Old sketch book

I've been moving a lot in the past 2 years. I come across little treasures after moving, things I forgot about. Like this old sketch pad.

The thing about Pullman that was so easy was living down town, and walking through town all the time. And it was safe even at 3 in the morning. It was a real home town feeling.
This part of Seattle is a weird place. No body really walks. If you're out at 3am it's probably because you're on crack.
I'm all outta ideas. I got no venue. And no one to bounce ideas off of. Fml.

The other side

Well, how 'bout this.
Matthew Stars,
graffiti artist extraordinaire,
friend of
Sandy Morrison,
clean-up graffiti artist extraordinaire.

Sandy was a little bummed the other day. She just started her job with the city, and had a long discussion with her boss about the crime of tagging, which is part of the job. She gets to report it and take care of it. I asked how she felt about it, but she was still in a state of shock, saying she was murdering me. I think she feels pretty bad.
And it's not just the spray painting, it's everything, even the guerrilla gardening.
I find it terribly ironic. Sandy now destroys the beauty I created for her happiness. I wonder, if I keep making stuff, if she'll be sad from cleaning it up. Like a machine that is turning happiness into sadness.

I'm making a come-back baby

I had a hard time accessing my studio this month. A swarm of killer honey bees took it over. But they've been contained. I think I'll make an art piece of their dead bodies. Maybe glue then to canvas with honey, and mail it to PETA.
I have much much much to do, and imagine I will have to write it here nightly to keep you informed of all my adventures.
This town is not safe.

very very hard

It's very very hard here without other artists. I want to go back. I want to be bored of art talk. I want to swim in other people's projects.
Today, I walked through a student art gallery. It was soooo good. I need I need I need.
Even the online community was adequate, when it was there.
There's going to be mutiny on this ship... against Sandy. I feel like she snubbed me. In Pullman, she needed my help. Then she just ditched me for what? Reputation? Peace? Morals?
No more! I can't take it much longer.

New things

Triple Thick: a paint coating that is a glossy glaze, kind of a resin. (but beware, it doesn't work on receipts)

Yudu : a $299 home screen printer. (available at Michaels)
now too, you can walk into any michael's framing shop and just check out prices. Like this week's 50% off, you can view what it'll roughly be without even having to talk to anyone.

Podrunner podcasts: music to help train for marathons, kind of techno remixes.

One Foot

So, here's the 2nd row of milk jugs. There's the opening for the door in back.
That makes it 1 foot tall now!

Plastic moulds for everyone!

Here is the instructional website

http://www.instructables.com/id/How-to-Make-Your-Own-Prototypes-%3a-How-to-make-your/?&sort=NEWEST&limit=50&offset=50

And here's what I made!



And here's the vacuum





Here's some other stuff I looked at:

Rubber Moulds (using tape as shim line)
http://www.instructables.com/id/Moldmaking-With-Clear-Silicone-Rubber/

Lost Foam Casting
http://www.theworkshop.ca/casting/foamcasting/foamcasting.htm

Milk Jugs

Oh I was serious about making a greenhouse from milk jugs. Here's the pics from the other day, working on them. Tonight, I laid down the 1st row, but will have to wait till daylight to get good pics.

Being tested

Hmmm, there's so much more I wish was on the net... Like how long it takes to grow moss (and how to tell if your cat got lyme disease).
I just started growing moss, seeing how it does. I just learned how, by putting moss and dirt and buttermilk in a blender. We'll see... If it all works out, it'll further my guerrilla gardening plans.

Other than that, I haven't been up to much. Really trying to get this milkjug greenhouse underway.
And working on final projects for classes.
And learning French. I'm watch "Amelie", it's a good movie. Very artistic.

Work

Yesterday at work, I framed this cool piece of 10 by 10 art. It was like scribbles and splashes. But you couldn't tell which way it should hang. It made me so so very happy. I put a hanger on it. I wonder what she'll think. I wonder if it was upsidedown.

Sometime, when I'm wandering the store, I think of this I would take if I were isolated, just doing art. Like if you only have 5 things that you bought, and everything else was found objects. Hmm, maybe a glue gun, some scissors, needle nose pliers, a label maker, and a pack of colored sharpies. But you really can't underestimate a good punch, or safey pins, or cardstock.

Photoshop replaces art

I wonder now if my street art will be replaced by photoshop.
See, now instead of making art in public, I can sit on my computer and merge 2 photos together to make it look like I did a piece already. And no one but me would really know. Am I wrong?
I mean, 90% of my work leaves no trace anyway. And "no pic, no proof".
I feel that I shouldn't even dare to think such thoughts,
but I consider it a lot lately.
All I really want is a picture, right? That's all I have left. Why not skip the steps in between? Why not just make a picture without making the work. It's way more efficient, safer, makes people happy that I didn't ruin anything, yet I still get to keep my audience.

Now, I need a good rebuttal.

Lost and found

Lost: guts. When: these past 3 days.
I don't know if it was salmonella, but it could've been. Other than mono, that was the sickest I've ever been. When I am sick, when I stop puking my guts out, I always want candy. And fried donuts. So I had some chocolate ice cream and gummy bears. Then I started puking again. I tried to get mom to take a picture of it, but she wouldn't. It looked like paintings I've seen. (:

Lost: cell phone. When: about a week ago.
I guess I haven't really looked for it. But tonight, I really tried. I didn't find it, but I found a lot of other good stuff! Like my stamps, and a zip-lock bag of stuff (aka, yes stuff. memorabilia, little scraps).

Which makes me wonder how I do my art. Which comes first, the stuff, or the idea? And why does it never seemed to get more narrowed down?

Here's the thing

I'm out of it. Really. I know I'm always complaining about it, but I have little motivation to do art. I think it's getting better since I can Stumble again, that gives me some input. But no output.
Every time I try to give myself something like "everyday this week", I just end up forgetting. And I really don't have the habit of carrying my camera with me when I do make something.
And when I don't make stuff, I've come to realize, that I'm wasting time. I have to do to learn.
So there, I wrote it all out again.

linking

http://www.mattstars.blogspot.com

One giant step for guerrilla art...

I'm learning PhotoShop. It should make life SO much easier, no? I'll be able to take the picture, and adjust it nicely.
Only... Photoshop is expensive. So... I might only have access to it in school, until I become rich and famous. And I can't get there until I have better pictures... so the cycle goes.

The best computer ever

I just got my computer back today.
I'll be honest, I waited patiently, wondering, since October (end of August, really) when I could use my own computer and hardware again. I got it back, a new computer, when it was only in need of a hard-drive replacement.
I thought the repairs would cost hundreds of dollars, but they labeled it under warranty, even though I've had it (built by the same man) over 3 years ago. So they charged me nothing.
Everything is super faster and way better, and so I'm going to plug here for him.

Their names are Ed and Michelle Lane.
Ed used to work for some very elite cooperate computer companies. Then, after a long time of doing amazing certifiable work for them, he quit and opened his own business in town. His work is way better and he deals with each computer task personally. He used to have a shop downtown, but town shops fail, so he set up out of his house. His wife helps with the orders, and they do house calls too.
He does amazing, and fast, work. No problem is too big or too simple for him. (I swear, they came over one time because mom couldn't figure out how to turn on her computer!)
And he has high morals. You'll never feel cheated. He wants to keep his customers returning.

http://www.emtechcomputers.com/

It was the night before Christmas

The power went out yesterday.
It was back on by today. We trekked out to Grandma's, Us kids got stuck once. We chained up for a bit. Weather wasn't too bad, starting to melt, slowly, in town.
We're driving home, we live about 3 miles from down town, and we barely make it a mile, and get horribly stuck. We chain up the van. As we do, this huge old tree starts to crack and break over head. So, not only are we trying to chain up before any cars come around the bend, but also hurry before this tree lands on top of us. A car drives by, doesn't even make it to us and slide back down. I cover mom's eyes, and we barely make it out of there. We parked at the top of the hill, walk a mile down the valley and up the other hill, humming "I'll be home for Christmas..."
We call our little bro, who was going to mass before coming home and told him to stay at his fiance's house tonight. So, no Christmas with li'l Rayray.
Also, the UPS hasn't been able to get to our town for days now, so I've printed off what I'm getting and wrapping the printed papers in shoe boxes. Merry Christmas everyone!

I can't do this anymore

It started snowing on Saturday the 13th. And has not stopped. On Tuesday, I went to an engagement party, and Thursday, I went to work. They closed shop early and it was a careful drive home. I have not left the house since. We are buried here, we can't even walk to get away. There's a foot and a half and the coldest temperatures we ever seen here.
This place has become a mad house. Everything said is taken the wrong way, and all there is to do is watch the news or movies all day. And knit. There is little food left, but the appetite is wearing thin. The weather forecast is changing everyday, "tomorrow there will be rain and it'll melt off, tomorrow, tomorrow... tomorrow..."
Tomorrow, I go back to work. I'm not too sure how I'll get there, unless it instantly cleared up, but I'd rather be trapped out there somewhere than caged in here.
I swear, if the power goes out, I will barricade myself in my room with provisions to last until the snow has melted.

Where we are now

Finals were crazy. Super super easy. But each class had a project, an open ended project. Most of the people didn't know what to do. Not me man, all those assignments in art had me super prepared. The deadlines were obscure, and ended up being pushed up a week. Thankfully, I can always bounce back from sleep deprivation.

Works... uh. Well, I'm trained, finally. I get a lot of hours on my own. But I'm making a lot of mistakes. That part really sucks. Yesterday I didn't stretch a canvas tight enough, but couldn't because the paint was cracking. Then I cut this mat that didn't fit because the picture wasn't even to begin, and then it wouldn't fit in the frame... so I just taped it. With framers masking tape. And I didn't even get the lady's number or name, I just said to come back in 3 days. Then 2 other mats were multi-openings, that I put as in house, because I thought we did those type, but no. So, I have to cut them, "when I get time". Then, because I got a lot done after 9pm, I was going to call them later, but I lost track of who I needed to call to pick up their finished piece.
That was just in 2 days. The holidays are too much. We're trying to get all these orders done, and half of us are new and the other half can't keep track of us.

I'm hoping while on holiday, I'll be free to do my bigger art projects. I hope I hope I hope.

BRB!

Brb guise, I got finals to finish/cram. Like HOLY CRAP! FINALS?! SERIOUSLY?
I mean, I go the whole quarter, the prof never assigns anything, then BAM! Some serious load of homework and projects. So, see you soon! ... I hope...

waitin', wishin'

First: Bob Ross is my favorite magician. I sit there, watching, "and now we add a little blue here, and that'll give us our shadow." and I'm like "no way Bob, I don't see it." and then BAM! Magically, the mountain has a shadow, and looks like a picture of the fuckin mountain! How?

I felt it tonight. I get this feeling, on nights when I know I'll be out late, running around, tagging or just putting something up. It's like something in the air. I got off work at 11pm, and I wanted to do some sort of a piece.
But I didn't. Matt's grown up a bit, I guess. Or maybe I've been listening to Sandy too much. She's always so scared that I'm mess stuff up. I think she is that thing that's been holding me back lately. Sandy wants high quality stuff. She wants me to sit it out in the studio and finish a piece, and go put it up. Not that I'm totally against it.... but I've just never worked like that before. Everything I started had a 24 hour time limit, from prep and buying supplies, to taking the evidence photos. I gotta sit down and talk to her. I was created to be fast and messy and not care. If she wants slow and carefully work, she should do it herself!!

I was just sitting there..

I know this has been discussed to death, but it kind of just clicked over from apathy to interest today..
There was an article in one of the art magazine that someone was quoted saying that artists are trying to justify themselves lately, elevating their profession to that of doctors and lawyers, or at least teachers. I think it was called "practicing for the practice", and I started considering this business about practicing art.
Then it came to mind about 2 different types of art, "crazy art" and "crafty art". Crazy Art, if I may, is what I do. And lots of other artist. Shit that looks like it was mind-eye, an idea. Then there's Crafty Art. And I'm reminded of someone like Crista, or this guy in class who carves wood. That takes super amounts of time and skill.
Then I got to thinking how nice it would be to be a full time, hands down, no turning back, super hero artist. Getting to decide how I spend my day. Not having to worry if I'll get fired. I've always wondered about that kind of a job. The self made man.

To music or not to music

Music. Loud good music. I remember listening to a debate about whether one could listen to music and still achieve good work. It was such a non issue, hands down. Music. I focus when I listen to music. I have the radio in my studio, and my mp3 player when I'm out-and-about.
I just lost my ear phones for a week, and it was trying. I mean, I still work without it, but, it helps.
The thing is, I NEVER use music when doing something illegal or putting up pieces. I don't freakin dare. It blocks out sounds of my breathing and heartbeat, and the sound of people and cars. But sometimes I wonder if I should listen to a song or too. I know I get super paranoid and turn everything I hear into an emergency-run-away-fast sound. But maybe those are the sounds I love. Now, if I could record that feeling and those high-adrenaline songs and play them back while working, maybe I'd have something different altogether.

I got called out

I got called out. On my other blog. I got called out for not posting there.
It was delightfully offending. It made me happy. Like someone's watching. It was just the thing I needed, really.
You need community, you do you do. I miss having people ask what I was working on, or how it was all going.
I've been posting here a lot. WAY more than the other. In fact, I check this one near daily. And I check that one maybe once every other week. I go where the party's at, you know?
After I checked my reality, I went to my studio and took a good long inventory. Very good, seeing I do a lot of pieces sllooooowly lately. I realized I haven't done anything quick since summer.

So, I vowed to do a piece a day this week. I'll keep you posted.

oh shi--

Political cartoons, I add them to my list of inspirations.

My art is always torn, between building people up or tearing people down. Maybe I work up a lot of anger toward people, then finally break, and see the good again, and make a piece that reflects that.

Here's the thing. DDT that kills mosquitoes also was thought to have thinned the egg shells of eagles. They banned it. (the book Silent Spring). It has been studied, with no cancerous results, but possible diabetic effects. It was a wonderful mosquito killer, with a super long half life of anywhere from 1 month to 30 years.
Mosquitoes bring malaria. 1 in 10 people in the world will get malaria. Probably not in the US or Europe, because we were able to contain our mosquitoes with DDT. Millions of people in Africa however, aren't so lucky. It is there main cause of death. Africa is known for its poverty. And, after its banned in Europe and America, DDT couldn't be used in Africa, because it would look like we're killing them.
What if there was no Goodwill, all our used stuff we just threw away? because if it was no good for us to use, it's a outrage to give it to someone else.
Here's the moral question, would you rather have your country sprayed with a chemical that could be toxic, but save your people, or continue to die of a preventable disease? And it's not like all of America wasn't already drenched in it. We wouldn't be passing on any poisonous food that we hadn't already have the first bite of.

{as I say this though, the malaria foundation is doing a wonderful job of fighting for Africans, and inventing and providing newer and safer methods of mosquito protection for young children}

BFF

Paris Hilton needs a kitten as her best friend.

Aren't they the best? Mine is running around with a napkin in his mouth, wagging his tail. I think I'm going to get him a bone to chew on. I gave him a scrunchy we found earlier, he was all over chewin that up.

Oh! He lost it under the couch, better go rescue it.
He's amazing. He doesn't complain. Sometimes he cries, without meowing. Just blinks hard as he looks up at you, sadly. I can't resist. I just want to snuggle him. It's like having a little child. That isn't human, so you don't have to worry about the same stuff.
I can't wait till he's old enough to hunt.

Twice

I went to my studio. TWICE. It was very nice. I worked on some stuff, but didn't feel the guilt or pressure to work on everything.
I think a lot of it has to do with the amount of sunlight. It was nice when I had the afternoons free to go out there. But now, I have to go out in the cold, wet, dark. It's a freakin hassle, and I wonder how I can motivate myself.
Maybe if I had a fire place...

How to do it...

I need like 500 milk jugs.
And I can't think how. I'd like them within a week.
I'm pretty sure it's super illegal here to dumpster dive.
But... maybe I'll go drop off some recyclables, and pick some up while I'm there. Like a switcheroo. In broad daylight. But if I recall, they have lids on the dumpsters.
Think, think!

SO past my bed time

Just going to throw it out there,

I'm doing a project were I'm making a fall maple leaf long jacket. Either by gluing or sewing. Obviously fragile.
Then I'll make it out of fabric. Showing how nature becomes art becomes fashion.
Point being, if anyone has any examples of live nature via flora becoming wearable art,
throw it back at me.

The difference

I work at a craft store. I frame stuff. Like REALLY freaking frame stuff. This is not your grandma's framing job.
I know this store inside-out, upside-down. No, we do not have rubber bands. Nor garage sale stickers. We do have rock tumblers. But not sewing machines. Or cross stitch or embroidery. You can tell me what kind and color of yarn you need, and I can take you to it, and tell you when we'll be getting more.
We do not have giant bumble bees. We do not have mini zen garden kits. Nor do we have soccer keychains. But holy hell, people! Make them! We have everything to make your stupid stuff with! And if we don't, we have an alternative you can use. Sometimes, I want to take these people and just shake them, then slap them.
Then I wonder if it's just me, just the way my brain works. Like Sylar can see how to fix a clock. Maybe I'm a fix-it person. I'm not so much artistic or creative, I can just think my way out of a box.

Someday, I'm going to make a book and it'll be titled "All the things I made from Michael's while working there." And it will be filled with the craziest shit. But then people would be too amused and astonounded, and it'd just make me madder.

A few wishes

First, I wish to make a museum. Like OMSI. Or the water resource center we visited today.
Second, I'd like to follow the Lewis and Clark trail and stop at very place on the way.
Also, I would like to be a sleuth, with my own agency.

Also

This is fall.

More

The only solution to this is more drugs.

Once

I made it out to my studio once. Once. Once.
I couldn't move. I had too much to do. So much I haven't done.
There were penguins and people and queens and masks and frames and signs and fabric and houses.
And each raised there little fists to me.
Where have you been? I was supposed to be done weeks ago, you promised!
Look, there's too much guys! I told them. If I work on the penguins, I'll feel guilty about the people. And if I paint a mask, the fabric will get jealous.
I can't do this right now, I need more time!
Then I left.

DIY

Oh man.
I went to this Chestnut farm around here, with my fellow horticulturists. 780 trees, chestnuts sold only on the internet (not through stores), all retail, no wholesale. Owned and ran by a 70 year old couple. They built everything themselves. Some barns, some dryers. The refrigerator. They are super cheap people, but you wouldn't be able to tell. They even have a little home built kitchen that they make prepacked dinners, and chestnut flour.
They just built this maze out of 250 cedar trees.
And if that wasn't enough, the wife also raises national show beagle dogs.
Oh, and they practically live in a mini mansion with a circular drive and gate.

not one second

You can survive 75 days without food,
10 days without water,
about 4 or 5 minutes without oxygen,
but not a second without hope!

I'll be honest

I haven't even been inside my studio in a month. I imagine spiders. And mold.
I did a few pieces around. But they were quick, put together in my car as I was driving.
I feel embarrassed. This is a confession.
Why haven't I?
It's raining. It's dark all the time. I don't have the time. I have other things to do.
No one notices my works. Why bother? All this work for nothing. No fame, no money.
No one to say "did you do that?"
I'm getting nothing with my art here.

On the flip side, I can't give up. I have to remember what I came from. And hope that I can reach it again, here. If I can make it here, I can do anything anywhere. I am an artist! in the words of Katie.

I, Matt, promise to go into my studio each day this week. And to permanently change one thing in this town by Saturday night.

Rainy day

My grandpa passed away Thursday evening. It's been hard. Grandma has a hard time taking care of stuff, so my folks have been with her 24/7. We were the closest family. The rest won't be here till Monday and Tuesday, for the services.
Grandpa was the greatest. He was an flight engineer on the B24's in WWII, based out of England. He moved her with Grandma from Nebraska. They owned about 100 acres on the edge of town, where they had a farm, until they moved into Longview about 15 years ago. He worked as an electrician for Bonneville. And he loved nature. He had a very innovated way of growing apples, years ahead of his time. He had a mini orchard in his backyard that gained a lot of fame. He would read us Calvin and Hobbes comics, and we'd watch old back and white comedies with him. He loved his memories and stories from his past.
Grandpa had a solid faith. We prayed with him the night before he died. I learned a lot from him, and my love for God is intertwined in his. I feel peace, knowing he's with his Savior now, where there is no pain or as dad says "no weeping."

Crits

I got my "60 day review" from work the other night. About 30 days overdue.
Critique, they call it.
Weird. I've never been critqued outside the area of my art. It was a personal critique about my personality and my work ethic, etc.
It's taken me days to get over. It was super harsh, saying I often leave the customer think for themselves (oooh, very bad), have come to work flustered and tired on several occasions, and compromise confidence when I don't have the answer.
Well. I took it all without saying a word.
I know a few things to be true. I can't "snap out of it" as soon as I hit the door and leave my personal life on the other side. I'm a human being. A super human being at the moment, taking a full class load and work and maintaining art and life. Also, I HATE being in sales. I have only recently given up trying to tell myself otherwise. You can't always fake an answer.
But, I think I'll try to groom myself up, iron my clothes, and put on some cheezy goodness next week. And be push aggressive. Maybe go to the other end of the spectrum, and hopefully they'll land me in a nice compromise.

boy oh boy

Wow, what the hell was this week about? Seriously. I didn't catch a break all week. Fuck. I feel like I wasted the entire week. I went to school, worked, went to meetings. I shouldve invested in some better drugs.
Fuck. I can't get over it. Maybe I need to quit. Make more time in the day.
I have the weekend off, and so much I want to do for myself. Murphy's law says none of it gets done.

Where's the money, Lebowski?

Let's talk about work.

There's my personal job as an artist, which is going very well. It will need a lot of work in a while, to upload the results. I'm between computers, so it's slowed down a bit. But the real world work is going great, with new places of venue. However, I haven't applied to a show (with no computer) in a while.

Then there's the job I do fixing other people's art. The "rent paying job". Let's talk about the economy and how everyone's just trying to pay their rent, and save their art till they have the money. Art is a luxury, let's not kid ourselves. But because the job is set in stone, they don't have to lay me off, they just shuffle me down to alphabetizing stickers and organizing colored card stock. Which, however, is going up because unemployed people can spend a little money to stay home and scrapbook. While fine arts is going down, craft is going up. Take note.

Finally, there's the job that will someday maybe get me a better job, and calms the spirit, and that is the plant business. Which is doing pretty dang well. Because who the hell doesn't want a cute little green thing that will love them and grow for them even when the stock market hates them and the banks are denying them loans and taking their housing? And who wouldn't want a beautiful little bonsai to stay home and manage instead of that trip to Vegas that had to be canceled to pay the medical bill the insurance didn't pick up on this time? Seriously, the plant business is making me a little sad lately.

RUN!

The deer are eating all our herbs!
Grab the broom, we gotta chase them away!

Things to write on a wall.

Gardening is not a winter sport.

Also, I am not your sugestion box.

true story about peppers today, in haiku

set my mouth on fire
imagine my dear stomach
fingers with band aids

http://www.cowboybooks.com.au/html/acidtrip1.html

Check out this link.
It's about a guy on LSD doing art drawings.
Now, I'm conflicted.
It's in the name of Science and Art.
But is it safe? And is it legal?

Then we need to also check out this link
http://www.lifenews.com/state3158.html
Ooh, this is the one to talk about. Sick? Art? Activism?
(If it's too long to read: An artist gets pregnant a lot and then aborts the fetises and films the later, and collects the blood and guts sample)



SO, what is "game" for an art piece? Can I only use the tangable? What about dreams? Or inducing dreams? Or hallucinations? Or can I only use good ethics? Is art only the good feel stuff?

Dreamland

Ryan orders a glass of Hogue Late Harvest White Reisling, following the bartender to the back. He returns to the round table, across from me, where he turns it upside down on the table. I jump back, but it hasnt spilled a drop. It hovers there in the glass. He's possessed, or there's a grand trick behind it. He bites a baby lime off the bottom of the stem, the size of a pea, and holds it between his front teeth. Now he lights a little candle where the lime was, I smell the lit match, the wine, and the lime and wonder what it reminds me of. He flips the glass rightside-up, downs the wine in a few breathless gulps, and puts out the candle with his tounge, then spits the lime into the empty glass, with a smirk of pride to great the applause of mastering this complex drinking techinque. Later, between conversation, he lazily munches on the glass as though it were a snack, like a bowl of chips.

I'm so tired I can hardly breathe

I'm so tired I can hardly breathe

This kid today, maybe 20 years old? works a lot of hours, telling me how tired he gets. He pulls out some knockoff "yellow jackets" for his pockets, aka super caffiene. Like 300 mg each.
So, I wonder, in the name of art, of doing a project based on caffiene. It would sure be interesting, with my struggle to stay awake. Hmmm. I never know about this experiments for art projects. So controversial. And possibly dangerous.

Someone else do it, okay? Then tell me about it.
Oh, let me dig something up. No no, I'll save it. I have a link about this topic to show you later.

My Wayfarer Lady makes me think

I've never concidered this before,

Do we have to love our own art?

Seriously, can you make pieces you don't like, why would you, or do other people just have to like it, or does that make us a sell out. But if we just make art we like and not care what other people like, does that just make us a closet wanker.

Do I only display, keep, art that I love.
Do I only enter pieces I love?

Sad in spirit

1) A dying grandfather
2) gas prices
3) a complicated friendship
4) no exact plan for the future
5) too cold to garden
6) no time to volunteer

his song

Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see. It was grace that taught my heart to fear and grace my fears relieved. How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed. Through many dangers toils and snares we have already come. It was grace that brought us safe so far and grace will lead us home. The Lord has promised good to me, his word my hope secures. He will my shield and portion be as long as life endures. When we've been there 10,000 years bright shining as the sun, we've no less days to sing God's praise than when we had first begun.