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May 14, 2007 3 Comments
Old Scissors, 6" x 5", available


More than a century ago, these were the scissors of a tailor. German born, Conrad Lamprecht is my great great grandfather. I know him from these massive scissors more than a foot long and a slightly blurry photo of him sitting, with legs permanently bent and broken, in front of his seemingly countless daughters. He'd settled in Cincinatti in the German part of...

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May 01, 2007 4 Comments
The innocent lime is chopped and set upon a board. A light is adjusted and the bits of the green fruit moved around. The board is swapped out for something with better color, a piece of dark cardboard - a better contrast to the light glistening flesh. The painting is roughed in, but an issue with the composition becomes readily apparent (translation: it didn't "feel" right). The lime is moved a...

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Apr 25, 2007 2 Comments
A neighbor and friend works for the local health department. I wonder what she'd say about a piece of uncooked chicken posing for its portrait.

Drum Stick, 6" x 5", available




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Feb 20, 2007 1 Comment
The basic questions of why a piece comes together so quickly may never be answered. There are, however, answers to the question of how to bring life back to something beaten into submission. The painting should be the boxer that won the match, not the pummeled man, listless, with his head hanging low. Keep the hand moving, and moving with certainty. Be willing to rework an almost success if you...

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Nov 27, 2006 4 Comments


I've never been very good at plunging off cliffs - pointing my nose in a direction and just going for it. I've hopped off many a low mound, even over some fences, but cliffs? surely you jest. After all, flying requires faith in the failure of gravity. And these are grave circumstances, these melancholy days of wine and pigment. Gravity doesn't just pull you down, it presses. You're under its...

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Nov 26, 2006 1 Comment
Loaded with sketchbooks, ink and brush, I pace around the east side of the park trying to find a place to sit. I settle down under a modest tree. It feels like many have sat in this very spot.If I try to transpose the visual information to page, nothing happens. The marks don't find their home. The spark is absent. It will have some rudimentary form and space, but no presence. The picture says,...

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Nov 26, 2006 2 Comments
I opened the creased cardboard box. What had he sent me? Inside were five camera batteries, a small framed cracked photo of the madonna, and in the corner an insulated package. If Tom has been generous enough to send five expensive batteries, what could be wrapped up so safely I wondered. After hanging the madonna behind the clock, I unwrapped the package. Inside were two delicate bundles of...

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Nov 26, 2006 1 Comment
Ever higher to the white welcome in the sky on the blue wings of the dark side of sweetness.


"Look it's my friend", I said as I pointed towards the scrub jay. The bird knew to visit when a shovel was in hand. Who knows what treats might be found. As I churned through the backyard, if I found something I didn't like, a grub or a moth's chrysalis, I'd toss it to the ground nearby to make a...

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