“Gatorade Isn’t The Only Refuel”
21 Saturday Mar 2015
21 Saturday Mar 2015
20 Friday Mar 2015
MARCH 20th, 2015
*This Blog I wrote January 2nd, 2015. For whatever reason, it stayed in “drafts”.
JANUARY 2nd, 2015
On my flight home last night I watched the movie “The Hundred Foot Journey” — Very “Under The Tuscan Sun” which I enjoyed.
The Hundred Foot Journey is a you-meet-me-half-way, I’ll meet you half way ………………………………… you. go first.
In the action of painting, I meet the canvas half-way; it meets me the other half. Sometimes it’s a war between the two. I go half way and the canvas only meets me quarter the way.
Is it me who fills in the quarter missing or do I wait for the quarter which is missing to be filled by the canvas??, arm-wrestle for the space to be filled?
I prepare the canvas at 100%, shouldn’t I at least get the other quarter to participate?? Basketball without a ball is just “basket.” I don’t know the rules of playing “basket”, all I know is I can only hang from the basket for three seconds. Why? I don’t know. There’s a “ball” in painting too, meaning: I prepare the canvas and paint half the canvas. Half the the canvas will absorb colors and textures from me through mutual creativity which is 100% participation. There’s no compromise. Just the smearing of paint, and paint being absorbed by the canvas. That’s all. That’s it. It’s a tennis match between canvas, tools, acrylic, tempera and finally my signature : my signature. My signature only. The canvas signature comes through the absorbed paint; no absorption–no signature. A canvas sans signature halts the artist from displaying artistry. Non-paint absorption leaves a vacuous kaleidoscope impression on the side of the brain which conjures up artists’ visions.
No outlet in bringing vision to life? Artists’ gone crazy are all too often the crazies that are best known for their impeccable artistic ability, commonly, at most, one-or-two impeccable abilities..
MARCH 20th, 2015 — GOOD FRIDAY
jersey, my cat, likes to sit next to me-meow, I mean now, when I paint. Next to me, means, on me. She never did this before. Since Eddie’s gone, jersey’s been much more cozier with me, which is gr8. The amount of room I have to paint in is too small as it is, and now jersey’s in the mix as well: fine by me. She has blue paint on her from yesterday.
To poop’d to write; Shoulder’s are killin’ me.
©JasperKIRK
©JasperKIRK
19 Thursday Mar 2015
MARCH 19th, 1015
It was hard to do 5 today. I’m at 860 paintings. At 853 paintings, my “Challenge 1,200” began. I still enjoy it, a lot. It’s the wear ‘n tear on my body. Painting’s the easy part. It’s all the other physical actions which wear me out :
Every time, since I started painting, last July 4th, every painting bleeds paint on my cement floor which needs to be cleaned up immediately. Even the littlest of paint will make my canvas stick to the cement. If I were using an easel it wouldn’t be physically demanding, albeit, my lower back would be killin’ me from standing for the lengths of time.
I don’t work on an easel because I don’t paint that way. I’m always twisting the canvas to work from all sides, that in itself is demanding. I have such a small place to work in, and the tears ‘n rips I get are from the canvas hitting my armoire legs, my desk legs, the chair legs to the desk, my pillar, the one sofa leg, as well, the paint which is right on the periphery, and, my knees and feet. I paint 36″x36″. The space I have to paint on is 40″x42″. It’s exhausting. As I say, the easiest part is painting. I’m not bitchin’ I’m “just sayin'”
JasperKIRK
18 Wednesday Mar 2015
MARCH 18th, 2015
Went to the Doc yesterday to see about my aches and pains. Some aches are from being 60; a lot from painting and perhaps arthritis. I’m gonna see a Rheuma`doc next week.
I painted 5 today : I never post my landscapes as I don’t care for them; I’m just not a landscape kinda guy : Garden’s yes, mountains and pine trees, no. I do however, LOVE the smell of pine.
©JasperKIRK
17 Tuesday Mar 2015
MARCH 17th, 2015
It came to mind : Do I have fun?? Hmmmm. Fun as a kid was goin’ to the park, an annual fair, playin’ kick-the-can down the street, Marco Polo in the pool, sliding on cardboard boxes down the hill behind the Stevenson’s, riding bikes down three deeply inclined hills especially Paseo. Paseo was the grandest of all slopes. One slope straight down. 500-600 yards. We could see straight down, but we couldn’t see from a distance if a car was comin’ out of a driveway. There wasn’t a lot of action on those hills. It was private; If you didn’t need to be there, you wouldn’t be there. Even driving down Paseo was enough to steal my breath. It still does. Kathy & Tom live up there where eagle’s fly. How homes were built up there is pretty amazing; Pools and patio’s on stilts, like the London’s home and the rest built on the edges. The views are amazing. I always go up there for memory lane. Our house in the hill’s was built on hearty earth. There was no way our house was gonna slide down a hill; many gardens and backyards did just that. Our neighbor’s hill slid into Tatianna’s pool. That was fun.
There were three one car accident’s on our hill. One car in the middle of the night, I was young. The car took down several mailboxes and boulder’s and crashed and stopped abruptly at Pat & Ron’s incinerator. TG there was an incinerator. This car left a trail of minor destruction. What was lasting was the zig-zagged drag marks in the streets from the boulder’s and mail box’s which were impaled under the car. Then a mail truck lost it’s breaks and picked up speed backwards, caught flight, went through the roof of a neighbor’s kitchen; I wasn’t baby sitting there that early evening. Another Mail truck didn’t take a hairpin turn well one day and ended up in the Byrd’s house. My mom and my aunt were in my aunt’s 65 yellow, black top Mustang and the power steering went out as they needed to make a right turn. The only other option was to die going over the edge of a steep embankment. They both pulled the wheel to the right and the Serbian sister’s took that right. They left the car there and had a story to tell. The steepest of driveways was Dottie and Roland’s. You’d have to see it to believe how one had to maneuver it. The middle sibling, BB, had no fear. She even did it with her left foot on the lower part of the dash board; BB always drove that way. Surprising she didn’t opt for a stuntwoman career.
This was all a mico-second of my earlier years. So yeah!, I had fun. The question is how am I having fun now??
©JasperKIRK
16 Monday Mar 2015
MARCH 16th, 2015
My attitude toward painting shifted. I like the shift. It’s hard to go through. We grind our gears to hold us back from shifting. Shifting veers from habitual habits. It’s hard to shift into new gears. Realizing a shift is occurring enables me to use my gears. Of course it goes much broader than acrylic paint. It’s a life-shift. And, like Domino’s, if one things shift’s, bing-bang-boom, all the other ones take on a rhythm.
©JasperKIRK
15 Sunday Mar 2015
14 Saturday Mar 2015
MARCH 14th, 2015
Much better day today. A very good day. Beautiful, sunny, tolerable chill. Very crowded on the streets as it’s St. Pat’s in Chicago. If you’ve never been to Chicago for St. Pat’s Day, they do it up. In fact, Chicago does everything “Up”. It’s also a statement for those in public office. Those who go wild on spending taxpayer’s money on huge firework displays, usually get voted back. Resident’s of Chicago don’t question where the money goes as long as there’s a party that night or weekend.
Two guys were playing chess next to me today at a S`Bux. One guy said twice, so I really heard it. He said, pertaining to chess, and I pertain it to life’s lessons, “It’s not what you have that counts, it’s what you give away.”
I did these three paintings today. I have four upstairs to finish.
©JasperKIRK
13 Friday Mar 2015
I’ve never had a bad Friday the 13th before. A horrible Friday the 13th. A downright killer Friday the 13th. I figured out today, that everyone will go through at least one shitttty Friday the 13th in their Life. Today was my day.
I threw myself into painting. Just two. Another JasperGARDEN, and the other, I don’t know what it is. I’m not finished with either. Today was for art therapy.
I took this foto not to long ago. It was beautiful that day.
©JasperKIRK
12 Thursday Mar 2015
MARCH 12th, 2015
845 paintings–355 more to go.
I’ve never done this type of “thing” before. I only knew what the concept of “… and, now the challenge begins” meant. For 844 paintings, I was o.k. Now, at 845 paintings, I feel the challenge. The feeling of this challenge: all challenge’s in general, is when the mountain gets steeper.
Today I painted one just for the hell of it. Usually, I paint to paint; today I made myself paint. The voice in my head which always says, “Just paint” I fought back with. “I don’t want to paint!” (I said in German).
Today I struggled. At this point I realized the challenge had begun. Just knowing the challenge had kicked-in didn’t improve the matter at hand which was about acclimating myself to the steeper terrain. I still don’t know what that means. In order to know what it means, I have to experience it. I can’t know about a volcano if I haven’t been in one.
I realize no one gets any where without getting out of the house. Even if you get out of the house, it doesn’t mean you know transportation routes to get where you don’t know where you wanna go. Just because I take three trains, four busses, a helicopter, camel, several taxi’s and follow some bread crumbs, then, arrive at some location, it just means that I took a bunch of transpiration to get to no where. However, if I realize there’s an opportunity in the frivolity of my spontaneity, just opening my eyes and other senses will lean me toward what I feel has more of the sites I want to see; Be a part of. Feel like I belong. Feel. That’s all. Just feel.
©JasperKIRK