"Fox"

I've discovered painting restoration videos on youtube.  They're so soothing and fascinating.  I suspect many people would see them as dull as watching fishing (which I also like), but I don't smoke pot, so you know, calming, ohhhmmm.  Fewer calories than chocolate.

I know art in a photo or video isn't the same as seeing it in person.  On the other hand, extreme close-ups of intricate details of Queen Elizabeth's dress isn't something I'll probably get to see in real life.  How was the lace painted?  Look at those pearls!  See the shadows on the embroidery stitches!  That's info I can use in my own work in the future.

Restoration is often a war on abuse.  One video showed a painting that had been ripped when it fell into a chair.  Nooooo!!!  Maybe you non-art types can't understand how seeing that damage could make me cry, but some of you can relate.  It's like seeing starving children and abused puppy commercials on tv.  Okay, maybe some of you don't care about that either.  There's no hope for some people.

The invalid painting is lovingly placed on the table for pre-op.  Nails are removed, dirt scrubbed off, yellowed varnish stripped away, holes patched, edges reinforced, old retouching removed... I'm sure all of this is tedious beyond belief and keeps cotton swab companies in business.  I keep thinking the restoration sometimes takes more work than creating the painting in the first place.  Eventually, the restorer gently dabs on new paint on the injured parts (the part I wish I could do) and a new coat of varnish seals it up for the next 100 years.

Proud before and after photos play at the end of the video, often with emotional music.  The baby has been saved!  Let's all rejoice together!  Onto the next abusive disaster.

There's something wonderful and lovely to think someone might like my paintings well enough to take care of them after I'm gone.  It makes me happy to look at my great aunt's art hanging in my computer room.  I hope someone else treasures it after me.

I saw multiple people messing with their phones while driving this week.  Nothing they were doing was important enough to put my life at risk.  They crossed center lines on the road but probably thought they were driving fine.  Everything these days is aimed at the trivial and immediate.  I think everyone would be better off if they slowed down and thought about what will be important in 100 years.

Think of Queen Elizabeth.  She had small pox as a child and used lead makeup for the rest of her life to cover the scars.  Once a week she cleaned it off with mercury.  I'm sure this seemed real important at the time, but it slowly killed her and made her look worse.  Her skin turned gray and her hair fell out.  Who knows what it did to her brain cells.

My advice?  Don't text and drive.  Watch paint dry.  Take life slower and don't worry about how many people "like" you at this particular minute.  If you want to join me in watching painting restorations, try this one by Julian Baumgartner.  I find it fascinating that he could rescue a painting on paper that was mounted on wood.

The art above is a detail from one of my recent I Spy paintings.  You can see I have monkeys in it but no foxes because Illustration Friday thinks the F is for Mondays lately.  Maybe I'll give you a fox next week if this pattern continues.

"War"

I woke thinking about dodge ball.  Brains are like this, spitting out ancient, trivial data for no apparent reason.  I sometimes enjoyed playing the game.  I thought boys could be unnecessarily rough, but I wasn't particularly scarred by the experience like some.  Why would my brain regurgitate dodge ball?  Why would the smell of the medicine ball and storage locker come back to me with such vividness?

When I saw this week's IF word is "war" dodge ball made sense, though I'm not sure how my dreaming mind would know which word was coming, and I'm not sure what to say about gym classes so long ago.

The actual war I'm fighting lately is against wildlife.  I hit the deer with a rock and broke my slingshot.  Both me and the doe were surprised I actually got her.  She looked at her chest in mild confusion, then went back to eating my tree.  I jumped around on the deck and yelled while she munched.  "I'm getting bigger rocks!" but I just chucked slingshot rocks.  A couple of lazy bounces later she was in the neighbor's yard.

It's pointless.  I'm on her daily rounds.  She walks right next to my window as I work on my computer every morning.  Her spotted twins tagged after her yesterday and I was torn between, "how beautiful!" and "damned varmints".  It doesn't help that I have a vast herd of groundhogs (6) and a squirrel.  They're cute too if they weren't trash compactors of everything I want to grow in the garden.

Against my social conscience, I went to Walmart for slingshot tubing because that's the only place I know that carries it.  I looked at people in the store because I've heard the dress code at Walmart is youtube worthy.  Everybody seemed pretty normal.  I saw guns lined up next to the slingshot supplies and briefly considered buying one.  I'd have a better chance of hitting the wildlife with a bullet than a rock, but you know, city ordinances, not really wanting to kill things.  I'll stick to rocks.  The wildlife is safe.  I'm just venting frustration.

I'm willing to share with wildlife.  Eat a little, but save some for me.  No, they just destroy everything.  I haven't gotten a pear for years.  They mowed down my tomatoes over and over last year.  Selfish and destructive.

I'm glad the US didn't start a war with Iran this week, but the warmongers will keep trying.  Of course, none of them would fight it and it's a proven way to win elections and siphon money from the populace into rich people's pockets.  I don't believe anything the administration says about the situation.  I assume the drone was over Iran.  Why have it anywhere except over their territory?  There was another incident recently where the US accused Iran but those claims were disputed by the people who were actually there. 

I've already admitted I considered shooting my wildlife this week, but it only took a little thought to get past that idea, an idea I probably wouldn't have had if I hadn't seen the easily accessible gun display.  People in power need to think a little more before they make war plans.  It would be better to challenge Iran to play dodge ball.

The illustration is something I did for the June edition of Mensa's Bulletin magazine.

"Giant"

Have you ever felt sorry for Goliath?  Maybe you don't really know the story, just that the young hero David triumphed over the giant with a rock.  In a nutshell, the Jews and Philistines had a war, Goliath was a giant, the Philistines' biggest, most fearsome warrior.  Goliath waged a psychological war by coming out every morning and challenging the Jews to send a champion to fight him one on one, victor wins the war.  David, a shepherd, hears the challenge.  Instead of fighting hand to hand, he uses his sling to kill Goliath with a rock.  David cut off Goliath's head and David is a hero forever more.

Maybe Goliath was just a braggart?  Maybe he just wanted the war to end?  Maybe he knew that taunting the Jews was keeping his side alive?  Since victors always write the history, the Jews tell this story as the true religion triumphing over the infidels.

David was brave, but maybe he was an idiotic young kid who hadn't seen enough of life to know he might be in over his head, but since his tactics won nobody seems to question whether or not he played fair.  He was clever and God was on his side.

I'm not preaching religion by talking about David and Goliath.  Whatever the religious ramifications, this is an old story which is believed by Jews, Muslims, and Christians.  I suspect most believe the story as it's told without looking very deeply into it, if they bother to read it at all.  What I'm trying to say is there's always more than one side to the story, even if the losers don't get to write it.

The war between the Jews and Philistines never ended.  We just call the Philistines Palestinians now and they're David at this point and the Jews are Goliath.  The Palestinians literally threw rocks this week while the Jews mowed them down with gunfire.  We're still fighting the same religious wars that we've been fighting for millennium.  I sincerely wish it would stop.

Every side of every war, each side thinks God is with them and not the enemy.  In most cases, both sides are praying to the same God.  Horrific things are done.  Whatever bad things happen because of us, well, that's unfortunate but forgivable.  Whatever bad things happen because of our enemies, they're evil.  Kill them.

What if Jews welcomed Palestinians as equals?  What if they shared power and worked towards agreements?  What if they just got together and honestly tried to get to know each other without weapons?  What if others stayed out of the fight?

I reshaped the flower beds in front of my house this week.  A neighbor went out of his way to tell me I'd done a good job.  It cost him nothing, but it made me feel good.  I gave him tomato plants.  He feels good.  I volunteered to plant the city's planters.  That's a task off a city worker and we're both happier.  What if more people looked outside of themselves to see what they can do to spread some happiness?

Power shifts and morphs.  If you're Goliath now, be careful, you might meet a David.  Maybe you'll become a David.  Plan ahead by getting along with your neighbors.  Send them some love.  Compliment their flowers.

"Refrain"

My Girl Scout troop sang in public a lot.  We went to the mall when that was new, and a pretty woman gave us hot cider and candy.  I liked singing, and liked it even more when I got candy.  I’m sure we were adorable.  People smiled a lot.  The newspaper printed our performances and names.  It’s too bad the media doesn’t do more of that kind of feel-good stuff these days.

I was feeling semi-professional by the time we were sent to the nursing home.  We knew our song list and had it down pat.  I happily went off to “cheer up the old people”.  I liked old people, so cheering them up was fine with me.  Besides, old people were usually good for some cookies.

The nursing home was a low, dark building.  It was hidden behind trees because nobody really wants to look at old people or to be reminded that we’re all going to get old someday.  Once you’re sent there, you’re just waiting to die.  I knew that.  My great grandpa got sent to one when he was really old and he didn’t last very long after that.

Inside was dark too.  It took me a minute for my eyes to dilate and see my surroundings, and I gasped when I did.  Old men were lined up in wheelchairs in the dark, ratty lap afghans were clutched by arthritic hands – if they had hands.  Crippled feet were tied to footrests – if they had feet.  Their heads hung listlessly and slobber dripped on their shoulders.  Their eyes were blank, or ashamed, or missing.

It was a nursing home for WWI vets.  I knew about war because Viet Nam was going on.  I knew people could die, but I didn’t know about this.  I tried to tame my sick stomach while we were arranged in front of the broken men.  I tried not to cry.  I didn’t want them to know they made me sick, that I was glad the nursing home was hidden from regular people having regular lives.

One old man sat in his chair and watched us.  He and another man seemed like the only ones actually living in reality.  He gave a little smile, and I sang just to him.  I couldn’t bear to look at the others.

WWI is so much ancient history now, and it was back then too.  Was it worth wrecking those men’s lives?  Was Viet Nam worth it?  Afghanistan?  WWI created the circumstances that created WWII.  WWII victors drew arbitrary borders in the Middle East, which created ongoing wars there.  Nothing good comes from wars except making the rich richer, and in my opinion, they’re already rich enough.  My life experiences made me a life-long, non-apologetic pacifist.

I’m upset Congress plans to wreck Obama’s deal with Iran, just because it’s a deal that Obama arranged.  They hate him beyond any kind of reasonable discussion.  Idiots like John McCain want to live in a constant state of war and don’t want to negotiate with anyone, but there’s no reason to have another war in Iran.

Iran will develop nuclear energy whether we like it or not.  Making a deal with Iran to oversee and limit that development is only good.  War is stupid and the price is too high.  Maybe we should send all those old men in Congress to the nursing home?

The refrain from The Ballad of Billy Jack…

Go ahead and hate your neighbor
Go ahead and cheat a friend
Do it in the name of Heaven
You can justify it in the end
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgment day
On the bloody morning after...
One tin soldier rides away.

I know this is isn’t a great video, and if you’re too young to remember Billy Jack it probably looks stupid, but I’ll admit that watching it made me cry.  Same things then are the same things now.  “Give peace a chance.”