My Candle Burns

Sometimes an idea, a piece of music, a quote,  a poem, or a a person just makes me stop. Completely.

Infatuation sets in and it's all I can do to function normally in the presence of whatever it is which has grabbed me and refused to let go. It's not mania, it's life. And life is beautiful.

And while I feel feel like I might be exaggerating a little bit, if I'm honest with myself, I know that I'm not exaggerating. This happens rather frequently.

Young emotions are stirred up and I'm excited.

It's inspiration. It's your muse banging pieces of flint together in a desperate attempt to start a creative fire in your mind, and if you have one, your soul.

Sometimes you see something and it's just beautiful, and there's no other way to say it.


While you actively recognize how beautiful this thing is, and you want to share it with people, you know nobody else will ever see it the same way you do. When you experience whatever is inspiring you, you bring your own baggage, your own history, your own experience, hopes, hates, loves and set of prejudicial notions to the table, whether you like it or not. 

There's no way I can possibly hope for you to experience the same thing in the same way I do. It's just not possible. We can agree on traits, qualities and intent. We can agree or disagree on the pros and cons. But we cannot experience it the same.

Every wonderful thing you find beautiful is something you can't possibly hope for people to feel exactly the same way about. Not the person who created it (if it was indeed actively created), and not anyone else who will ever experience it.

Sometimes things just blow your mind.


This blows my mind:

Isn't she beautiful?

Isn't what she's doing just beautiful?

Isn't everything about this just goddamn wonderful?

I can't tell you how much I geeked out inside when I first saw this. 
Partially for the sake of the piece (did I mention that it's beautiful?), but partially because I had been pondering new tattoo ideas. I was pretty sure that I wanted to incorporate such a candle, but didn't know how to go about it.  I like this, though, and it has given me a few things to think about in regards to a new design.

The Poem, "First Fig," is by Edna St. Vincent Millay ( what a cool name).
I was familiar with the poem, though not much else of Millay's work.

Some people are into poetry for poetry's sake, and while I respect that, I don't really get it. Enjoying poetry for poetry's sake is like enjoying a cake because it's a rectangle (or not a rectangle) and sometimes you get the benefit of it being tasty.


I say fuck that. I say the shape is irrelevant. Writing is about content, and prose delivers. Prose is more effective and is more challenging as a writer and rewarding as a reader than poetry...

...90% of the time.

But the rest of the time, you've got "A Psalm of Life" and "First Fig" to contend with.

I'm sorry, Prose old buddy. Poetry wins this round.









This is a print is a linocut by artist Mandy May Laschon.(That's a pretty cool name, too.)

This is her Etsy shop.
And this is her webpage.

I thank her for creating this experience, having an amicable conversation, and reserving and selling me a print.




Wow.

Printfrenzy

So, a couple of months ago, I bought one of these on craigslist:

It's a welder!

It's first project is probably going to be one of the most useful and rewarding. I was able to build this:

It's a press!

Linocut printing is a pretty inexpensive art form until you get to the press. Print presses are goddamn expensive. Especially when you consider what they are.

I mean...look at this shit.   $446.00? Really? It's a spring and some rollers with a couple of cranks.  I'm sure that model works well, but... I doubt it works just a whole hell of a lot better than the one I made.

It's the same cost as something you can't really build yourself, and it's an incredibly simple tool. We've had presses around for a long time, so it's not like it's new technology.  For that kind of money, I can get a fancy piece of plastic built by little hands in China; I can see and talk to people on the other side of the planet and I can imaginary launch birds at entrenched pigs.  



So last night, instead of reading or writing like I probably should've been doing,  Wifey and I drove to town, got some new ink (and other goodies), and I got printin'.

Let's do it. (on the Buick).

The Swordman. This is first linocut I made outside an art class. Still my favorite. Sadly, the block is about to wear out. But, without death, life is meaningless.

The Two Muses. Hopefully the first in an "&" series.

I think the pencil sharpener is boring. So is the phrase "Let's do it." Put them together... meh... still kind of weird.

Anyone who has been a smoker knows how well these two go together. They're like mental medicine.

Sad? Coffee and cigarettes.
Impatient? Coffee and cigarettes.
Bored? Coffee and cigarettes.
Anxious? Coffee and cigarettes.

I no longer smoke, but I grant the very likely assumption that coffee and cigarettes are partially responsible (or were at least present) for the greatest achievements of the last century.

Coming soon: etsy store.

The Two Muses

In an attempt to satisfy the artistic portion of this post, I've made another print.

A few months ago, after making this other print, I decided that I would get back into printmaking.
So I bought a bunch of lino and some more tools and ink and whatnot. I was delighted when it arrived, but that was over a month ago and I hadn't really done much with it.

I made a stamp for some friends of mine, but that was about it.

I was feeling rather uninspired when I got home last night, so I glanced through some of the ideas I had and voila-- "The Two Muses" was born.

This is a proof. I used a spoon for a baren (bottle jack press not finished yet for want of a suitable jack).

I did a short series by standing on the backs of the block so I could use up the remains of some shitty black ink that was probably older than I am.

It turned out pretty well, I think. I'm probably going to have to do some more work on the cigarette pack. It lends itself to over-inking, and the lino I'm using is much, much softer than what I was used to before.

It's entirely likely that the new production battleship lino I used for this print is how it's supposed to feel, and the wonder-cut stuff I bought at Amarillo Hobby House 5 years ago (which had been sitting on their shelves for Krom only knows how long before that) was just old, hard shit.

I'm kind of afraid of doing an extended series with this block. It seems delicate. But maybe that's how it's supposed to feel.

I'm thinking about doing a whole series of "&" pieces. Probably some  "=/=", too...

Fun awaits...