Enduro (Latin for Keep On Truckin’), Going Over the Horizon, JellyRoll, Tent Preachers vs. Ted Talks, Passion, A Punk Giveaway, Two Books I Recommend and One I Don’t, and a whole lot more.

To all who read this…blog, or ramble, whatever it is: I sure hope there’s something (or some things) of interest here for you. I see the metrics rise monthly when it goes out to you, and think, hey great, the whole readership is checking in. The least I can do is give you something of value among the rambling for your trouble. I love writing it, I love writing, period. Love/hate, you know. It’s not like a water tap, turn it on. But I’ll keep doing it until it’s dry. Onward.

Enduro reminds me of motorcycle racing, a lot of it airborne, but it also means perseverance (in Latin). And I saw something enduro-related the other night while watching the CMA awards that got my attention; Jelly Roll's award for new entertainer of the year.

Talk about presence, Jelly Roll is it…and he’s preaching the gospel of KEEP ON TRUCKIN’!

He’s a large, passionate fellow and he addressed his win with the fiery gusto of a revival tent preacher. Take a look here at his unprepared speech about perseverance. Whew. I’m a big fan of well-placed passion and this man just doesn’t hold back. I remember thinking that some ironic, amusing TED speakers could use a touch of this. And it also brought to mind the tent preacher scene in True Detective #1 which was absolutely mesmerizing; this is just the teaser as they (X and YouTube) took down the whole scene, but it’ll give you a taste. I’m looking forward to True Detective #4 with Jody Foster, set in Alaska, coming in January. Nic Pizzolatto writer of all the TDs is a genius.

Books!

In this tattered globe’s current state, diversion is called for, and here are a couple of pop-culturish offerings I swear by and laugh with. The first dovetails with the enduro theme, Keep Going by Austin Kleon. This wise kid is less than half my age, yet I take his advice freely and often. This is his best book and I keep it handy to open at random and clear my head with a page or two. I recommend this lively collection of affirmations to…anyone. And The Fran Lebowitz Reader is full up with her own brand of wonderful advice. In Tips for Teens, she says, “Stand firm in your refusal to remain conscious during algebra. In real life, I assure you, there is no such thing as algebra.” Sage. Again, I recommend it for all.

November’s No-strings Free Giveaway

It’s a  gently used, freshly laundered (size large) t-shirt from EXIT, a head-banger outfit in Chicago which may or may not still be in business. A classic, either way. You might get twenty bucks for it on ebay. You might wear it to your next class reunion or to a holiday party. How you get it: be the first to comment below with your email address and I’ll contact you for your mailing address, stuff it in a softpak and ship it to you free of charge. Make your day, punk? Heads up; there will be a free…thing offered every month. If you look closely, that skull has a gold tooth. Neato.

A Few Words About Maui

Above is a before and after of the old Seamen’s historic hospital—note huge anchor to the left. We rented the bottom floor and the top was occupied by the architects who restored it. The “we” referred to, was a small ad agency that serviced some retail accounts on the island and a Westin hotel on the big island. We flew cheap standby on MidPac with work to deliver there and always caught a flight. The ocean view from this place was unobstructed back then (80’s) and we would have meetings in the front yard on chaise longues. With refreshments. Those days, man.

The structure is one of few in Lahaina still standing, but probably not for long. If you saw the Nov.19th 60 Minutes you saw the heroic Maui Fire Department, the hero who saved them, and the aftermath of what they were caught in, trying to slow the firestorm. If you can help, Maui has a long way to go; google aid to Maui and you’ll find ways. The Salvation Army, for one. The survivors are homeless. And buzzards circle, trying to buy their land.

Whoops, Outa Time

The front of my truck…enduro!

I had (much much) more, but no time left—I’ve got a Stage 32 class on preparing a pilot, in less than an hour—and no time tonight either as it’s Chiefs vs. Eagles* on Monday Night Football. After a bye week, I miss Taylor Swift’s boyfriend and that quarterback, too. I’ll leave you with yet another Bo Diddley youtube, this one about how he recorded his first big hit. Pay no attention to the really dopey titles someone stuck on the visuals, and some of the visuals themselves. Just turn the sucker up, close your eyes and lean way into it. Have a great super cyber black whatever (Thanksgiving) and I’ll get started earlier in December. Keep on truckin’ and xxo G

*That didn’t go well. But we’ll play them again.

Believing is seeing, capturing a favorite tree, eighth book is at the publisher, parts is parts, bucking bull of the year is a big softie, the Fermi paradox, the Banyan lives, and mucho mas.

“Sapiens might just be a misnomer…”

I wrote the last couple of blogs as a time-passing exercise. Fortunately I like doing it. I had stuff to share, questions to ask, but when I pressed the mailchimp button for the next day’s delivery to you, nothing happened. The next day or any other. The chimp sat on his furry leathery paws. (Do chimps have opposing thumbs? We homo sapiens think we’re pretty big deals because we do. We can take a perfectly fine planet and in a few hundred years ruin the sucker—that’s how impressive we and our opposing thumbs [and views] are.) Pardon the digression. Anyway it took a smart guy in Redondo Beach to nudge the chimp (Thanks, Ben!) and get this blog into your mailbox. He took time off a major automotive account to get the monkey motivated. (PS bold type is either a headline or a link)

Books!

This time it’s all about photography. I’m protecting my amateur status and trying to learn new things. I got a nice EOS (Electro-Optical System) Canon DSLR (Digital Single Lens Reflex) T7 for my birthday. It’s quite a nice camera and I learn a little more about it each time I use it.

I used to shoot a 35mm camera in the 60’s using Tri-X Pan film for grainy effects at low light. I put together psychedelic slides in 35mm format using Elmer’s Glue (which dried clear) and Dr. Martin’s brilliant concentrated dyes, ground-up crystals, all kinds of experimental things; projected them on large surfaces to the delight of a certain culture (“Far out, mannnn…”) and myself.

SEE/SAW, (Geoff Dyer), Reading American Photography, Matthew Brady to Walker Evans, (Alan Trachtenburg), 3 Fields of Vision books; Marion Post Wolcott, Arthur Rothstein, and Ben Shahn, and an In Focus book on Weegee, the controversial crime photographer.

Believing is Seeing is the last one on the right. Great title, that, but not my favorite—too polemical for my taste. I mean a great photo is a great photo whether the photo journalist put the battered Mickey Mouse toy in the bombed rubble or not. The visual statement is compelling. By Errol Morris. The Focus and Field books are great because they are mostly photos.

And any book on photography (or anything else) by Geoff Dyer is as entertaining as it is informative and SEE/SAW is no exception.

Above is a tree I sort of love, and see on my walks a lot. I’ve shot it with an iPhone but never to any satisfaction. Finally I shot it with my new Canon and a great telephoto lens and got just what I wanted. As of a few minutes ago, I have walked 22,386,704 steps, by the way. You see a lot of stuff at 22 million steps.

 Like this shed, to the right. Another subject I couldn’t quite get with the iPhone. The Canon and the right lens made all the difference. Thanks, Freddie, for the generous and fun gift. Now I’ve got to learn all the interrelated ways to shoot subjects. I’ve been lucky but now I’ve got to do some dial twisting and aperture rates like the big boys and girls do it. I’ll learn.

Another book. This one’s mine, my eighth, The Taste of Red-Orange, poetry. I shot the stuff with an iPhone. It’s at the publisher now and may be out yet in 2023. I did the design, layout, photography etc—Sara Pence did the finished art. I ate the popsicles off the sticks.

Parts is Parts

This will be a sculpture. It has to do with cops, Kansas City, a long poem, 1955, a 1949 Ford, me, Tennessee Ernie Ford, and other stuff. All will be revealed at a show in Overland Park in 2024 and this will be just one of the 20 or so pieces in that show. This one will be about six feet tall. Taller than me. Even the clarinet makes sense. Remember that unusual sound in “Sixteen Tons?”

The Latest on the Phony Basquiats

This one’s real but would you or the FBI know that? Here’s a link to the latest on the scam…

And in the interest of time, yours, mine, the chimp’s, and the fine fellow in Redondo Beach who helps unsnarl the lines of communication, I will leave you with these links (bold type) you can cruise in your spare time or ignore completely. (1) The promised soft-hearted rodeo bull, fun story. (2) The Fermi Paradox or Are We Alone? (3) Pharoah Sanders—this one’s an hour but is said to have changed lives (in a good way) and makes a delightful jazz background while you’re prepping the evening meal (if you’re one of those cutting board evening meal preppers) (4) Good news on the storied banyan tree of Maui. Happy October to all of you and maybe good news will swamp the bad in the coming months. Until November, friends, my best to you. G

Oh, and this

Speaker of the House announced—it’s an intern named Zach, says “This is gonna be Dope”

(Blog readers comment below)

Banksy in Oz? An 87-person house in Maui, a new book of poetry coming, sculpture show in March 2024, and much, much more!

Banksy has been formally invited to Wise Acres.

The barn at Wise Acres was built in 1894 and has been waiting for a Banksy ever since…

 A group representing the guerilla paint-and-fly-by-night artist asked for venues and Wise Acres responded immediately with a strong entry; the 1894 barn as canvas. Hey, if the KC Royals can move downtown and the Chiefs can consider North KC, why not a Banksy in Resume Speed, Kansas?

 We offered free parking, 24-hour pump water access, lighting apparatus for night stencil and graffiti work, and an open-gate policy for throng access for Banksy worshippers. Beat that, Downtown KC. And it won’t cost the town council a cent. (What town council?) Slight charge for selfies. More on this as it occurs.

  Maui Strong, Maui Generous.

Home to an extended ohana of up to 87 people at one time…

Of the many reports coming out of Maui, the warm spirit of aloha persists. Not the watered-down oft-uttered aloha greeting, but the essence, the core deal. It’s *”…the foundation of Hawaiian values. Love, affection, generosity, speaking from the heart, patience, and listening are some of its many meanings. In the present, “alo” means to share. “Ha” means breath, or life energy.” It’s extremely expressive to Hawaiians, and contains many permutations for a language that depends on only 13 letters. Aloha is what will reinvigorate the island, honor the lost, and welcome visitors once again. Typifying that spirit is this one story of many that brings the meaning of Aloha home (link).

*The above italicized excerpt in the text to right of photo is from The Homey Hawaiian blog at (link).

The view from Kaanapali…enchanting

I was fortunate to experience aloha in spades back when I was attempting to buy a small agency on the island in the early eighties. Very good friends, extended ohana in fact, discovered I was staying at The Pioneer Inn, and demanded that I come to Kaanapali Plantation during my frequent visits. Years later, one of them gifted us a condo there for the length of our honeymoon when Freddie and I were married on Maui at Kihei. An NBA star wanted to buy that condo but was told it was in use at that time; he indicated it was now or never. He was told, “Never, then. It’s in use.” Had I known, we’d have vacated it for the sale. (Never was not okay with him. He waited and did buy it.) The island is forever part of me, and those wonderful friends, though passed away, are aloha memories we cherish. What lovely times those were. Full of life and positive energy and friendships.

I recommend Maui Economic Opportunity, Inc. to anyone interested in helping mitigate the drastic needs Maui is suffering at present, and well into the future. It’s an island institution knowledgeable with Maui emergency demands; vetted and trusted, it’s the organization Freddie and I use.

 

G-Sculpture show coming March 5th to April 14th, Overland Park!

When the gallery I’d been showing at closed, unceremoniously and with zero warning, it put me into a bit of a funk. Some pieces I’d started remained unfinished and sketched pieces stayed on paper. Overland Park Arts to the rescue—and what a rescue! Tomahawk Ridge Community Center is the place; plenty of parking, a large open area where the sculpture can be viewed close up or from a comfortable distance, and a great expanse of wall space for hanging pieces. Easily accessed at 119th and Lowell it’s just a couple of blocks from the Blue Valley Parkway.

Red, reaching for a fly. He lives in AZ…

Prior experience with the OP arts people, at the Arboretum, was quite good. Some of my horses were placed in a shady glen and they found homes in Florida, L.A. and Scottsdale, AZ. And they won some jury awards. I’m planning a small horse or two for the 2024 Tomahawk show, probably no taller than four feet at the back, so possibly house-sized or garden-placed, we’ll see. Crows, too, as gallery-goers seem to like them. And a new direction; lit pieces with unusual lighting components. Neon, LED, retro bulbs. Abstract weird lamps if you will. And poetry pieces. More soon. Mark those calendars, please!

And this: gallery venue, non-gallery prices, reflecting no gallery commission taken. (Now showing: quite a nice selection of plein air paintings. Freddie and I took a stroll through during the Labor Day holiday and loved the show.)

Fifth poetry book in the works—might come out in 2023

The cover is two popsicle sticks on white. One has title. Back is some red-orange stuff including a mashed kid’s cowboy hat. The popsicle sticks are from two that I ate.

It’s called “The Taste of Red-Orange” and it has a publisher. It’s 81 pages now and could go as is, but I’d like to have 100 poems in it. Some of the work has been published in literary magazines, and more of it is awaiting acceptance/rejection, a long process. Some lit mags take six months or more to get back to you. I designed a cover and back and that is in finished art now, so we’re nearing the end of the process. This is what kept me going during the sculpture hiccup when I was just too pissed to weld anything. But it did give me some ideas that will appear in the sculpture show, one of which has a 1949 Ford grille and a long panel of rusty sheet metal that will lean against a wall, and, probably have a lighting component as well. The poetry is slopping over into the sculpture and so is some photography I’m contemplating. Bad Craziness, as David Ludwigs used to say. Which, of course, meant fun.

Books, of course. And where they lead.

Hold Still, by Sally Mann. Still Pictures by Janet Malcolm. An “In Focus” book about a 19th-century photographer, Julia Margaret Cameron. A pile of others. And the two pictured here; the William Eggleston MoMA show, and The Dyer book. Something has led me to read about photographers whose work I’ve loved over the years; Weston, Lange, Avedon, Evans, Gedney, on and on. Oddly, I read several Dyer and Malcolm books for the writing, the essays—but so many of the essays of both these fine writers were about photographers and their work as shown in museums and galleries. The connection here is this: Ever the tyro (dilettante?) when asked what I wanted for my birthday, I pointed out a Canon Rebel with various lenses and attachments. And I got it.

Why do such a thing? Well, like the 90-year-old lady who took up elk hunting, when asked why: “Nobody told me I couldn’t.” And the lifetime I spent as an art director/CD developing an “eye.” It may come to nothing, but it’ll sure be fun.

I’ll end this with a poem from The Taste of Red-Orange.

Photos with Current

A snapshot is just a snapshot / A result of an unfeeling machine / and a machine operator. / “Smile” the operator says. / The result is one of millions. / Landfillions. / Even if the snapshot gets / 28 “likes” and a “stunning” there may be no current / especially if it is self-taken.

But the current between subject / and taker, unmistakable in a Hido / an Evans, Lange or Avedon. They / give the machine life. / Current. / An ontology — a humming / circuit completed by subject, taker, viewer. / Alex Soth. Robert Frank. / It’ll zap your ass tomorrow / or in a hundred years.

###

I aspire. I may miss by miles but what the heck. And that, as they say, is that. (Thanks for the fantastic birthday gift(s) Canon, cupcakes, Artforum, etc.) xxoo G

The Atomic Issue: I connect with a nuclear shirttail relative, a bit about Oppie, Tony Benett, the KC Haboob, much more. Well, maybe not MUCH more.

As the bomb’s birthday rolls around I won’t belabor the point that my stepfather worked on the Manhattan Project—I wrote a piece titled “Trinity” that covers some of that. Like most of us he was good and bad and we got along well enough until after my mother’s death in 1979. He remarried and the less said about that, the better. But he had a fine, interesting family and they are well worth mentioning.

Me in Pop’s pith helmet, creel, bait can…

 During the World War Two years I lived with his father and mother in Winchester, Kentucky and St. Joseph, Louisiana. His father, who I called Pop, was an Episcopal minister, inventor, science enthusiast, grower of exotic orchids who managed to have a small greenhouse wherever we lived, a maker of fine bookbindings, an artist and illuminator of text. His accent was very British (he was from London) and I recall that his parishioners liked to hear him speak. So did I. I was fascinated with Pop, his side ventures, and his marvelous dogs: a Scotty named Meg, and two Irish Setters, Champagne and Red.

Pop poured me lead soldiers in his detached shed full of books and scientific equipment, and we painted them in regimental colors. Microscopes, beakers, Bunsen Burners, piles of books and tins of English snacks took up table space. Coleman bought a patent of his. He made guest books for the DuPonts.

Pamela Bumsted in Los Alamos, next to an E = MC2 petroglyph said to have been carved by Enrico Fermi…

Pam in Pop’s pith helmet, with his pipe…

 A living relative, Pop’s granddaughter, and I have been in contact over the years; she, like my stepfather, attended college at an earlier age than most. I suspect that their family is riddled with genius genes (or IQ isotopes?). I would need an interpreter to understand her CV, so, in quite broad terms, she’s an anthropologist with a PhD. Pamela Bumsted is my step-cousin and she has been employed as a journalist, a Forest Service archaeologist, a coffeehouse manager, been on Mayors’ committees, lived with an indigenous Fijian family who collaborated with her on biocultural fieldwork, lived and worked in New Zealand, the Arctic, California, New England, the midwest, Pueblo communities, Eskimo villages, “bush” Alaska, several rural New Mexico spots and points west.

I asked her if she’d seen either the Oppenheimer or Barbie films, and she said no, but, “I met Prostitute Barbie coming out of the apartment building at 5:15 AM as the dog and I were returning from its bathroom break. Thigh-high, very pink suede leather boots with 4 inch soles and stiletto heels; very long, very platinum blonde wig; and I don't remember much else except she was polite, offering to leave the door open for me but as she was swaying so much I suggested she leave first.”

 A book I thoroughly enjoyed and will be reading again if I can find it.

Acid West, essays by Joshua Wheeler, is one of my favorites and I may have to buy it again. At the time the book came out in 2018, Wheeler was teaching at LSU. His book is worth reading just for the Trinity essay. As the Amazon description reads, “Early on July 16, 1945, Joshua Wheeler's great grandfather awoke to a flash, and then a long rumble: the world's first atomic blast filled the horizon north of his ranch in Alamogordo, New Mexico. Out on the range, the cattle had been bleached white by the fallout. Acid West, Wheeler's stunning debut collection of essays, is full of these mutated cows: vestiges of the Old West that have been transformed, suddenly and irrevocably, by innovation.” You can order it here. Guy can write!

  And a couple of Oppenheimer books, because, of course.

I’m halfway through 109 East Palace by Jennet Conant, and it’s a different perspective on the Manhattan Project; from the town side (Santa Fe) though there’s plenty about The Hill, as well. Then, American Prometheus, (the Pulitzer winner from which the Nolan-directed film was adapted) is an Oppie opus I’ve been intending to read; hefty and intimidating at a doorstopping 721 pages. I’ll be reading it in small bites.

They called them dust storms in the 30’s but now they’re Haboobs.

This is KC’s haboob, mid afternoon that day. Think it’ll storm?

And Kansas City got one back in mid-July, right before a big storm knocked out power to over 200,000 KC residents. It was a week before power was restored to the entire city and energy teams from neighboring states had to lend many hands. The whole thing was preceded by an ominous wind loaded with detritus, farm dirt, flying pigs (I’m conjecturing here) and newspapers that would wind around your head and stop up your glottal orifices. It was a bitch. Or, as they say in the desert regions, haboob. Apparently, meteorologists have adopted the term, as they have hook echoes and kelvin scales. Weather in the midwest is getting weirder just like everywhere else. By degrees. By leaps and bounds. And nuclear testing probably accelerated it. (Note: just last night, another big storm knocked out power for some 80,000 Kansas Citians. As of this morning Evergy has restored power to about 60,000.)

When a good man dies, it’s cause for reflection.

Side B is “I’ll Live My Life For You”

There seem to be fewer and fewer of them, especially as era-defining as Tony Bennett. The news feeds and breathless media are so intensely engaged in character demolition, they don’t know quite what to do or say about someone whose whole long life was a positive object lesson in humility, talent, kindness and a calm sort of deep cool.

It was no surprise when Bennett succumbed at 96 to Alzheimer’s but it was a sharply felt loss to many who had grown up listening to him. We just assumed he’d always be there, and, in a way, he will be.

Here he performs a 1938 favorite, “I’ll Be Seeing You,” which he often sang when entertaining troops in Europe after serving in the Battle of the Bulge. It was written the year I was born, and it has withstood the test of time a little bit better than I. He was also an accomplished painter. He was, in the parlance, something else. R.I.P. sir.
 

And, in closing, some Pop Art…

In paragraph two, at the start of this blog, I alluded to my step-grandfather, the Reverend William F. Bumsted, with whom I lived during the war years. I knew him as “Pop” and a multi-talented man. I mentioned he had made a guest book for the DuPonts; well, here’s one he made for his son, (who I also mentioned, as my stepfather) and his son’s wife, my mother, in 1941. The last entry in this handsome book is around Christmas in 1973, when I guess the house parties and penchant for visitors and guests had slowed somewhat, or, at least their heralding had. Anyway, Pop’s art lives on in the Wise Acres bookshelves.

Have a great August, hopefully cooler than July has been, and may we all avoid the haboobs and various other subastral or maybe even cosmic disturbances. Cheers and good stuff at you, G

 

Upkeep in the Outback, Other Good Paint, Music, Books, Vermont 2X to offset The Long Hot Summer, and More.

Time to paint the propane tank and the barn. Big doin’s at Wise Acres.

We chose Sherwin Williams pastel Relish and Vigorous Violet. (Kate Middleton must have Kansas spies; she showed up at Wimbledon in the same colors.) Like Thoreau said, If you have to have a propane tank, jazz it up a little. Hey, we could’ve gone full Barbie but restrained ourselves. The barn is…barn red. Got a glass block wall regrouted, and replaced some boards on the deck that we didn’t want to fall through. Upkeep Downhome.

 Power to the people. Please.

This was the common scene all over KC Saturday, July 15th. Many are still without power.

A really big storm Friday left 186,000 Kansas Citians with no power. As of July17 thousands were still without power. It tried to come out here but stopped short of John Brown’s home town about ten miles down the road and we just got a nice soaking rain out of it.

But we have a hole card, just in case; a 26kw standby generator that powers everything in 15 seconds from an underground line to the prettied-up pastel propane tank. It will run for eight days on that 1000 gallon tank.

 Let’s talk about more paint.

Here’s a paint story that might interest gallery-goers; I love this guy’s writing. It’s about an art opening in East L.A. titled “Let’s Talk About Paint” by Sage Vaughn. I’ll be looking for more writing by Mr. Vaughn in the future. And the art by Joshua Petker is pretty nice too. Don’t know whose supine form that is, above, but talking about paint can be enervating.

 

I’ll see your Long Hot Summer and raise you two Moonlight in Vermonts.

Combat July mugginess with cool. These scenes from LHS show cool Paul Newman heating up the screen with (your choice) Orson Welles or Joanne Woodward. Then cool off with Jo Stafford or The Aaron Diehl Quartet or both.

 Jo Stafford trained as an opera singer in her preteen years but when the Depression hit, she said. “There weren’t many jobs open for opera singers.” So she chose pop and jazz. And Paul Newman’s “self-aware” tell-a-lot book is a NYT bestseller.

 

So nice to meet these people—good teachers…

I keep looking for the next Joan Didion without success. But Janet Malcolm and Joan have been mentioned in the same sentence. In fact Geoff Dyer’s book (on left in right hand photo) does just that. On page 22 he’s talking about brainy, ambitious Vassar girls, one of whom seems to appear in a photo on page 20 and “whose lives were chronicled by Mary McCarthy in The Group. As such she is a role model for the later masters—mistresses, rather—of discreet reportage such as Joan Didion and Janet Malcolm.”

I’m only on page 32 of this book, so can’t recommend Otherwise Known As The Human Condition yet but it’s showing much promise.

The other book, Forty-one False Starts by Janet Malcolm is one I can and will recommend, having just finished it. The magic of Didion’s prose is not in it, but some pretty damn good writing and reportage is. It’s my second Malcolm book, and there will be others. Probably all of them.

Sculpture. The last word (for this blog).

There’s a barn-load of it out here. If you would, mention it to those who might be interested. Since it’s a barn and not a gallery pieces will be priced appropriately. There are still some works in the storage facility of the gallery but I will be trying to get those to Wise Acres sooner than later. And a new show is in the works; all I can say for now is Overland Park, in the spring of 2024. Possibly solo, possibly paired with a painter. In a very accessible facility. My fingers are crossed, making it tough to weld and to read, for that matter. Stay tuned. And visit www.wisesculpture.com

And send positive thoughts to those without power. We’ve been there (for 12 days in dead of winter) and it’s depressing and dangerous. Knock on a senior’s door. Maybe there’s a way to help. Chain saw, ice chest, a meal. Thank you.

Photo by Andrea DeLong