The Things You Find When You Clean the Garage

I talk about pivotal years—years that change life drastically. 1974 was such a year. Liz and I separated in early February and the divorce was final in late December. It was a year of debauchery during which I did everything I had been accused of doing, even though I hadn’t, most of the previous thirteen years. Janet suggested that I put a take-a-number dispenser outside my apartment door.

I didn’t plan it that way. Liz and I had done the divorce routine before and I figured that like the last time we would work things out. However, Liz insisted that I see a marriage counselor and even picked out the counselor. The last time I had walked out and refused to continue with counseling because we didn’t do anything but yell at each other during the session--I figured we could do that at home for free. This time she decided we should go to separate councilors. She chose a female councilor for me probably because she thought a female would straighten me out where as a male might agree with me. I am not sure if it was the first or second session that she suggested dinner and I am not sure how many times I said no before I said yes. I discovered that once just makes twice, thrice and whatever comes after that easier. It was a year that was very close to my heart but very much out of character for me. I am pleased that I had at least one year of debauchery before I went fuddy-duddy again.

It was a year of art. I painted more than I ever had before or after. I photographed more than I ever had before or after. I traveled more and I was au natural more. I believe I was photographed sans skivvies in every state park from South Padre to Caddo and many places that weren't state parks. As I wrote in a bio a few years ago, I saw more of Texas and Texas saw more of me than ever before. It was a different year. Now that I have started this Forensic Evidence Found in the Containers of a Past Life, no telling where it is going to go. I might even photograph some of the few paintings that I still have—I gave most of them away or most often painted them for someone else from the beginning.

What brings 1974 to mind is a sketch book that I found stuffed into a drawer in the garage. I bought it in and photographed a few of the pages. Not sure that they actually fit into the “containers” category so I thought I would share them here.

This has to be a signature drawing for 74. I did a number of drawings and one painting featuring the tear drop. It just seemed to be fitting emotionally for the time. It was a very sad, very confusing time and I met it with my usual denial just waiting for the puff—just ignore the problem and surprisingly there will be this puff and everything will be okay again. I have based my entire life on the puff theory and until 1974 it had always worked. I waited almost all of the year for that puff but Guadalupieloo arrived first.

I had never done block printing and wanted to give it a try. I decided to do a block print for a Christmas card using the two numbers of the year and these pages are doodling the idea. This is probably the last copy of the block print.

Doodles. The flowers and vase ended up being a 24x36 painting that I did for Janet to give to her sister for Christmas. I’ll have to tell this story—flash to the past. Back when I first moved to Houston there was a local artist by the name of Rabby who always showed at the local art fairs. He was terribly maligned by those who considered themselves “true artists,” and laughingly referred to Rabby as the “café artist” because he sought out eating establishments that would display his work. Rabby’s style was flamboyantly colorful and extremely heavy impasto. He applied the paint so heavily that it took on the appearance of meringue. As is my usual nature, I saw a great deal of randomness in his technique and actually I liked what he did very much. When Liz and I bought the house in Bellaire I did a fairly large, probably 3’x4’ painting of white daises using Rabby’s heavy impasto technique. Our living room was white and green so that was the colors that predominated the painting and the reason for the choice of white daises. Janet came over to visit and was graciously admiring the painting and probably jokingly mentioned that she would like for me to do a painting for her apartment. I had never been to Janet’s apartment so I ask her what color she would like. I thought she was going to die laughing. Yes I know that is decorative art, not fine art and I very much consider myself a dilettante painter as I am a dilettante photographer. Anyway, I never did do the painting for her apartment. In 1974 I did do a very small painting somewhat in the Rabby style for her as a joke. We were going somewhere and I did it in about fifteen minutes or less and then delivered it with the paint still wet—at least what paint I did not get on my clothes on the way to pick her up.

This is a layout sketch for a painting I did for Janet to give to her mother for Christmas. Unfortunately, it did not turn out as well as the one for her sister which I think may be the best flower painting that I have ever done. Since Janet and her sister are not on good terms, I have not seen that painting in almost thirty years. She may not even have it anymore.

Just a doodle. I enjoy starting with a few lines and then connecting them randomly, just doodling.

This was sketches for paintings that I wanted to do but I do not believe that I every actually got to the painting stage. I may have done one using the boat but I would not swear to it.

Sorry for the nostalgia trip. But I rant a lot about it being good to do things that are personal—and this is pretty darn personal. I do not know if I will uncover any more sketch books, I thought they were all gone, but if I do, who knows I may photograph them. This one was pretty tame.