I painted this about ten years ago in Arizona. I know it was about ten years ago because, a tiny bit more than ten years ago, just before we moved to Arizona, I had one of the most memorable experiences of my life.
This painting reminds me of the mysterious and my life has often been a mystery, even to me.
I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I spent some time cutting concrete and pumping gas. I thought being a Marine would be a nifty idea and the Marines is one of the best ideas I'd ever had, but that's another story altogether.
When I was young I had trouble choosing a direction. I couldn't figure out if I wanted to be a brain surgeon or a fry cook.
So, I drifted, and I dithered. I had dreams and inklings of what I wanted to do but never really went for it.
I've always been hesitant to go for it. You know, to go for it with everything you've got. What's wrong with going for something that you want to do. Well, it's pretty scary.
As a consequence, I think I've spent too much time thinking about doing things and living in my head. I've discovered that being out where the rubber meets the road, doing the things that you love to do, is so much better.
For a long time, I liked playing the guitar, and I dreamt of being in a rock and roll band. I never thought I would be good enough until, about ten years ago, I started hanging out with my friend Doug. We'd periodically get together in his basement to make music. Perhaps we only approximated music, but we had a lot of fun doing it.
We started telling friends what we were doing and how much fun we were having. Eventually, Jon, Wayne, Harold, and Kevin joined us. They may have known what they were doing, but I certainly hadn't a clue. All I knew was I was having fun and more fun than I'd had in a very long time. I loved getting together and making music with those guys.
Eventually, we went from playing in the basement to playing out at various places. I got such a thrill from that experience. If I could have glowed, I would have. It was relatively short-lived, but for that brief time, I had so much fun being a rock and roller.
Eventually, I moved away; the guys kept playing together, and, of course, they've been getting better all the time.
When I come back to Dayton, I look them up to see where they're playing. I love to go to their gigs and experience a bit of rock and roll vicariously through them.
I feel great that, at that time, I went for it.
Maybe, someday, I'll pick it up again. Maybe.
For now, though, I think I'll stick to writing these letters, and instead of picking up my guitar to play, I pick up my brushes today.
With any luck, I'll continue to get more creative, more proficient, and better able to express myself.
I hope you've found ways to express yourself. It feels so much better doing than just thinking about it.
Until next week, I wish you peace.
This guy's a one-man marketing dynamo. He calls himself the worlds greatest living artist. At least he's got a goal. He's prolific, and he does come up with some work that I like. His name is Jose Trujillo.
What I like most about this guy is his enthusiasm, initiative, and his willingness to "go for it."
He was born in Guadalajara, Mexico. He came to the United States with his parents when he was around nine years old. Kinda like me. I came to this country when I was nine years old with my parents too from that northern border!
Jose lives in Tucson, Arizona. Maybe I should take a little drive down there. I've got other friends there I've love to see.
His paintings are impressionistic and he says he wants to follow in the tradition of Monet and the Impressionists.
I follow Jose on YouTube. He puts out a video almost every single day. He is energetic and does his best to share his knowledge with anybody who will listen.
In this video he shares his background and why he does what he does. He is a full time working artist. That is a feat all unto itself. It takes guts and a willingness not to hide your light under a bushel. I admire his moxie.
If you ever lacked confidence. If you ever needed a kick in the backside to get going. You might want to look up Jose Trujillo and see how he does what he does.
You can find him at these fine internet outlets.
Iguanas are exotic creatures. They're in just about every nook and cranny on the island.
Iguanas remind me of hanging out at the beach. They can show up just about anywhere.
They look like fierce creatures. You might even think they're dangerous, but they're not. I wouldn't say I'm afraid of iguanas, but I do prefer to give them a little distance.
I do, however, have another phobia. It's a fear that has to do with humans; a particular type of human.
Like lots of people, I hate going to the dentist. I avoid going to see anyone until it's absolutely necessary. I know it's wrong, but I'm guilty.
I equate the dentist with pain. I'm either in pain when I go to the office, when I'm in there, or when I leave. It's all pain.
I've been told I grind my teeth at night. I wouldn't recommend it if you want any kind of longevity out of your pearly whites. Over the years the constant pressure can end up putting cracks in your teeth. It wears them down.
It doesn't help that I like eating lovely crunchy things like nuts, ice, hard candy.
A couple of years ago my grinding and abuse cracked one of my teeth, and it got infected.
I had to find a dentist on St. Thomas. I hadn't even located a barber let alone a dentist.
Either I'd get it taken care of, or I'd have to suffer the fever, and pain that came with my cracked tooth like some demented bonus, indefinitely.
Pain killers weren't touching the lightning bolts generated in my mouth, firing through my eyeball, and escaping out my right temple. It was seriously destroying my island serenity.
I got right to it. I looked up a few dentists online and came up with a list, and a three-pronged strategy.
First, I had to understand the receptionist. I have real trouble understanding people on the island sometimes, and I didn't want any lack of communication where there's pain involved.
Second, after leaping over hurdle number one, the dentist had to be busy enough he couldn't see me immediately. If the dentist was too busy and couldn't see me right away, they were in high demand. If they were in high demand, they were good. Pretzel logic, I know, but I was in pain.
Third, being too busy to see me, maybe they could recommend a dentist who could. A good dentist wouldn't want to ruin his reputation by referring me to a bad dentist. So, if that dentist were too busy to see me, he would recommend someone good who would.
I got lucky! The first dentist I called passed test number one with flying colors. The receptionist was friendly, courteous, and best of all, understandable.
They passed the busy test too. The doctor couldn't see me right away, but he might be able to fit me in tomorrow. Bingo!
I made the appointment right away and was sure to show up on time.
When the doctor did the exam, he found the job required some heavy lifting he couldn't do. He'd have to refer me to an oral surgeon.
Surgeon?! Yikes! Holy Moley!
Finding decent bread on the island is difficult at the best of times. For heaven's sake, fresh vegetables are hard to come by. From what magic hat are they going to pull this mythical animal called an oral surgeon?
I had visions of being medivacked.
I'm happy to say the dentist had contacts. He knew of an oral surgeon only 15 minutes away. He called up and got me right in. I hoped it was one professional doing a favor for another expert. I didn't want to think the oral surgeons were hanging out at Floyds Barber Shop playing checkers just waiting for customers.
He told me the oral surgeon was excellent, so I got in the car and drove over the hill to my savior's office.
When I got in the waiting room, things got a bit blurry.
I remember some irritating and inconsiderate people. For some reason, they assumed it was okay to play videos with the volume up on their smartphones for entertainment. It was like they thought everybody should listen.
I remember getting into the dentist's chair.
I remember getting a shot of Novocain that felt like it penetrated my optic nerve. It numbed my entire throat. I felt like I had to swallow continually. Then, I felt like I had to cough. Then I felt like I couldn't breathe. Gasp.
Was I going to die in this freaking dentist's chair?
The doctor came back it to see if the numbing agent had done its job, and I was apoplectic. He told me to calm down. He said it was normal. I said that his normal felt like crap. He dismissed me like I was a petulant child. (I probably was).
He got to work with his jackhammers, hammers, and chisels. He pulled out several things I'm sure I saw in my studies of the Spanish Inquisition.
I thought to myself, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" Thank you Monty Python.
If they were questioning me, I would have confessed right away. I've seen Marathon Man. I know what happens. But I had nothing to confess. I'd have to make something up quick.
After much tugging and prying and digging out of tooth parts, the carnage was over.
The only thing left was a bruise on my chest from his knee.
I staggered on my way with a suitcase full of Vicodin and a bunch of gauze in my mouth.
All I wanted to do was sleep for three days. I think I did just that. The problem was solved, but at what cost?
It was a very stressful time on the island.
Last week, when I lost a crown. It fell off in my mouth, and my eyes bulged to the size of grapefruits. I waited for the lightning bolts behind my eye; the stabbing pain in the temple.
My previous dental trauma flashed in front of my eyes.
Luckily, there was no pain.
I did feel an extreme desire to wait for help until I got back to Dayton.
When I got here I went to my friend Dan is a dentist. I shyly went to him and said, "Can I come to see you in your office? I think I have a problem."
He said, "Of course."
I was delighted he said yes. There's no gnashing of teeth. It's all in the bag.
I have not regretted my decision to wait to come to Dayton. It was the right choice.
Until next week, I wish you peace.
Peter Dranitsin is an abstract artist who lives and works out of North Royalston, Ohio. That's way up there close to Akron and Cleveland.
Okay, I'll have to admit, and I just learned this, this artist is a Marine. Once a Marine, always a Marine. He did a combat tour in Iraq. He's a brother - Semper Fi!
It's nice to see a Marine with an "Artsy Side."
I like Peter's art. It has vibrant colors and themes. He has a style that I have tried to replicate at times but it difficult to make it look good.
He uses a lot of free-forms and colors. I can usually see some technique or other I'd like to try every time I see one of his videos. I took a couple of his tutorial courses many years ago trying to get a handle on how to do it.
You can see him in the process of painting this one on YouTube. I've watched a lot of his videos trying to decode the process. I keep trying.
I have to say that it looks much easier than it actually is. Pete uses sponges, spatulas, cling film, and other unusual materials to make his artwork.
He also creates digital art in the form of Logos that he sells on his website.
You should give him a look at these most excellent venues.