McLovin (resident blogger for the Dan Patrick radio show) reporting on site for the Phillies victory parade celebrating their World Series win.
Dan: How's the parade?
McLovin: It's crazy their not letting me go out. And I'm trying to blog. There are two million people here. And these houligans on my right look like their going to smash my computer ... I'm having some issues.
...
Dan: What do you do now, parade, have cheese steak...?
McLovin: I'll see where the crowd goes, I'm thinking I might light a car on fire. I haven't really decided yet. definately a little bit of civil disobienence
Dan: Be careful.
McLovin: If I'm not back on monday just know I've been trampled.
Dan: Oh okay, we'll start without you ...
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Portraits Hung in Empty Halls
I enjoy the idea of painting ... but really, am quite horrible at it. And I mean painting on canvas not walls, I can do that, I'm good, but there's not much to be bad at. But after painting the living room ... I don't want to think about painting walls any time soon.
I can draw (much to my mom's surprise, which doesn't make sense) and I have a graphic eye when it comes to laying out a page for a newsletter or invitation. I'm not the best by any means, but a litte more than average. I also have a knack for collages (even if it might be pleasing to mostly my own eye).
But when it comes to painting a scene, still life or anything on canvas ... I just suck. When I was a kid I would watch the painting shows on PBS with awe. So much so that my dad made me an easel. Plus I was an "artist" for halloween once--pallet, white overshirt stained with colors and a off kilter berret.
In high school, I very excitedly took a mixed mediums class. There we would learn many different methods and styles: pencil, ink, paint (acrylic) and pottery. I exceled at the pencil and was average at the rest. But I royally was disappointed in my painting ability.
I haven't visited that skill since.
Late this summer, I discovered "Create" a channel from PBS that has travel shows, cooking, gardening, home repair and crafts. And one afternoon, none other than my old friend Bob Ross was on! The Joy of Painting. I watched it for a laugh (reminising at the Family Guy bit where he put a bush in the corner and then threatened the viewers) at first because he's an odd fellow and always had to put that big dark (mostly dead) tree in the foreground of his paintings. In most cases I thought it ruined the whole thing.
Now I watch Bob with fresh eyes. I see why I'm such a horrible painter. When I look at grass: I see green and the blades of grass, appreciating the beauty of their intricacy. But Bob knew to look at grass in a painting first you had to start with a dark color, with a hint of green. Then with that dark blue/black already in your brush, you layer in a little yellow to create that tell tale green. Finally you need to throw in another hit of yellow or white, based on where the light is coming from.
In this case ... the grass is greener on the other (Bob's side) of the fence, or canvas as the case may be. He also knew the importance of scratching in the details ... even when you really don't see them when you look at the painting as a whole.
When I was in my high school art class, I did a painting of a sunset. The art teacher (who I've never respected and quite frankly, think he's still an idiot) told me I need more color on the hill that was in shadow. Well ... I thought wtf, it's dark, it's shadow, it's black how do I add more color? And he never taught me why that was important, and how it brings out the details.
But because of Bob, I get it now.
I can draw (much to my mom's surprise, which doesn't make sense) and I have a graphic eye when it comes to laying out a page for a newsletter or invitation. I'm not the best by any means, but a litte more than average. I also have a knack for collages (even if it might be pleasing to mostly my own eye).
But when it comes to painting a scene, still life or anything on canvas ... I just suck. When I was a kid I would watch the painting shows on PBS with awe. So much so that my dad made me an easel. Plus I was an "artist" for halloween once--pallet, white overshirt stained with colors and a off kilter berret.
In high school, I very excitedly took a mixed mediums class. There we would learn many different methods and styles: pencil, ink, paint (acrylic) and pottery. I exceled at the pencil and was average at the rest. But I royally was disappointed in my painting ability.
I haven't visited that skill since.
Late this summer, I discovered "Create" a channel from PBS that has travel shows, cooking, gardening, home repair and crafts. And one afternoon, none other than my old friend Bob Ross was on! The Joy of Painting. I watched it for a laugh (reminising at the Family Guy bit where he put a bush in the corner and then threatened the viewers) at first because he's an odd fellow and always had to put that big dark (mostly dead) tree in the foreground of his paintings. In most cases I thought it ruined the whole thing.
Now I watch Bob with fresh eyes. I see why I'm such a horrible painter. When I look at grass: I see green and the blades of grass, appreciating the beauty of their intricacy. But Bob knew to look at grass in a painting first you had to start with a dark color, with a hint of green. Then with that dark blue/black already in your brush, you layer in a little yellow to create that tell tale green. Finally you need to throw in another hit of yellow or white, based on where the light is coming from.
In this case ... the grass is greener on the other (Bob's side) of the fence, or canvas as the case may be. He also knew the importance of scratching in the details ... even when you really don't see them when you look at the painting as a whole.
When I was in my high school art class, I did a painting of a sunset. The art teacher (who I've never respected and quite frankly, think he's still an idiot) told me I need more color on the hill that was in shadow. Well ... I thought wtf, it's dark, it's shadow, it's black how do I add more color? And he never taught me why that was important, and how it brings out the details.
But because of Bob, I get it now.
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