Earth

I like earth. It is a jewel among galactic marbles. We count earths rotations and orbits as a measure of our time. The movement through space, a cycle, we define as a year. Now, December 31, 2007, as we orbit, we approach the imaginary starting point so we may mark another year. We say Happy New Year here on earth when the circle is complete. This ritual gives us a sense of a new start, a baptism from the previous year. We resolve and create intentions for the new orbit. We want a better life for ourselves and loved ones. The new orbit gives us hope. We like hope here on earth. All the planets like hope.

Why?

Why is it when people speak of their religion their mind closes? And why is it when people speak of their spirituality, their heart opens? Why?

Heart

Last August, I found myself in the emergency room of the heart hospital in Albuquerque, NM. It is an interesting observation, wondering if you are going to die in a few minutes. I have visited death many times before, but never when I was not under the influence of something. Death does not look as friendly when you're not trying to kill yourself one way or another. When I was younger, it just never occurred to me I would live to be this old. I remember the day I decided to live. I am not sure I actually decided to live or simply realized I wasn't going to die. Which ever it was, I knew I needed a better decision making device, so I threw away the 8 ball. Suddenly, the days seemed much longer. I was awake twice as long as before. The downstairs part of my house didn't have furniture, so it seemed logical to create a miniature golf course. A year passed. I became a master putter. Bored and broke, I began to make paintings again. Almost two decades later, I had forgot all about death. A stranger to hospitals or being sick for that matter, I imagined myself as a marionette with all the wires and tubes attached head to toe in the throws of the unknown. In the last days of summer, I swim laps at the gym each day. I like to watch my shadow on the bottom of the pool as I cut through the water. I observe evidence of myself.

Elegant Shapes

Rez Runner Trailer - Coming Soon

Life's To Do List

The second best place in the world to eat popcorn is the waiting room in the service department at Thunderbird Harley Davidson in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Mickey, a young salesman, spoke into the phone respectfully to the widow of a man who died an untimely death the day before. I licked the salt and grease from my fingers and tossed the crumpled white bag with red stripes into the trash bin. Mickey and I walked unnoticed, past mechanics with sprawled motorcycle intestines in each bay. Way back in the back, across from the chain link fence stood the dead mans bike. He had it shipped from Barnett's in El Paso. The only available olive green and black Nightster in the Southwest. Never ridden. I wondered how far down "Own a Harley" was on the dead man's list of Things To Do Before I Die. If he had known it was positioned just after, Die of a Heart Attack, I bet he would have moved buying the Harley up the list a little bit.

Batman

Batman Pancakes at the Frontier Restaurant on Central somewhere between the twilight's. The life map had a big X smudged with melted lipstick marking the spot. It's the kind of place where epiphanies rain down like spilled marbles racing for the gutter. As you pass the savant on the sidewalk practicing his favorite Tae Kwon Do moves, the florescent light inside reaches out like a savior. Radiation bathes your soul. No matter what you order, it looks like it has cancer. One wonders if it would have been wiser to wander the airport until the food court opened. Danielle breezed off to Canada to visit her new husband and to star in a horror movie. After three cups of warm black water with white sugar, Batman appeared. It was a sign as good as any sign you may have read about. Back out in the street an exchange of smiles glancing through the glare of the downtown night sky. Pulling away from the curb, Johnny Cash sang about being a sinner all the way through the best squealing u-turn the rental car had to offer. 60 and rising in a 35. Sucking the wine right out of the vine.....

Love is...

Love is like an onion, you peel back the layers until you cry.

Spring

Spring is hope. Buds swell and ache to bloom. Tan becomes green. Birds gossip. There is a busyness in nature we all appreciate. It makes us feel good. Spring is exciting. People make plans in spring. The heavens open and new life presents itself.

In the spring, ideas for creating explode in my imagination like popping corn. At first, I try to write it all down so I won't forget. A futile effort I soon realize. Years of incomplete lists are tucked away in filing cabinets, many cover pages in sketch books, some float around the studio on scrap paper like dandelions in the wind, others are written and fading on table tops or hidden by dribbles of paint, many are lost. Caging ideas in a list quickly makes them stale. Popcorn is best eaten warm.

The Responsibility of an Artist

One would tend to think the simple act of creating is the sole responsibility of the artist. To my thinking, this isn't so. An aware artist knows the finest art is created when the artist is not the source of the art. In fact, the finest art is created when the artist is merely a conduit for the intelligence in the nothingness. The intelligence in the nothingness, being the energy source of all creation. Imagine an extension cord. One end plugging into the source of energy, the other delivering the energy. Think of the extension cord, as an umbilical cord. The umbilical cord has no ego, it is not a person. The umbilical cord is the transfer system of energy from the source to the destination, the evidence of creation. In my mind, the sole responsibility of an artist is to trust the source and deliver the creative energy unsoiled by ego. Isn't this the responsibility of everyone?

Snow Angel

Deborah: winter 2006

I AM

A creative genius is the best way to illustrate the man Doug Aarne. I was blessed to play a small role in his first film, I AM. Doug recently informed me the film was On The Lot. I didn't know what On The Lot was. He sent me a link. On The Lot: I AM This little 13 minute film is a jewel. Treat yourself to a mental and emotional vacation and see for yourself. If you feel inspired, leave a comment supporting Doug.

Added 28 February 2007: Doug here is the poem you requested. This was part of a talk I gave at The Longyear Museum of Anthropology in association with my exhibition, Culture in Decay.

Art is not a mirror
Art is a hatchet
I am an artist
therefore
I am a savage
My color is the distillation of pure emotion
None burns more brightly than the fiery glow of the embers in my heart
Screaming hues of art, artifact and artifice
I am Big Chief
I am Tonto
I am the drunk on the bench
I am the Shaman
Choking on Indian head nickels,
I mutter the Ghost Dance under my breath
I scream my dreams in Technicolor
I am an artist
therefore
I am a savage

2007

Peace and Blessings for all in 2007 and beyond...