Alas Poor Yorick
(9.125″ X 13.5″)

Honestly, I’m not much of a Shakespeare fan. In fact of all the works I was required to read, this is the only line remember, and it has more to do with watching L.A. Story than the fortitude required for wading through the King’s English.

This a small study executed from a cheap, plastic budget friendly skull I use for a reference model. The media is a combination of latex house paint, charcoal and graphite on canvas. Admittedly the color choices are a bit odd, but they are leftover from various house projects and oops paint purchased at the hardware store.

Gluteus
(11.875″ X 9.5″)

This mixed media work is comprised of latex paint, china, marker, charcoal, and graphite executed on masonite panel.

Both pieces were attempts to erect some semblance of composition from chaos. In other words, neither was planned. The base painting was done with no regard for composition or subject matter, the idea being allowing the base layers to dictate forms that would work. Neither piece reflects the destination I see for my creative attempts, merely stops along the journey, yet both allowed the opportunity to explore media compatibility and abuse it.

There can be a fine line between a routine that drives us forward and brings us purpose and one that bores us in all its monotony after the third month of engaging in physical relations on the same evening of the week after the same mediocre television series in the same position. While it true, we do need moments that are almost sure things to look anticipate, we also need enough flexibility to maximize the potential of each available moment.

Rather than relate all the tediousness of what has become current routine, I’ll just say, I found a rhythm that is working…you know for the moment…or until it ceases to work. Such is everything. Life wouldn’t be what it is if we were denied opportunities to adapt.

When things go well, I am tight lipped, and when things go poorly, I am also tight lipped. Sans the complaining. I’m not sure why I bother. In general, I expect things to go poorly, and when things go well, I am suspicious. I suppose complaining is my way of gloating about knowing things wouldn’t go well to begin with. Nothing like congratulating yourself on being right about shitty things, eh?

Anywho.

I function with a minimal sense of routine. Though there is a dullness in repetition, there is also, knowing there is time set aside for creative interests. I have difficulty setting aside time to do things I enjoy, if there are other tasks or responsibilities that need to be done. My Better Half suffers from the opposite affliction, and I envy him for it.

Chalk Pastel

Oil on canvas.