Iggy Pop

Godfather of Punk, '80's Style

Iggy Pop

Watercolor and Ink

I was up until 5:30 a.m. last night.  I have been so busy lately and have been away from making art for too long.  I ended up drawing three pictures yesterday, and this one was in the wee hours of the morning.  I was watching Reese Witherspoon in, "WILD" based on Cheryl Strayed's amazing book of the same name.  That movie, and Reece's acting in it, are so incredible.  

I wanted to savor the silence of the night, after non-stop rushing for two weeks.  I want to dive into time, roll around in it's murky silence.  I  had two dogs on the couch with me, both of my hands slowly petting each as I thought about life.  Around 3, I felt compelled to profile another wild human. I love the angles of Iggy's face, just as I love the lines of old people.  So many interesting planes and angles and shadows that youthful faces just don't contain.  I like the deviation from the norm, the lines of life that make someone interesting within and without, making me want to know their stories.  I have one more day to be able to have the heavenly gift of time unfolding without a schedule.  I'll have to be back on one soon enough.

P.S. By the way, here's a link to The NY Times' ArtsBeat article on Cheryl Strayed.  In it, a critic says her book had a "punk spirit!"   O.K., I swear to you, I only saw this right now, the morning after I painted this.  She was successful to the nth degree conveying that punk feeling, because after watching it, I was left with that same feeling and let it come through me as a painting of the great Iggy.

Day 357. Ugly Sweater Triumph

A local art gallery is having a show on ugly sweaters.  The deadline was today, and I missed it, unless they let me slide in there tomorrow...

Anyway, I woke up at 3:30 a.m.and finally just got up and started working on this at 4:15 until going to work at 7:30 and again after work.  That time never takes into account what's going on in your mind beforehand though, does it?  I have GOT to sleep tonight.

Blah, blah.

Here you go then:

 

Ridiculed in her youth for her Avant-garde style selections, Griselda was completely vindicated later in life when she won 1st place in the national ugly sweater contest and went on Project Runway as a dark-horse contestant.

 

Mean Pom pom girl:  "My Goodness, what ARE you wearing!?"

Mean accomplice:  "Hmmph!"

Griselda:  "They're called Doc Martens."  

G-girl, thinking to herself: "If I were in London, I would totally be in the "IN" crowd.  They have no idea."

 

Punk with heart of gold:  "I'm feeling it."

Tim Gunn:  "She is an utter visionary!  A complete conundrum of complexity, and I, for one, applaud Griselda!"  

"It's granny chic!"

 Victorious, adult Griselda:  "Thanks, Tim!"

Day 110. Big Eyes, The Clash, and the History of Punk Music

Thirty thousand years ago when I was a freshman in college, I had a crush on a guy I nicknamed, "Big Eyes."  (I had a crush on another I dubbed "Fish Eyes").  Large blue eyes, jet black hair, pale skin from the South Side of Chicago, he had just the Irish/Italian bad boy look I loved.  He was a cross between Aidan Quinn and Ray Liotta.

Aidan Quinn in "Reckless"

Ray Liotta in "Something Wild"

 

Hmm.  Looking at these pics, now, he definitely was on the rougher, Ray Liotta side of things.

Anyway, second semester, the weather finally broke out like it is right now--SPRING--sunny, warm, breezy.  Our entire dorm was outside hanging, sitting in the grass--some people, like me, playing frisbee.  Suddenly, from a student's open window stuffed full with speakers from their stereo, came the first 4-second strain of the Clash's, "Should I Stay or Should I Go."  Well, if you're familiar with that song, it just takes that long to pull you in.  Not just pull, but GRAB mercilessly.

Now, here's when I jumped down the rabbit hole of love.  Big Eyes yelled out right after those crucial unforgettable chords, "Turn up the fucking music!"  Ohhhhh, that did it for me.  First, because I didn't use "cuss" words, and he did (bad); and second, because he loved the song and I did, too; and third, it was spring, it was a great song, he used the "f" word, he looked cool smoking, and he was a gorgeous bad boy--ooh, SUPER BAD!  FATE!  Oh, no wonder we make mistakes when we're young!

Here's a college-age me with a guy that looked like Big Eyes--geez, guess I always gravitated towards these dudes.  (And why do we look like we're wearing super big shirts?!)

Last night, "Saturday Night Live" had this hilarious segment from "A History of Punk Music."  It was a punk music salute to Margaret Thatcher with the ever fabulous Fred Armisen ("Portlandia") as the lead singer of "Ian Rubbish and the Bizarros."  Well, this clip (combined with thewarm, breezy spring day) is what prompted this whole journey down punk/Clash memory lane with Big Eyes!

And here's the original Clash dirty diamond!  Turn it up first people!

Watch out also for the middle of song, from 1:28 to 1:31 where they are speeding and building it up, and then they stop with that solo drum hit.  Love it!  Geez, am I the only one that gets off on music like this?  I know there's more like me out there!

Day 79. Punk and Graffiti -SOLD

This painting is my celebration of visual and tactile texture.

Ever impatient to begin painting if I'm ready for it, I rarely reach for an artist paint palette to squirt paint on or into; rather, I grab whatever is handy. And, let me be honest--I don't know where the heck those plastic palettes are located in this crazy room. )-:

For quite awhile last summer, my palette of choice was the cover of a school-produced fiction magazine. It was heavy enough to take the multiple layers I was constantly adding to it.  Eventually those layers built up into something quite interesting--a stalagmite created by moi!  The coagulated mess appealed to my eye, the bumpy paint splatters revolting and appealing in their toady aberration.  I just couldn't throw that cover away--there had to be some way I could use it!

Eight months later, along came Mr. Punkster.  I added molding paste to the canvas to give the perception of a rough, crumbling wall.  Then, I tore and peeled the dried layers of paint from the cover--along with some sketches and words I doodled on said cover--and wrapped, bent, folded these pieces over the canvas.

I just love the way my urban guy and his environment turned out. (-:

How it began: