Monthly Archives: April 2019

Parting Looks

Harold’s welded tonnage of heroic longhorn steer stands about eight feet tall at the poll (the space between his ears). It’s from an early period — the 80’s. Harold donated the steer to his alma mater, Sul Ross State University … Continue reading

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Blooper Reel — Evening News

It’s a veritable laff riot when talking heads wax jocose with their colleagues while the camera rolls. Rachel, female reporter ending her remote footage: “Back to you, Tucker. I’m gonna stay here and have fun with Curly, my new buddy.” … Continue reading

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On Being an Afterthought

I like learning that the average reading speed for adult viewers of subtitled movies is 15 to 17 characters a second, that 37-42 characters fit on a line, and the number of lines is limited to two. A sad fact, … Continue reading

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Parting Looks

This painting has some slight appeal for me. Maybe it’s better called a sketch, and its appeal is in its very sketchiness. It’s flat; there’s no hint of color perspective. The figures are suggested crudely. The paint is slathered on … Continue reading

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Parting Looks

When I re-launched this blog a year ago, my father had died. I imagined one use for the blog as being an archive for images of some of his art works. That particular thrust of the blog faltered. Lately, with … Continue reading

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“Nulla dies sine linea”

I see almost daily in the work of fellow bloggers luminous evidence of the play of eye and hand across a surface with some object — pen, crayon, brush, mouse — that leaves expressive marks. Laura Cumming, art critic for … Continue reading

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Haunted by the Undefined

Thank you, Maeve Higgins. I’m always glad for the rare journalist who doesn’t assume her reader is privy to novel slang. A term I knew only from sailing has headlined several unread articles recently. I assumed it had to do … Continue reading

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Bastard File

I went shopping online for a metal file with which to increase the gap of the hook on the support strap I use for my classical guitar. The hook engages with the sound hole of the instrument, and is too … Continue reading

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Ruination

My first encounter with Texas writer Bruce Sterling was through a column he penned in the early nineties for one of the Houston newspapers. It proffered the notion that our very nature is to seek drugging; that if there existed … Continue reading

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“… This realm, this England.”

I find the paragraph cited here interesting and amusing for its self-aware description of how the author and his interviewee, both of them writers, preen themselves competitively on their humble class origins to establish their bona fides while preparing to … Continue reading

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