Just men

 I was thinking about the overweening greed and ambition of certain members of our government tonight, and also about how much harm they have been able to do in the four short years in which they have been calling the shots. I felt the need to remind myself that they are not all-powerful in a forever sense, but have only been able to take foul advantage of the temporary situation in which they found themselves. Although they are master manipulators, they have also benefited from sheer luck, i.e., a narrow party majority, and as soon as that party majority is gone, so will be their advantage. I said to myself, reassuringly, "They are just men, like any others."

And then I thought about that statement and realized that I would need to clarify, because although they are just men, they are not just men. They do not play fair, they do not honor their word, they are hypocrites of the first order and will say and do whatever it takes to keep their power, their privilege, their control. So no, they are not just men. But they are only men, and someday—soon—they will fall.

Also, they all have thin lips.

Gel pen, Daler Rowney inks (Indian Yellow and Burnt Umber), pencil, Uniball pen, Paul Jackson watercolors, white gel pen, on 140-lb. Fluid watercolor paper, 9x12.

The right speaker

There are people who have words for a particular situation that make you stop, sit up, and pay attention. James Baldwin is one of those. And although the things he said were certainly applicable during his lifetime, they also seem peculiarly addressed to us now, in our current situation.

I sat through the so-called presidential debate last night watching the man in charge of our collective welfare bully his opponent mercilessly and maliciously, and lie through his teeth over and over again with a confident smirk on his face. Tonight I went looking for some way to address him through my art, and got a helping hand from Baldwin. This statement is so simple, yet so starkly true. It echoes the quote I love from Maya Angelou, that "when people show you who they are, believe them," and states my exact response to our leadership: "I can't believe what you say, because I see what you do."

It also, of course, addresses the other revolution taking place in our country right now, which is the effort to see what we do to the black lives among us and choose to do better. Dual purpose Baldwin, you might say.

I owe the background color scheme to a piece Deb Weiers just finished and posted, although mine is a little tamer. But I think it works well in contrast to the purple. Other than color and a little exaggeration and flourish here and there, I stayed pretty realistic with this one; Baldwin has such an expressive face that not much extra is needed to render it unique.

Pencil, gel pen, Daler Rowney inks, Paul Jackson watercolors, white gesso, Uniball pen, white gel pen, on 140-lb. Fluid watercolor paper (my order from Dick Blick showed up, yay!), 9x12 inches (clipped a little by the scanner).

The significance of stripes

 Now that I have started thinking about art in terms of mixed media and am taking collage into consideration, I see things with new eyes. I came across this roll of Christmas paper striped red and cream and thought, Wouldn't that make a wonderful shirt for one of my pieces? Of course, stripes are usually associated with one of two characters: prisoners, or pirates. If I had thought of pirates first, this piece might have been quite different, but prisoner was what came to mind. Initially (because of the state of the world and my own current animosities) I thought of who I would like to PUT in prison, but honestly, I couldn't face reproducing that image, even for the sake of parody. So then I started thinking about people who had been to prison, and been sent there unjustly, and Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde popped into my mind.

Oscar Wilde is best remembered for three things: His plays (my favorite is The Importance of Being Earnest), his book The Picture of Dorian Gray, and his criminal conviction for homosexuality. He was "known for his biting wit, flamboyant dress, and glittering conversational skill," so I imagine he would carry off prison stripes with flair, as here.

Wilde died tragically young, at 46, from meningitis, which it is speculated was caused by an untreated inner ear injury sustained while serving his two-year prison sentence. In 2017, he was among approximately 50,000 men pardoned under the Alan Turing law for homosexual acts that were no longer considered offenses.

After his prison term, he wrote in De Profundis,

To regret one's own experiences is to arrest one's own development. To deny one's own experiences is to put a lie into the lips of one's own life. It is no less than a denial of the soul.

Pencil, Daler Rowney inks, watercolor, collage, Uniball pen, white gesso, white gel pen, on 140-lb. Canson watercolor paper, approx. 8.5x11 inches.

NOTE: Upon further reflection, I felt that the original striped eye looked too much like an awning or a circus tent with the vertical stripes, and distracted from the rest of the page. So I gesso'd it out and made the stripes horizontal to go along with the shirt, also knocking down the white to a beige. I think it's an improvement—regrets to anyone who disagrees with me...