Hello, bloggers!

We had a wonderful time in the Napa Valley/St. Helena area in California.  We had 3 great dinners where people came and looked at the art.  We had hours to discuss the whole project, and the people who came had been thoroughly versed in the Umbrella Project and how that related to the visual art.  One of the dinners was hosted by David and Susan Sabin, and it was a magical, amazing setting. David made sure that every day we went out to a different restaurant, where we met lots of wonderful local people for lunch and dinner.

Michael Chiarello from the Food Channel—who is one of Rose’s favorite cooks on television—came to the show on Monday.  Later on they invited all of us over to their home, where we had one of the most delightful group of people, about 20 of us.  Chef Chiarello cooked a meal with all of his comments about how it was cooked and what the ingredients were...  It was the most amazing meal I’ve ever had.

Also, during all the dinners, the people who grew the wine were there to talk about their wine and what it meant, what the vintage was, and all of those things.  I dutifuly drank my ice water and listened to what they had to say.  We met with some people who do documentaries on world projects, people who work with people like Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, and Robert Redford...  And there was some discussion of doing a worldwide program about the Umbrellas for Peace, in many different languages, for public television.  So that was very exciting.

I also met a very interesting man who had developed and is now producing an electric motorcycle, and who had also designed a new bicycle.  I told them that, looking ahead to the celebration of my 80^th birthday, I’m going to do 3 things:  I’m going to pierce my ear and put a diamond stud in it.  I’d like to have a rose tattooed on my forearm.  And I want to buy a motorcycle.  So we talked at length about that.  He said he’d be happy to make me a motorcycle with a sidecar, so I can either have Rose in the sidecar, or a chauffeur can drive us around.  You always have to have long-term plans.  I now have to think about what I want to do when I’m 90.  I don’t think I’m going to be jumping out of airplanes.  Maybe I’ll settle for getting out of a bathtub unassisted.

Matt

In response to Matt’s call for bloggers to come up with a first step toward world peace, a reader remarks that schools and families must work together for the benefit of children.

Matt responds:

Over the years, I visited many native cultures:  from tribespeople in the jungles who, two generations ago, were cutting people’s heads off; to very sophisticated and educated cultures.  In the cultures I observed, family is everything.  But that is slowly diminishing because of all of the noise that’s being sent around the world.  As we’re walking down the streets in small villages and towns and large cities, if we have a cellphone, it can ring.  Not only can we use our phone to talk to somebody, we can also look at emails and text messages; we can listen to conversations, even read books.  My wife is buying the Kindle, which has 150,000 books on it...  And if we have a television, we’re told what to do by advertising:  everything from what medicine to take to what toilet paper to use.

In the past, we went through a school situation where there were measuring sticks, rules, and regulations.  We then went home to what was known as the modular family—I’m going back a long way here, to my childhood, where the mother stayed home and did the cooking, and the father worked six days a week, and the kids kept their mouths shut.

Now, there are tsunamis of information pouring into every household.  No matter what you want to know, you press the magic button, and you have more information than you could ever read till you grow old.  But are you brainwashed?  Did the information really help you?  I’ve said many times that we look at children as children.  I look at children as adults that just haven’t been screwed up yet.  It’s amazing how educated the children are about everything, which is all because of the Internet.  They know more about everything than most adults do.

So as we look at the wider issue of the peace process, it becomes a question of:  How are we going to cope with the world as it is now, and still be sane, productive, nonviolent, happy folks living our lives and leaving other people alone?  Does it start with the husband and wife?  Possibly.  But in many cases the husband might be in jail, and the wife might be working, so where is the family?  Is the education system uniform?  I think it’s pretty obvious that it is not.  There are places that have incredibly good schools and places that are incredibly bad.  What is the reason for education?  To have a good job?  To shine above others because of what you know?  To help bring unity and peace to the world?  To have a lot of money?  There are all kinds of measurements.

If we as individuals could figure out how to get family peace, if we had some formula for that, then very probably the formula for the world would be solved, too.  If everyone was peaceful and content in their surroundings, we wouldn’t be looking outside to grab somebody else’s bone, house, car, or way of life; we would be content with who and what we are.  There is a place where that happens, and in our society we call it paradise.  I usually don’t find it, but we have to keep looking.  There’s got to be a pony somewhere in the pile of shit.  There has to be an answer out there somewhere.

Matt

A reader asks Matt whether he will take a look at her artwork and tell her what he thinks of it.  Matt responds:

In a number of cases, people have asked me to look at and critique their work.  Sometimes this is possible when I’m working with artists in a collective and we meet regularly.  When they know what I am trying to do, and I have some idea what their missions are, then we can jointly critique and comment on each other’s work.  But it isn’t the kind of comments you’d get in a show.  It isn’t “This is bad, or this is good.”

On the issue of what is good art, I never feel qualified to praise or detract from what somebody is doing as an artist, because I believe that an artist consciously or subconsciously knows when they’re doing their best work and when they aren’t.  The thing that comes across to me when I’m speaking with artists is the problem of being afraid, getting caught in a rut, worrying too much about what other people think, when the real question is:  What do you really think?  What are you trying to do?  Are you working to your fullest extent to say what you’re trying to say through your art?

I find the best thing for me in dealing with my art, is to meditate, to let it roll around in your head.  I had one project that took me almost 10 years to really work out.  Luckily, I lived long enough to do it.  I’m not comfortable with trying to build a car when all I know how to do is honk the horn and pump the tires with air.  My work comes from experimenting in my mind or with materials, and coming to trial-and-error conclusions.  I’m not a great one for rules and regulations or books that tell you how to make great art.  Deep down, I probably don’t give a damn.

It’s very pleasing to hear that artworks are liked by people and admired, but I believe if an artist only manufactures art to please others, it can become contrived.  But if so many people want the work to continue that way, then the artist is besieged to do only that kind of manifestation, and they lose their whole process of exploration and digging through themselves to find the next step...  We always think about Rocky Balboa climbing up the steps before he became the great boxer in the ring.  Well, to me, some artists are the ones sitting on the second step, eating an ice cream cone, crying that they’re too fat to keep going.

I believe that art is not primarily for the beholder; it’s for the maker.  That’s probably a long answer, but the question has many implications.  There are many very credible art teachers and critics, but I don’t look on that as being a strong point in my resume.

Matt

Dear bloggers,

We are all sparks in this great universe we live in.  None of us are dim or dull; we just don’t realize how much of a strobe light we are in the cosmos.  In many cases, an elephant probably doesn’t know its own strength.  A chihuahua certainly doesn’t know how small it is when it’s threatening a big St. Bernard!  So the relative knowledge of our own self is sometimes inflated; other times it’s deflated.   Very rarely if ever do we see ourselves exactly as we are.

So many people want to be somebody else, and in reality, they’re so great just as they are.  I think you diminish yourself when you throw out parts of yourself and try to replace it with parts of other people.  It’s like being a sleek Corvette and then seeing a big truck, and then you take the big, unwieldy steering wheel, the huge spout that the smoke comes out of, and pretty soon the Corvette isn’t anything like a Corvette anymore.  It’s like a pimple on a dancer’s ass.  It’s out of context.

I believe that each of the billions of people who inhabit this world has the power of the universe within them.  Our job is to find that power, pull it out, examine it, enhance it, define it, put it into the air, see what happens, and away we go!

Matt

Hello bloggers,

One subject that always comes up for a painter is:  When do you know you’re done?  The other question is:  Now What?  Put those together with other thoughts, and the saying that comes out of it is:  “It’s all over but the shootin’.”  I think painting is that way.

With my process, I have to really think about it and subconsciously come to a meeting of the minds between me and the paint and the background and the dip and all of the colors that are there, and consciously and subconsciously, through a partnership, present what we’re talking about to the world.  It’s almost like building a building.  You put the superstructure up.  How is it going to stand, how is it flowing?  That, then, dictates that you have to constantly be learning and looking at each piece you’re making, to believe that it’s the best you can do at that point in time.

I had occasion the last few weeks to work on two paintings that were mavericks.  One was 4 feet by 8 feet, done on a board with burlap, and the other was a 3 foot by 4 foot.  The 3 x 4 was a building-up of spirits, one on top of the other.  The one on top, I like to put the eye as the portal for the soul, where we can look in and look out.  It really isn’t alive unless there is some sort of an eye, or way to look into the painting, the composition.  So I put this one eye in, and I always put an eyebrow—when I say I always do, that doesn’t mean I always do—and I thought, “Isn’t this great?”  And the other one had a long neck.

The property of burlap is, it has its own mind.  And with my process, it will start to bleed and drip, maybe after months.  Why?  I have no idea.  It just does.  So over time, I kept walking by, and the thing just kept looking at me and saying to do something.  I thought the drips were good, but the voices kept saying, “They’re bullshit drips!”  The 3 x 4 was mocking me every time I went by, so I consciously left them out in a place where I was forced to keep walking by them and listen to all their pissing and moaning.

So one day when I was ready to leave, I changed clothes, turned off the lights, and both of these paintings more or less attacked me and said, “You’re not getting away!”  So I took a long time sitting with both of them and saying to myself, “If this were put in the Louvre, would I be proud of it?”  I kept saying yes, and they kept saying no.

I finally forced myself to sit there and look at every part of those paintings, which were quite complex, and decided they were right and I was wrong.  So it wasn’t all over but the shooting.  It was all over but the complete surrender of my power to my partner, which I think would be the composition, flow, and direction, which has its own mind in many ways. So it made me very cognizant of the partnership I’m in and how I have to keep really looking and seeing and listening to myself.  In those particular cases, I hadn’t really done as much homework as I thought I had, so it wasn’t really done.  I think that is probably a universal problem with artists as they look at their own work.

For me, I must constantly pay attention at all times to the nth degree, both consciously but definitely mostly unconsciously.  I paint to hard-rock music, and I can’t really think about it; I have to act almost automatically.  If we allow ourselves to, we become a robot, so it should never “always” be this way.  In my 76^th year, I am blessed that the process demands constant attention, renewal, and reeducation.  What do we do next, and when do we know it’s done?  I have no idea.  It just is what it is.

So I straightened those two paintings out, I left some of the drips, I eliminated some, and I put the eyebrow over the eye, and then it became a seeing eye rather than just a vacant eye.  And I thought, “These two bastards, I’ll show them!  Maybe I’ll put them in a closet!”  But I didn’t.  After admitting defeat, I bowed to their power. After that, I went back and looked at a lot of my other work and came to the conclusion this was the best I could do.  But those two were really coaches, screaming, “Look at me!  Do you really want to do this?” What is the lesson?  Well, it’s that if you are an artist, there isn’t going to be a foreman telling you what to do all the time.  You have to do that yourself.  Once you think you have it nailed down, you haven’t.  The nail’s gonna rust, and the damn thing’s gonna fall apart.

I believe our job is to ask, “What’s really in us?  Are we truly looking for new and more innovative ways of expression?”

Matt

Yes I do.

I eat one big meal a day, usually at noontime, and then two health shakes made with fat-free, lactose-free milk, in the morning and evening, and a long list of vitamins and minerals, depending on my ailments.  I’ve been doing this for about 60 years, the one-meal regimentation for the last 3 years.  This and the exercise keep me healthy, wealthy, and wise (although I’m not sure about the wealthy, since the vitamins are very expensive!).

I don’t think anybody can keep our bodies in repair except ourselves, so it comes down to self-discipline.  An artist goes up and down scaffolds and pulls wood and concrete around.  Living in my 77^th year, I can’t disregard my physical abilities.

We must always keep our friendships in repair, and as I get older, I have to keep my body in repair.  Even if you don’t like exercise or eating in a healthy way, trick yourself into liking it, because you won’t like the results if you don’t do it.

So be careful, eat right, exercise, and keep your mind and body working together towards the good that you want to do.

Matt

I’ve been continuing to think from time to time about black and white.  In my view, I believe both are needed in our world of different tensions and realities.  When you think about it, they are gifts.  If were were always in blazing light, we couldn’t get a good night’s sleep, we couldn’t meditate.  Sometimes we curse the darkness, and other times we bless it.

Ideally, we look at both sides of the door:  light on one side, dark on the other; both rooms are exciting.  It’s up to us to make both rooms meaningful and productive.

I learn a lot from working with blind people.  They see things in a completely different way.  People who are completely blind live in a world of darkness at all times.  Like anyone else, they have all the emotions we have.  I would imagine they have built their own “light rooms” within their own realities, because they’re happy, productive, exciting people who live meaningful and artistic lives. We who have our sight, have the opportunity to see both sides of it in our way, and they are able to see it in a way we’ll never be able to comprehend, which makes it another explored space for them and us.

Matt

Dear bloggers,

Matt was very moved by a comment made last week by one of our very articulate and loyal bloggers, Ani Rose.  Ani’s comment struck Matt as so important that he asked me to post the comment in its entirety on the main page of the Blog.  It follows, along with Matt’s response.

Warm regards,

Richard
Blog editor

** 

Dear Matt,

I'm not terribly upset that the recognized "traditional" family has been forced to change. There was an awful lot of unsaid unequalities in that old system of "respect thy elders no matter what" and "Children should be seen and not heard," and "Graduate, get a job, do it for life, retire." Abuse in families was rampant without enough attention to the fact that it is wrong.  Etc., etc.
 

I was brought up in a very broken family. I rebelled and have brought my own children up away from those folks and very differently. We are very honest and outspoken with each other, and I am as accountable to them as they are to me. They can have every feeling they need to have. They can disagree and make their own choices. My job is to help them learn how to make good choices. My job is to help them experience their own heart, insights, ideas, questions and gut. We are equals, spritually, and different in how we do things and what things we can do.

Because we do not live in a bed of secrets, there is much greater peace in my family than the one I grew up in. My kids and I can disagree vehemently, and still there is peace, because we are honest about who we are, and respect each others right to be who we are.  It's a little more than mere tolerance, and it starts first with myself and then with my family.

If we are going to have a whole new system of "family," it can't be like the OLD one -- it must be without secrets... with mutual respect and accountability.

Our governments can only learn lessons from that kind of system. My daughter is only seven, first grade. Half the students in her class are still learning English. More than half live with only one parent. Two live with two mommies. Differences are out in the open. Everyone can be equal that way. Differences can be talked about and experienced. Everyone is respected that way.  Individuality is tolerated and respected and being able to do that becomes the norm.

It is easy for kids. I think it's definitely in our gene structure to be able to love anyone, people totally different. In fact, when we do, we bring out the best in them and ourselves, like infants do. We need to learn from the children who have grown up in gangs rather than traditional families. Something about their rebellion was probably necessary. Rather than go backwards, or lament what is gone, or "blame" everything on the rebelling ones... let's learn something about why they rebelled, what they want instead. Lets learn something from the children growing up in classrooms like my daughters. They TALK about things, differences, how to stand up for yourself, but not hurt anyone. They practice solving problems. They sing about every color and shape being okay.  There are the lessons for a NEW set of "family" traditions and definitions. Goals change then too -- one career forever whether or not you like it? No way. Have ten!  Be happy and smart. Question everything. Do things differently.

I tend to think similarly about art, art genres, master paintings, etc. Things change. New movements have great reason to be, just like traditional movments had. More definitions will come about. More rebellion and more inclusiveness at once. Who says it has to be THAT way???? And who says it doesn't?  Let's accept ALL of it and have no need to negate any of it.

That's my religion:  Accept all, negate none. Keep going.

Thanks for the opportunity to think, Matt.

Ani Rose 

Dear Ani,

Your essay should be required reading to all participants in our meeting of the New Los Alamos.  It is so rich and textured with ideas to be debated, meditated upon, used for conversational, and in-depth analysis.  All of the aspects of the human condition are touched on in your comments.  It is people like you who think about it and write about it, and through you, I believe we can come to some sort of new way of looking at peace.

Thanks for keeping this great conversation going for the new peace that we will be looking for.  And thanks for sharing with us your insights, wisdom, experience, knowledge, the good and bad things that happened, the transparency, the candor, and the wisdom.  This is what we’re looking for in this world.  For all of us on the blog, we salute you.

Matt

A reader comments upon Matt’s relentlessly upbeat spirit and asks him if his mindset is truly glass-half-full, or if he just keeps his darker moments to himself.

Matt responds:  

 

The first part of my life I spent with the ultimate disaster.  I met with families who had lost the most precious thing in the world:  their loved one.  When that happens, everything else becomes sort of mundane.

In my life I have tried to be Pollyanna.  I’m always looking for the pony in the pile of shit.  And it gets me though life.  I tried booze, but that didn’t work, so I gave it up.

I have a saying to myself:  “No matter how bad it might be, I give myself 5 minutes, and if it’s really bad, 10 minutes, to get all pissed and bummed about it; then at the end of that I say, ‘I don’t have any more time for that; I think I found the pony; now, how can I ride it?’”

So, like little Orphan Annie says, “the sun’ll come up tomorrow.”  It always does, but the question is:  Are we going to be here to enjoy it?  Grab every day, pull everything you can out of it and out of yourself.  We’re not here to be static, we’re here to grow.  That means change.  Life is not one big party, because after the party there’s the hangover.  There are a lot of hangovers in life.  The world doesn’t give a goddammn whether I’m happy or not.  Happiness happens between my two ears.

I understand that everything is temporary.  I do what I can to make a bad situation better, and if I can’t, I move on.  I don’t sit there in a raging storm waiting to be blown away.  Sometimes you’re better to just get the hell out.  Things are the way they are, not the way you want them to be.  I can carry on, “Woe is me,” and be the fool in the corner sucking my thumb—but I’d rather be the wild stallion running through the field, not knowing where I’m going and not giving a damn.  It’s a fool’s way of living, but I think we make whatever life we’re going to live.

That’s what I keep telling the hundreds and hundreds of children I meet:  You will live in whatever world you make.  You don’t live in the world I make.  If you judge and condition yourself by other people’s standards, it’s a tragedy.

I’ve always thought you have to keep your hand over the sad buttons, because the world is always trying to push them.  You also have to pump up your glad button and make sure it’s well oiled.  When somebody pushes your sad button, push your happy button immediately.  It might take some practice and innovation, but I absolutely believe you have to do that.  This too will pass.  Go get ‘em.  If they don’t like it, let ‘em eat cake!

Matt

A reader inquires as to whether Matt has ever considered turning his figurative characters and spirits into a digital video or cartoon.

Matt responds:

I believe life is a cartoon.  We all think we’re the kings and queens roaming around, master of all we survey.  The figures in my paintings talk with us, sing with us, laugh with us, mock us, criticize and praise us—they do all the things we do, either consciously or subconsciously.  I think the whole thing is a cartoon, but I have sort of a strange philosophy about everything I read or see.

Every day I peruse a couple newspapers, and it seems that the only thing that makes any sense are the cartoons.  It’s good to laugh and cry and envy and have joy with the cartoons in the paper, but the reality, to me, of the whole of existence, is that we are all characters in one big strange wonderful scary cartoon that we call life.  I’m waiting for the Looney Toons and Merry Melodies, “The End.”  I hope there’s a rainbow after that!

In terms of actually making a cartoon, the closest I ever came to that was a hand-made, limited edition book called Diary Pages, where the characters actually did speak.  It was a study of irony and self-examination, but it could very well be looked at as a set of cartoons.

Matt

[Editor’s note:  Next week we will post some of the whimsical, ironic captions from the Diary Pages.]