putting the art in earth

I often wonder who painted the sky, but when you're in the sky, you can wonder who drew the earth, for it can be quite mad. All this blue and green can be Rothko on a not-so-linear day



and these spots can be Pollock using a fatter brush



but this looks like Japanese script



betcha it says "hurricanes fuck off"

Wordsworth probably had something to do with this



and maybe Miro had his hand in this



but who made these alien eyes?




though i suspect O'Keefe designed its tear ducts

November abstracts

November is turning abstract on me. For example, the Peace Lilly in the bedroom decided to first go all wayang



then it turned into ET phone home



the smoke tree -normally a stable favorite- became kinda Rothko meets Pollock when mist dropped drops on it



and the mist, THE MIST, it makes everything ghostly, say Hopper meets Stephen King



and when the mist is gone, the dusk is kinda rushed, like an O'Keefe in 2 minutes



So schizo lilly's, mixed mists, rushed dusks -it's a challenge to keep up with november.

dust to more dust

When renovating a house, a few things become apparent. The work is a bit dusty



without the right tools you're screwed



so it's good to have step brothers



and even better to do it with friends



so, though the dust does go everywhere



and the rubble might seem endless



there is, as always, real beauty to be found, some literal





some more abstract

orange smoke

Sometimes, when there's smoke, there's curtain

abstracts from Kalamata

sparkly velvet

the lady with the light blue legs

Vasarely at warp speed

warm lights cool shadows

Am in such a decrepit state today that i actually dragged my sorry ass to bed today around 4 for a bit of a nap. But once i got there and laid down, i saw this, so i had to get up to photograph it, and well, no napping. How i suffer for my arts.

a visual exploration of my washing machine

Cause i hadn't yet