Is that a smirk
on his face
as he pecks
open a seed?

A bright
blue blotch
alone
at the
feeder.

If there is a way to cover it with art, I will. This is my kitchen wall. I started painting this mural back in Newburyport while caring for my ill Mother. I used 3 Baimbridge board panels so it would be movable. Like I tell the kids, if you have Imagination you are never stuck. Create your own portal and escape into another world.  Now it’s up on my wall again, maybe I’ll finish it one day. Or as Leonardo da Vinci said Art is never finished, only abandoned.

Non-artists, who like all their i’s dotted and facial features neatly defined just can’t comprehend that completion is not an integral part of the creative process. I have stacks of seemingly unfinished artworks and projects. But to me they’re done when I’m done with them, not when you think they’re done. That sounds selfish, I know, but I am selfish. It’s my vision, and I don’t have to share if I don’t want to. And if I do share, I am in no way obligated to organize my inspiration into a neatly-ordered explanation. My thoughts are not tidy and liner, they randomly explode into existence like popcorn on a hot skillet.

I have been reading a lot about Leo lately. He like me, was the consummate over-achiever, a conundrum to his friends and family and a bit of an odd-duck. He also believed that Everything is part of Everything. There is nothing beyond Everything.

I am one with all and at the same time unique (we all are) and free willed. I can do whatever I want with my corporeal journey just as each of us can. There is no right or wrong way to exist. There can be unpleasant journeys, our human bodies can be unpredictable and we are all ultimately perishable. Corporeal Mary will die but I won’t. And you won’t and Leonardo hasn’t either. We can’t. Our sub-atomic essence cannot be destroyed.  It eternally recycles, we combine and separate and recombine infinitely. This belief makes me feel invincible and insignificant simultaneously. Yin and Yang, opposites can only exist together, that’s what makes them opposites. Imagine one opposite? That’s the traditional puzzling Zen koan ‘What is the sound of one hand clapping?’ Okay Mary Lighten Up! Whew…Got pretty heavy there for a moment.

Non-artists, who like all their i’s dotted and facial features neatly defined just can’t comprehend that completion is not an integral part of the creative process. I have stacks of seemingly unfinished artworks and projects. But to me they’re done when I’m done with them, not when you think they’re done. That sounds selfish, I know, but I am selfish. It’s my vision, and I don’t have to share if I don’t want to. And if I do share, I am in no way obligated to organize my inspiration into a neatly-ordered explanation. My thoughts are not tidy and liner, they randomly explode into existence like popcorn on a hot skillet.

The Creative Experience class assignment was to design a ‘Place Setting’ for a famous person. The class had to guess who the famous person was just by the creation. I unveiled Shrimp with Lemon Moon. Picasso obviously. Right? They all stared at the painting with brains contorted then, as one, took a step away from me. Has whimsy become extinct? Come on classmates lighten up. It’s funny. Shrimp with Lemon Moon. ROTFL

Mother Goose Rhymes 1860

POLLY PICKLENOSE

“Polly, Polly, goodness gracious!
You must quit your making faces.”
Polly laughed at what they said,
Cocked her nose and went to bed.

But the big black Bugoo heard,
He came that night without a word;
Walked right in- You bet a nickle!
In his hand a great green pickle.

He stalked her bed with steady pace
and stuck it straight in Polly’s face.
He pinned it fast and there is grows-
Poor, poor Polly Picklenose!

Computer Illustration done with Photoshop.

From Favorite Nursery Stories 1910

I’m not sure if this 1895 nursery rhyme refers to the same Doctor Faustus who sold his soul to the Devil in Christopher Marlowe’s story. My favorite line is the first one-
Doctor Faustus was a good man. And his actions clearly show that!
After all… When he whipped them, he made them dance. And who doesn’t like to dance?