HAPPY 34th BIRTHDAY, DOUGAL TUKTEN NERALICH
American Art – Part I of III: Jack Smith
In the words of one writer, “Jack Smith was born in 1950 in Fremont, Michigan. At age 16, he began his training at Interlochen Arts Academy in Michigan before moving to Ohio to attend Columbus College of Art and Design, the Instituto de Allende, at San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, Mexico and Thomas Jefferson College. He now resides in Taos, New Mexico. Reflecting a profound knowledge of art history and an alchemist’s sense of the painting craft, contemporary painter Jack Smith has forged his own place amongst the most powerful of contemporary painters working in America.”
Mexican Art – Part I of II: Raphael Rodriguez
In the words of one writer, “Mexican portrait painter Raphael Rodriguez is an architect who has been dedicated to the visual arts since 1998.”
From the Music Archives – Part I of II: Charlie Parker
“Music is your own experience, your thoughts, your wisdom. If you don’t live it, it won’t come out of your horn.” – Charlie Parker, American jazz saxophonist and composer, who died 12 March 1955.
Mexican Art – Part II of II: Carlos Cortes
“Nothing is illegal if a hundred businessmen decide to do it.” – Andrew Young, American politician, minister, social activist, and diplomat, who was born 12 March 1932.
Some quotes from Andrew Young:
“In a world where change is inevitable and continuous, the need to achieve that change without violence is essential for survival.”
“President Jimmy Carter was a citizen soldier. Ironically, he was considered weak because he didn’t kill anybody and he didn’t get anyone killed.”
“It is a blessing to die for a cause, because you can so easily die for nothing.”
“Civil rights leaders are involved in helping poor people. That’s what I’ve been doing all my life.”
“I tried. But not everybody thought so.”
“If you’re a preacher, you talk for a living, so even if you don’t make sense, you learn to make nonsense eloquently.”
“Look at those they call unfortunate and at a closer view, you’ll find many of them are unwise.”
“On the soft bed of luxury many kingdoms have expired.”
“To find people who don’t want anything is rare.”
“Tomorrow is the day when idlers work, and fools reform, and mortal men lay hold on heaven.”
“Wishing, of all strategies, is the worst.”
Here is one writer describing the artistry of South African painter Mustafa Maluka (born 1976): “(He) cites various art historical and cultural sources in his work. His interests range from design and fashion to art history, cultural analysis, philosophy and psychology. Maluka’s working method is the process of selecting and assembling portraits. He collects images of faces that have a particular look, that project a particular energy and pride. He liberates the images from their original context and recreates them in a new form on canvas with many layers of paint.”
Mustafa Maluka lives and works in Finland.
Here is the Artist Statement of Chinese painter Lin Wang: “Because of being trained from an early age and years of formal training in traditional oil-painting, highly detailed academic realism exerts a tremendous influence on my work. Surrealism has also affected me in my use of misplaced objects and in the idea of doing fairly realistic situations that are confounded by odd relationships and strangely connected elements.
I am more a universal artist, open to different themes, forms, and techniques and always striving toward progress in painting without restricting myself to the confines of a specialist output. I insist that the subject matter of every painting has its own manner of expression. An artists’ style shouldn’t overshadow the artwork’s subject matter. My painting style matches the various emotions I have about different assignments.
I would like to think that making art is separate from my life, but I give full attention and total involvement to each of them.”
From the Music Archives – Part II of II: James Taylor
“I would advise you to keep your overhead down; avoid a major drug habit; play every day.” – James Taylor, American singer-songwriter, guitarist, and five-time Grammy Award winner, who was born 12 March 1948.
“When I hesitate, I do not paint. When I paint, I do not hesitate.” – Jean-Paul Riopelle, Canadian painter and sculptor, who died 12 March 2002.
“History repeats itself. Historians repeat each other.” – Philip Guedalla, British barrister, historical and travel writer, and biographer, who was born 12 March 1889.
Some quotes from the work of Philip Guedalla:
“The detective story is the normal recreation of noble minds.”
“Autobiography is an unrivalled vehicle for telling the truth about other people.”
“People who jump to conclusions rarely alight on them.”
“Biography is a very definite region bounded on the north by history, on the south by fiction, on the east by obituary, and on the west by tedium.”
“Greatness is so often a courteous synonym for great success.”
“Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?” – Jack Kerouac, American novelist, poet, and author of “On the Road” and “Dharma Bums,” who was born 12 March 1922.
Some quotes from the work of Jack Kerouac:
“There was nowhere to go but everywhere, so just keep on rolling under the stars.”
“A pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.”
“Happiness consists in realizing it is all a great strange dream.”
“Great things are not accomplished by those who yield to trends and fads and popular opinion.”
“The best teacher is experience and not through someone’s distorted point of view.”
“I realized these were all the snapshots which our children would look at someday with wonder, thinking their parents had lived smooth, well-ordered lives and got up in the morning to walk proudly on the sidewalks of life, never dreaming the raggedy madness and riot of our actual lives, our actual night, the hell of it, the senseless emptiness.”
“I was surprised, as always, be how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility.”
“My witness is the empty sky.”
“I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don’t worry. It’s all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don’t know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is all right forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect. We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It’s a dream already ended. There’s nothing to be afraid of and nothing to be glad about. I know this from staring at mountains months on end. They never show any expression, they are like empty space. Do you think the emptiness of space will ever crumble away? Mountains will crumble, but the emptiness of space, which is the one universal essence of mind, the vast awakenerhood, empty and awake, will never crumble away because it was never born.”
“I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.”
“What’s in store for me in the direction I don’t take?”
“I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was – I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.”
American Art – Part II of III: Jon Redmond
A Poem for Today
“A Farmer Remembers Lincoln,”
By Witter Bynner
Well, I was in the old Second Maine,
The first regiment in Washington from the Pine Tree State.
Of course I didn’t get the butt of the clip;
We was there for guardin’ Washington—
We was all green.
“I ain’t never ben to the theayter in my life—
I didn’t know how to behave.
I ain’t never ben since.
I can see as plain as my hat the box where he sat in
When he was shot.
I can tell you, sir, there was a panic
When we found our President was in the shape he was in!
Never saw a soldier in the world but what liked him.
“Yes, sir. His looks was kind o’ hard to forget.
He was a spare man,
An old farmer.
Everything was all right, you know,
But he wasn’t a smooth-appearin’ man at all—
Not in no ways;
And a swellin’ kind of a thick lip like.
“And he was a jolly old fellow—always cheerful;
He wasn’t so high but the boys could talk to him their own ways.
While I was servin’ at the Hospital
He’d come in and say, ‘You look nice in here,’
Praise us up, you know.
And he’d bend over and talk to the boys—
And he’d talk so good to ’em—so close—
That’s why I call him a farmer.
I don’t mean that everything about him wasn’t all right, you understand,
It’s just—well, I was a farmer—
And he was my neighbor, anybody’s neighbor.
I guess even you young folks would ‘a’ liked him.”
American Art – Part III of III: David Shevlino