Back To The Garden

Today marks the 40th anniversary of the Aquarian peace and love-in known as Woodstock. Americans even then knew they were in the midst of a defining cultural moment. Years later, people I met would look back wistfully on those days and say, “I was there.”

I, however, was not there. I wanted to go, but several months before, I moved to Atlanta and got a job in the Merchandise Mart display department. As Woodstock made history, I was gathering Fall gift items for the Mart’s display cases.

Atlanta had become a mecca for hippie life and the epicenter was a midtown area known as “Tight Squeeze.” Attracted to the freedom and camaraderie of communal life on Peachtree Street, part of me longed to join them. Rent, car payments and job security pushed aside those thoughts.

Around the same time, the rising Southern rockers The Allman Brothers played several free concerts in nearby Piedmont Park. Friends who went talked about the magical experience for years. I somehow managed to miss them.

In college three years earlier, I often observed fine art majors throwing Frisbees or lounging on the grass, seemingly without a care in the world. They were the closest the University of Florida came to having hippies, and I envied their unconcern with grades, classes or graduation. I wanted to be like them, but an inner voice urged diligence, study and the promise of a career.

Most of what I know about Woodstock came from the excellent 1970 documentary. Listening to Allman Brothers records, I still play a mean air guitar, and freedom can be sitting with friends under the Golden Rain tree at twilight. These are enough.

Iconic Woodstock photo thanks to Burke Uzzle

The End Of The Road

A mother and her young son drove to town for an afternoon of shopping. On the way, they passed an ice-cream shop decorated with bright balloons. The boy began sobbing.

“What’s wrong honey,” asked his mother, “don’t you feel well?”

“I want ice-cream!” he wailed.

“Maybe later," she added, "if you’re especially good.”

He whimpered once and grew quiet. Presently they drove by another ice-cream store with a laughing clown waving out front. Again the boy’s tears flowed.

“Now what is it Billy?” His mother turned to look at him. “We’ll be at the super market in a few minutes.”

“Ice-cream!” he cried.

Billy continued crying all the way to the market. He cried in the can-goods aisle. He wept as they passed the produce section.

Exasperated, his mother gave in and bought him a scoop of Raspberry Road.

Billy’s eyes lit up and with great gusto he slurped the frozen treat. Soon his face and hands and even his little sailor’s suit were magenta colored. He resembled a grinning raspberry.

It took a while, but finally Billy ate down to the sticky sugar cone. Suddenly he stopped. He stared hard at the last bites of cone. He looked up at his mother. Slowly, his smile turned upside down. Billy burst into tears.

“What in the world is wrong?” said his mother. “Raspberry Road is your favorite.”

With the last of the ice-cream dripping down his hand, Billy stood weeping on the sidewalk.

Then, as if the weight of the world pressed down on him, he whispered.

“In two more bites there won’t be any ice-cream left.”

Good Things, Small Packages

In my extended gig as a health food store "vitamologist," word got out that I also dabbled in the Arts. Before long, I was asked to exhibit work in the store cafe, next to the "all you can eat" salad bar and across from the "grab 'n go" deli. It occurred to me one day, while noshing on an organic radish, that in a restaurant setting a different kind of art exhibit would be better appreciated.

Thus was born the Grab 'n Go Art Show, featuring scores of original 3"x 5" drawings covering the deli walls. Customers simply pulled off the drawing they liked and left $5.00. I made enough money from that exhibition to buy more art supplies.

The Grab 'n Go Art Show will make a reappearance at the July Cool Art Show in The Cloiseum in St. Petersburg. Above are samples of many new works that will be available. Just grab 'n go....after paying for them.

Not Fade Away

Standing in a dim theatre lobby,
the woman looks at her husband.
“I see two of you,” she says.
“There’s a blue glow behind your head
that travels all around your body.”
“Just forget it,” he answers.
“Let’s go back inside.”
“I never noticed it before,” she says.
“You live with someone twenty years,
you realize you don't know them at all.”
Following him into the darkened theatre,
the woman stares as his once familiar figure
dissolves into blackness.
"Who are you?" she whispers.

Happy Birthday Barbie

Barbie, with a waist that remains impossibly slender, turns 50 this year. For a gal who doesn't say much, she still has the ability to turn heads. Perhaps that's part of her mystique -the beautiful and silent type. And wealthy! At 1.2 billion dollars a year, Barbie earns more than any of those Hollywood blabbermouth beauties.

The curvaceous cutie also outlived her steady beau Ken by two years. While attempting to light a panatella, the poor chap incinerated himself.

Life goes on however and Barbie is again playing the field. Our sources report seeing her exit a Toys 'r Us, with a certain Russian hockey player. Careful Boris, it will take more than a few rubles and a hockey puck to corral this high maintenance beauty. We say, hats off to you doll - still hot after all these years.

A-B-C, What A Concept

Today I finished an alphabet book project that has kept me occupied for two years. A,B,C
books are examples of children's concept books -well-told stories intended to teach basic knowledge. Creating this book re-taught some valuable lessons - patience, deliberation, and research.

I've sometimes balked at illustrating narrative picture-books, because I found the job of drawing the same figures over and over unappealing. An alphabet book gives me the opportunity to tell twenty-six different stories in words and pictures. Humor also became a way to keep the writing from becoming didactic. Laughter can be a great learning tool.

A is for Anteater has been through many edits and drawing revisions, and my goal is to make it look as simple as A-B-C.

A Way With Words

Words produce mental pictures and for the visually gifted there is an abundant crop of mental word pictures waiting to be plucked. I've bypassed the process here and present the images without stories. It's been said viewers bring their own stories when looking at art, so I can imagine lots of interpretations for these drawings.