Painter Files Podcast ep 21

His name was/is Glenn Arthur.

Painter Files podcast ep 20

I always find my words in these podcasts. I’m so quiet in a lot of life. I love to paint in my head rather than slow down and be a part of everything. I must look crazy to most people but it makes me happy. I figure the idea is to find what makes you so happy.

I hope this finds you well and the photos are from this week in my studio. I loved this week’s end.

Painter Files Podcast ep 19 (The day in the woods)

Paint, medicate …sleep…E dificil pra caramba

Making underwater

My coffee cup feels empty. Like nothing, I take in fills and warms. This splif is a doorway to the empty. I am a foul on its songs. I dance slowly and then vibrates my eyes to sleep when it makes my mind dance to fast. The days are on rollerskates. The moon runs from me and the sun hides in the wind chill. The painter is a game of death. I make with the ashes of things that once had formed to make things that get to be formed. A recycler of existence. Ash to Ash and ink to paint.

 

Liquid fire in a coffee cup to burn questioning butterflies out of my belly. Standing as music booms into my ears into my bones and so the fear is danced out all over the canvas for another night. That cold creamy moon wars with me.

Painter Files Podcast ep 18

IMG_3985.jpg“The Universe giving birth” painting.

In this podcast: my fun painter madness comes to a lovely and polite podcast (I hope), our art adventures, strange but helpful books, trying to be a better person to my self, feeling proud and hopeful. Plus: all the stuff I’ve been doing lately…like painting and self-help work. 

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Things I’m dig
∆ Comics
∆ Yoga in the morning or tea
∆ Frannerd videos
∆ Started to listen to again Celia Cruz
∆ Thinking about all the great advice I have been given this week

On my reading/watch list:
Side Hustle (from idea to income in 27 days)
Little Boxes on Netflix

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zzzz….

falling into that moment when the world goes to sleep and the cat and I visit the land of smirks. This cold air is a kiss from every soul that ever existed beyond the grasp of anything else that ever walked before 3:30 AM. It’s fun and yet it has this quality that reminds me of the first time I opened my eyes to the ocean underwater and saw the other side of the world.

Booklights and leather bound sketchbooks whisper the secrets of the last people awake at these hours. These earbuds talk to me about history and tones and notes by the greater artist than I.

I’m just wondering if the stars look up and see us?

 

Batman rug

question

What do you do in the cold seasons to stay positive?

 

Last two weeks I spent in search of perfect painter madness. This journey I love so much in The Fall. I try all my best to not lose my inspiration with the cold brown leaves. Mostly I feel, that I am doing well. I think taking weird filter camera pictures is a big help. The dinners outside of my studio with our friends help too.