Friday, April 18, 2008


Just pull up yer socks. That’s right.

So what’s new?

A cluster of promises thrown to the air, a bit of token harrumphing and we’re back to the tunnel in between the stations of gallivanting and procrastinating. Down here, creeps rule and the signs surround you with advise to search for the big long roar, a change in air pressure signaling something massive hurtling along the rails, great lamps skimming sticky walls with halogen light.

Patti Scialfa’s alternating with Bonnie Raitt on the ears, and there’s the sound of perpetual dripping. If I had a Zippo, I’d slice the air with a click and make a small flame hum. But I don’t have one. So I’ll just settle for a few images captured on paper from recent times and days long past.

Thanks for dropping by.

Nowadays, I feel a certain disquiet if I go to a place – any place that is not my house – and forget to bring along my notepad and pen. Used to be that I could also not go out of town or out of the country without my small sketchpad or aquarelle paper and pencils and brush. There’s always a setting that’s asking to be painted, and people are the most interesting image to capture.

Amsterdam man on Keizersgracht, 2004. I painted this while on a bench, watching the man talking to someone on the street, near a bridge.

Old Figaro Café, Morato, 2004. The person was two tables away and looking out despondently.

Legs Study, 2004. Human legs are not objects by definition. They belong to someone, are limbs connected to a torso or a chattering mouth. Here, the legs belong to my good buddy Beau, a woman who also happens to be godmother to my daughter Luna.

Legs Study, 2004. I remember when I did the paintings Beau was helping other Greenpeace folks organize and tidy up things at the new Kamias office. The green firm had just moved to the big house then and people were busy moving cabinets, wiping shelves and so on. And of course I was goofing around and sketching and cheering people on. Not sure if Beau remembers.

Tirso Molina pedestrians, 2002.I had to paint this in a hurry, because the women were walking quite fast.

Recuerdos de Bilbao, bartender pouring sidra, 2002.This was painted in the Basque nation. I watched the bartender inject bubbles in the (very tasty) apple cider the natural way – from way up high, streaming down to a glass held very low. Magical.

Madrid bar, 2002.What is a Madrid bar without smoke and smokers. This was painted on a lazy afternoon, with whisky, just before the sun went down.

Late night, Celleno, Italy, 20021.After a grueling debate, a trip to the bar helped untangle the day’s thoughts, and helped re-tangle ideas much later. #

Redster's photo taken by the incomparable SpidrrrGrrl, July 2007.