Monthly Archives: May 2016


I have a friend I have never met in person. I do not even know how she pronounces her first name, which is Clottee. I have been pronouncing it “Cloh TAY” in my head. I will ask her next time we chat on Facebook.

Clottee has been posting extraordinary historical tidbits about slavery. The History textbooks in the schools I went to wouldn’t touch this stuff. So, following her posts, I’ve learned a lot about the routine cruelty of certain white folks and the fathom less imposed misery of certain black folks. The movie 12 YEARS A SLAVE, and the recently-revived TV series ROOTS, gave white-bread me a hint, but Clottee’s series yields a holographic panorama.

Her most recent entry profiles a remarkable woman, and reading about her I was compelled to do the above card. It was also a way to express gratitude to Clottee for her hard and diligent work.


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there are baubles in the attic

riots in the fields a split in the council

unthriving sounds of caribou

ever-evanescent skyscape

People talk about signs of the Apocalypse. I’m not going to wax too apocalyptic here, but I am compelled to mention that I’ve ¬†witnessed more fights breaking out on our light rail in this calendar year than I’d seen in the previous five. Not a good sign.


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Here’s my second try at Martin, who during lulls will join me at the podium and share his mordant observations about fashion disasters. Again I got carried away with the oil pastels, and this is a seriously flawed portrait. But because of this one, the next one will be better.

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Explanation, if needed, on request.


debt toll

dealers and wheelers suck merlot

eaters and bleaters can’t say no

beggars and peggers know full well

there will be HELL to pay–then a knell

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So Veronica doubles down on her faith in my artistry by giving me a SECOND set of oil pastels, this one made by Grumbacher, a fine and venerated brand. (Grumbacher and Liquitex were the only brands of acrylics I ever bought as an art student.) She says, “If one of your things ever ends up in the Louvre, maybe you’ll give me some credit . . . ?”

I will give her credit in advance. One fine day at least one of my oil pastels will hang in the Louvre, and I will owe it all to her.

But it won’t be this one, though there is some energy here, and a good choice made of dark paper. This one is overdone–I didn’t know when to stop–and still unbearably clumsy.

Smart Pooch

Such a pup

Makes us so

Avid to go

Romp, etc

Thru Truth

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The oil pastel adventure continues. Today’s lesson was Using a Limited Palette. I also changed my stroke strategy to include ittybittycircle strokes.

A few decades ago it was the vogue to call an in depth profile on a topic of interest a “white paper.” This is an address on environmental concerns, so it’s Green.


Given: A Metabolism needs its ATP

Rituals involve a substance-smoke or wine or tea

Eagle feathers, balls on tethers, Nana’s chicken soup

E-mail, retail, CRUISIN’ in a two-tone bitchen coupe

Now we need to prove we’ve got the stuff to LOOP the looper

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This second exercise did not take long, I having learned from the first that simpler is better. I’m also learning that it’s not necessary to grind the pastel into the paper as if it were spackle into a wall. And going from the inside out seems to be better than outside-in.

THANK YOU!!! for your kindly attention.