Tuesday, October 09, 2012

The role of Scotch in a man's life

Do you capitalize Scotch?  Dunno, but for a man who drinks his fair share of Dewar's, I'm more of a thinker.  Than a doer.  Ironic, no?

There are those people who, when confronted by a problem, paint (assuming they are a painter) their way through it.  These we fondly call Dewar's.  People like Jackson Pollock, although he was more of a Schlitz guy with a whiskey chaser.

Honk.

Me?  I tend to think these things to death before throwing the paint.  The current object of my obsession is how best to insert the word bubble in "Oh My God!  First Lehman ... Then Bear ... and now ... and now ME!"  I'm troubled by the change in texture between the heavily worked surface of my typical painting and the smoothness needed to render the copy in a clean, comic-book style graphic font.

My boy Roy, you see, really did work in 2-D.  This may seem obvious--I mean, you might say, isn't all painting 2-D?  But my paintings, for example, are aggressively three-dee.  The parameters of the third dimensions may be no more than an eighth of an inch, but that, for painting, is a lot.  Lichtenstein's stuff was truly flat.  FUH-LAT.  Flat.

Which is a problem, because if you've ever tried to write neatly over my stuff, even if it's been gessoed to death.  Well let me tell you, it's a problem.

Can't blog anymore.  Back to thinking.

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