(Pic #1) My own "sidewalk show" found on the street in Calabasas, California

How my high school art teacher changed the way I view – everything.

I remember the day I understood what it meant to succeed at a task – specifically a school art project. It wasn’t the grade — nor the obligatory oohs and ahs from my parents — it had to be something I felt inside. I didn’t know this until I was 15 – when my 10^th grade art teacher, “Mr. Printz” tossed out a question that made me cry.

(Pic #2) Robert Printz, former Great Neck North High School Art Teacher

We were assigned a sculpture project, and I had chosen to make a plaster of paris oak tree in the middle of our living room in Great Neck, Long Island. I knew I needed something to hold the plaster onto the trunk, so I bought a roll of chicken wire and made what I thought was an adequate column, covered in traditional paper mache, and onto which I spackled the wet plaster.

Epic fail.

The plaster never dried, and by the time I had gotten the masterpiece to class, I had left a goopy white trail from my house through the halls of Great Neck North.  The project had become an oozing blob of white goo supported by a sickly crumpled wire foundation… resembling a little more of a Dr. Seuss character than I might have hoped.

I knew I had to submit the work, and had to speak about it.  I was paralyzed.  But Mr. Printz cut right through my consternation, and asked one thing:

“Lon, does this piece raise your blood pressure?”

At first I thought, well, yes, but only because I am completely humiliated.  I knew that wasn’t what he meant. He went on to explain that you know when a work is good when it sends you somewhere, speaks to you, makes you really feel something.

 I felt nothing.

Lesson learned: Appreciating a turn of phrase, a high note, a sidewalk show

From that day on, I have always tried to judge my work by this standard, and it has become a part of my psyche – an  internal mechanism of sorts — for appreciating and exploring art: in literature, in music, and on canvas.

It’s why I get so excited reading certain descriptions of nature in a Robert Frost poem, hearing the late jazz great Susannah McCorkle sing “Waters of March” or finding an unexpected artistic jolt on the sidewalk while I’m out for a jog. I’m now recognizing — and savoring — when I do feel my blood pressure rise.  It’s what’s supposed to happen when you do your best work, and appreciate the beauty of art around you.

In describing blue butterflies, I love that Frost uses the phrase “flowers that fly.” (See poem above.) I still get misty when McCorkle slips into the Portuguese chorus, and just last week my blood steamed up when I saw this Mondrian-style cement block (Pic #1) on a sidewalk in Calabasas.

It’s a wonder I have time for anything else. Thank God for that, and for a sobering critique from Mr. Printz.

“Life is not measured by the breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away.”

– Tina Adderholdt

Up close: Gorgeous hues and geometric lines of the Cold Spring Canyon “Suicide” Bridge – linking Santa Barbara with Santa Ynez.

Spectacular engineering feat still haunts locals.

“Jump up — not down!” screamed a dude in a pickup truck as we began to shoot a few photos of this magnificent scene. I should have known something was up. It only took a couple of casual chats with people along Stagecoach Road to figure out what it was.

Built in 1963, the Cold Spring Canyon Bridge embodies the perfect blend of strength and beauty. The 1200-foot crossing is by far the longest steel arch bridge in the state of California — a brightly colored architectural symbol of the Santa Ynez Valley.

But its history paints a darker picture — as 55 people have plunged to their deaths from the deck of its imposing span over a 420-foot canyon below. Eight lives lost in 2009, making it the most lethal year in the bridge’s history.

For years, residents have been calling it a “suicide hotspot” — many have been fighting for the installation of safety nets — though it has become a contentious legal battle in and out of court. But last week Caltrans announced it would begin installing grid mesh barriers on both sides of the historic structure; the project is expected to be completed this spring. See the local TV news report here.

Bridge in the abstract: handsome contrast in color

Highway 154 (also known as The San Marcos Pass) is a sweet 33-mile ride through a portion of the Los Padres National Forest.

Arch bridges work by transferring the weight of the bridge and its load partially into a horizontal thrust restrained by the abutments at either side.

Photos  by Josh Kaplan.

When art touches soul 

In my corporate workshops I always stress the importance of art — in any form — as a way to enrich our daily lives. Allowing art to find us, touch us, and inspire us — can lead to a visceral sense of complete joy and fulfillment. That apparently applies to quadrupeds as well.

Studies show that animals do respond to music — and in some cases, researchers notice a healing effect. When a team of researchers in Belfast, Northern Island, exposed 50 dogs in an animal shelter to Vivaldis, The Four Seasons, Greigs Morning and other classical pieces, the dogs “became calm and laid down.” When the researchers played music by Metallica and other heavy metal bands, the dogs “became agitated and began barking.”

In the attached video, you’ll see a what anthropomorhically appears to be a quite charming adult golden retriever — completely enraptured by a song played on guitar by a UConn college student named Drew Acoleo. Watch closely, and you can see “Bailey” actually bopping to the beat and “smiling” when Drew begins to strum. As soon as he stops, Bailey does too.

The musician received so many queries about the video’s authenticity that he felt he needed to explain: He says he was playing in the basement of a friend’s house when he noticed his buddy’s golden responding to his tune. He was as surprised as we are, and he decided to record the session on his iPhone.

Drew says he wants to make it clear–that he doesn’t work for Anheuser-Busch. (You’ll notice the can of Bud Light propped in a very strategic place on the right side of the screen.) Guitar World Magazine concluded that it’s just a clever way for us to watch Drew’s hand strumming in the can’s reflection.

The viral video has now reached nearly 6 million views in just one month’s time. Now some Bailey fans are hoping to see this clip run as a commercial during the Super Bowl next week. Hey, goofier things have happened. Here’s one of the finalists from the “Crash the Super Bowl” homemade ad contest for Doritos:

Smash Hit: Ad Campaign for Mercedes Benz Israel by Y&R Interactive, Tel Aviv

It’s not hard to see that the brains behind this stunning print campaign lean right.  The images showcase the qualities of the two opposing parts of the brain that complement each other: the left side, responsible for analysis and logic — juxtaposed with (or maybe more accurately - compatible with) the more creative, intuitive side. The message, according to Communication Arts,  is that “Mercedes Benz, like the brain, represents a combination of opposites that together create technological innovation, breakthrough engineering, inspiring design and passion.”

Whatever. I stand in awe of this sweet, super-clever metaphorical celebration of science and art.

A closer look: The text in the copy for the left brain reads:

“I am the left brain. I am a scientist. A mathematician. I love the familiar. I categorize. I am accurate. Linear. Analytical. Strategic. I am practical. Always in control. A master of words and language. Realistic. I calculate equations and play with numbers. I am order. I am logic. I know exactly who I am.”

Text in the copy for the right brain reads:

“I am the right brain. I am creativity. A free spirit. I am passion. Yearning. Sensuality. I am the sound of roaring laughter. I am taste. The feeling of sand beneath bare feat. I am movement. Vivid colors. I am the urge to paint on an empty canvas. I am boundless imagination. Art. Poetry. I sense. I feel. I am everything I wanted to be.”

And if you’re still wondering where you fit — you can always take this Left Brain – Right Brain Test here. For more Mercedes images, click here.

Creating art by an abandoned farm shed in Oxnard, California. December 2011

Bottom line: It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece.  It just has to be yours.

Banishing the inner critic. How many great works of art were ruined by listening to the inner critic? How many times have you painted something, penned a poem, or composed a piece of music — only to trash it because you decide on second glance it wasn’t worthy of sharing or keeping?

That little voice that whispers too loudly  – “it’s no good. It sucks. You’ve done this before” — is the real artist’s most dangerous adversary.

So here’s my New Year’s revelation — and resolution — for the next time I feel the urge to create: instead of listening to my inner cynic, I will call upon my fearless 4-year-old; she never needed a second look. And every time she painted something, it was magic.

A show-stopping viral video illustrates how nature can turn on us — and on itself – in a nanosecond. We must be ready.

There’s a name for this phenomenon—MURMURATION. It’s simply a massive moving flock of starlings. Technically it’s a collective noun – much like a gaggle of geese or a school of fish.

The stunning video —  posted by filmmakers Sophie Windsor Clive and Liberty Smith – emerged from an evening canoe trip which had no expectations.  But the duo ended up capturing one of nature’s most extraordinary sights: thousands of birds twisting and diving in shape-shifting masses – choreographing a coordinated ballet over the longest River in Ireland – the Shannon.

“We were standing down on the shore and it was like the birds literally saw us on their island, chatted about it and gathered above our heads. It was such a rush and we were utterly overwhelmed,” said Sophie.

According to TIME’s London bureau, “No one knows why they do it. Yet each fall, thousands of starlings dance in the twilight above Gretna, Scotland,  having migrated in the millions from Russia and Scandinavia to escape winter’s bite.”  Scientists aren’t sure how they do it, either. “Even complex algorithmic models haven’t yet explained the starlings’ acrobatics, which rely on the tiny bird’s quicksilver reaction time of under 100 milliseconds to avoid aerial collisions—and predators.”

The lesson?

Sometimes nature chooses us to share her secrets or witness her show of force. We never really know exactly where or when she might strike.  But wouldn’t it be cool if we could always be ready — for that life-altering moment — when she taps us on the shoulder and says, “Watch this.”

Nashville weatherman Bill Hall (left) with me and anchor Dan Miller, circa 1980. Photo by John Bills

He never touched paintbrush to canvas, or molded a lump of clay in his hands. He never tried to bend and mold steel to his will, but just because of the way he lived his life, and did his work, Bill Hall was an artist.

Hall, who died yesterday, was the longtime weatherman at WSMV-TV in Nashville. I only worked with him for 5 years, but it was a time I will never forget.

If you didn’t live in Nashville in the early 1980s, then you probably never heard of Bill Hall. If you did live back there, and back then, Bill Hall was kin.  He was a member of the family, a treasured friend invited into the homes of tens of thousands of Tennesseans every night.

They loved Bill because he was one of them. One of the most highly rated newscasts during Bill’s tenure was the night he asked viewers how to get a mouse out of his house. His ability to connect through his gentle style and easy humor, made the outpouring of affection at the news of his passing heartwarming, yet totally unsurprising. He was adored.

I used to sit next to Bill, and my co-anchor Dan Miller on the set every night, as a young news anchor learning my craft. They made it seem so easy. It wasn’t. Like any art form, broadcasting always looks simple in the hands of the gifted. The subtleties of performance, and miracle of unselfconscious communication are elusive to most, but not to Dan, and not to Bill.  Both of them are gone now, but the lessons they taught me by example, served me well as a newscaster and they still serve me to this day.

Art at its best, is the purest form of connection.  It makes you feel, it makes you think, and it leaves you richer for the experience. Bill connected with his audience in a way that somehow left them feeling more at home, even in their own homes.

This is a blog about art, creativity, and inspiration.  Bill was certainly creative, and to me, and many, many others he was inspirational.  Was he an artist?  Well, if great art helps define our humanity, why can’t the humanity with which you live your life rise to the level of art? I think it can, partly because Bill Hall was my friend.

Just for laughs.

If the The International Congress of Humor is right — “laughter is down 66 – 82% worldwide compared to what it was in the 1950s.” Experts say back then people laughed on the average 18 minutes a day — and today, we are lucky if we average between 4-6 minutes. So I guess I’m sharing these cutting-edge viral videos in the name of simply improving our stats.  Just press play, and watch the groundbreaking editing and voice-over work of an anonymous young Texas lip-reading songwriter — bent on messing with our heads.

You can’t deny laughter; when it comes, it plops down in your favorite chair and stays as long as it wants.
—Stephen King

Call me sophomoric,  but when I watched these clips, I laughed until started gasping for air. The kind of out-of-control laughter you experience when you’re supposed to be silent, and reverent in church.

As of this writing, the author of this extraordinarily popular – unintentionally irreverent — viral video series remains anonymous. My hunch is — not for long. In case you’ve missed these masterful works of art, I’ve included three here — though no doubt many more will emerge from the shadows of cyberspace soon.

The premise is this: Over existing video of today’s campaign speeches and pop songs, the writer overdubs new words and phrases — whether they make sense or not. That’s the cool part. He insists they are not political parodies, but you be the judge.

The young, yet-to-be-identified songwriter from Texas says the idea came to life after his own musician mother began losing her hearing.  She became such an adept lip reader that she inspired her son to mute the sound on the TV and try it himself. What started as a legitimate learning experience soon morphed into an art form. His first music video overdub was “Friday” by Rebecca Black. The writer says it looked like Black was singing “gang fight” and then — he made it so.  Since then, the author has rewritten enough material to fill his own Bad Lip Reading Channel on You Tube.

From Taylor Swift to Herman Cain — no one is safe. Some artists and newsmakers openly support the Bad Lip Reading movement (Michael Buble gave his enthusiastic props on YouTube) but due to charges of copyright infringement (Universal Music Group already issued a YouTube “takedown”) it’s anyone’s guess how long we’ll get to roar at this comedy gold.

(See Village Voice story here.)

(Pic #1) Trucker hauling tires on the 405 in L.A. inspired this old-school sepia tone print.

Truckers in traffic: The art of abstraction is freeway close.

I guess you could call me obsessed. The Oxford dictionary says I would be labeled as such if I became “preoccupied with something… continually, intrusively, and to a troubling extent.” Guilty.

(Pic #2) Side of construction truck near Albany, NY

I can’t help it. I see 18-wheelers or old farm trucks and I’m sucked into a visual vortex: patterns of rusty holes, peeling paint, and flatbed piles worthy of a classic episode Sanford and Son. In these fleeting images I catch glimpses of stunning abstract art — some reminiscent of work shown in the world’s most prestigious contemporary collections and auction houses.

Finding the beauty:

In my corporate workshops I always stress the importance of really looking around us.  It’s become an annoying habit for anyone driving with me, because I’ve been known to engage in some light tailgating to get the shot I need. But if you make looking a habit, you will discover art in the most curious places. I happen to find expressways and side streets a great place to start. You’ll see quirky patterns and textures — and quite often, the making for a spectacular abstract-expressionist work of art.

(Pic #3) Left: Junked boxcars, Saticoy, CA. Right: Rothko"Blue Divided by Blue" (untitled) which sold for $4.1 million U.S. Rothko 's record: over $72 million.

Two cases in point: On a recent visit to an automotive junkyard in Saticoy, California, I encountered a graveyard for old trucks, trailers, and box cars. They were all piled high and strewn about. I was mesmerized by the geometry and contrast in color.  The delicate patinas of blues and browns reminded me of the work of iconic Russian-American painter Mark Rothko (Pic #3). Then — popping out from the mountains of metal — bold primary colors you might only see on race cars or lunch boxes. (Pic #4)

(Pic #4) (Detail) Side of trashed truck, Saticoy, CA

The same week I shot the back of a rusty white truck, I also encountered a chillingly similar painting in the Museum of Contemporary Art in LA that I had never noticed before (Pic # 5). The artist is a Spanish abstract painter named Antoni Tapies. The piece is called  ”All White, Number 2″– painted in 1955. The truck image was captured on the 101, passing through the San Fernando Valley in 2011.

It doesn’t matter which came first– it does enrich us if we notice both.

(Pic #5) Left: White rusted moving truck, Los Angeles, 2011. Right: Mixed media on canvas painting by Antoni Tapies, 1955. Artist's work typically fetches hundreds of thousands to millions of U.S dollars.

(Pic #6) Flatbed full of metal scrap, Los Angeles, CA

(Pic #7) Trashed truck, Saticoy, CA

(Pic #8) Twig truck, Agoura Hills, CA

(Pic #9) Industrial "tagging," Los Angeles, CA

(Pic #10) Distressed beauty, Encino, CA