No Slouch at Self-Destruction

I never should have started this t-shirt design project. The supplies hadn't come in. I was uncertain on the exposure time using the emulsion and light source I had. And every step of the way brought more complications & frustrations.

For instance: the bulb I have is bright enough to expose the photo-sensitive material, but too hot for the process. I had burned several screens trying to get it right. On one particular occasion, the light was so near the screen for the duration of the exposure time that it actually broke the glass that was holding down the transparency. The other piece of glass I purchased for this purpose had fallen off a table and shattered on a previous day. Now mind you, I used all my fine arts funding to purchase supplies (of which most of the silk screening stuff is still only trickling in) so all these purchases were coming out of pocket. The frustration...and the tab...was mounting.

So you can imagine my delight and feeling of providence and favor when I found 2 glass aquariums begin thrown out on the roadside that led to Home Depot (where I was going to fork out even more of my hard-earned cash). I stopped, scooped them up, and purchased some caulk remover at the HD and planned how to disassemble the aquariums.

Now one side on each was cracked. That was perfect, because it provided me the opportunity to practice removing a side without worrying about breaking it. I was able to learn how the sides were held together, and succeeded in taking the broken pieces of. Following the directions on the caulk remover, I applied the liquid and let it stand overnight. This brings us up to yesterday.

At about 2 o'clock, I started exposing 2 new screens, and realized that I needed glass. This reminded me of the aquariums waiting in the corner of my classroom. I scraped and poked a bit more until I felt like the two pieces of glass were ready to be pried apart. I hadn't applied much pressure at all when the glass split in two. The next part happened so fast, I don't really remember all the details. I don't recall dropping the glass in my right hand. I don't recall seeing the glass hit my left wrist. I don't recall feeling any pain. But I can recall bending down and in my mind I can see vividly the instant spray...that's right, SPRAY...of thick, dark blood. I immediately clamped down on my wrist with my right hand. I took one look to assess the damage. The gash was gaping and squirting blood. After I had reapplied pressure and was fairly sure I wasn't dripping, I walked up to the nurse's office on the first floor.

Once there, I was ready to report my injury and have a friend take me to the hospital. But the nurses freaked out fearing that I had hit an artery and might bleed out. They called an ambulance and strongly recommended I take it. While we waited, we took another look (and here my animal amputations helped me, both in stomaching the sight and in observing the small tube squirting out my blood). All the administrators came in to take a look. My friend Bobby was on hand to take pictures with his iPhone. He commented later that he was laughing and joking with the rest of us until he went to my room and saw all the blood on the floor. He said there was so much that the kids who came for fifth period thought it was spilled paint.

I was pushed out on a stretcher, and one of the paramedics commented that he had never been to a call where peopled laughed and joked about the injury as we did. The ride to the hospital was uneventful: blood pressure remained steady, there was very little pain. At the hospital I waited for several hours, endured several attempts (which grew increasingly painful as they poked and manipulated) to get a look at the wound, took x-rays (to insure that no glass remained in the cut), and finally was taken care of. The PA who stitched me up had to try a couple different things to stop the bleeding (after he almost got squirted in the face), but with a fully inflated blood-pressure cuff AND a tournequit, he was able to tie off the arterial (not an artery), place a couple stitches inside and 4 stitches outide. I will refrain from posting the picture of the cut itself, but here are some other shots for you.

The stitches

The after-affects

The splint

So I'm off school today, trying to see a hand specialist to make sure I didn't REALLY mess something up. I'll miss the annual dodgeball tournament, which I'm sad about, but it seems like I will be alright in the end.

And please don't think the irony is lost on me: by trying to save a few bucks on glass I have incurred all this pain, loss of time and money. Yeah, I get it...hilarious. The moral, dear children, is never start a project you're not prepared for and always pay to do things right the first time.

Slouching Into Summer

I will defend the statements to follow by saying that I have covered 30,000 years of art history, prepared my students for their test tomorrow, worked diligently to help students improve on their art projects, seen the TAKS test come and go....

...and I'm done.

With two and a half weeks left until finals, I am just about as exhausted as the students. So, tonight, encouraged to be lazy by my lack of preparation needed for tomorrow AND by the onset of a sinus infection, I have been playing video games for the past 20 minutes. I never play video games. Ever. Not since college.

But those were good memories. I remember intentionally NOT studying for finals at BGSU in order to play Tekken 3. I also remember playing Mario Cart late into the night in the 16th floor lounge of Culby 16 at Moody. But I have an even better memory.

Pizza Hut. A treasured family outing. In the lobby stood 2 arcade games. Something dumb, like Galaga or Pac Man, and Mario Brothers. I'm not talking Nintendo Mario. I'm talking about the arcade version of the Atari classic. Turtles, lobsters, fireflies, blocks of ice (and if you can make it to this level, and beyond, I'm super impressed; I was shocked to be reminded how hard it is) all flow from the sewer pipes to thwart the legendary plumbers. We would play that thing like maniacs until our pizza came (and usually after).

That's what I was playing tonight. If you too have fond memories for this game, and if you have the current version of Java, check it out (once there, press 5 for credits, 1 to start, Ctrl to jump and the arrow keys to move left and right). You'll be transfixed for hours.

"It's the End of the World as We Know It"

The REM song was blasting in my classroom this morning.

Reaching that classroom was a very perilous thing today. Not only are we on the verge of shutting down for Swine Flu (H1N1), just as the entire Fort Worth Independent School district has (making national news as the largest district to do so; other area elementary schools have closed, and I just heard at the end of the day that Lewisville and others are now following suit). So far, Keller has no confirmed cases, and therefore there is no talk of actually shutting down, but it seems the hysteria is swirling around us, and I have a suspicion that we may get swept up in it.

Speaking of getting swept up in hysteria, some 1,800 kids (no...that's not a typo; nearly two thousand kids from our campus, amounting to nearly 2/3) left school today because of a threat of a shooting. As I said, it was somewhat perilous getting to class today, what with all the police on hand, and the metal detectors students had to pass through. The back story is that earlier this week, one student fatally shot another, which is in and of itself somewhat unusual and tragic for our suburban surroundings and our particular campus history/make up. Then, last night, posts and texts starting flying about a shooting in retaliation ("A friend for a friend" was the quoted message offered by one student. But remember, this is all here-say, and often the WORST place for straight, factual information is a hormonally-charged high school campus). Even though I pointed out that, according to what students themselves were saying, they were aware that the situation--if it were to come true--was being threatened as an "assassination" (going after 1 or several of the murderer's friends), not a Columbine-type event, so many kids were so freaked out, and were able to sufficiently freak out their parents, that in 3rd period (mid-day), I ended the class with only 6 students in my room (out of a class of 28). (Sorry...that was a ridiculously running-on and sub-pointed sentence. I hope you get the point. )

But in the end, it was just another day. All productively was effectively negated, but nothing happened. The implications for the future, however, could be vast and still remain to be seen.

The Reports of My African Imprisonment Have Been Largely Exagerated

In case you were concerned, I am not in some African prison, as my email-hackers would have you believe. If you received an email to this effect, please ignore.

In addition, for the time being, do not use my msn.com email address. I am trying to cancel it, but it is more tedious than I would have expected. If you need to email me something, use my work address. If you don't know what it is, call me and I'll give it to you.

Recentness

I've spent the morning looking into reciprocity agreements between states, in regards to teaching certificates. It seems that if we were to move to Buffalo, NY (which has been on the radar--with varying degrees of focused attention--for several years) my TX certificate would "transfer" in a sense. So that's good. I'm still interested in teaching on a collegiate level, and so did some more checking (or checking again) on admission into a grad program around here. I know I'll have to do a TON of leveling, so that's not thrilling. It will be a lengthy process of many years, it seems. Meanwhile, I'm still trying to find time to paint. It has reached a frustration level.

Ironically...it seems I know how to waste time, even if I can't find it in my schedule. Yesterday I, along with another teacher, did a dance/catwalk display for CHS's annual Prom Fashion show. That was time consuming enough, as I choreographed, spliced together music, and practiced repeatedly for our 3 minute, completely original "Revolution of Dance" (see this and this for some idea). I'll try and post a video if it becomes available.

As for the fashion part, I decided to wear a kilt. Which is another way of saying I decided to make a kilt. Sean Connery was my inspiration for this, so I decided to take my emulation of him all the way. Here are some pictures for your enjoyment.
The day is now well underway. Some would say "mostly over." I still have much to do--too much to fit it all in. I'll need a nap, but it remains to be seen what else will get done. I will give you something to do, fair readers. Which do you prefer, hair or no hair?

Why I'm Giving Up Basketball

My students have observed that basketball is too rough for my and that I may need to just stop playing. I'm beginning to agree.

I have been playing in a league for the past month or so. The above photo was taken several weeks ago: I got jabbed in the eye, producing a cut on my eyelid and a black eye surrounding it.


Then on Monday I rolled my ankle pretty badly. This shot was taken after I got home, took my shoes (and ankle braces, ironically) off, propped up my foot and watched the swelling begin. Today it's purple and puffy, and every bit as disturbing as this shot.

So maybe I'll convert to volleyball exclusively. Or something even more tame like mixed martial arts. I'm sure nothing will treat me quite as badly as my old, beloved basketball.

Another Thought

A while back we went to see the movie "The Tale of Desperaeux." While it was good, I couldn't help but thinking that it was somehow lacking and that the book must be infinitely better.

Anyway...just before seeing that movie, I had watched "It's a Wonderful Life" during the Christmas season.

And while it may seem unusual, the two share a common idea: Vice is oppression.

In Ratworld, all wickedness is allowed and even encouraged by the overlord of that place. But he wants rats to be be "rats" in order to keep them under his thumb. It galls him that one rat remains civil and refuses to act "as he should." For that rat is free. That rat is not burdened under the mindlessness of acting despicably.

In his vision, George Bailey sees "Pottersville." Potter was always interested in the poor, but not in the manner Bailey was. Potter needed the riff raff to fund his enormous economic machine; he wanted them for their money--what little they had. And while he chided George for breeding "a lazy, discontented rabble instead of a thrifty working class" when George is removed from the picture, Potter seeks to keep the peoples' heads down by plunging them into all sorts of debauchery. Bedford Falls vanishes into the darkness of bars and cabarets that is downtown Pottersville. Potter knew that to keep people busy about little, disgusting things, they would then be so shamed, so weary and lifeless, that they would never look about them to see the squalor they were in and decide to do something about it. Sin and vice keeps one down. Sin is oppression.

The difficulty with all of us is that we tend to heartily agree with Hebrews 11 and see that there is "pleasure in sin for a season." We want the pleasure. We want the season, however brief it may be. If only we would luck up, we'd see the muck closing in on us and reach for something better. True...it's something harder, but it's better.

"Thanks be to God..." as Paul says "who has delivered me from this body of death." For we know that "if the Son has set you free, you are free indeed."

Be free.

A Thought

"Tell me, what it is you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" -Mary Oliver

"You're Getting Borderline Creepy with This Skull Thing"

Or so said Josh when he saw the deer skull I just finished cleaning up (center of the table, horns sawed off and jaws as yet unattached). Also recently added to the collection, a coyote (front left corner of the table, the single jawbone I have for it lying next to it on the right). Along with a couple skulls I borrowed from school, the count in this picture is up to 12 skulls (if you count the deer rack). There is a sheep, a ram, 3 cows, a beaver, a raccoon, an opossum, and a javelina. Each one has a story, whether it be a simple reminder of a friend who gave it to me, a ridiculous tale of intrigue, or a link to a past time and place (like the cow skull painted gold, which is actually my first skull, and was found in a storage space of the Saint Paul home I purchased years ago, left by the previous owners).

Maybe it's the "Memento Mori." Perhaps it's seeing how things work and how they're put together. Maybe it's the fact that such a hobby/collection is a little bit off-beat and strange, which is always appealing to me. In any case, it's something I enjoy, and perhaps I'll share more about my interest in it in the future. For now, it's a "Snow Day" (ice, really) and school is cancelled, so I think I might go take a nap. I'll leave you with a few of my favorite shots from Seattle (a combo birthday/anniversary/birthday trip HM and I took over this past weekend).
My beautiful wife (so hip and cool with her big glasses and nose ring) walking past a screen in the Olympic Sculpture Park on the waterfront of the Puget Sound (with downtown Seattle seen through the screen behind her). I got up to take a picture of a NW coast tribal mask that was on our ferry ride back from Bainbridge Island, and as I walked back to our seat, snapped this picture of my bride peacefully lounging in the soft light.
I learned a couple things over the weekend: 1) Black Velvet (tap Guiness and tap Cider mixed together in a glass...somehow the two separate because of the gas used to pour each) is one of the greatest drinks known to man. 2) "Fado" in downtown Seattle will forever be one of my favorite restaurants. Our single, chance visit to this awesome Irish pub/restaurant was incredible and one of the highlights of the trip. 3) I don't look particularly good with long hair. And no, it wasn't a sudden realizaiton, but a final resignation to a fact. It was never really about looking good, though--more of an experiment. And so on Thursday, before we left for the trip, I ended my two year test and shaved my head. 4) After 9 years, my wife is more beautiful and I am more in love with her than ever before, and really, more than I ever thought possible. I love you HM!

He's At It Again

My brilliant first born loves to create and he just finished an artwork at school that you can see here.

Please visit and comment--he loves to hear from you!

Finally, Some Practice

As I've mentioned before, much of my time this year has been consumed by teaching AP Art History. But just prior to Christmas break, I took some time to do a self portrait. I had to complete this portrait because my friend Josh challenged me to a "Beard Off" (in both the competitive and literal senses). Fortunately, I was able to complete the beard portion of the portrait in order to allow me to shave. The final result was something akin to an Amish punk rocker. Needless to say, Josh was outvoted in each and every class as to who had the most ridiculous facial hair.
Before:
(upon realizing that the beard/hair combo now looks more like a lion's mane)

During the School Day:
(Josh's attempt)
(with our friend Bobby; it's a bit like the "Three Ages of Man," only it's the three stages of hair and beard)
(and the beard continued to progress throughout the day until it reached this point)
(at day's end with my friend and lifting partner, Chris--who was born on the exact same day as me, incidentally. Although we lifted that morning, he didn't even notice I had shaved down my beard; but, in fairness, it was 5 am)

I had assumed that, despite my inability to finish the whole self portrait, I would have time to complete it over Christmas break. However, during the break we went to Colorado. We enjoyed snowboarding (Brennan skied), snowshoeing, sledding, and general snow frolicking.
(one of my favorite pictures from the trip; this was the boys' first venture out into the snow. Here they are just "chillin'." Get it, "chillin'?!" I'm hilarious.)
(acting connoisseur-ish with Kyle (and his wife Leah) while sampling the fare at Glenwood Springs' "Brew Pub")
(with my honey ski bunny on the slopes)

Well, following the trip, there was much to be done in order to get ready for school. So the portrait wasn't completed until yesterday. I am aware that it has some problems, and it did not turn out as good as I wanted it to. In addition, since the chin and left side of the face (on the right, as you look at the picture) were completed in one day and the other side completed in another, they look different and somewhat incongruous. Finally, the portrait is one piece of a larger work that still remains to be completed (hence the gold background is not yet finished), but I will post pictures of that later. Alright--with those disclaimers made, here you go.
You'll have to compare back to pictures from the first part of the post to see how accurate it is. While it is an improvement from paintings attempted prior to my atelier training, it is a far cry from where I want to be. Just proof, I guess, that my lack of practice is truly detrimental. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think.

BEHOLD!! My yearbook photo for this year!

Thoughts on Thirty

I like to approach each new year with introspection and reflection. Typically, each 12 month period has a minimum of 3 "new years". The start of the school year signifies a new year. November brings a new year in my life. And of course January 1 brings the new calendar year.

This November will usher in a new year and a new decade. 30 years old. Such a momentous event makes me want to stop and savor the event even more than usual. So when the fear of scratching woke me this morning, I got up, went through my anti-itch regimen, and sat down to save some pictures from my blog onto my external hard drive. In the process, I reviewed close to three years of pictures and writings, and it helped to figure some things out. First, I think that it's safe to say I've been growing my hair out for nearly two years. I saw a picture from February 2007 showing my hair just past the shaved state, starting to get longer. Then I read a post from October and was reminded of my hair being "long" when I started at Central. So that issue has been cleared up in my mind. Also, if anyone was wondering, it's been since the first day of school that I shaved, so my beard represents around 13 weeks of growth. For my beard to be "1/4 of a year long" and still be so "short" is bothersome. I thought I'd look like ZZ Top by now.

Even more, it's enlightening to get some perspective on the big trends and happenings over the course of years in my life. I looked at a post from last December and it seems like I've been idling for a year. I was thinking about revolution and change and ending oppression. Now Heather and I have begun to talk and dream about it again, though in a slightly different way. I will remain optimistic and believe that I have not been idling, but rather fermenting. I'm hoping that God has been preparing me/us and that 30 will be one of my best years.

I'll have to consider this topic more in the near future. I'm off to grab breakfast and then play some Thanksgiving morning football. Happy Thanksgiving!

Campfires, Marshmallows...and Poison________

I think I've concluded that I have poison sumac festering all over my body. Really, it's mostly just arms and legs. I can't remember the last time I had poison ivy/oak/sumac, but let me tell you, it's affects are now vivid in my mind and it sucks. A week ago, I took the boys across the street to the park and we made a small fire (one of their favorite activities from trips to the lake/camping). We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows, and apparently tromped through the small batch of undergrowth enough to come in contact with some hideous plant. Brennan got it on his face, and it swelled up pretty badly. We took him to the doctor and he took oral medication along with some type of healing cream. He has recovered very well. Aydan was least impacted of us all. Me, on the other hand, I toughed it out for a day or two, but the constant itching wore me down until one night, awaking at midnight with my skin on fire, I absolutely shredded my arms and legs--which did not help the situation.

The good news is that in the past couple of days, I have found some very helpful solutions for dealing with the itch and, hopefully, getting it to go away.

1) Scalding: Granted, this is a man's man solution. It is also the "I'm stubborn and don't want to spend the money to see a doctor" solution. When your skin itches, you absolutely cannot scratch, lest you spread the poison, so instead you blast your skin with ridiculously hot water. Ideally, you start mildly hot and work your way up to scalding. In all honesty, it is one of the most blissful sensations I have ever felt. It hurts like crazy, but it feels like your skin is being feverishly scratched, up to a point where you almost cannot bear it, and then the itch-sensor nerves burn out and die (for a few hours). It is glorious, especially when you've been itching for hours and hours at work and have been doing everything you can not to itch. Honestly, overheating the skin with hot water is the best anti-itch therapy I've found.

2) Fels Naptha: This is a laundry detergent in bar soap format. I guess it was designed to help lift grease stains out of fabrics. As such, it does a great job drying out your skin (which is necessary to suck out the poison and begin healing). I apply it right after the hot water treatment, lathering up a thick layer on the moist skin and letting it air dry. It leaves a caked on, yellowish-white film over your skin, and sometimes it flares up like a pin has been stuck on a certain area of your skin, and if you move a lot it can feel like your skin is cracking. Still, it seems to have been helping. I've applied it right before bed the past two nights, and I have slept soundly and undisturbed by itching.

I found out recently that there is an over-the-counter product called "Technu" which is supposed to help. I saw some pretty dramatic progress photos on a blog, so it's probably worth a shot. I might look for some today, but I think with around $10 of product (the Fels Naptha, which I found at Kroger's, and a small bottle of Technu, if it's available, at Walgreen's) I will have found a solution vastly superior to the $35 cream prescribed by the doctor for Brennan. I'll try to remember to update this with the results.

Also, I have the next few days off from school, so I'll try post a couple more times to catch up on everything.

Glorious November

Unlike my brother, who despises November in his foreign homeland, I love it in mine. It brings a break from the oppressive and endless heat and sunshine of north-central Texas. So driving today (to get a root canal, incidentally) I was relishing a new song ("Charlie Darwin," by Low Anthem), a new appearance to the landscape (with surprisingly beautiful yellows and oranges turning the leaves), and a new coolness to the breeze.

Some brief updates. I'm ashamed to say that I failed to post an enormous blurb on Aydan's baptism with occurred in October. So celebrate with us regarding our son's momentous decision!

Um...I thought I had more. Here are a couple pictures.

Randomnicity

My dearest brother Eric has requested my participation in the following challenge.

1. Post the rules on your blog
2. Write 6 random things about yourself
3. Tag 6 people at the end of your post
4. If you're tagged, DO IT and pass on the tag

Since I live continually for his approval, and since he was the one to influence me toward starting this blog, here goes.

1. If I could pick any place in the world that I would want to see, right now, at this moment, I intensely long to see Bruges (it's in Belgium).
2. I never tie my shoes. I pick slip-on shoes or flip flops for the most part, but will "permanently" tie my other shoes to avoid messing with this step.
3. I bike 6 miles every day (well, every weekday. And I know that's not amazing for the Dutch constituency, but for us fat, ignorant Americans, that's something).
4. The right side of my face is aging more quickly than the left. Currently it is home to all my gray hairs (both on my head and in my beard).
5. I saw the story of Bearskin on PBS when I was a kid. I tend to live like Bearskin for periods at a time, and then when I do go about clipping nails, shaving, and showering, I repeat in my head the line the actor said to the devil, "Now, villain. Make me clean!" It's a fun little game.
6. Being a t-shirt and shorts kind of guy, people might find it hard to believe that if I could, I would wear tailored, 3-piece suits every day of my life.


Now, TAG...you're it.

1. Michael Lazenby (because I know KEK jr. is stuntin', but I want to hear what else is up)
2. Nate Steiner (because ever since he stiffed me and did not come to my party, he won't talk to me any more. I know you feel guilty buddy, but we need to hear from you!)
3. Brian Rhea (for the input of a liberal...or is that liberated...mind)
4. HM (because I'll flirt with you any way I can)
5. Kelly (because you KNOW you can say some randomness)
6. Barak and John (because I ran out of people who read this and blog)

recent happenings

all right, this must be brief, but I told two people today I'd update the blog (and the world) with things I've been working at lately, so here goes.

My website.
I now have a website that I use for my classes (assigning homework, providing links, make-up work, etc.) If you want to be totally thrilled...go do something else. But if you want to be mildly amused, check it out.

My podcast.
I still cannot search for it in iTunes, but you can subscribe THROUGH iTunes by following the hyperlink and doing so at the site (look in the bottom right-hand corner of the black rectangle). Again, don't go expecting something amazing. They are recordings of my class lectures/discussions.

My painting.


There it is in all its glory. Time is being sucked away from this pursuit. I'd still like to finish it soon, but here is the current stage of progress. (My bad...the garlic is actually more complete than this, I just don't have the picture on my computer yet.)

So there it is. My life in a nutshell. Enjoy.

Our Life

It's all a bit fuzzy, but I seem to remember Saturdays as a time my dad would slip in a movie and relax. It seems like they were movies Mom would not particularly enjoy, so dad watched them alone while she did something else and we kids were off playing (I do this exact thing today). On two occasions, I remember walking in and pausing to watch the movies with my dad. Both instances had a profound impact on my life. One thing that stands out is that on both occasions I think Dad was so moved by the film that he was actually crying. That's a hard thing for a kid to understand, when crying only represented sadness or pain. Because of this mystery, I think the movies themselves took on greater mystery and profundity for me. I did not realize fully how much impact they had until more recently in my adult life.

The first was "Man of La Macha." I remember watching the "Impossible Dream" scene. Ever since I've had a fascination with Don Quixote. I bought the soundtrack for the musical in jr. or sr. high (I still have it...on casset). I bought the movie as an adult. I painted a print of Don Quixote for my living room (much like the statue of Don Quixote that sits in Dad's office, which he brought back from Equador I think, which I drew a picture of when I was very young--and still have, thanks to Mom). The concept of the knight errant and striving against impossible odds for the sake of nobility...even to the point that is seems like madness...still stirs my heart to this day. It is, for me, the picture of discipleship. As Brennan Manning said, "(quoting Zorba the Greek)'It takes a touch of folly, you see? You have to risk everything.' In the final analysis, discipleship is a life of sublime madness."

The second film lurked like a ghost in my mind for years. It was a shadow, falling across various events in later life, but the original form was unclear. This shadow came in the form of a song. It was a chorus singing a beautiful, swelling, triumphant and bright song. I heard it in that film on some Saturday morning in the late 80's. I was probably 8-10 years old. Then in jr. high, watching a news program called "Channel One" (where Anderson Cooper got his start), I heard it again. Again, 15 years later, the song popped up on a PBS documentary. Seeing my chance, I checked PBS records and credits hoping to find the name of the tune. After fruitless searching, I checked BBC records, still to no avail. Finally, in desperation, I emailed KERA, our local station, and asked for more information. I figured it was a long shot, and after weeks of no response, I forgot again about the song, and it slipped back into the shadows of my mind.

Yesterday, a representative from KERA responded, forwarding a 15 page document sent to her from the BBC containing all credits, including still clips, video segments, quotes included in narration, and every track used in the documentary. I listened to each song on iTunes until I found..."Vita Nostra." The film, release in 1986, was "The Mission." Ironically, I discovered the song "Gabriel's Oboe" (also from the soundtrack) when I made a mix tape for an oboe player I dated in high school, but I didn't find "Vita Nostra." Now it seems like so many years of searching finally end at a time when I am most able to see and understand their significance. Again, another film of sacrifice and service. Again, the inspiring themes of grace (have you viewed the scene when De Niro's penitent baggage of armor is cut away by the natives?), devotion, living on the fringe and giving all, even unto death.

I am glad I shared those brief moments with my dad on a forgotten Saturday long ago. Even more, I'm glad that those moments only reinforced the heart of my father...and our Father.
They are our passions.
They are from our God.
They are the dream that inspires our life.
Vita Nostra.

Crack the Whip

Two weeks 'til life gets nuts. So this week I'm cracking the whip.

I'll take time off from art history, and I WILL paint (a fruit still life AND at least 1 color chart).

I'll work out, but I'm also doing this. Join in if you life. (Thanks Eric.)

Then, of course, there is a date with Heather, working in my classroom, studying art history, and enjoying the pool with my boys. It will be busy, but worthwhile. Wish me luck, and pray for success.

peace.

OCD and...eh...screw it

That is my life, it seems.

Last night while typing my ode to Heather, I had an overwhelming sense of deja vu. But I couldn't remember whether I actually wrote something similar not too long ago on this blog, or if I had just intended to, started, and then quit in frustration. Shaking off the odd feeling, I resolved to pour through the archives until I settled the matter for myself as soon as I finished typing. And when the post was finished...I went to bed.

My syllabus MUST be done. I am keen to finish and have some comfort that at the very least, I have a rough schedule to adhere to. But each time I attempt to work on it again it only reminds me that I have no idea what to do. So I synthesize multiple sources, I want to look into this and that, plan here and there, revise this outline or that powerpoint....and then I have to go to the bathroom and end up reading 2 chapters in my book.

Tonight I am simultaneously uploading all my bookmarks/favorites onto a site called del.icio.us/jayasp (check it out, if you like) AND downloading all sorts of art history podcasts to my new 80 gig ipod (received free and clear...thanks KISD!!). But bookmarking makes me remember that on a disc somewhere are other bookmarks not currently on my bookmarks tab. And downloading podcasts reveals that I'm current neither in the downloading of nor in the listening to multiple Spanish-learning, sermon and NPR podcasts. QUICK! Find the CD! QUICK!! Update all podcasts! Eh...screw it. It's good enough.

I seriously teeter on the edge of losing my mind because I want to have everything perfect, and yet mostly give up and leave everything so far from perfect just to keep my sanity.

There are just too many things, you know? Sometimes you have to let a couple of balls drop. So today I should have painted, done color charts, made some phone calls, submitted my syllabus, gotten ready for company, etc. but it just could not ALL be done.

Gotta go--so much to do. Well...never mind, I think I'll go watch TV.

To My Girl

(I don't know if you always take the time to stop and read this when you open up the internet. I'm hoping the title grabs your attention. Here, I hope to shout from the rooftops how much I love you.)

Let it be known to all that I have an amazing wife.

During dinner tonight, while talking to family, the discussion of household chores (for children/as children) and division of labor (among spouses) came up. The two other couples talked about how helpful and supportive the men were. Then it came our turn, and I jokingly talked about whipping Heather into shape so that she does all the work. Only that is not a joke. She seriously does just about everything. She even joked about cutting our friend's yard, and when the friend inquired if Heather made me go and do it, Heather responded, "Are you kidding? He doesn't even mow our lawn! I did it!" But here is the most amazing thing: she didn't say it reproachfully. She doesn't complain about how heavy her load is. She doesn't screech in my ear that I don't do enough. I can't begin to say how grateful I am for a wife who supports me: who bought a house with a studio before her husband even knew how to paint, who cooks, cleans, chases kids, balances the books, and works on the side so her husband can do what he loves (read, "can be at a job that makes very little money") and then spend hours practicing at his easel out back. If I ever do become a great teacher, or if I ever am able to make a living as an artist, it will only be because of her. That blows my mind.

I have already told her this, but I feel so loved when my wife tells me my hair looks good. She said so in front of her family. That seems petty or vain, but I like to experiment; to change my look. Early on, she was frustrated at my attempts to intentionally look weird, to try a style that didn't quite work, to grow my hair longer (or shave it off) or grow a beard just to see how it looked (okay, okay...and for the attention). But it astounds me the way she has grown. And here's the thing: it's not just that she is more open to my looks or my whims. She is more comfortable with herself--comfortable with the way she looks, secure in her relationship to God, eager to worship and serve him, free to love others and be comfortable with them as they are. That makes me so proud of her. And it makes me feel loved that I can be lovely in her eyes, regardless of the way I look.

And our togetherness has grown over the years. We still have our separate tastes. Hip hop vs. mellow/drama. TV vs. "A Prairie Home Companion." But she listens to NPR because she loves me, and even better, because she is big enough to embrace new things. I can't say I've been able to love rap because she loves it, but she has opened herself to a million things I love, and we now listen to the same things, laugh at the same quoted movie lines, and explore new things together.

To my diligent, hard-working, sacrificial, supporting, serving, passionate, devoted, confident, open, embracing, growing, learning, CROWN of a wife....
HM, I love you.

(Special photo credits to Mandy Rawson who took these phenomenal shots. Thanks!)

apples & tangerines

Here are progress shots on a tangerine painting that I nearly completed, but basically gave up on. It's messed up: the shadow area is too light, and the overall appearance of the tangerine is too cut out, too plastic-y, not integrated enough into the painting. So there you go. (Oh...and the ghost-like orb beneath the tangerine is a false start that never really got covered up.)






I painted with Jon today. Here's what I accomplished in a couple hours (it's a copper pot with purple flowers; the other lines are indications for other items in the still life which I did not get to).

with appreciation to Bishop, "art historian" i ain't

You can smoke a pipe and not be intellectually refined.
You can don glasses and not be any smarter.
You can teach a course in art history and not be an art historian.

So I am learning. I completed a week-long training last Friday, and supposedly I am now fully ready to teach a course on art from the dawn of time to the present day to a group of eager young minds.
Nothing could be farther from the truth.
As I poured over sample syllabi today, I was painfully aware that I had no idea how to structure the flow of the course, let alone enough mastery of the content to actually offer instruction. So this will be a painful year of keeping one step ahead of the students and trying not to be overwhelmed.

All of this makes me think of fear. It's something I've delt with quite a bit lately. Every time I start a new painting, I'm a little bit afraid (and yes, similar thoughts, like, "holding a paintbrush does not make you a painter" do spring to mind here). What if it turns out terribly? What if I don't know how to finish it? Those are the big two. (Oh...did I mention that I concluded my 2+ years of training this past Saturday? So I have graduated...and I'm now on my own).
A mentor once told me that your greatest strength is often your double-weakness. So for me, years of never having to really try, countless successes with everything coming to me easily, it is a bit daunting---no, it's downright terrifying---to push myself past my limits and try to become something more. And this is where fear threatens to undo me. I don't know if I have what it takes to become a great painter, but I WANT to be one. I don't know if I'll be able to do a great job teaching this year, but I'd LIKE to do so. I will admit to sandbagging in the past. Previously, when faced with such challenges, I'd give up or sort of half-ass it. That way I could always say, "It didn't turn out well? Eh....if I'd done my best it would have been awesome." That's much easier to come to terms with than saying, "It bombed? That sucks...I gave it everything."

So I'll wrap up my post. I'll go back to slugging away at the prep for this year's art history. I'll paint tomorrow, even if the end result is less than fantastic. And I'll keep pushing on, even though....shhhh, come in close....i'm freaking out.

finished product

in case you were interested

and now a moment of silence for those things we have lost due to the advances of technology

Mix tapes! Remember those cheap expressions of love; the only way to share thoughts and ideas about sound? Sure, they weren't the best technology--with poor (compared to modern standards) sound, easily coming unwound or being improperly dubbed (resulting in silence; once, when this occurred with my friend Drew he lamented, "It feels like a snag got caught and pulled, unraveling the beautiful sweater I knitted for you"). It was the sharing that was so great. "Here are all my best songs. Some will whisper feelings from me to you. Some show my personality. Some may excite new interest in you and open a doorway to a new common interest among us." A mix tape was a presentation of self. These days I sure do miss a mix tape.

(And NO, telling someone to youtube, itunes, or google something is not the same. Today, we put the work on our loved one. It's like Drew handing me a ball of yarn and a pattern and saying, "Good luck.")


The answering machine. Do you remember the excitement of coming home and wondering if anyone had called? It was almost validating to get a message on the machine, because it means you were missed while you were out, busy living your life. And it was a bit of a game. It was always uncertain whether or not you'd have any messages, and 5 or 6 or more messages was like striking oil.

(And NO, voicemails and texts are not the same. Too regular. Too base. Almost as if anyone can intrude on any moment at any time. Formerly you could be unavailable. Today we clamp the electronic leash around our necks each time we head out the door.)



I've never been a video game person, but the Atari was my first and only gaming system (unless you count the Gameboy). I gave up very early, because when Nintendo and the Sega Genesis came along in rapid succession, both JUST after I forked out my hard-earned and carefully-saved cash on the Atari, and both being JUST a bit better (and more expensive), the handwriting was on the wall. I knew I would never be able to keep up, and it would only keep going, faster and faster, and costing more and more. Did you know that from the years 1970-2006, 71 different game systems were developed (not counting hand-helds/portables)?

Now far from letting this lament die, what other things can you think of?

My Man Murphy

"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong." (Murphy's Law)

How to turn a pruning project into a 3 day ordeal:
1) Trim WAAAAY too much
2) Break your chainsaw
3) Break your chipper/shredder

Now, it sounds worse than it really was. The chainsaw came back to life. We rented the chipper, so aside from the time it took to swap it out for a new one at the Home Depot, it wasn't that big a deal. And, though the brush pile actually grew, compared to the picture above, prior to chipping, the final portion of the project went fairly quickly.

My hands are blistered, my arms are cut, my muscles are sore, but it's (mostly) done. I wish I had taken video of me lashed to a limb 30 feet in the air, pulling up a chainsaw by a rope and then chopping away. Craziness.

Prior to this huge home care project, however, I was able to complete a painting last week. I've decided to include pictures of the initial process of recovering the beaver skull (mostly to make the grid even without any repeats). As always, the pictures of the painting are fairly poor, but I'll be getting a final, higher quality photo soon and I'll post it as soon as it arrives. Enjoy checking out the progress from start to finish.