Category: Death

Labor’s Reward

I recently finished a decorative project for a certain blond mega pop star who everyone pretty much knows; as glamorous as all that may be, I really did not want the project. I do however hold her designer in high esteem and count him a a friend ; PLUS money is nice.  Money is really nice for buying oneself gifts. I have been itching for a press and I now have one.

Some fellows, when they have a mid life crisis buy a flashy car ; I buy a printing press, but is absolutely testosterone driven.

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 Press source

The work station is pretty fantastic gift as well, a birthday gift from the spouse man, welded steel, capable of supporting 3000 lbs, overkill, as the press is under 200 pounds, but again, testosterone driven on very  impressive wheels.

Source Uline : source

This press actually intimidated me a bit, and my chum the talented artist Deborah Lambert graciously walked me through the process; incredibly simple and it works like a dream, the following is an afternoon’s leisurely output.

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The relief print I worked on this afternoon was inspired by Flaubert’s The Temptation of St. Anthony, in one scene the poor beleaguered anchorite is tormented by Lust and Death,  representing the eternal circle of life.

I really love that idea, without Lust , Death cannot be fed, they need one another.

So hence , Lust und Tod.

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 Lust und Tod

2014

relief print on mulberry paper

9 by 12 inches

I have not been posting because I have been working on a large painting, once again dealing with life, death and salvation, apparently I never tire of the theme. As much as I love printmaking, painting gives me the greatest joy. I have existential angst at times as my prints are well received and my paintings, well, not so much. I may in fact not be terribly good, my landlady told me frankly I shouldn’t bother with paintings, focus on printmaking. I know she means well, though it did indeed sting; but the fact is I love painting. So good or bad, well received or not, I continue my practice. the following is a detail.

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be well, Lg

The Nit-wit god of Death, Mictlantecuhtli

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Standing at an unlucky 13 inches this little demon god delights me. My fourth marionette and I think my most successful . He actually functions and he came out pretty much as planned.

photo

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Mictlantecuhtli

marionette

2014

” Sculpey” medium over wire and foil armature, acrylic paint

13 inches high

My intention had been to play off a painting I had made a few year back, The Alpha and the Omega. I think I got it.

Greco_AlphaOmega copy

The Alpha and the Omega

acrylic and mixed medium on canvas

2012

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another inspiration were those crazy-assed demons that are always tormenting poor St. Anthony of the Desert.

DAE-93008297 - © - DEA / G DAGLI ORTI

I’m happy with the face in the center of his chest, the gaping Hell Mouth, the cute little snake and the phallic schnozze. I’m also liking his little serpentine booties.  The gods of the Underworld were notoriously stupid, but this fellow is pretty snazzy.

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I have a deadline to meet so I will be painting a bit, but I will return to PuppetLand pronto.

Until then, be well, Lg

Primavera

I just finished up (for now anyway) a watercolor painting called Primavera.

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Primavera

2014

watercolor on paper

18 by 29 inches

Once again I draw upon the Popol Vuh and the sacrifice-redemption theme. The eternal fascination with the Life and Death cycle never seems to relent; the understanding that through death there is life. I am currently reading Zimmer’s collection of Indian “myths” ( offense term for a faith with current practitioners). But the Hindu grasp of this most elemental truth fascinates and brings a degree of comfort to what can be a deeply discomforting exploration. This painting tries to address some of this. Through the sacrifice of the Maize God, Humankind is born-man made of maize. I wanted to convey the visceral quality of this act, the maize shaft bursting through the actual flesh of our mother earth. Of course this is a very personal imagining with miscellaneous cultural references thrown in as I saw fit. But with Good Friday approaching it felt timely; the resurrected world is colored in Easter egg pastels. the underworld is rich and ripe with verdant greens and blood crimsons.

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above ground

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The Hero Twins below ground.

One element I enjoyed introducing into the composition was the very feline looking dog.  My recently deceased  (actually I put him down) daschund Buddy keeps appearing in my dreams. His appearance causes  me much conflict. We, I decided to put him down the day before we move back to Los Angeles. This decision has tormented me, for although he was 19 and his health was quickly, seemingly overnight, failing,  I still wonder if I put him down for my own convenience. He might very well have lived a bit more, I don’t know. He obviously haunts me but in the spirit of this painting he always appears in my dreamscape, first as deeply broken as the following photo indicates; but as the dream progresses he is fresh, new and reborn, happy and bouncy and beautiful.

I try to take that as a good omen.

All that rambling aside, dogs were believed to be guides in the Maya understanding of Xibalba, the underworld. The little  fellow I painted  was inspired  not by my sleek Buddy  but by a  chubby  ceramic “neighbor”  from Colima at LACMA. 

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detail

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Dog Wearing Human Face Mask

Colima, Mexico

Burnished red and orange slip

Los Angeles County Museum of Art

He is a delightful fellow, as was Buddy.

That is it for now,  I’m working on a few other paintings, seems to be the season for watercolors right now at least until my new easel arrives which will be strong enough to hold a hefty canvas. I will close with a photo of Buddy, be well Buddy.

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Time and Gratitude

As the year comes to a close I have been fretting about Time; the familiar angst of many, of not  having enough and  of too much that has slipped through my fingers.  My own face has betrayed this passage of time and although I am mortified by my own vanity I find the evidence of  my mortality excruciating . I chuckled at myself while at the gym this morning, these pretty rosy-faced boys milling about and I gaze at the endless mirrors at my own visage-I have in attempt to distract from the effects of gravity , half heartedly started growing a beard, sadly I do not look ruggedly handsome but more like a destitute reprobate.

Vanity, there is a reason it is one of the Seven Deadlies.

I can chuckle at myself so that is a good sign, particularly as I had the thoroughly un-original epiphany that the only effective solution to aging is Death-I’ll pass for now. 

IMG_4581Death and the Maiden

oil on canvas

2011

This silly fretting about time is absurd particularly given how many loved ones I have known, including my first partner Douglas, that have died far, far too young. It seems trite ( and frankly untrue) to say I appreciate the wrinkles of Time but I will give gratitude a shot this year.

Wish me luck and wishing all a rich and fulfilling 2014.

With gratitude and sincerityLg

Revisiting the Dead Mother

Awhile back I posted a quick sketch of the Dead Mother and discussion about the subject ,link to post ; the following is a continuation upon the theme.

I’ve just finished it, I believe it is as far as I can or want to take it…for now.

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The Dead Mother

oil on canvas

20 by 30 inches

Symbolically it is a self portrait, the middle aged man finally realizing the breast is dry; analysis thanks to my psychologist. Or it is just a really creepy painting, best forgotten.

Until next time,

which I promise will have cheerier fare,

take care,

LG

“Death would have him…”, the doomed Amphínomos

When I landed in San Diego I quite literally closed the final page of  Homer’s Odyssey ( Robert Fitzgerald edition); unlike our hero Odysseus I did not return to libertine suitors or “a wife dishonored” but rather my own dull life.

What I was left with was many vivid images.

Homer directs a set with meticulous detail, he minutely describes the marble halls of kings, golden vessels pouring forth liquid hospitality, horrifying monsters ready to pounce upon the weakness of man, fetching virgins willing to do the same and  the gallantry and failures of man himself.

Once such Everyman was Amphínomos, son of Nísos Aretíadês, comely , “gently bred” (340) and of all the ruffians wooing fair Penélopê he pleased her  “…for he meant no ill.” (302-303).  I was drawn to this character for in the telling of this tale Homer points out the excesses of  the suitors, the bold heroics of Odysseus and his son Telémakhos, the cunning of Kirke and the mad predictions of Cassandra; all characters extraordinary in their way.

Amphínomos isn’t particularly heroic he merely seems to possess basic deceny, a desire to try his hand at the hot widow Penélopê and indulge in the overflowing sweet wine and unending platters of roast meats served by boys with “…pretty faces” and “…pomade ever on their sleek heads…” (278). Can’t really blame the fellow.

In fact his only real act of heroics lies in his aversion to regicide, when the unruly mob of suitors plot to eliminate the young Telémakhos only Amphínomos objects, being unwilling to kill a “…prince of royal blood…” (303). Again and again it is just garden variety decency that makes Amphínomos so endearing, even to our lofty hero, Odysseus. Disguised as a beggar at his own court, Odysseus is greeted with cruelty by the band of loutish suitors; Amphínomos offers bread and cordiality to the unfortunate wretch. Odysseus repays this kindness with  words of advice “Get outta Dodge”. He warns the young man  that the king will indeed return and all are doomed for there will be “…no way out, unless by blood.” (341).

Something deep within the young knows this to be correct, he witnesses the debauchery around him and knows what the beggars says to be true. As he turns to leave he is frozen for “…his heart foreknew the wrath to come, but he could not take flight, being by Athena bound there. Death would have him broken by a spear thrown by Telémakhos. So he sat down there where he has sat before.” (340-341).

This is my interpretation of the doomed Amphínomos, the grey-eyed Athena and Unrelenting Death.

The Doomed Amphínomos
colored pencil on brown paper
24 by 18 inches

Well that is all it for now,after facing a fearsome goddess and Death himself, I must walk my dogs.

I had hoped to discuss my thoughts as to why this example of  Greek fatalism contrasted so sharply with the Good News of another figure to come. A theology where  redemption was indeed possible; where a fellow like Amphínomos inclined to change could have done just that. How in the Classical world god and man were bound by Fate ; the hapless must returned to the chair “…where he had sat before” and silently accept what must be. How a new theology could have understandably appealed to an ancient world weary of the irrational tyranny of  fickle gods and brutal destiny.

But thankfully I haven’t time to discuss such matters, I have rambunctious pups to attend to.

Until next time,

Take care,

LG