dummy to stone

Uploaded commercial pics this morning around 1:30 am to meet my Monday morning deadline, then began scribbling on a stone promptly at 10am. It all began with transferring my drawings by placing them face down on sanguine-prepared paper, then tracing over each line to properly transfer the drawing. Then re-drawing them with litho crayon. It took all day to transfer nine pages of nonsense. Nonsense based upon real and imaginary people and plants I've encountered while in Mexico this summer.

Curious how the physical surface you're working on changes things. I'm usually working on a super flat surface that weighs practically nothing. Stone is heavy and it's thick. You move; it doesn't. It changes how you draw but not what you draw. And the preparation necessary to begin is tedious, requiring some time grinding the stone down, grinding away former beautiful drawings or mistakes. You're thinking: "Don't make a mistake or I'll have to grind that damn stone again." But you shouldn't think about such things, really. Just draw and forgive minor "mistakes." So today was a really pleasant day spent with my friend Bob, a day full of drawing and forgiveness…and good tunes.

¡Más cucharas!

Si, more spoons. I got a whole bunch of 'em now, and I may just glue them into and all over my sketchbook. The neighbors must think I'm crazy or really lucky to be finding so much money in the streets. I swear, I've got the whole town looking down for gold and silver. Ha. Funny thing about collecting, you start to get really picky. Last week I would pick up just any ol' filthy little spoon, but now I'm all sophisticated-like…leaving the ordinary to disappear into the dust forever run over by collectivos, firewood-laden horses, and vintage VWs, forgotten…choosing only the best, most bent, smashed, twisted and colorful. White is nice but you can't beat color, and every now and then, a rubberband surprises.

Worked all day in the studio. Commercial gigs are upon me, but I did make a little book dummy for Clutch y Frenos. All this technology available to me in my modest studio only to discover that stone requires cheap photocopies for a proper transfer. Something to do with chemistry and bad ink being better than good. So I walked down to Plaza Grande to a copy center/internet cafe. A lovely woman asked someone behind me if they needed "copias." I turned around and saw no one. Embarassed, I quickly realized her eyes wandered every which way, over and around me, but not at me. So she proceeded to make some off-centered, crooked copies for me. Walked across the street to buy 14 pesos worth of mango ice cream in a tiny plastic cup and ate it sitting on a stone bench with a clean white spoon. Rico!

Tomorrow, I'm transferring childhood imagery and collageness to a beautiful stone surface, then I have about two days to screw it up. Scribble, scribble, scribble. I think my book needs more Angel's Trumpet. Sent my type off today to have screens burned for the cover, etc. Hopefully, I'll come home with some finished nonsense books that measure about 6in x 6ft. We'll see.

clutch & brakes

Too sleepy to write much, but this is pretty much what I did today: walked down to the print shop to transfer imagery and make test scribbles on stone just to get the hang of it, lunched at our favorite eatery located behind a Pemex station (Camino Real), bought a clay pot, bought eggs and cereal, then almost got us killed making a u-turn on a dangerous curve in the road in order to photograph a cool sign, so my book of nonsense drawings will have a title. Clutch y Frenos (Clutch & Brakes). I used to think it read Clutch & Friends. Funny. Came home to hungry dogs, walked upstairs to watch clouds shifting and morphing into a medley of N.C. Wyeth adventure paintings, waited for that little red bird to visit us (and it did, but our camera battery pooped out), then the full moon made an appearance. It's so beautiful down here. Best trip ever.

corpus Christi y papas

Yesterday was a full day. Spent most of it in Cucuchucho (it's taken me four years to learn how to say that), gawking, walking, and collecting. Hiked UP above the town for hours with Becky, Bob, and our trusty guide Didier, along animal paths and fire breaks, beneath orchid-laden Oak-like trees…poked regularly by very pointy agave plants (I'm still bleeding!). It was a great day. After our hike, we drove down to C-town for the Corpus Christi celebration. Seems a bit late, but what do I know about the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ...I'm a Methodist. But I may convert to Catholicism after experiencing all this pageantry, partying, and wicked costumes. Six bandas played for hours; people wearing painted masks, dressed in traditional Purepecha finery, and some dressed like Davy Crockett or fish. Kids were CUTE and dancing up a storm; the women were lovely, and house parties were everywhere. And the music and spicy homemade potato chips were excellent. What's not to love?! Afterwards, we eased down to a muy rustico lakeside eatery for fish soup, baked trout, homemade tortillas, HOT habanero salsa, corundas and cervesa. Drove home sated.

¡Un libro fantástico!

Last night I had the great pleasure of going to an amazing art opening at the Ex-Collegio. The event, which included a lecture and live music, celebrated the completion of a fully illustrated, handprinted artist book featuring Jose Ruben Romero's collection of poems: "Tacambaro." A collaboration between Juan Pascoe and Artemio Rodriguez, the book contains 72 black & white blockprints by Rodriguez. The text was typeset by hand (letter by letter); each page was beautifully composed, and the final books were printed on handmade paper with a 1838 R. Hoe Washington Press by Pascoe's Taller Martin Pescador. It's a handsome book and a remarkable achievement. The exhibition fills two galleries, including a nice display of Romero's original 1922 book, Rodriguez's tools, and a few of his carved blocks. It was great to meet the illustrator/printmaker, and to reconnect with master printer, Juan Pascoe, who I met a few years ago at his home in Tacambaro. Last night I reminded him that the last time we saw one another, he said: "Hey Dan, come back sometime and let's print together." So now it looks like I'm going to Tacambaro next weekend…where I hope to set a few words and print them in his taller (shop). It was an inspiring night, and now I'm the proud owner of a first edition, signed copy of "Tacambaro." I can't wait to share it with my friends, family, and students back home.

las dos ratas

Wow, I really need to clean my scanner.

mujeres y zapatos

Back to beautiful Morelia today to pick up supplies and see "Mujer" (Woman) at Museo de Arte Contemporaneo Alfredo Zalce (MACAZ)—a 19th century building located in the Cuauhtemoc Woods Park on Acueducto Avenue. Powerful lithographs by Fanny Rabel of the Taller Grafica Popular stole the show in my opinion, but upon leaving the museum a "gum" tree won the day. Between the museo and the aqueduct, near the entrance, there's a crooked tree leaning over the sidewalk COVERED with bubble gum. Crazy, nasty fun. I don't know the trees of Mexico very well but I'm guessin' it was a Sweet Gum. Reminds me of a canoe trip Becky and I took several years ago with friends, David and Kathy Wariner (parents of one of Those Darlins), down the Blue River in Crawford County, Indiana. We gathered (saved from certain death) a garbage bag full of trilliums, short-crested iris, wild ginger, indian pinks and jack-in-the-pulpits, and we had lunch afterwards at a riverside cafe. We ordered hamburgers and french fries, and before we finished, the cook invited us back into his kitchen to watch the Kentucky Derby. Seems like he won some money so he plied us with liquor in a dry county (it's not illegal to give it away). As we left the cafe I saw a funky little handpainted sign nailed to a telephone pole that read: Shoe Tree. I asked David about it and he said: "It's a big ol' tree that people have thrown shoes up into for years." I said: "I want to see that!" So we drove south of Milltown to the intersection of Devil's Hollow and Pilot Knob Road, the intersection of nowhere and there. There we saw an enormous tree full of shoes and other shoes hanging on telephone wires and nestled in the weeds. So of course we hopped out and flung the grounded shoes back up into the tree. I don't remember what we did after visiting the Shoe Tree, but I do remember having a great time and wishing our friends still lived in Nashville.