Mavor Arts

The Mysterious Artistry of Boyce Luther Gulley

2010-03-01T13:28:00.015-07:00

"The Mystery Castle" in Phoenix, Arizona

The Mysterious Artistry of Boyce Luther Gulley

People disappear all the time.

More often than not, they meet with foul play. But sometimes they pop up alive and well someplace else suffering from amnesia or even, in a small number of cases ... they are as clearheaded and purposeful as the day they walked away.

Boyce Luther Gulley was one of those who, it is said, had a tragic reason for abandoning his family: he was dying. There is an official and romantic explanation for why he vanished and a couple of versions of how he eventually died, but surely the most interesting mystery of all is totally obscure: How did he earn a living after he left his family? Who were his friends? How did he have the strength to do what he did all alone? How come he was so ... healthy?

Well, the official account simply has no information about this, leaving much to the imagination of anyone who wonders not just about the amazing handiwork of this artist but of the secrets that appear to be buried with the man himself.

Anyway, here is how the story goes: After being diagnosed with the much-dreaded Tuberculosis in 1929, Gulley decided to leave his family life in Seattle, Washington in order to spare his wife and little three-year-old daughter from being exposed to the deadly, contagious disease as well as from the agony of watching him die, a fate he figured would soon be coming.

He never explained his departure or whereabouts for the fifteen years that followed. And somehow, by the grace of God, he did not die.

What made Gulley tick would be a fascinating psychological study because what we do know about him without any doubt is entirely and gloriously visible in the form of a sprawling and wondrous "castle" in the Arizona desert, and is evidence of a very, very eccentric individual. He spent the next fifteen years, apparently not being amazed that he was still alive, but instead relentlessly handcrafting a remarkable monument not only to his artistic prowess, but to the deeply felt love he had for his child: he always thought of Mary Lou as his little "Princess". In Seattle he had often played on the beach with her, building majestic sand castles over which she would temporarily reign as a princess. So this was truly a labor of love, it is said, undertaken to build his princess a castle that would never wash away.

One of many sitting nooks in the castle

Peering down into one of the Guest Rooms

Gulley chose Arizona as his retreat destination and when he arrived in Phoenix in 1930, he purchased an 80-acre gold mining claim in the desert just outside the city and located adjacent to the town dump. He had a couple of years of architectural engineering under his belt from a college in Texas, plus enough artistic talent and creative drive to dredge up this marvel of a mansion with nothing but his bare hands and lots and lots of time.

Decorative tiles imbedded in the rock exterior

"The Mystery Castle" (so named in a 1948 article in Life Magazine) is the incredible result of Gulley's curious and lonely endeavors and it has become a famous Arizona tourist landmark nestling in the foothills of South Mountain. Contemporary artists in the Trash Can School could take inspiration from this pioneer who used an amazing array of found objects in creating what is actually a colossal, crazy-quilt sculpture rising up from the gentle slopes of the Arizona desert.

Stones, river rocks and rubble, some handmade bricks, salvaged antique "clinker" bricks (malformed and discarded in the 20s, but coveted and pricey today), auto parts from his own and others' vehicles, various junk from the dump next door, old railroad tracks from the mine and telephone poles all went into this dwelling which is rumored to be held together with some mortar, cement, calcium and a dash of goat's milk! Decorative finishing touches consisted of ceramic tiles imbedded in the walls and walkways, old fashioned square glass dishes used for windowpanes, old wagon wheels here and there, many Native American artifacts plus lots of just plain oddball artwork, paintings and animal sculptures surprising you in nooks and crannies everywhere. Gulley went on scavenging treks around the Southwest and Mexico to gather many of these adornments and lots of it has been added during the many year's of daughter Mary Lou's tenure.

Living room fireplace with Mary Lou's artwork

East end of the expansive kitchen area

Little dinner party at the west end of the kitchen

Gulley's architectural "plan" seemed to be spontaneous and meandering, scattering 18 rooms and 13 fireplaces up and down three levels of the naturally occurring slopes of his desert property. Each level required its own entryway as there are no interior connecting stairways. Various rooms are curiosities rather than what you would expect in a normal household: a Cantina with its bar made from a covered wagon sawed in half; a Wedding Chapel which hosted many nuptials over the years, though now discontinued; and a Dungeon complete with a metal alligator "guarding" a trap door that led to hidden treasures, as the story goes. Outside accoutrements include a "Wishing Well" on the level directly over the Cantina where you could both holler down your order and get your drink of choice hoisted up to enjoy away from the bar itself, as you gazed at the spectacular vistas surrounding the castle.

The Wedding Chapel

The Cantina. Drinks could be hoisted up to the level
above via the Wishing Well

Famous alligator guarding the Dungeon's trap door

Could a person live in this place? It was very rustic with no electricity or plumbing, but Gulley did live there as he was building it with a variety of guest rooms, huge kitchen with window walls looking out onto the beautiful landscape, storage rooms, many sitting areas, fireplaces, outdoor vantage points ... almost like a hotel, a place to entertain. He lived in it until he died in 1945, not from Tuberculosis, but either from cancer or, some say, from an infection caused by a cactus needle that pierced his abdomen when he fell while on one of his desert treks perhaps.

Boyce Luther Gulley

After being notified of Gulley's death and their inheritance, his family came to Arizona and fell in love with the unconventional place, immediately moving in and making it their permanent home. His wife, Fran, died in 1972, but his daughter, Mary Lou, now in her early eighties, lives there still as of February, 2010. The story of mother and daughter is well known, and they both have proven to be extremely remarkable women, living with no amenities when they first arrived, in what seems more like a stone fortress than a dwelling. They braved the elements, the critters and even some contrary people while making a living by giving tours of their home, working up to as many as 20,000 people per year. Mary Lou continued her father's artistry with the addition of furnishings, artwork and many of her own paintings of people and animals, especially cats, on canvas, rocks and pillows, plus sculptures and decorative objects and tableaux all throughout the rambling structure and environs. To this day she reveres her father's memory and treasures her 64 years of living in the castle he built for her.

Curious feline sculpture down in the Dungeon

So ... was Boyce Luther Gulley, undisputed master artisan, also a "conscientious deserter" perhaps? A "free spirit" who might not have been able to deal with the demands of marriage and fatherhood? If so, he spent his time certainly thinking of his daughter, if not actually being with her. Did he develop a group of friends over the fifteen years of working on his legacy? Since his Cantina was created during the Prohibition era (which ended in 1933), do you think he and his cronies might have enjoyed some great times together, drinking forbidden spirits in the rather hidden castle "Speakeasy"? Could this be one way he earned a living both during Prohibition and beyond?

Stranger things have happened.

Visit The Mystery Castle on Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays from 11am until 4pm. Located at 600 E. Mineral Road in Phoenix, Arizona in the foothills of South Mountain Park. Phone 602-268-1581 for exact directions. Admission $5 per person, cash only.

Photos by Elinor Mavor

The Girl in the Mirror

2010-01-12T11:23:00.050-07:00

The Girl in the Mirror

An historical fantasy by Karley Pillsbury

Last April I met 11-year-old Karley Pillsbury, who came to my house with her dad (Doug) to talk about illustrations they wanted me to create for a book she had just finished writing.  The charming little girl, peering through her tiny spectacles at me across from my drawing board, reminded me of my long-ago self, without the specs, but always with my nose buried in books like the Nancy Drew mysteries.  She and her dad described to me what parts of the story they would like to see illustrated for the full-color cover and for ten black and white interior drawings.

I went to work along with several other specialists to bring this project to fruition.   After nine months of professional editing, some rewrites, book design and layout plus working with a printer, The Girl in the Mirror was published in December 2009 by her dad. Doug wanted Karley, who spent three months writing her book, to learn about the whole process of what it takes to get a book produced, in your hands and ready to read. She was amazed at the amount of time required but very happy with the results. Also, like a true professional, she is already at work on her next book!

As for the illustrations, let's start with the cover (at the top of this post). The cover shows the magical confrontation between the title character, Mallory, and a little early American slave girl, Prudence, as they gaze in wonder at one another through a mirror stored in the attic of the family's new plantation home.

While developing the preliminary sketches for the cover, I was working with photos that Doug had e-mailed to me of Karley's little sister, Brenna, taken as she posed for her dad gesturing toward a mirror. This helped me capture the pose, but something was wrong. Karley's mom raised the point that maybe the title character on the cover, Mallory, ought to look like her creator, Karley. Everyone agreed and I received more photos, mostly of Karley's head and face in various poses. So Brenna then became the model for the little sister in the story, Taylor, and a portrait of young author Karley appears on the cover of her own book! I had to do research on the internet to find antique mirrors to use in the composition, and then another seach for early American slave children to accurately portray what Prudence would be wearing as she reaches out to Mallory from inside the mirror. All in all, everyone was pleased with the results and we carried this theme throughout the book; Karley, Brenna and their mom and dad became models for the characters appearing in the interior illustrations. A family affair!  Also, a warm fuzzy for the illustrator: Karley told me that the image I created of Prudence was very close to her own idea of how this little slave girl would look.

Without giving away the story, here are a few of the interior illustrations:

Mallory and her little sister explore an old carriage house on their new plantation home grounds.

Lifting the key to the treasure off the slave-owner's neck.

Peering into the hole in the wall at the hidden treasure.

Order The Girl in the Mirror
from the website below:

http://www.thegirlinthemirror.com/

Cost: $10

Please add the word, ARTS, to your order information on the website.

The Evolution of Santa Claus

2009-12-18T14:03:00.010-07:00

The Evolution of Santa Claus
In keeping with the Jolly Holidays ...

Coming to chimneys everywhere during the wee hours of December 25th will be none other than Santa Claus, symbol of Christmas to children all over the globe. He has been doing something like this for centuries now and shows no signs of packing it in just yet. The jolly old fellow is actually a synthesis of many different cultures, customs, myths and legends that have evolved into the more or less universally accepted image we know and love today. (One of Haddon Sundblom's 1930s Santas for Coca Cola shown above.)

Growing up in the snowy midwest, I treasured the popular image of Santa as a grandfatherly fellow with red and white suit and hat plus a big fluffy beard and huge bouncing belly. The cheerful and bewitching gent held promise of wonderous things to come on the Big Day! It never occurred to me then that he had melting pot origins and looked very different over the many years of his evolution.

The idea of a kindly religious man giving gifts and the name "St. Nicholas" originated with a 4th Century Bishop from Myra (modern day Turkey). Considered a Patron Saint of children and the poor, St. Nicholas was known for his generousity and for giving anonymously. He remained "hidden" as he doled out goodies just like the latter day Santa. The Bishop died on December 6th, 345 (approximately) and was remembered as a magical figure who mysteriously distributed gifts to children in their homes every year throughout Europe on this day. Each country developed their own version of the myths and traditions surrounding this winter celebration.

The Dutch name for St. Nicholas was "Sinterklaas", who was also famous for protecting children and giving gifts. The tradition of children opening gifts from the mysterious saint on December 6th was beautifully captured in the 1663-65 painting, Feast of St. Nicholas, shown here (attributed to Jan Steen).

The modern role and image of Santa Claus first came to light in early 19th century America as Dutch, British and American influences came together to create the image that predominates today. The artwork that follows shows how the image gradually morphed from saintly man into the popular modern image of an elfin figure in a red and white suit, bringing gifts in a reindeer drawn sleigh to drop down the chimneys of good children.

As follows: two 4th Century depictions of St. Nicholas of Myra; a Christmas book, The Children's Friend, 1821; Thomas Nast's famous Harper's Weekly cover, 1861; another Nast illustration from the Val Berryman Collection, Nast-Works; the famous F.O.C. (Felix) Darley cover illustration for Clement Moore's The Night Before Christmas, 1862; St. Nicholas Magazine 1916; a 1925 N. C. Wyeth illustration; a 1925 J.C. Leyendecker Saturday Evening Post cover; another of Haddon Sundblom georgeous 1930s Santas for Coca Cola; and finally one of many beloved masterpieces by Norman Rockwell, this 1939 Saturday Evening Post cover.

The origins of St. Nicholas/Santa Claus were religious and then he became a popular mythological figure over the centuries, comingled and yet separated from the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. He is sometimes maligned as a commercial symbol detracting from the holy nature of Christmas. But, think about the feelings people have at this time of year; their thoughts are about children, goodwill towards their fellow men, sharing, family love, giftgiving, carolling, and so on. The same good thoughts and feelings engendered by the Santa Claus Legend are basically the same as those called forth by our celebration of the birth of Christ.

Merry Christmas!

Is It Art or Is It Digital?

2009-11-17T11:33:00.001-07:00

Is it Art or is it Digital?

Part II: From Pixels to PIXAR

In my last post I discussed my late son Scott's pixel magic in creating art and animation for the 1992 computer game, "The Last Files of Sherlock Holmes". Here I will show a progression of my own digital experimentation using the medium that has exploded from 256 colors and a 320 x 200 screen resolution to 16.8 million colors and the screen resolution I am currently using on my old 32-bit machine, 1024 x 768. I am about to set up my new 64-bit computer and am ready for the next level!

While I was still working with 320 x 200 I perfected my abilities learned from son Scott for other projects, a scene from one pictured at the top of this post and others directly below. I was lucky to have a deeper frame to work with for these illustrations. The Sherlock Holmes game required about a third of the area below the scene to be reserved for game buttons.

What we artists have today at our fingertips for digital expression is light years ahead of what we had in the early 90s. And even now when we have arrived at this point, I continue to sense some hesitation when talking with traditional painters about digital artwork, or especially digital "painting". I understand their loyalty to a medium that will always be in a very special class by itself, but for me, the digital world is more exciting because it has dramatically expanded the box of artistic tools available in the form of the scanner and exquisite paint programs. It also can be a liberation from the limits, expense and clutter of paint, brushes and canvas. Before I had a scanner I simply drew right into the computer on an early version of a Wacom Tablet using a beautifully intuitive program called Fractal Design Painter. I now own the newest incarnation of this program in Corel's Painter 10. The original was much simpler and easier to use, but that's the way things are and I have to accept that. *Sigh*. Here are a couple of illustrations done with that earlier program at a 640 x 480 screen resolution. The scene with children was for a book illustration and the one below that was for an animated computer storybook background.

At this point I am experimenting with all kinds of digital manipulation and painting programs to achieve various effects. To begin, I either scan in my sketches or my own photographs to establish the basis for the new piece of artwork. Digital illustration can look essentially the same as traditionally produced work, or, it can look quite different. Examples below include a portrait that appears as if it been done at a conventional drawing board. I used my own brushes created in PaintShop Pro to virtually sculpt and "paint" these portraits, about 30 of them done for book illustrations. Compare the portrait to the kaleidoscopic horse which was done using special effect digital brushes, and would not be easily concocted with ordinary paints or inks. Using large and small program brushes along with special settings, I rolled over the contours of the horse until I had the colors and effect I wanted.

A few years ago I took a huge number of digital photos back East and lately have been turning them into digital "paintings". The Harbormaster below captures a watercolor effect and more mood than the original photo.

While visiting Washington DC, I snapped quite a few interesting shots including the Little Street Cafe below. Directly below the photo is my rendering of the scene as a colored drawing, looking a little like an etching. Interesting textures and softer colors add charm to the image.

All of my experimentation has brought me to the point where I am ready to begin some very complex digital illustrations for an already published novel: Lee Hogan's "Belarus" which will be an online audio/visual presentation; a very new way to tell a story. Other individuals and companys have explored and triumphed at other higher levels of this medium. So in a journey of artistic digital evolution the computer world has come from lowly pixels to the heights of spectacular PIXAR Animation. Is it Art? Some people may not readily embrace the new artform, but I think the many amazing examples from simple illustrations to animated masterpieces speak for themselves.

Is it Art or is it Digital?

2009-11-10T11:24:00.008-07:00

Is it Art or is it Digital?

Part 1: Scott Mavor, Pixel Master

There still seems to be some prejudice out there against "Digital" Art. But it just continues to proliferate in spite of the fact that like all new media it has had to deal with the usual biases in its bid for acceptance. Digital Art is sort of like the Rock and Roll of the art world. And like Rock and Roll, it could not be stopped; it was inevitable that the amazing software designed for the computer would be used by imaginative artists in countless innovative and distinctive ways, leaving detractors in the dust.

Here's a little story for you about how it all began: I jumped into the medium back in 1991 when my son Scott (pictured top, above his scene of the notorious "alley" where a murder takes place) presented me with a 40-megabyte Electronic Arts computer, courtesy of his employer, Mythos Software, so that I could participate in creating illustrations with him for a pioneering computer game called "The Lost Files of Sherlock Holmes". Scott, who was a self-taught master of VGA art and animation, did the majority of the work, but because of a deadline crunch he called on me to to help create some of the character portraits and a few of the 23 or so Victorian street scenes and interior rooms that comprised the backgrounds for the game.

What we are talking about here is artwork that was literally created pixel by pixel in a 320- x 200-pixel frame. Teeny-tiny stuff. Eyeball scrambling work. Very low resolution. After hours of brain-crunching study, I figured out (almost) how my son did some of it and developed my own techniques for how to do the rest. Working with just 256 colors, Scott showed me how he created graduating palettes of each one, which allowed him to do what he called "getting rid of the dots" in each scene. To further mute the pixels, he kept the colors on the darker side which also enhanced the Victorian mood. Way beyond the flat graphics of PacMan, Scott invented what one exec at Electronic Arts called "The Mavor Glow". A great compliment for low resolution computer game artwork back in the day. Of course, right after the game was published, the industry went to high resolution graphics and his pixel mastery became obsolete.

Weaving the illusion of continuous tone artwork with all those little "dots" made us buggy-eyed after a long day's work. One night, I woke up, went into the bathroom, turned on the light and the world just pixilated in front of me. Scary imprints on my retinas had followed me away from the computer monitor, rendering my vision as a pointillistic painting a la George Seurat. Comparing notes with my son, I found out this was a natural, if disconcerting, side effect of the job. That and maybe a few carpal tunnel symptoms.

Along with all the backdrop scenes, Scott added animated figures, character head shots with animated mouths and in some scenes, explosions, raindrops and so on. He worked with writers, programmers, sound engineers and others who put it all together like an exquisite little film production. In those days, despite the pixel problem, things were pretty simple for computer artists ... no Windows, no convoluted programs to figure out, no crashes, just Deluxe Paint and Deluxe Animate, easy enough for a kid to use and accessed via MS-DOS (Microsoft Disc Operating System). The Good Ol' Days, indeed, but no one would really want to go back to them.

I have the boxed game but you can't play it on any modern computer. Fortunately, a few gamers have preserved some of it on YouTube (this clip from crozzoverDE), and I was especially happy to see again the Intro scene with the dark and foggy London street where tiny people stroll with umbrellas and an animated horse and carriage trot along the rain-slicked cobblestone street. The scenes may not look as good as they appeared in the original game, but it is very heartwarming to be able to take a nostalgic look at Scott's pixel-spinning Victorian scenes whenever I feel like it. Take a look for yourself on YouTube.

We lost Scott to lung cancer in 2008 and he is dearly loved and sorely missed. Certainly one of my fondest and most comforting memories is the joy of working with him on this innovative project.

Is it Art or is it Digital? to be continued ...

Pop Culture Goes Native

2009-10-30T19:22:00.003-07:00

Pop Culture Goes Native

The Art of Brian Jungen

I always love getting the latest issue of the Smithsonian magazine and this month my reward was a teaser article about the young installation artist, Brian Jungen. More information is available at the Smithsonian website but I will give a nutshell preview here. The Smithsonian is hosting a major exhibition of Jungen's critically acclaimed work at their National Museum of the American Indian, running from October 16 2009 through August 8 of 2010 on the National Mall, Washington DC. Entitled "Brian Jungen: Strange Comfort", this is the first solo exhibit of a living Native American artist in the five-year history of the museum. Featured are the artist's iconic pieces as well as major works never before seen in the United States.

Jungen, half Swiss-Canadian and half First Nation Dunne-za Indian, has turned Pop Art upside down and inside out by creating these stunning aboriginal sculptures out of mundane modern items such as luggage, shoes, broken chairs or even garbage cans. Viewers initially wowed by the craftsmanship, beauty and imagination of the work in general, then get to the really fun part -- recognizing the everyday objects within each piece. People are naturally free to interpret the various combinations of images and objects however they please, but the artist himself has definitely invested his own specific ideas about how aboriginal and Western culture connect in each one of the works on display.

So, let's go on a mini-tour.

Prototypes for New Understanding (1998-2005)

The ceremonial masks pictured above were inspired by the colors of Nike Air Jordans which also are the colors of the Haida, an indigenous people of the Pacific Northwest. Meticulously fashioned from deconstructed athletic shoes, there are 23 in the series (corresponding to basketball legend Michael Jordan's number). In fact, Jordan owns one of the sculptures. Jungen says he was impressed by how these shoes are revered and displayed in our American culture almost like museum objects. Also, his use of sports equipment gently satirizes the use by professional teams of the names: Indians, Chiefs, Redskins and Braves.

Crux (2008)

This is one of my favorites. It is the centerpiece of the exhibit, installed in the Potomac Atrium, the museum's soaring rotunda. A dramatically suspended mobile, 26 by 20 feet, it includes five animals native to Australia, the shark, possum, sea eagle, emu and crocodile (the latter three pictured above). Jungen actually camped out on Syndey's Cockatoo Island (directly in line with Sydney International Airport), gazed up at a night sky filled with stars and aircraft, and was inspired to create the sculptures in a mobile, reflecting the animals that Australia's aborigines saw in the constellations. And, of course, the materials he chose for this piece were luggage parts.

Shapeshifter (2000)

Another of my favorites, one of Jungen's whale sculptures. The artist was reading about the history of whaling at the time he discovered what to him was a huge treasure ... a bunch of broken white molded-plastic patio chairs in a trash heap. And thus we have The Shapeshifter above, one of three exquisite 21- to 40-foot-long whale skeletons, worthy of display in any natural history museum.

Prince (2006)

I couldn't find a story for this piece, but it captures the image of a handsome Indian Chieftan in a suit of armor, and it is constructed on a dress form entirely out of baseball gloves.

Personally, without over-intellectualizing this artist's philosophy or motives as some try to do, I simply enjoy seeing such entertaining and inventive work. Especially in a collecton like this. People like Brian Jungen are constantly pushing the boundaries of art expression, keeping us on edge and paving the way for the next exciting artists who will, in turn, stimulate us with even newer ideas.

Strange Comfort, indeed.

The Soloist

2009-10-21T07:33:00.083-07:00

The Soloist

Musician Nathaniel Ayers: A true story

My first thought was to write a review of the film, The Soloist, which is about the charismatic homeless musician, Nathaniel Ayers. Jamie Fox stars as as Ayers and Robert Downey, Jr. as Steve Lopez, the Los Angeles Times journalist who penned the book upon which the 2008 film is based.  However, rather than deconstructing the film, already done by many critics, I am just going to talk about the relationship between the two men.

Steve Lopez comes off as a world-weary columnist in search of a much needed story who finds his inspiration in a rag-tag street musician he happens to meet in a Los Angeles city park. Whether you are in Los Angeles or New York City, there is never a shortage of oddballs on the streets, but it takes a writer's eye to spot a human interest story in one of them as Lopez did that day.  Conversation with this character turns out to be trippy; convoluted and eloquent at the same time. Captivated by the amazing stream of information emanating from a guy who is obviously homeless, Lopez realizes that this fellow is challenged in some serious way, yet is well educated, a gifted musician and also very elusive. He may be rag-tag, but his rags are flamboyant, dressed up with multicolored scarves and a trademark hat. His life possessions roll along wherever he goes in a cart matching his bizarre appearance, looking a lot like an artsy street fair booth on wheels.

It takes some time and effort for Lopez to keep track of the intriguing stranger after their initial meeting, but he finally locates Ayers' daytime hangout under a freeway near Skid Row where he plays Beethoven on a beat-up old violin with only two strings.  Lopez becomes a regular visitor, gradually getting Ayers to acknowledge his presence and talk with him again. Mostly though, he becomes transfixed with the image of this middle-aged homeless man and the soul-stirring sounds he is producing on the battered violin. He sees the euphoric expression on Ayers' face while he is playing and as the days go by he becomes emotionally involved with the musician and his music.

The deadline-driven journalist begins morphing into someone who cares more about the man than the story he has been chasing so frantically.

Along the way, Lopez discovers that this hobo-like man on the street corner had once been a musical prodigy growing up in Cleveland, Ohio, who went on to study cello at the Juilliard School in New York City on a scholarship: A considerable achievement for anyone, but doubly so for an African American in the 60s. Tragically, he suffered a mental breakdown in his junior year and he was forced to withdraw from his studies. After going home to live with his mother, he was diagnosed with schizophrenia and underwent years of therapy including shock treatment which did not improve his condition. His mother died in 2000 and he ended up going to Los Angeles where he thought he might find his father.

Ayers, who lost so much to mental illness, makes an extraordinary adjustment to his situation by totally immersing himself in his music. He spends years playing music on the streets of L.A., and when he meets Lopez he has long been accustomed to his lot; he is where he wants to be, far away from the horrors of psychiatric treament and the pressures of a so-called normal life which he could not handle.

Lopez, however, brings about a sea change in his friend's life because of his stories about him in the Times. Many instruments, including a cello, are donated replacing the old violin, and he receives an invitation to watch the Los Angeles Philharmonic whose members go on to give free lessons to the man who has been without any formal training for so many years. Lopez also arranges to take him to a practice session where they are playing Beethoven, Ayers' favorite composer. Both men are mesmerized ... Ayers by the music and lopez by the rapture on his friend's face.

But as Lopez becomes dedicated to improving Ayers' life he crosses a line or two. He abruptly gets him an apartment which, at first, brings up very bad memories for Ayers, although he eventually embraces this haven off the streets.  Lopez becomes involved with arranging a public performance which paralyzes the musician. And then the worst though well-intentioned move ... he tries to get Ayers to see a psychiatrist and almost destroys the friendship. It seemed to me that Lopez wanted to "fix" his broken friend so that the man could live like a "normal" person and fully realize his musical potential. Thankfully, Lopez recognizes his mistakes and is able to learn how to accept Ayers for who he is. Making life better for the challenged genius is incredibly generous and appreciated up to a point, but simply being his friend is by far the most important thing he ever could have done. With all the advantages and attention Ayers has gained because of Lopez, to this day he keeps on blissfully playing his music on the back streets of Los Angeles.

The heart of the film is how both characters evolve as their relationship develops. And what is most amazing to me is how Ayers, caught in the quagmire of mental illness, often appears to be the wiser man. Despite his need for a friend, his priorities are in proper order. On the other hand, Lopez writes that his life values were completely redefined as a result of getting to know this extraordinary person, Nathaniel Ayers.

The Soloist is ultimately about the meaning of friendship. It is not, as some might expect, a Hollywood story about turning a sick, homeless musician into a famous performing artist. Actors Jamie Fox and Robert Downey, Jr. deliver the message about the unique friendship with consummate skill while the powerful sounds of Beethoven unite the characters as well as enthrall the audience.

Electronic Graffiti

2009-10-13T14:10:00.000-07:00

Electronic Graffiti

and Facebook as Therapy in the Information Age

We haven't yet morphed into the enormous egg-headed, spindly-limbed geekatoids predicted years ago by science fiction writers as an unavoidable consequence of being glued to a computer screen 24/7. Some of us (you know who you are) may be getting close, however.

Facebook is just one of the magnets potentially drawing us deep into a cyberspace life, away from weight-bearing exercise and other human activities like tending to family, work and taking out the garbage. But it IS such a fun and addictive diversion. God! Find your long-lost friends and relatives, feel the rush of someone posting something on your Wall, enjoy watching your list of friends grow. You can jump into all sorts of discussions including serious ones about maintaining your precious privacy .... on a website with some 300 million members!

Therapeutic breaks from working at my computer every day have never been so satisfying. Much better than potato chips!

Because of the privacy concerns mentioned above, some of us are being very judicious about giving away the store: Some profiles will show only a partial name, a really old photo (maybe even one of your dog or cat) or in my case a piece of artwork, and no location, no date of birth or any personal likes or dislikes at all. This is a little extreme because we are on Facebook, after all, to make connections, so some barebones info has to ring true in order for our buddies to recognize us and for others to become friends. Other folks just let it all hang out. You might be able to show up at their home for dinner. That could be a bad thing. So, as in all things, moderation is probably the way to go. But simply getting your stuff up on Facebook at all, no matter in what form, just might be a winning move for your psychological well being.

Now, The Big Wall .... it is always awash with colorful photos, book covers, artwork, puzzles, games, personality tests and so on, splashing endlessly down and down into Facebook oblivion; a gorgeous and crazyquilt explosion of Electronic Graffiti, refreshed constantly and tirelessly by eager Facebookers. No muss, no fuss, no spraycans. And then there are the writings .... and I do admire the courage and candor of those blurting out Twitteresque statements about what they are doing "right now" for all to ponder. This is yet another form of therapy because it is healthy to have someplace to spill out your immediate thoughts no matter how trivial or even nutty they may be. Just getting them out there at the very least can feel good and may even help organize your day. Certainly, unlike any session with a pro, this will get you a whole bunch of FREE commentary and advice! When did a shrink ever offer a deal like that?

But what about the "chickens"? Those who prefer to "watch" so to speak? Well, they can get their jollies by following those Wall Confessions, sort of like Peeping Toms with a perpetual Reality Show. Then there are the grocery list comments like "Don't forget to pick up the pie". This stuff is posted by those very secure in the expectation that their messages will be picked up regularly. Geez, I'm thinking, I hope the pie picker-upper sees this in time. Other proactive types of Facebookers like to pose possibly important questions on The Wall ... philosophical, political or sometimes, as it turns out, merely rhetorical. They have fun engaging in Sophistry with Facebook heads by posing endlessly looping discussions, just because they can! So there is a virtual circus of personalities weaving addictive entertainment for every type of cyberaddict. My advice? Be selective and moderate. I know I am.

Anyway, I am very sure that MY time spent on this seductive and amusing website is most assuredly, "Quality Time". C'mon, it's good for me .... it's therapeutic!! What's YOUR excuse?

Thrum & Twang

2009-10-08T11:01:00.000-07:00

Thrum and Twang

(Or where did I get the urge to draw?)

Isn't it maddening how some people can act AND sing AND dance AND write books and music, paint, play killer saxophone and host a TV show all in one lifetime? Others build fantastic buildings, take amazing photographs, cook gourmet meals, compose music, play piano concertos, create Broadway musicals or plays, invent or make earthshaking discoveries, cure diseases .... sometimes in all sorts of crazy combinations. Not many humans can successfully pull off truly high degrees of multi-level creativity, but every person IS endowed with this creative bone that can twang around in all directions. Many do not heed the call, but many others listen to the twang and let it vibrate through them, some latching on to one or another of the internal thrummings, and others spreading their wings to encompass a whole lot more.

How someone translates one or more of these into successful expression seems to involve genetic makeup and family influence along with ambition plus a certain amount of good fortune.  And as for the super multi-expressive? Just pure genius that we who are not of that ilk can only gawk at in wonder.

It is interesting to examine the roots of your own special interests.

My twangs had me walking around with a sketch book in hand all the time as a kid. So I always thought of myself as an "artist".   Once in 2nd grade, one of my drawings produced for me a prize box of pastels from the principal who had been substitute teaching our class. There was a nice little hint.

My dad was a successful architect who also loved gardening and remodeling our home, plus when he wasn't out on the golf course, he could be found making wonderful things in his workshop like salad bowls and mosaic tables. He and my mother were always putting up jars of veggies and a wicked mustard-pickle concoction called "Chow Chow" with produce from his huge garden and lining the shelves of the pantry with them. We were well stocked! He came over to this country from Herning, Denmark as a baby with his mother, father and seven brothers and sisters. Of all of them, he was the most energetic, ambitious and prosperous.

My mother was truly a culinary artist, spending many hours slaving in the kitchen, the uphot of such efforts often making her a bit crabby. (OK, even a lot crabby.) She, and we, suffered for her art.  And not being much of a feeder when young, I didn't much like some of her more non-kid type concoctions like Prune Whip and Chicken Livers (yuk, still). But I was a perverse, skinny child who will never forget her Pecan Dreams and Rum Pie. (I fed a lot of oatmeal and softboiled eggs to our cocker spaniel, Topsy, under the kitchen table when no one was looking.) Nice.  Mother later became a devoted follower of Julia Childs'  "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" and with more maturity I finally became a fan.

Then there were the "hats". (Dreadful things to me at the time, again an unworthy critic.) But she would often get up in the middle of the night with some mad inspiration for a headdress spiked with pheasant feathers snagged from one of my father's hunting trips. Her Mad Hatter phase lasted long enough to fill a few closet shelves and cover a few reluctant church-going heads.

My older sister was also a sketchbook artist along with me and we recorded our impressions of mostly animals and people all the time. Don't remember who inspired us to stick with this so loyally, but it defined our thrummings to a tee.  We would sketch characters (especially the odder ones) who populated the train station in downtown Chicago where we would go as a family and wait to pick up my father every Friday night when he was commuting from Flint, Michigan on a special job. My sister once grabbed the attention of a young serviceman while sketching a rather portly woman, but I don't think he was really interested in the sketch. It took me years to figure this out. She went off to study at the Art Institute of Chicago and I was in awe of her life drawings, still life paintings and especially her advertising design piece for Johnny Mercer. I had someone to look up to and emulate.

I also had a big brother who made things with his hands (created some fabulous workshop puppets for me one Christmas), invented many unique things out of parts from objects he had disassembled and was always working on his to-die-for Lionel Train set built up on a retractable platform that easily filled half of his bedroom.  I was once allowed to act as Engineer, running the train as it wound its way through tunnels in the miniature tree-lined mountains and stopped at all the tiny stations, whoo-whooing all the way. He went off to Parris Island and served in the Marines and then came home to study architecture and join my dad's firm.

So I was influenced by my family to latch onto some thrummings. I did the sketchbook thing (still do it), and then began following various internal twangs for awhile. Studied life drawing, watercolor and sculpture before going on to take advertising design courses at the Rhode Island School of Design. Over the years with family and other obligations taking precedent, I have pursued my art intermittently but relentlessly, and now fulltime. Related interests include photography, writing, gardening and cooking.

The rich background I came from did have its notable levels of creativity. A funny thing happened then, with one thing inspiring and informing another and so on, thrumming and twanging along on its merry way.

Six Reasons Why Every Artist Should Have a Blog

2009-10-05T12:03:00.000-07:00

Six Reasons Why Every Artist Should Create a Blog

Number One:

It promotes character growth.

Since you are a right-brained creature, it is a very good exercise to engage the left in some synapse-bending quagmires it has never before attempted to tangle with.

Number Two:

It raises your endurance threshold.

After wrapping your head around a variety pack of blogging websites that promise you can "just click here and start writing", you will ultimately find the one that will actually help you get the sucker done. It inevitably will become clear as a bell how to smash your Title Artwork up into that Title Box so that it fits after you re-size and upload it a bazillion times. Repetition helps it all sink in.

Number Three:

It makes you realize that being a picky and meticulous wretch is a GOOD thing.

When you finally accomplish getting the seemingly recalcitrant framework in place, correct colors chosen, sidebars all populated, you can celebrate with a glass or two of champagne. Very nice.

Number Four:

It gives you something to vent about.

And you are here to write, after all, to spread some word about what the hell you are thinking and of course about what you are doing. The inelegant hassle of setting up your Blog will fire up the furnace for your initial blast onto the Blogosphere ..... and then some.

Number Five:

It launches you into the brave new world of cyber-journalists who are splashing words about virtually everything, virtually everywhere.

Who knew so many people could write?? Or even would write? AND be instantly published as well? Teeming with thoughts and ideas, the Blogosphere is like a massive, undulating electronic diary. One in which you will explore just who you are --- very publicly. A bit daunting when you think of it this way.

But who cares .......... jump in! Post that bouncing new baby Blog.

Number Six:

It might even be good for business!

Exposure increases awareness of you and your artwork! TA DA! So you need to add your two cents to the mix. Someone is bound to read your Blog and look at the pictures. Gotta happen. And then, I have read that good things will follow if you are attentive, persistent and make friends with your fellow Bloggers. So this last reason could be the most important one of the bunch. The other five will improve you as a person, while this one could buy you dinner.

Much appreciation to Blogspot for being the Very Best of the Bunch.