615 E. Michigan Avenue

Day One

6 am

I am not certain why I’m here. I woke up on a old beat up couch that I set near the back door. Across the room is a bathroom. To the right of the bathroom is a mop room that I have converted into, not a half-bath, but a 1/4 bath and 1/4 kitchen.

I have two meetings today. The first is a discussion about hanging art as a promotion of the exhibit in the hotel across the street. The other, a trusted and tasteful family member is coming to assess the work and help me find a method to the madness of hanging the work. Best foot forward stuff....

I have all of my salable work surrounding me in various states. Some are ready for prime time. Some need a little something. Some have warped frames or slightly askew framing. They all require the attention of two actions: A proper hanging place and a signature.

Yesterday, day one, started terribly. I’ve been telling you: The reason I know that I am doing something important is because the Devil is trying to make me give up. He’s blasted me with all sorts of mediocre troubles.

But yesterday, driving to the gallery to deliver items I need to stay for seven days, I hit a pothole that I never even saw. I was paying attention too. Flatso. To make matters worse, I was using my wife’s car to run the errand. My plan was to drop off the items and come home, a 20-minute commute, all while she was getting ready for her day. I planned to pop down and pop back in time for her to leave for work, with me in tow, to drop me off for the week.

This blew up our morning. Scrambling to find a tow truck. Scrambling to find her transportation to work. I spent 3 hours on the side of the road. Her brother picked her up and drove her to the hospital. Even though he had 4 call-ins at the workplace he manages, he still took care of his Sis. And me too. Cheers Christopher.

To top it off, Noahbear refused to shit in the yard. Once I had a doughnut on the car, dropped the flat for repair at the garage, I had to cajole an old sheep dog into going to the bathroom when he didn’t want to get wet or cold in the snow. Not a problem when I am home every day, but stubborn dogs don’t poop on command, which is an issue under these circumstances.

I finally pulled in to the gallery at noon. I had a lot planned.

I went about sorting the piles of personal effects, tools, office and food into a manageable operation. Have you heard of a half-bathroom? I made a 1/4 bath combined with a 1/4 kitchen. I made a changing area in the basement. Is it odd that I put on pajamas to go to bed in this first story commercial building? I set up an office function near the front of the building. Then I moved an old couch from the basement, added a forgotton rug, and developed a way to turn an old moving cart into a coffee table. Now I have a Lounge, a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, an office and my mise is generally ready for work/life balance.

The work got done! The car is almost ready for 80 mph. I woke up ready to show the world what I’ve been hiding. I have suffered in silence to come to this moment. I’m stoked to have you visit me.

message me for a visit:

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I have zero work/life balance. Spoiler: the very phrase is a lie. Anyone who prattles such corporate jargon as work/life balance should be treated with a confirmed and confident dismissal as unserious thinkers.

I’m talking about something else though. My life and my work are indicernable to me. Making art, creating things, having thoughts about the world are only interrupted when someone else’s life forces itself upon me. I do not subscribe to an arbitrary 40 hour work week, or 9-5 or any of the other man-made mechanisms designed to give structure to the machine.

I am not making a political statement. I’m not making a judgement of people who work with a structured mentality. I am simply stating that the machine is a limitation for me. The enforced structure has always been where I feel the most frustrated-dead.

Who knows when the idea is going to hit? How can I feel like painting pictures from 9-5? Every day? Monday through Friday? Do you think I’m going to stop when I am in the groove and punch a clock and come back tomorrow? Do you think I am going to force what I don’t feel?

Thats why I sit in this building writing to you at 6 am. Every light in the Gallery is on so every vehicle that passes 615 E Michigan Ave can notice my availability. I am working, are you? I am living, are you? There’s no difference between life and work. There is: Reap, Sow and Rest.

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Bento Wiz

This week, while I am staying downtown in the studio, Sami has to make her own Bento Wiz. She’s done a great job of it! As long as she gets Noah to go potty, she’ll be to work on time!