December 30, 2023
Day five of isolation. I think I've turned the corner on Covid. But the good news is I got to spend some more quality time in my studio.
Daily Whip Out: "The Hidden Muse"
Some artists have an inner critic, I have a hidden muse. Or, as Kathy Sue suspects, he merely wants to be fed, again.
T. Charles gifted me a birthday present, "The Dictionary Of Obscure Sorrows" by John Koenig. So much wisdom and insight on every page, like this one:
This is what I believe:
"That I am I."
"That my soul is a dark forest."
"That my known self will never be more than a little clearing in the forest."
"That gods, strange gods, come forth from the forest into the clearing of my known self, and then go back."
"That I must have the courage to let them come and go."
"That I will never let mankind put anything over me, but that I will try always to recognized and submit to the gods on me and the gods in other men and women."
There is my creed.
—D. H. Lawrence
Some are a little funnier.
The Guiltwrights
n. the imaginary committee of elders that keeps a running log of all your mistakes, steadily building their case that you're secretly a fraud, a coward, a doofus and douche—who would've revoked your good fortune years ago had they not been hampered by their own bitter squabblings over proper grammar and spelling.
Meanwhile, I was filing some vaquero pieces this morning and came across two images that needed a little more work.
Daily Revised Whip Out:
"The Return of El Pendejo"
"Dust Storm Rider About to Experience
Zero Visibility"
Alternate title, Welcome to Kingman.
"Most of the fiction in this world comes from people who are repeating true stories."
—Old Vaquero Saying
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