Sculpture: seated figures

Both of these greenware sculptures were made in separate classes I took at Wooster Community Art Center a few years ago, one taught by Janice Mauro (may not be the right spelling) and the other by Alexander Shundi. The figure on the right, I took back to the school after it cured and it was fired in the kiln there. It became more or less white in the firing process. It's out on an end table in the living room. The one on the left took a fall here as dry greenware. Limbs flew. The poor guy fell apart. Both were made in classes with a live model.

with hair and pages flying...

Dancing Poems!

For a long while now I have been fascinated with visual art that incorporates text in different ways. With all the leaping going on in this mixed media collage, a lot of the movement here is in the varied angles of the text. The text is actually pages torn from my chapbook Inverse Origami, which are collaged to this canvas, as was the dancer, who was drawn on plain paper in crayon and oil pastel. In addition there is some acrylic paint applied to weave it together.

Process: Visual metaphor, psychological metaphor

This work is from the Maine years, most specifically from the year I lived in Brownfield, Maine. The face here belongs to a first cousin once removed, or my rendition of her. She is a beautiful woman, not that you can see that here. The wide open mouth pictured belongs to her mother, and I am not sure what the hell I meant by any of it. Seat of the pants metaphor, I guess. Nor do I recall exactly what I was thinking at the time. Except that the child was the  quiet one and the mom was very  talkative (though not particularly teary.) It is my probably mistaken impression of something hidden in them....

As to the content:

Unfortunately, this is one of those works where people look at me and offer their condolences on my suffering or inquire about possible substance abuse. Understand - I am always stone cold straight and sober when working, (and 99% of other times too) and I am NEVER suffering when I am making a picture. While picture making, I am totally unselfconsciously absorbed in what color should go where, if something is needed to balance something, how the eye travels around etc etc etc. This is also true of writing a poem, or an essay. Music and acting however, are more problematic for me psychologically. They cost something very personal to produce.

The medium here is oil pastel and watercolor on 18 x 24 inch paper. The combination is interesting because, the oil pastel will not absorb the watercolor, and the watercolors can be drawn over with the oil pastels.

- Mar  Walker

Oil Pastel: Vivacity of generations

This is mixed media in the physical sense, as opposed to the digital sense. This a non-digital work. I drew this in the living room sitting on the couch while watching Monk over several weeks. First I did a sketch with a ball point pen/ Then I had a big box with crayons, craypas, whiteout, magic markers, pencils, a few pastels, a white touch up stick, a jackknife for scraping and a blender. I used them all in this work, which is on heavy paper. This sense of atmospheric vivacity here is characteristic of my recent stuff. Her hair is almost electric or Medusan but so is the world that surrounds her. The child is problematic here, and seems to be studying or looking for something, regarding her hipster-mom in the foreground with some anxiety. Maybe I have been hearing too much Ferlingetti and Ginsberg.

dancer with head feathers

This image was in my head after watching an African dance troop in action. I wouldn't swear to it, but I think I made this in MS Paint or NeoPaint. I have run sequentially though so many different computers and operating systems over the years - AMIGA, Radio Shack, three PC systems and an Apple. I have tried lots of the inexpensive of paint and graphic handling programs too, View Print Pro, and versions of PhotoPaint programs that came with various printers and cameras. In this little bit, both the movement and the colors have a pleasant sense of caprice. The spray nozzle splashes of color feel less then volumetric but grounded, while the accents of white give the feeling of canvas-showing-through lightness. I suppose it bears an unfortunate resemblance to a painting on black velvet. Not quite Elvis though.

all teeth - a fire horse

Moved from the Gallery:

This drawing was a study for an oil painting I planned. I used another sketch but these many years later I think the painting has been destroyed or painted over. Oil are so expensive, I haven't been using them. Too bad. They have a glow or transparency I don't find in acrylics. Oil pastel and watercolors and gesso or other weird combinations seem to have more appeal to me now.

resolution resale - recycling human nature

This column of mine appeared in 1/2/91 issue of The Reporter, a now defunct weekly newspaper in North Conway, New Hampshire.


So it's Jan 2, 1991. (Well it was when I wrote this.) Resolutions already broken?
Don't throw them away. My Uncle Jake has a friend who's in the recycling business. "Fred's Old Age Home and Recycling Center for Broken New Year's Resolutions, Dreams and High Hopes." Every January 1st, the sandwich sign at the end of the driveway says "Big Sale today: two for one."

Uncle Jake and I rode out to see Fred last week, to see what the specials were for 1991. Now, I have personal statute of limitations on New Year's resolutions, Once their year is up, it's up. I never make the same resolution two years in a row. Why spin your tires on sheet ice?

Fred's place is a long, rangy one-story shack with lots of little rooms added on one at a time, probably without asking the planning board. The stove pipes all stick out sideways and the shingles are falling off.

Old Fred looked pretty scruffy and sad when he came out to meet us. I guess it's pretty depressing work cleaning up after all those broken resolutions. "What can I git yah this year?" he asked, slapping Jake hard on the back as they ducked through the low doorway of the shop.

"Well, I'm not so sure," Jake said. "What you got that's cheap?" Fred ushered us over to a dusty table with heaps of old papers with fancy letters. Resolve: No more drinkin' cussin' or lyin.' Resolve: To invite your crabby mother over for dinner once a month and treat her nice no matter how bad she acts. Resolve: To be a better neighbor and to paint the kitchen for Molly. Resolve: To save $10 every week and mend my own socks. Each scroll was tattered and had strips of crinkled, yellowed scotch tape where Fred had mended it.
"So - did you bring a trade-in?" he asked. Yep. Last year I resolved to show how I felt toward people more, try to let the soft heart show instead of always playing the wicked cynic. I had some mixed results there. (I guess I really am a wicked cynic.)

Old Fred said he had a wide selection of barely used, mostly broken resolutions that could replace it. He highly recommended that I swap for a "No more negative attitude" resolution. Fred says that resolution is out of favor now, because with the declining economy, negativism is in, and he'll sell that one cheap. No surprise there.

Uncle Jake couldn't decide between a "Not talking so much when I drink," and a "Keeping the cellar clean," which I must say he would break in half an hour taking some Christmas present apart to see how it worked. (He'd break the other one too.) To trade,  Jake  brought along a "Not to pinch my wife in public," resolution which he broke at 12:07 a.m. on on January 1, while he was still at a New Year's eve party at the neighbors house. (Fred is very fond of Jake because he often has something unusual to trade...)

Uncle Jake suggested I might want to get a diet resolution because he was worried about the springs in his truck. "Mind your own business," I snapped. "I don't need one of those right now." Besides without a "self discipline" resolution, there's no sense to it.

I hope your resolutions last longer than mine. I won't tell you what I finally swapped for at Fred's. I'll probably break it anyway. Happy New Year.