Space Phenomena /
Paintings and drawings from 2023. When you think about a stadium full of people, a crowded beach, or a large city, you have a pretty good idea of what is going on there. There is no disconnect. What is going on in space? There is a super massive black hole at the center of the Milky Way, but the disconnect in one’s mind is even bigger.
Some Blasts from the Pasts: Art /
Some blasts from the past for #timetraveltuesday. Enjoy! Thank you for visiting yoursilentface.com. There’s a lot here to explore.
Three Chambers, 48”x48”, 2003
Guess What’s Inside, collage, 20”x12”, 2001
No Great Solace, 40”x30”, 2003
Alleluia, 12”x12”, 2005
Lame Excuse, 30”x22”, 2004
Phil's Siren Song Coming Soon /
Here’s a little snippet from Phil’s Siren Song, coming soon. The story takes place in Flint, Michigan, during the 80s—hopefully captures it. This is a scene with Phil and Karen after the bar has closed, sitting in a booth at their favorite East Side coney island.
AC Spark Plug takes up nearly 500,000 square feet of space along Davison Road and N. Dort Highway, and although a lot smaller, the nearby junkyard also contributes to the East Side’s industrial aesthetic. The plant, which is where the spark plugs and God only knows what else are pumped out, is surrounded by miles of chain-linked fence, while the crushed cars in the junkyard are stacked and arranged in jagged rusting pyramids. The neighborhoods at this time of night are semi-quiet, awash in the distant rumble and droning of the factory, the splash of air made by trucks on the expressway off in the distance and the constant escape of hot air rushing through convoluted ducts and vents toward freedom. Thoma’s, however, is lively. Club kids coming down. Skate punks with skateboards. Shop rats. Bikers. Old-timers in flannel. Whites. Mexicans. A table of black couples. The short-order cooks are working their sizzling magic. The waitresses are pure and lovely and tough: mothers, daughters, girlfriends, grandmothers. I want to believe that what you see at Thoma’s is what you get here in Flint, and that if given the chance, these women could save all of us. One would never have to leave this GM forsaken village. The idea of a hardworking woman who is always ready to fill your cup, smiles and calls you hon, is a potent fantasy. Older, younger—it doesn’t matter. They all wield an attraction. Their uniforms are like those of nurses: the sound of their whispering polyester slacks pure seduction. Their plain, tired beauty ignites a pleasant flame in my groin.
The waitress sets a plate of chocolate pie with a large wedge of whip cream before me.
“Let me ask you something. Can you balance all of your orders on your arm? Do you have to practice that?”
“Of course, hon.”
“And the plates aren’t too hot?”
“Not as hot as me, right?”
Karen snorts a straw of diet Coca Cola, which has just been placed in front of her, out of her nostrils.
“Oh, hon! Let me get you a rag.”
The waitress sashays her syrupy sweet behind to the counter. There is a sense of community at Thoma’s, especially on rowdy nights—a feeling of drifting in the mosh pit while waiting for a band to play—but it can be deceptive if you aren’t careful. Every once in a while, I snap out of the hypnotic nesting of conversations and clattering dishes and sizzling hamburgers and Koegel Viennas to find myself furtively looking around to pinpoint which miscreant is most likely to punch me in the gut in the parking lot and steal my wallet.
Our waitress returns to wipe up our table.
“Busy,” I say, smiling.
She winks.
Karen is smiling at me as if I am an ass.
I am ever so slightly sliding in the grease beneath the table. The soles of my shoes skate in place like the puck on a trembling electric hockey table, never really completely touching the atoms of the floor, perfectly in alignment with the incomprehensible laws of physics and love.
“You’re such a dufus.”
“Does that mean I’m not getting any tonight?”
“Eat your chocolate pie, goon boy.”
“Would you like a bite?” I offer her a quivering, honking bite of gelatinous, mousse-like chocolate ectoplasm on a fork, which she leans across the table to accept. Our eyes meet. I search for myself in those huge blue irises. The eyes no longer complement the hair which used to be the color of tall, dead grass in an empty lot littered with mulched trash and dangerous shards of metal.
She has dyed it black.
“Mmm,” she says.
“Good, hunh?”
“Stuart,” she sighs. “Stuart, Stuart, Stuart. I am so fucking tired of his shit.”
A hefty waitress bellows out, “I need three up, three fries, three chocolates!”
The Eternal: from the Lamb Series /
Travis was helping out with Jim Ferguson’s estate. Jim was a local master painter and instructor who specialized in watercolor and passed his knowledge of this medium to many students around here.
Trav stopped by with two paintings. One was a painting from Travis’ past that Jim had bought which featured an image of me with my back to the viewer. The other was a painting from my lamb series that Jim had bought. I had no recollection of either painting.
I would like to pass the lamb painting on to someone who would like to have it. I like the idea of the painting going from Jim’s collection to another’s. I never had a class with Jim, but we had many chats. I was as fond of him as all of his students. I worked as a personal assistant for his partner from 2004-2008.
The blue piece below is acrylic on Yupo paper, 6”x6”, 12”x12” matted and framed and ready to hang. It is a gift. Free shipping, too. I can’t keep it.
Jim Ferguson
The Eternal, 6”x6”
Matted and framed, 12”x12”, image 6”x6”
Ancient Civilization, 2023: a New Painting /
Felt good to get back to a watercolor painting, which turned into a mixed media piece. I really like the pastel pencils. I also used colored pencil. Thanks for stopping by yoursilentface.com.
No Stand/No Idle: 1985 & 2023 /
Some things never change. Enjoyed exploring the Eastern Market area in Detroit with the poet, Cat Batsios.
My new novel Phil’s Siren Song is coming along. I hope to have it available in February. If you haven’t read Your Silent Face, check it out here or on Amazon.
#art #writing #photography #playlist #artistsoninstagram #contemporaryart #genx #newwave #saturdayvibes #lovelansing #yoursilentfacethenovel #joydivision #neworderofficial #thesmiths
Flint, 1985
Detroit, 2023
Black Hole Keep on Spinning: a New Painting /
I really am in love with this piece. I don’t know what else to say. It happened fast, and one of its biggest problems was solved in a dream. This has maybe happened once or twice in the past. I have been making these space paintings for some time now. Look inward, look outward. Look home, look abroad.
Black Hole Keep on Spinning, 2023
