been feelin’ rough from the had enoughs until I found some abandoned chefs’ tiles that definitely needed some colour….
really gettin’ into the smaller picture fitting in with the overall theme like the birds in the top left. readin’ up and enjoyin’ de kooning again, funny thing is so many times I’ve wanted to round it (my art) all up and burn in a big pile.
I’ll hold off right now coz its raining pretty hard. love and peace…
Via Flickr:
by bird 2013
ink, paint, ceramic tile, framed
the bumper to bumper traffic on Dickerson Pike is, at the best of times really rather bad.
it’s a long hot dusty road.
well traversed by the lost…
the lonely…the lookin’.
there is no sidewalk.
walk the tight rope.
only a treacherous semi dirt crumbled tarmac with an ankle bustin’ precipice.
its loud.
we’re almost up the hill.
our home on our backs splutters and dies.
what once would have freaked us out merely causes us to smile.
at each other.
now we prepare.
a caravan meant not for many a days journey.
a 420 big block with a twelve gallon tank.
“are you sure we are out?”
but block she does.
a full lane.
Port side.
cars pass by. furiously.
drivers rev engines, irritate and raw from the trouble we’re in.
not us.
their’s the inconvenience.
horn’s honk. few people smile.
one gallon proves too small. and flatter land is sought.
stoppin’ barely of gleamin’ used car lots
and bright yellow chain fence, short.
a red faced salesman stands hands on hip and disapproves.
more fuel is needed. fetched from a down the road.
five o’clock to wish they were home.
yell and groan. honk and squeal.
the light goes green to red. yet cars stand still.
now this should work. more fuel in the beast.
turn the engine quick.
lets get out of this fix.
oh no, one thing more….
the ignition goes click
hard times on dickerson pike
….reflections on a retro life on the roads of Nashville, in an antique motorhome with vernon rust folk-rockslinger
I found some old laminate samples and took to painting’ on them. They’re turning out rather nice and I give them out to folks I meet. Especially fellow travellers. You know, rubber tramps….For some of us, it takes a few years to realize the joy of passing time. Just being. By yourself or with company. And have no schedule. I took on a small job, more volunteer because it sure didn’t make enough to cover the stress involved. And I stopped painting and writing. Go figure. It reminded me, once again, that life doesn’t have to be like that. The mad hamster wheel. Runnin’ towards a finishing line…and that is? what death? the laminate samples are small, fit perfectly between your index finger and thumb. I use paint markers, ink, extra fine point metallics. Our friend Ehrlen designs these amazing colorful circles and fashions the loveliest of roses out of gum wrappers. We swap pens, check out new ideas and chin wag for a while. I photographed some of our new pieces yesterday…
by Ehrlen Romberg
by bird 2013
by Ehrlen Romberg
my graffiti hunting days have taken me far and wide. nowadays I have the time to unhurriedly sift through thousands of old files on flickr, find the best of the best, crack my knuckles and get down to the business of re-living and writing about such a ‘once odd and unique obsession’. from the simplest of stickers on a lamp post, to a freight train waiting on the tracks or, my favourite, the isolated or abandoned place so out of the way, only the artists know where to go…
this cool find was back in ’07 Weimar, Germany
Emetophobia plagued me growing up. Then I became a nurse to overcome this irrational fear. Talk about facing s*** head on.
Then I got myself in to street art, namely graffiti where all references to doing so are vomit, barfing & throwing up related.
It’s kinda sick, really.
Over the last few months, perhaps even a year, I have encouraged Vernon to draw.
To paint. To doodle.
I basically wanted to see him express himself and with a very challenging yet fun and exciting medium. Like myself he had not been to art class since childhood. Ultimately, I wanted him to love to do what I love to do…
And frankly, I am downright thrilled with what has transpired.
Vivid colors leap to meet your eyes. Fantastic mini space scenes fill the corners. Surprisingly bold abstract ideas emerge. His zest for such a new-found soul seeking past time is wonderful and we are able to while away our time drawing and inking together.
We proudly show each other pieces being worked.
vernon rust
Designs paused briefly at a variety of developmental phases. It is an infectious time spent delving in our minds. Imagining places we have been. Places we are going. Realizing our feelings. Exploring and expressing them through art. Vernon tells me of his amazement at how well he can draw. Like many people, he thought that he couldn’t. I never understood why so many of the things we loved to do as kids fall quickly by the wayside when we ’grow up.’ It’s a shame. I try to inspire all I meet. The young and the elderly. ’Its easy.’ I say, ‘ just sit down with some blank paper and empty your thoughts out on to the page.’ People often tell me they can’t draw. But their curiosity is teased. It’s obvious they want to try! ‘Why not play around with your stick figures, turn ‘em in to cartoons. Work them out.’ ‘Whatever you do just make sure that you give it a go.’ It’s not as though you’re gonna get a bad grade for your efforts.’ Everyone can draw. And there are no boundaries with art. Let it flow and you’ll see it start to pour. Gush from your insides. You’ll start to really see the colours. The angles. The possibilities…
the 23rd April 2012:
Thats about how long we’ve been in the car together.
It’s probably even longer.
Heck…some days it feels like an eternity.
Definitely in a good way.
Anyway.
What a day it was last night!
It all started around 02:00 when we’re both awake @ the Wal-mart on Charlotte.
We’ve secured a safe and quiet camp over there.
There are fewer drunks. Less Mad-TV.
Only a bearded zz-top-man with cans stuffed in sacks.
Piled in to a shopping cart, waiting at the bus stop.
He catches the #10 at 04:50. Flannel shirt open over Tee.
I’ve had a hard time sleeping lately.
Ask any ER doc downtown.
So we’re trying to find a cup of coffee.
I’ve never seen a city quite so dead.
Its that hour though. Between 3 and 4. Not much going on.
In fact nothing at all.
Just because.
‘There’s an undercover!”
And ”another pullin’ someone over there”.
“Look at that poor S.O.B’
Oh…’No…its whoop, whoop ‘ on you.
Excuse me…
‘ Why are you both in sleeping bags?’
Because.
Just because.
“Sir, you can sleep in your car, but a man can’t drive a house”
This is what we do.
Live our art.
Live in our car.
And film it too…
Not one word from the cop
Up ahead two more cars like sharks sulked around a corner.
Double whoop, whoop…
Nocte interruptus…
For all four of us.
Our cop was totally cool.
I hope the others were too.
Told us to slow down.
No ticket. A friendly smile.
We almost asked him for a cuppa.
Better not push our luck.
Instead we pulled in to the hospital mapco,
And sipped coffee until the sun came up.
ok…now here’s a funny scenario:
Vernon’s wearing a rather sporty trilby hat and I find the cutest wide eyed baby mouse that needs a home.
I sneak the beautiful designer box that his expensive hat came in away and set up a nest for the mouse.
Vernon then tells me that he doesn’t like the hat anymore and wants to return it for a refund.
Errrr…
“Does that mean you’ll be needing that box now?”
I have to scramble & clean out the box, you know…straw, droppings and dirt…
wait a minute…
I wake up from sleeping. The windows are steamed up and the sleeping bag soaked through.
Ford Taurus blvd is no more
than quite possibly the blvd of broken electric dreams.
and I find its raining.
the windows stuck down.
Glorious rain is fallin’ finally on our heads…
Vernon’s bought coffee
and he doesn’t seem too mad about the hat box at all.
I have no idea where the mouse went.
We’re back on our feet and out of the tin can.
Its more than a relief for both of us.
change is always good.
You know, really good…
Now in the evening, I’m back on 2nd and Broadway.
Bringing art to the people.
Street art.
Street smart.
“Girl, you’re too good to be out here”
“No way. Thank you but no way.
Out here is where I’m meant to be…”
no fault line
a long and winding road
regrowth // a collaboration with vernon rust
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