“One Look ...

Is Worth a Thousand Words..."

Advertising executive Fred R. Barnard invented this saying to promote his agency's ads taken out in Printer's Ink in 1921 with the headline and attributed to an 'ancient Japanese philosopher.'

I like to say 'mental health is also health') as endorphins are the only truly good drug in the world, made by your body for its own good. Walk and walk, lift some weights to a Youtube video, get a walk buddy or an exercise buddy, you can maintain distance and be safe and healthy.

For now, what I was hopefully cleverly alluding to the above intro quote (a Shortstorylong tradition) was the idea of what ultimately became the common refrain, 'A picture is worth a thousand words,' a saying that is pretty much true and that is why it has stayed strong, I believe, even though it came from a racist sham appropriation advertising gimmick (truth reveals itself in strange places, I find). Nowadays, as the old folks always begin (right behind them!) the thing is pictures and words - I can't bring myself to say memes are worth a thousand words, though. Maybe 50! But creating them is a fun challenge. In this kind, you have to read the body language of the figures in the photo, and I think I did that decently - 

I haven't taken some fucking 'meme class' or anything, don't get me wrong, just sharing what I have noticed about them. I am certain sociologists have studied and written the hell out of memes. Maybe I will write a meme essay; a thousand words about 50 words haha! The other thing about this kinda meme? If the person seeing it never saw Star Wars, they won't get it. At all. And who the hell are these people who haven't seen Star Wars, anyway? Sheesh! 

From now til my last day my parting salutation is, 'Be well,' because we all need to be, no matter what madness and injustice swirls around us, we have to come through this, and we will. More later.

Without further ado, meme number two (apologies to Mr. Shakespeare) Feel free to spread this like a vi-..eh...like good news.  

Meme by Wayne R. Flower ( ; ) I thought it would be a good joke to post credit for a meme - Maybe I should up the joke start signing them!) The photo is obviously not mine and from Star Wars, The Return of the Jedi [I must let you behead me for incorrectly previously listing this as from The Empire Strikes Back. But in my defense, sick and on meds, I caught it myself, FORGIVE ME haha get over it.] ... [Aaaaand I also misspelled 'harmonica'  on the first meme I posted. Gosh how embarrassing, especially if people shared it. Fired from my first meme job, man]

 

Be well,
Wayne 

"If our titles recall the known myths of antiquity, we have used them again because they are the eternal symbols...

...upon which we must fall back to express basic psychological ideas.” ~ Mark Rothko, painter (and I would add visual philosopher).

Rothko is on the mind a bit of late as one of the last books I checked out from the library at the college where I work (one of the last meaning before we suddenly found ourselves in a surreal b sci fi pandemic film where the US is run by con men whose charade becomes exposed - preparing my musings on all that for a future entry). The book is a well done document of Rothko's '40s period, where he evolved over time to the style he would be known for and that would transform art, what others dubbed the 'multiforms'. I am gratefully 'stuck' with this book, not being able to return it during the pandemic.

If you aren't a fan of abstract art, I feel you, I actually do, because I have been a visual artist since I could hold a crayon, and it always eluded me, abstract art. I of course had sparks of moments with works by Dali or Picasso, close to abstract, but still including recognizable figures in most cases. Jackson Pollack I now get, but am not a huge fan as yet. 

I say as yet because I came to Rothko later in life, late in mine, any way, at age 48 (I am now 54), when I went with my partner at the time to see a show of this very period of his work which ended in the multiforms, at the Portland Art Museum in 2013 or 2014 (? have to check...). Beyond being blown away by the work in general, at the multiforms things changed - the very air changed. The quiet somehow became more quiet, which I am certain was a relief to my girlfriend, as I am a talker, and I learned that day that at museums, she is to be left on her own, and she needs silence, which I now completely get, like how I now get Rothko and the multiforms.

We walked into the room of the large multiform paintings at the end of the exhibit. I walked right up to one. At the time, I had no knowledge then that Rothko felt it best to view these large paintings was to stand fairly close to them, 4 feet or so. I was just pulled in, it was intuitive. Because when you see them first from a distance, as you approach them, the colors don't quite add up to what you are seeing in normal paintings. They are dense and complicated, and your brain must know what they are composed of, so you wander closer. And you feel emotions bubble up inside you, slowly or quickly, depending on the piece. He stripped everything that moves a person in a painting down to pure emotion. 

My girlfriend sat on a bench and quietly cried. I would later come to learn that this is common when people view Rothko's work, he himself has talked about it; "I’m interested only in expressing basic human emotions - tragedy, ecstasy, doom, and so on - and the fact that lots of people break down and cry when confronted with my pictures shows that I communicate those basic human emotions… The people who weep before my pictures are having the same religious experience I had when I painted them. And if you, as you say, are moved only by their color relationships, then you miss the point!” Which is interesting that the color relationships did draw me into the emotions, which took over from there. Different for everyone, I suppose, in some ways. I am one who is affected mentally and psychologically by color - which ties it to emotions for me, so it makes sense.


What is interesting is that this girlfriend at that time in my life, the one who really introduced me to Rothko in a way I never had even before seeing the work in person, didn't consider herself a visual artist (she was/is a lawyer) but she was (she also didn't consider herself a musician but can sing, or a poet but writes nice verse - I don't tend to date artists, but closet artists, or in this case, subconscious artists - I don't seek them, they just end up being that kind of person, which makes sense) and once, we did art together at the same time, which I love doing with anyone at all, it's always magical, and she whipped out this beautiful, balanced, expressive abstract painting. Bam. I was baffled. 

My art is detailed, and based almost always on reality, or at least the vast majority was until recently, very recently. See some of my work here on blogger: https://wayneflowerart.blogspot.com/ 
I draw some weird shit sometimes, but it is almost always figurative in some way. Either way, I feel I am a decent artist. But when I took painting classes, I always ended up drawing with my paint brushes. It was frustrating. And when I tried to do anything abstract, painting, drawing, whatever, I just couldn't get there, like a language that eluded me. The closest I ever came to decent, balanced abstract work was the backgrounds I did in my heavy collage period during the mid '80s. So for a time, I gave up on trying.

I recently began cranking out artwork at a frenzied pace, I was obviously using art as a therapeutic method to cope with the stress of world events, a staple throughout my life. And it worked. And the crazy thing was, pretty much everything I produced is not bad (considering these are just sketeches, mind you). This is unusual for any artist. Bob Dylan talks about the period of his music (which happens to be my favorite of his) between Bringing it All Back Home and Blonde on Blonde (time frame from memory, basically the mid to late '60s stuff) that he doesn't know where his ideas for lyrics came from, it didn't feel like they were from him, he said it was like he was channeling it from somewhere...else. And that is exactly how I feel about this prolific, therapeutic stretch of art creation, which has now greatly slowed. 

Today I share only the abstract stuff (and will later share the non-abstract sketches from this prolific period), abstract expression being what I had begun a journey to discover just prior to the pandemic and sheltering in place, and I was making small inroads. This burst of art and reading the Rothko book unlocked the rest, and I am excited to see where it leads me.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here is my favorite Rothko piece from the '40s period I am referencing, called Rights of Lilith - Much of this period was influenced by mythology and its symbols, and the sea.


The following images are sketches from a sketch book, 8 inches x 5.5 inches, using different colors of Sharpie pens, fine ballpoint pens and pencils. All artwork by Wayne R. Flower
Prints of other work available (I have a PayPal account - Support artists!): https://wayneflowerart.blogspot.com/

God Playing Dice - Title inspired by Einstein's famous response to the   premise of Quantum Physics and probabilities making up everything; "God doesn't play dice."

Much of the work has been very microbial, for lack of a better term, and during a virus pandemic, it makes sense. Other themes that subconsciously emerged were reproductive imagery, like sperm and egg or sexual organs, and some menstrual imagery (more of that in later entries). How it played out each time was that I would draw these themes subconsciously at first and then see a clear idea or image emerge, then I would roll with that and embellish it, as I went.

                         The most virus like image

                     Ghost of Tesla

                       Eggs. I eat a lot of eggs.

               No idea on this, subliminal or otherwise

I like the colors in this. I was soaking paper towel and then wiping on the paper. I had a silver Sharpie, which was fun.

After the fact I labeled these as different 'inner galaxies', for instance the frantic one in the right corner is my 'Inner Chaos Galaxy' and in the center is my 'Inner Creative Spirit Galaxy.'

           One of my favorites as it was a bit of a breakthrough for mixing colors, shapes and movement. The silver, gold and bronze Sharpies are fun to work with and slightly metallic looking.

As I have been working at home a lot, it seems I subliminally drew a computer monitor here! It kind of freaked me out when I realized that.

                    My first real breakthrough - But note that there still had to be lines. Slowly letting go of lines... - - - ~ ~ ...

 

"Save the human race...

...don't touch your fuckin face.."

~ from a song I am working on (that's right, I am quoting myself. Deal with it). It would make an excellent bumper sticker. Later. Too soon. Definitely too soon.

Strange days. I went out last Saturday night (3.21.20) in Portland and it was like being in a sci fi flick; empty parking lots, closed businesses, nervous looking people in masks and you think about every damn thing you touch and wonder whether a little invader is entering you. I watched empty trains sliding by and got a little chill. 

We will get through this, but it will get much worse (already has since I started this draft a few days ago). I imagine I will be posting on both blogs (the two I refer to are the most active, this one and the music history blog: A Music History, by Wayne R. Flower) more often now that I am sheltering in place. Meanwhile, the  clothes wear no emperor (from the same poem in progress). Be well. Pace yourself. Take walks. Create shit, even if, or hell, especially if you aren't an artist or necessarily creative - it helps, no one will have to see it! We are in for the long hall, let's take care of each other and ourselves since leadership is, eh...challenged.

Share this blog. I ain't on the Facebook (for personal reasons, no disrespect, and yes I know my request is ironic) I may be wrong, but I think people may like it about now...

Love to folks and Critters

Wayne Ray Flower II

All photos by Wayne R. Flower


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My boy Denni has made sheltering in place a better place to be.....

Odd electric fruit.....

                          
'KILL YOUR LANDLORD' - I can't remember the origin of this phrase/sentiment, a song I think. Tensions with landlords (a term I stopped using, it took a while - but I am not a serf nor are they my lord; it is their building, it is my home, we have a contract. You can quote me on that) are rising in towns and cities everywhere, especially densely populated urban areas, as demands for a rent freeze ramp up. Things will get ugly, it is certain. Hoping better natures prevail among the privileged owner class.....










"RaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyNeeeeeeeeeeeeerBeeeeeeeeeeeeeer," (for those old enough to remember the old commercials).....

The Holy Bus Stop Stump.....

                                                              The wild gas tank in its unnatural habitat. Shhhh....It's almost feeding time.....

                                Bolders to pebbles to riding rails.....

Still life.....

Life is still (now).....

                                                               Don't jump! We got this.....

Here it is again, it has eaten and is sleeping...

Circles.....

                                              Artist in life imitating his art.....

                              Inheritor of the world: The Green, The Insects, The Molds.....

                               
I just like this as it has an Americana myth sheen to it.....















Story the Tree. If I were a tree, I would marry her.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"If right means nothing...

...we're lost."

Rep. Adam Schiff, 2020 from his Senate Presidential Impeachment Hearing closing argument speech

~I am exhausted from a busy and stressful but productive week, and it is exhausting being an American right now, so I leave you with photos and wishes of relaxing and letting go for a bit...

Love to folks and critters
Wayne Ray Flower II ~

 99 per cent of the photos on this blog that are mine have only been cropped and otherwise untouched by software effects, this one was tweaked by some effects on my Samsung Galaxy Android phone, in full disclosure

 Thinking of the films of Andrei Tarkovsky, and all the inspiring things he did with water, which is present in nearly all his films in some prominent way

"Don't fence me in," ~The Green~

 The vast majority of experimental motion shots are shite, but every once in awhile...

The anatomy model, mini sombrero, and the radish painting are things my old friend and current roommate found   

 

A new logo for Republicans in the Senate?

I have photographed a few versions of this - sometimes the clouds and light are reflected in the poster frame glass in just such a way as to catch this melding of our reality with Vincent's

Remember, when learning your kinetic powers, practice only on yourself

 Graffiti blooms, SE Portland, Oregon

 To tag, or not to tag, that is the question

My life is so full of trains now, not only for transport in the city, but I live near a train yard, the band I am in rehearses next to train tracks. Good thing I dig trains.

... "Andrei, what is art?" Tarkovsky, looking even more pensive than usual, declares that...

..."Before defining art — or any concept — we must answer a far broader question: what is the meaning of Man's life on Earth?" ~ Andrei Tarkovsky (source: http://www.openculture.com/2016/06/andrei-tarkovsky-answers-the-essential-questions-what-is-art-the-meaning-of-life.html)

Tonight I was writing in a journal, something I used to do almost obsessively at different periods in my life, but haven't much for years, except for poem and short writing piece ideas. And I ended up starting one thing and then morphing into something that is perfectly titled in a parody of the great James Joyce book 'Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man,' - I thought I would share it with the small group of you who actually read this. I wrote the first go at the draft of this entry to Talking Heads' wonderful album 'Fear of Music' - as a bass player, I can say it often doesn't get any better than listening to Tina Weymouth...

It all started when I scrawled some shit like this in the journal, Sunday December 1st, 2019, SE Portland, Oregon.

It seems cliche, but life is an endless learning experience, but it's like trying to jot down thoughts along the way using your only pen [and] it, running out of ink...Invented time marches on...

Then it went a different direction, and after I finished it I titled it:

'Self-portrait of the Artist as a Relatively Young Man,'

I am always writing...But, as an art form, writing doesn't obsess me as much as music or especially visual arts...It ain't the same drug, but that doesn't mean I don't dig it, double negatives aside. Writing is very important to me, though, and there is no way in heaven, hell or in-between could I maintain sanity without it [again, I exaggerate here a wee bit!] It is the obsession on slow simmer, always bubbling underneath. I always do it more [writing] than I realized at the time, that is when I examine the whole of it globally after some years have passed. 

Since I was a child, I have always been an observer, and this is the chief driver of a creative mind, behind only obsessiveness...and it comes back to the observer...the driver of collecting things, movements, mannerisms, ways of speech, it matters not if the artist can't see, she is [an] observer through her ears, can't hear, collects all with his eyes, and so on. Obsessive observers, all. Same with songwriters, even instrumental ones, the moods are from living with and observing humans, while always being painfully aware, especially when said humans reveal their ugly sides, that we are also human; Obsessive observers of humans that are human...

...It gets inside us [the desire to create], like some virus, makes a home in our psyches, our very bones, and our obsessive natures process it all at excessive speeds inside, demanding to be let out from within the confines of our beings, to be thrown into the physical world, a smear, a dance, a primal yell, controlled vibrations of instruments, vocal cords, a confession of the shimmering universe around us. 

Tarkovsky, the great film maker, wrote of what I write of here as the desire to create being like a seed inside the artist that grows within them, becomes part of them, can't be ignored, that has to be exposed.

I agree with this [it] is more elegant than my virus metaphor...I have felt this, all of the above, since I was conscious. I don't remember a time when I didn't feel a drive to make something that didn't exist and [that] was important mostly on an emotional level.  

I fell into this 'Self-portrait of the Artist as a Relatively Young Man' while just scrawling random thoughts into a journal. But the stairs won't sweep themselves.

Wayne Ray Flower II
12/1/19 
  
Love to Folks and Critters...



All photos by Wayne R. Flower

I met Luna the other day, she was so sweet

 
 Denni the ballerina

 10710707

 PDX from the Hawthorne Bridge (click to see bigger version)

"Paint this side of the building."
"What color?"

"I don't care. City says paint the building, so paint the building, Picasso."

                                                    Breathe in the city

I wish I had a better camera here, this was by the train tracks, someone had put up on little stands these cool lit up orbs, one was an eyeball, they were so cool, such a magical little moment to find them on the way to the bus. They were gone the next day.