Sometime in the early 90′s my family and I were lucky enough to go on a trip to Montserrat, a small British island in the Caribbean. We rented a small compact car, complete with right side steering and seat covers that could reach the temperature of the sun. I was only 13 or 14 at the time so I spent my time in the rental car watching Kirwan; my brother, figure out the do’s and don’ts of driving in Montserrat without parental supervision. As we were driving along with nowhere to go, I flipped on the radio to get the island vibe of the local radio stations. To Kirwan’s and my surprise, no reggae or island rap played, only the rocking sound of the b-52′s came through those tiny torn up speakers. Someone left the Self Titled B-52′s cassette tape in the tape deck. I had never heard the album before and I think Kirwan was vaguely familiar. Either way, we rocked out to that tape the entire time we were on the island. Any time I listen to the album it transports me back to that great time we all had. I think that might have something to do with my fondness of the album. Yes, I like the music because it’s good, but I love the music because of what it represents; a great time spent with my family, in the Caribbean, away from everyone and everything.

All my friends know that I am a junky when it comes to the music of Modest Mouse. Dallas and I fell in love with Modest Mouse way back when and are still major fans. In 2000 I was living in Dallas, Tx. and Modest Mouse came to play there. Dallas and I went to see the show, which was great. Well, I found a little video of one of the songs that was played at that very show seven years ago. Here’s to us Dallas!

I’ve been thinking and writing a lot about the drive I make to work everyday. Enough so that I’m beginning to wonder if I’m coming off as a complainer. Maybe it’s just a time to think about things that I might like to write about. At any rate, here’s a prime candidate.

Along hwy. 98 you come across a wide variety of highway happenings. The speed limit is high and the road is two lanes (farm country). From armadillos to rattlesnakes, I’ve seen all sorts of wild and domestic animals meet their maker on 98. There are also great photographic opportunities along 98; old dilapidated farm houses, weird small town signage, a city bus painted as a farm and feed sign for a near by store; all comfortably worn by time.

I’ve been thinking about this spot on 98 lately. It is the most poignant part of my journey every day. If your driving west on 98 you’d never put two and two together, but if you’re headed east it is impossible not to make the connection.

One black tire mark (not a “slam on the brakes” skid mark) starts in the far right section of the eastbound lane. It looks like a paint stroke getting thicker and curving more into the westbound lane. As the tire mark crosses into the westbound lane it begins to pulse; thick then thin, thick then thin. The curve is so gradual that the vehicle must have been traveling at a high speed. Directly beyond the end of the skid mark stand several pines, stripped of bark near the ground. At the base of those pines stand two crosses.

Best I can tell, the car either had a blow out, or tried to cut a corner, but there is no corner anywhere near the crash site. It is a somber experience driving that last one hundred yards prior to the crash site everyday.

I’ve been on this kick lately. I can’t afford to get my art work professionally framed and let’s face it, I’m no carpenter. So, I’ve been going to thrift stores looking for old frames that I can refurbish for use with my new watercolor paintings. Even if I don’t find anything, I enjoy going. I’m not sure why I like being around everyone’s garbage because it is most certainly depressing. To be around a massive pile of once-loved belongings gives you that “no one cares” feeling. Well, nothing says “no one cares” more than a whole wall mounted rack of used underwear for sale. That’s right folks. Dirty undies for sale, and lots of them. Just because they’re stained doesn’t mean they’re not clean. Come on people. How much is new underwear now-a-days? A buck? Maybe?

My first post on this blog was about my daughter Carly King being on the cover of The Island Guide, an information guide for the Gulf Coast. Well, Santa came early cause’ it’s out! It only took a short, few hours for everyone at work to grow extremely tired of my handy Island Guide. I just needed to make sure that they had seen the guide and inspected the cover for a decent amount of time. Unfortunately, it not only had an adverse effect on people at work, it also seemed to affect Carly in a strange way. She has been on her “cell” since I got home and is, as we speak, giving me the universal sign for “piss off”, and she some how, like Madonna, has adopted a British accent. Is that even possible?

P.S. Sharee Faircloth; Compass Marketing’s Art Director, redesigned The Island Guide and did an amazing job in a very short amount of time. Here’s to you Sharee, Great Job!!!

Day after day I drive to work in Gulf Shores. It takes me a solid hour. I listen to NPR, talk on my phone and watch the farmland fly by. It could always be worse, but the drive is really making me worthless when I reach my destination. No matter how much caffeine I have, I’m still sleepy, but recently someone has been helping curb that sleepyness. Every time, to or from work, I see “Hop-A-Long”, a gentlemen with pep in his step skipping his way to a destination that puts a great smile on his face. He apparently has no car, but always has somewhere to go and knows exactly where he’s going (he must walk 20 to 30 miles a day). I never see him without his signature cocked head, smile, and beanie.

About ten years ago there was a Pensacola character similar to Hop-A-Long. His name was Cowboy. An African American with a black cowboy hat and boots, he also traveled by foot and had the same attitude as Hop-A-Long. Though Cowboy might have been the town fool, every Pensacolian was protective of him. You honk, he smiles and waves, it makes your day for that split second. I have no idea what Hop-A-Long’s ailments are and I am in no way making fun of him. I’m trying to communicate the fact that unbeknownst to him he brightens certain moments for people. Well, those who are optimistic I guess. Here is to you Hop-A-Long and R.I.P. Cowboy.

I recently went to the Southern Breeze Wine + Culinary Festival in Baton Rouge. I must say that each festival I go to out does the previous event, which is saying a great deal about the Southern Breeze Wine + Culinary Festival.

After living in California for five years, I’ve seen my fair share of wine tastings, tours and festivals. They all tended to be crowded and not enough bang for the buck (five sips=ten bucks). The Southern Breeze Wine and Culinary Festival does it right; friendly, casual, beautiful locations, and not a crowded nightmare. Did you know that only a certain number of tickets are sold to ensure that everyone enjoys wine and great food in a non-crowded pleasurable environment? Never ran into that in “wine country”…

It absolutely was a great event and I can’t wait for the next festival in Rosemary Beach in October. Well done Southern Breeze Magazine!

My painting workflow has been spotty at best lately. But time spent doing other things has given me the chance to look back. It has been a great opportunity to realize what I think I succeed and fail at. Knowing this has given me the ability to exploit certain styles. This is a good example of a recognizable portrait born from asymmetrical, sloppy washes and splatters.

I heard this helpful tip through the grapevine a while back and love it. For those of you who are watercolor artists, here is an easy technique for watercolor washes that can produce interesting results.

A big part of what is attractive about a watercolor painting is out of the artists’ control. Paint laden water dries as it pleases; pending temperature, humidity and the amount of water put on the piece. There are many different types of papers (hot press, cold press, 200lb. 60lb.) that also effect the way the paint dries, but for the most part it’s up to the “watercolor drying gods”.

Here are 2 techniques that I’ve discovered work quite well to manipulate the drying procedure.

1) Kosher Salt. After painting a nice wash on a painting-to-be, grab a hand full of kosher salt (I like kosher because the salt granules are bigger and they make more of an interesting pattern, but any salt will have close to the same effect) and throw it liberally on the area of the painting that just had the wash applied. The salt will suck the color up and normally will dry in a sporadic fashion that gives the painting a texture that you rarely see in watercolor paintings. Let it dry completely, then brush off the excess salt with a dry, clean brush. All done.

2) Spray Bottle. To most watercolor artists a spray bottle holds as much weight as a paint brush (a necessity). After applying a dark wash, spray the edges of the wash but not the wash itself. Only spray a few times and only in a few areas. This technique looks best if it appears to not be deliberate. Here’s an example.

Oh joy! It’s been a while since I’ve felt this guilty. At least 10 years or so.

For those of you who don’t know, we have a 7 year old minature pinscher. Not really a man’s dog. More of a chick dog that fits in some small purse and loves attention. This dog unfortunately has a low IQ, coupled with an aggressive mentality that leads to her barking at any and every visitor we have until she is sound asleep at night when a protective dog could be of some use. Read the rest of this entry »