The Apache Crown Dancers at the Apache Jii Festival in Globe, Arizona.
Globe is a mining town. Founded in 1875 after silver was discovered on the adjacent San Carlos Indian Reservation, it was home to the Old Dominion Copper mining company. Old Dominion closed its doors in 1931, and mining operations moved to nearby Miami.
Globe’s economy is dependent on the local copper mines. The downtown boasts antiques stores and small eateries and pubs. We will get tot he pubs later…
Globe hosts the annual Apache Jii Festival. Jii is “day” in the native tongue of the Western Apache. The Western Apache consist of the White Mountain, San Carlos, Tonto, Yavapai and Fort Apache reservations. I might have missed one or two in this list. The San Carlos and White Mountain Apache are the tribes that are nearest. Continue reading »
I acquired this air compressor from an estate sale this week. The pressure switch control valve and regulator assembly is broken – $23 for a replacement. Add that tot he $20 I paid for it, and I have a decent no-name compressor. It will surely suffice for my needs.
I am still researching the brand – Tools Club or possibly OTools Club, or CTools Club. It looks like a Central Pneumatics. Nothing comes up in a Google search. It is a 26 gallon tank, with most likely a 1.8 HP motor. Whatever it is, it is more than ample for my needs.
Now I have to build up an inventory of pneumatic tools, a, HVLP paint sprayer, impact wrench, angle grinders and of course tire inflators. Now I won’t have to spend $1.50 at the Circle K to put air in my tires…
I was going through old discs tonight and found a cache of paintings that have long since passed to others. This one struck a nerve – old friends, good times. And a looser style.
I don’t get in the studio much anymore. In my new job I get to be creative, and to also exercise my technical skills. I was hire to organize the shop, pick up trash, and to assist in the various departments.
Well, I am now in charge of the flatbed printing department. But that isn’t lasting too long, as they realized that I have many years of technical repair experience, and are now trusting me as the new repair technician for all of their printers.
Now these are not just any printers, they print on media up to ten feet wide and however long the media is.
Last night I was on site helping to install new cables and printer boards and print heads into one of the printers, a $150,000 behemoth that is not big enough or fast enough.
This morning I had to perform an emergency repair on the Scitex flatbed printer with items I purchased at he local Home Depot.
The company is growing faster than they imagined. I can’t be the repair person for the machines and also run the flatbed printing department. I am no longer allowed to collect the garbage – though I still do.
I am loving my new job. But I miss the studio. And looking back at some of the paintings that have long since passed through my hands, I long to get back to the creative spirit that allowed me to paint with abandon.
I wasn’t concerned with proportion or realism as much as I was with reality. What is reality? Reality is the moment – what you see, yes, but more, what you feel and experience. How does a painter express music? How do you share a night of drinking?
These paintings are now in other hands. I never kept great records – when a painting passed from my hands to another, I was grateful that they shared my experience. Something that I captured on canvas sparked an emotion in another. Maybe I was able to communicate a moment in time in the same manner that Hemingway did in the Sun Also Rises, or that Bukowski did in his poetry. Maybe they misunderstood my intent in the painting, and saw something completely different. Who knows?
Somehow they caught my emotions, and were touched. But the pint of impressionistic/expressionistic paintings os not to tell a story, but to share an emotional experience. There needn’t be a story behind it, no explanation. The explanation is in the painting itself. I try not to dissect my paintings, that is up to each individual viewer.
Today I cooked up a batch of oyster stew. I used canned oysters, as it is next to impossible to get good raw oysters here in the desert. The oysters we get are Pacific Ocean oysters, and they are not as tasty as Atlantic Ocean or Delaware Bay oysters.
Here is the recipe:
6 Cups whole milk
8 ounces butter
24 ounces of oysters and juice
1 large yellow onion
1 Russet potato
3 stalks of celery
Salt, Pepper and Red Cayenne Pepper
Chop the onions and celery finely, chop the potato into small chunks. Combine in a saucepan with the butter and saute’ until the onions begin to brown. Salt and pepper to taste.
In a 3 quart pot, heat the oysters with all of the juice with some Worcestershire Sauce until it comes to a boil. Then add the contents of the saucepan and stir. Add the milk, season to taste, and stir until it almost comes to a boil. Take off the heat. It is ready to serve.
This is a fast and delicious stew. Serve with OTC Oyster Crackers – if you can find them in your area. Otherwise, regular oyster crackers will suffice. This recipe will serve an army, or provide me with two meals!
Liz says I stepped in shit. My new job is awesome. I love what I am doing. The owners are the best. My boss gave me two pay increases in less than two months!
There are no ego trips – the latest project was a first time attempt. The company had never attempted anything even close to this scale of an installation.
All ideas are entertained – well, most ideas. If we have stupid ideas, we admit it.
This project took many talents – the lead artist that created 3-D files of the art; our people that converted the CAD files to files that the CNC Router could use; the machine shop that fabricated the armatures and frame of the tree.
My main job, at first, was shaping and sanding and priming and painting the tree and the houses. They are all Styrofoam, with a coat of pickup truck bed liner. The tree consists of twenty-one sheets of 3-inch thick 4X8 Styrofoam. The sheets are glued together, shaped, filled, sanded. That is over 100 hours on the CNC router to rough the shape. There is possibly another 60 hours in shaping and sanding. Attaching to the wood framework.
The two larger tree-houses were fabricated from two sheets of Styrofoam. All required fine tuning by hand sanding. I did all of the base coats on the houses, and some of the tree. I worked with the artist, Joe, who works at a design studio that creates set design for theaters and such. Joe pulled everything together.
Today we completed the two-day installation at the children’s section of a local mega church. The wing houses classes and school for younger children. The entire project is intense. My employer prints all of the wallpaper which you can see in the background. The entire wing is wallpapered floor to ceiling.
I am privileged to be involved in not only the creative process, but also the fabrication and installation. What is even more amazing is that my boss encourages me to use what I learned to engage on my own projects. I have complete access to all facilities and equipment. These people are treating me like family. The owner encourages his employees to start their own ventures, and use his equipment.
When I applied for the job, I was looking for solid employment. I was not expecting to become family, to become an integral part of this organization. I not only found a job, but a job that I love.
He has every right to say what he wants, to salute or not our flag, to stand or to disrespect our anthem.
I have every right to call him out on hypocrisy.
I identify with my Irish roots. I identify with my English roots, my German roots, my Viking roots. I am proud of my heritage. I am also proud that I was born in Levittown, PA, USA – I am a US citizen. I salute the flag. I cross my heart and stand and remove my hat at the national anthem. I am not always proud of what my country has done. I am ashamed, often. I speak out. I am vocal. That flag, and the Constitution, and the Declaration of Independence, and the anthem reinforce the ideal that I enjoy free speech to speak my political mind.
We are a diverse country. I am not a blind patriot. But it is pure disrespect to diss the flag and the Constitution that give us the right to speak our minds. Do not trample the flag, do not disrespect this country when you have an open forum to fight for what is right!
When you are raised in white privilege and earn millions of dollars a year, do not tell me you are oppressed. Stand up and actually fight for the oppressed. And be thankful that the flag is flying proudly, allowing you that privilege.
Have you ever stepped in shit? I mean, stepped in shit in a good way? Stepped in a steaming pile of feel-good shit? Yeah, I will get to the politics in a moment, but I first have to talk about shit. Not the Cheech and Chong kind of goood shit. Just general, “My life has improved 100%” good shit. Continue reading »
I love wrist watches. I feel naked without one. Sure, my cellphone keeps accurate time and adjusts automatically as I cross time zones. But it is much easier to look at my wrist than it is to fish my cellphone from my pocket to check the time.
I had a citizen diving watch for many years – back in 1982 it cost me $100. That was quite a chunk of change. I wore that watch daily for two decades. I took it into the ocean, wore it when showering, took it into swimming pools – it never lost time. Continue reading »
Gil Bears was a neighborhood tavern in Millville, NJ. Gil was bartender at Larry’s Bar back in the day. The story goes, Gil ran numbers. Gil finally stockpiled enough cash to buy his own liquor license – I think it was $5,000 at the time. He converted the first floor of his house into a bar. Continue reading »
No. I didn’t design this. But I did do most of the printing.
After a two-month hiatus, I began a new job two weeks ago. A real day job. After two and a half years working hoot owl, I had to force a change. I worked at a big box retailer. I am not going to talk shit about them, because they were there when I needed them. The paycheck paid the bills. ALL of my bills. The child support situation and ugly divorce that haunted me is now closed. Settled. I no longer have to be subject to dehumanizing hours. Continue reading »