed clearing 3 or 4 times a day. Last year, I managed a little shoveling but this year absolutely nothing - the cancer treatments eating up my energy. I expect since winter appears to be retreating like a losing army, I will soon have to settle up my bill with the person we hired to plow the driveway and yard. And, since I'll soon be having an operation, possibly two if the first one is successful, I expect come next winter, I won't be clearing any driveways or walkways, sadly, perhaps never again. 

          This winter is the first winter I've barely been outside, except for when it was necessary. I miss my walks through the forests, along the roads and on the edge of the nearby frozen lake. The hush is as glorious as a baby's breath upon a person's cheek and the beauty of a fresh snowfall untouched by any tracks can be equally glorious. The colours of winter may not be as refreshing as spring or as outrageous as autumn but within their subtleties an abundance of shiny prisms sparkle as brightly as the evening stars. I've always enjoyed winters whether they have been short or unseemly lengthy but then, unlike many, I've been fortunate to have a nice warm place to live - the heat and crackle of a fire within a wood stove positively heavenly!

          Today, I will begin another painting, a moonlit evening as the waves roll in and caress a distant beach - perhaps a longing for the sea that once it's into your blood, it's there forever. Don't get me wrong, although I'm definitely land-locked, on the edge of the wilderness, this wild land touches the heart and I feel at home as well. I'm thankful that my lack of energy still allows me the great pleasure of dabbing my brush into a gob of paint and splashing it across the canvas, each stroke creating a fulfillment of my vision. And, as you the reader can tell, it allows my fingers to lightly tap dance across a keyboard and write my thoughts and feelings...peace.

      

If anyone is interested in seeing any of my artwork or would like to check out any of my stories, just click on the Etsy link.  Also, if you're enjoying my blogs and don't want to miss any, please become a follower by simply clicking the FOLLOW button.

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ARCTIC ODYSSEY

          

Arctic Odyssey Limited Edition Package

          It's been almost 25 years since Winston Bushnell (skipper), George Hone (first mate) and I (adventure artist as an art gallery referred to me) stepped aboard a small (8.5m, 28') sailboat, Dove III, set sail from Nanaimo, BC and headed north, the illusive NW Passage our destination. In this time of obvious already climate change taking place, the arctic was stuffed with ice; cruise ships non existent that far distant in the northern hemisphere. Not being a seasoned sailor like Winston who had earlier sailed the world in a small sailboat with a wife and two daughters, later a son being born in Cape Town, South Africa as he repaired their small sailboat Dove, which had been rolled over and almost sunk during a horrendous storm that swept around the Cape of Good Hope, I was a rank amateur at heart - heart being the key word for my desire to be part of his crew. Being artistic, to me the voyage would mean a feast for the eyes and I wasn't disappointed - the grandeur of the arctic is breath taking and when I experienced that part of the world first hand, it was a seascape and landscape completely alien to anything I had ever experienced before.

Samples of  8.5"x11" pages

Shishmaref Island, Alaska

         (Since I mentioned climate change, which many people seem to disregard, the presence of the changing climate conditions was already evident in the arctic. I saw huge chunks bitten out of the tundra by the insatiable sea and at one village, they had placed automobile tires along the shore to keep the land from eroding. I recall a small island called Shimaref, which is located in Alaska that we tucked into to escape our first encounter with the relentless ice. We spent a day there, even chatted with a congenial Eskimo mayor who was already concerned about the Bering Sea and the out of control growth of the population, "Even kids are having kids," he stated. I recently Googled Shishmaref Island and the houses that we had once walked past are now falling into the sea. And, it's not the only island! I also witnessed evidence of the sea eroding away the land in our own country.)

          During the voyage, since Dove hugged the shoreline to avoid the ice as much as possible, we visited many villages. However, that being said, there were many times when we were unable to tuck into a safe haven to escape the ice and I would often go ashore, sometimes with Winston but mostly by myself. I always brought my video and two 35mm cameras, as well as my sketch pad on these excursions. As a result, when we eventually arrived home, basically being at sea for five and half months, I had a lot of reference material to write and illustrate Arctic Odyssey. An American publisher, himself an avid sailor, was so enthralled with my tale and illustrations, he published my story. It was my understanding that he was going to publish Arctic Odyssey the way I had put it together and had presented it to him but he didn't. Although the book still looked great, he unfortunately put a price on it that suited a coffee-table book (approx. $35. US) which made it difficult to sell. I eventually bought the remaining books and my contract and have been selling them at an affordable price. And, as much as I like the soft cover edition, I eventually self-published Arctic Odyssey the way I had envisioned the book with a hard cover. Since I considered it to be a work of art, hand-lettered with pen and ink illustrations, along with maps I drew, I decided to publish it as a Limited Edition - only 200 copies available. I also put a video together about our voyage and although it would have been very exciting to film some of the horrendous winds and seas that confronted us, we were all too busy holding onto something to keep from being flung about like rag dolls. Plus, going outside on deck would have been very precarious, being swept off into the icy sea most likely resulting in death. Arctic Odyssey, both versions as well as the video are available at our Etsy store.

          One day, while drawing portraits of people who were waiting for a ferry at the Nanaimo Ferry Terminal, I had a woman pose for me. As I drew her, we of course struck up a conversation and it turned out she was a nurse at the Whitehorse Hospital in the Yukon. I guess the pen and ink sketches of the children were quite good because she said, "Eventually most people in the outlying arctic villages bring their kids to the hospital for one reason or another," and to my surprise she started naming them. Now that almost 25 years has gone by since our remarkable voyage through the NW Passage, I sometimes wonder about the kids I drew and how much their physical appearances must have changed since then. Such fond memories. I'm so glad that Winston took me along. Oh, he also mentioned one of the reasons he took me, besides not being a well-seasoned sailor, was because I "wouldn't mutiny" and as odd as it seems, I almost did - but that's another story...peace.

REFLECTIONS OF AN OLD SIGNPAINTER

                                                                       

          I used to have a rather successful graphic arts business in my younger years and I have no idea how many signs I hand-lettered. I've painted showcards (my favourite), vehicles and even enormous artsy murals on the sides of buildings. But one of the most unusual things I was hired to paint was a huge blimp in the shape of a killer whale. When you're looking at a blimp from the ground and it's hundreds of feet in the air, it doesn't seem so big. However, when it's sitting on the ground and the whole thing is completely white, the size overwhelming, it's a different story. I had two professional sign painters working for me then and the three of us stood in awe as we gazed at this massive blown up vinyl-shaped orca, even larger than the actual whale. Where does one start...well...I sharpened up my blue Stabillo pencil that writes on basically any material and with the aid of ladders, I simply eye-balled the thing and drew in the distinctive markings of a killer whale. Then, brushes and rollers in hand we went to work. When the job was completed, it was difficult to tell if we had really done a good job because it was mainly a series of huge black and white shapes but when Ruthy the Rutherford Whale was floating in the air, she looked like a killer whale. 

          I once painted a huge pictorial on a hotel brick wall that was 40' feet off the ground. It wasn't that difficult to paint once I had basically drawn it out. I painted the wall with the use of a scaffold that was on wheels, which was a little difficult to move around. However, since there always seemed to be someone gazing up and watching the procedure, I could usually entice a bystander to give me a hand moving it around.  When the job was finished and it was time to take the scaffold apart, since it could be somewhat dangerous, I decided to hire someone to help me. Since the street was busy with pedestrians, I noticed this young guy who was sort of be-bopping along the sidewalk. When I caught up to him and came alongside of him I tapped him on the shoulder. Well...did that guy ever jump and when I looked into his eyes, I could see that he was sort of high on something. Not to be deterred, I offered him ten bucks to help me dismantle the scaffold, his response being, "Hey man. Yeah, I can do that." Before I knew it, he was scampering up the scaffold like a monkey. As I followed behind him, being a lot more careful to what I was grabbing onto and standing on, I was beginning to regret my choice.  This guy was definitely on some kind of drug because when I arrived at the last stage of the scaffold, he was standing on the very top rung of the steel rods holding it together and seemed to be still trying to climb higher, his fingers holding onto the indentations of the brick mortar. Why he never fell is beyond me and I didn't breathe easy again until we both had our feet on the ground. No doubt about it, he was definitely wrecked and I was a wreck by the end of it all.

         The world of the computer has basically taken over the hand-lettered signs and as unbelievable as it seems now, I have become a dinosaur in my own time. However, although sign painting is basically a hobby for me these days, there are still people around who appreciate the talent it takes to dip a brush into a pot of paint and actually hand-letter a sign. So, if any of you readers, if you managed to read this far, would like a hand-lettered sign or even a poem done in calligraphy (used to teach calligraphy), just message me or check out the sign listing at our Etsy store. 

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SPUNKY THE SKUNK

          The sun is shining brightly this morning and although much of the snow around our home has melted, it is still hip deep in spots. As I look out the window down toward the old apple tree, the branches bowed as if in awe of winter, the snow is smooth, crisp and silent, no tracks of any wild animals disturbing its serenity. However, on closer observation a few days ago, I did notice  some animal tracks imprinted in the snow around the edge of the house, At first, I thought it was a neighbour's cat gone feral and was living under the deck, but last night as we crawled into bed upstairs, the pungent scent of a skunk assailed our nostrils. There was no disguising our uninvited guess. And speaking of skunks, a couple of years ago, one managed to dig it's way into the crawl space under the newer portion of the house for the winter. Every now and then, for whatever reason but most likely to keep predators away because who wants to move into a stinky place, the skunk would occasionally spray his winter abode. Occasionally we could hear it in the crawlspace but one night while we were sitting in the kitchen we heard quite a ruckus under the floor and the smell, if we had taken its full blast, would have brought tears to our eyes. We never heard another sound after that and the smell eventually dissipated but judging by the fresh tracks in the snow, my guess would be that a coon or a family of coons decided to take over the skunk's dwelling or were hungry. Perhaps the skunk's aroma adds flavour to its flesh that coons find very appetizing but I can honestly tell you, skunk steak is not on my menu!  

          Late October it seems, just before the first snow arrives, we always seem to get a resident skunk rooting around in the lawn searching for tasty little grubs. I didn't really mind the skunk lurking about but there were a couple of times when I stepped out of the door at night, my eye caught its small shape and a flash of white moving around in the darkness. I was amazed how close the skunk came as I slowly backed away trying to avoid perhaps getting sprayed with its obnoxious perfume. I have to admit, it made me more than a little leery about going outside at night, just in case it was poking about the doorstep and I startled it  - ewee - would I ever stink!

          Years ago, when I worked in television as an art director, the woman who hosted a live kid show, would often have me draw cartoons that she would present while reading a children's story. She wasn't always as well organized or prepared as she should have been and one morning, she came into my office in a real frazzle and asked if I could come up with an idea to fill part of her half hour program. Being young at the time, on the fringe of the hippy era, I quickly wrote a short poem titled Spunky the Skunk and drew some cartoons. As she read the poem and pasted up the pictures, the camera man zooming in on the artwork, I had a hard time stifling my laughter because it wasn't really a children's poem, even though it rhymed and sounded like one. No, the words actually described a skunk and his friends smoking marijuana and getting high in the forest. After her show had aired, my suppressed laughter soon turned into worry; what if some of the viewers caught on to what the poem was really about, phoned the TV station and complained; I'd most likely get fired. Luckily for me, no one ever suspected or if they did, they never made a big stink about it - pardon the pun!

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Thought I'd start a blog...and a contest!

          I'm an old guy now. I sometimes don't feel like it but when I look in the mirror and see this guy with long white hair, mustache and so many wrinkles, which I gave up counting, it puts everything into perspective. Also, I'm in a fair amount of pain these days and with an upcoming operation, which will be life altering to a certain degree, I'm definitely feeling old. But don't get me wrong, I have a lot of friends and relatives lookin' up at the daises and I'm still lookin' forward to the future, no matter how long or how short it may be.  I've always been a rather physical person but as of late, I'm more of a sit-in-a-chair kind of a guy. Fortunately, since I'm an artist of sorts, I am still able to paint, which helps keep my mind from lingering on what's coming up. 

         My latest painting, which I just finished yesterday has been a hit on Facebook, many people giving me great complements and titles. The painting of the orca (killer whale) leaping from the depths in the moonlight has yet to have a title selected. The original acrylic painting is 12"x16" and is for sale. Plus there will be giclee (stretched canvas archival ink print) available for $65.00. However, you can WIN this beautiful giclee (free shipping) total value approx. $85.00 by submitting your title to our Etsy store via the  contact button on our Etsy page. It's not necessary to purchase anything and an Etsy coupon for this prize, will be available to the winner. If the contest goes anything like the last one, where so many of the titles were so good it was impossible to select the best title, we will have a live draw on Facebook of the 5 best entries. All entries must be in before April 30th when contest ends.

**NOTE** you may have already mentioned or submitted a name idea - but only entries via the Etsy page will be considered for the purpose of this contest. So head on over, hit contact on our Etsy page and send in your ideas! YOU could be the new owner of this beautiful giclee!

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