Jennifer, done last week. This is a 25-minute pose done with black and white charcoal pencils on a gray Strathmore paper.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
It is Fudge Time!
So jazzed to say that I just bought tickets to see the Vanilla Fudge in August. They still sound amazing.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Loan Explorer Logo
Years ago, before they were taken over by the Feds, I worked for IndyMac Bank in their Construction Lending department. I worked on a piece of software called Loan Explorer, which managed big loans for construction companies. Blowing my own horn here, but Loan Explorer was the best Construction Loan processing system on the planet, and I was not the only one who thought that. When Fannie Mae was looking for a construction loan package, they went to all the banks to see what they were using. They ended up wanting to buy Loan Explorer; IndyMac didn't sell it to them. Anyway, as each new version of the product would arrive I would work on the code, the training docs, the help files, the manuals and yes, the logo. For my last version, Loan Explorer 5.0, I created this animated logo which was presented in a splash/logon page every time the program was loaded. I kind of like it.
The spinning numbers were created with Swift3D software from Electric Rain. That was then merged in CoffeeCup Firestarter to created the finished logo. For the final product I altered the colors and put it on a gray background, where it looked something like this:
Friday, June 13, 2014
The Carnival
I don’t know why I remember the carnival. I’d been to carnivals before, but this one had arisen from an empty lot in our neighborhood. That first day I went, the wild tangle of rides seemed like an unfathomable dirt maze to me. Everywhere I turned I saw something new. I felt disoriented and lost amid the spinning metal, flashing lights and the screams of young girls being pulled this way and that by the Scrambler, the Tilt-A-Whirl or the Whizzer.
I remember wandering around in a daze in a cloud of dust kicked up by a hundred or more people. As I stumbled between the rides, the rich dusty aroma mixed with the sharp odors of the grease and diesel fuel that kept the rides running smoothly. The sweetness of cotton candy drifted through the air occasionally interrupted by the sour stench of vomit.
There was a wall of large trucks that had transformed into the “Fun House” and the “House of Horrors,” with barkers outside enticing me to come in, “It’s only a quarter young man.” There was a shooting range with rows of mechanical ducks and bears and geese skittering across the booth at various speeds. Next to it was a booth with a pyramid of milk bottles, just asking to be knocked over with a softball, which I had been told to avoid, by someone I can’t now recall. There was a dunking booth with local girls in bathing suits waiting to be plunged into a tank of water by a precisely thrown baseball and a coin toss with highly oiled plates and poorly placed goblets.
Wafting across the entire carnival was the delicious aroma of hamburgers on the grill. Not these thin, premade patties of today, but thick, handmade burgers, charred on the outside and pink on the inside, plump with fatty juice that oozed though your fingers and spattered the ground when you took a bite. My parents would take a turn at the food booth every day, which meant I would come back for all four days the carnival would be in town. It was in coming back the second day that I learned how easily one can get comfortable with the new and exciting.
The carnival no longer seemed a maze of confusion; the layout was quite orderly and neat. I remember my second day there thinking that I had lost something, some sense of wonder that had been present the day before. The rides sparkled a bit less and, the music seemed a little drearier than before. I remember being startled at how fast the magic of the place had died for me.
Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.
I remember wandering around in a daze in a cloud of dust kicked up by a hundred or more people. As I stumbled between the rides, the rich dusty aroma mixed with the sharp odors of the grease and diesel fuel that kept the rides running smoothly. The sweetness of cotton candy drifted through the air occasionally interrupted by the sour stench of vomit.
There was a wall of large trucks that had transformed into the “Fun House” and the “House of Horrors,” with barkers outside enticing me to come in, “It’s only a quarter young man.” There was a shooting range with rows of mechanical ducks and bears and geese skittering across the booth at various speeds. Next to it was a booth with a pyramid of milk bottles, just asking to be knocked over with a softball, which I had been told to avoid, by someone I can’t now recall. There was a dunking booth with local girls in bathing suits waiting to be plunged into a tank of water by a precisely thrown baseball and a coin toss with highly oiled plates and poorly placed goblets.
Wafting across the entire carnival was the delicious aroma of hamburgers on the grill. Not these thin, premade patties of today, but thick, handmade burgers, charred on the outside and pink on the inside, plump with fatty juice that oozed though your fingers and spattered the ground when you took a bite. My parents would take a turn at the food booth every day, which meant I would come back for all four days the carnival would be in town. It was in coming back the second day that I learned how easily one can get comfortable with the new and exciting.
The carnival no longer seemed a maze of confusion; the layout was quite orderly and neat. I remember my second day there thinking that I had lost something, some sense of wonder that had been present the day before. The rides sparkled a bit less and, the music seemed a little drearier than before. I remember being startled at how fast the magic of the place had died for me.
Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.
Thursday, June 05, 2014
Oh Suzie Darling!
A week or so ago I was lucky enough to have the beautiful Suzie pose for me. This was the first time I had the opportunity to draw her and appreciated it much. This was a 25-minute pose utilizing black and white charcoal pencils on gray Strathmore paper. Drawn June 1, 2014.
Tuesday, June 03, 2014
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Monday, May 12, 2014
Thursday
We walked into the small bedroom in silence. The wall behind the headboard was adorned with cowboy hats, all wrapped in protective plastic. In the corner a beautiful oak display case was filled with expensive toy cars in pristine condition. The man on the bed had smooth skin of an almost translucent quality. His tousled white hair looked fine and silky and rested on a small pillow on top of a larger pillow. His chin rested on a rolled up green washcloth under which his ancient hands, covered with age spots and signs of recent bleeding, lay crossed. Paula bent down and touched his hands then ran her finger along the bridge of his nose. She began to cry again and I put my arms around her. I could feel her tremble. The room was littered with medical equipment, all quiet, as if sitting in silent respect for the man they once hummed and beeped and toiled in service of.
I could hear the labored breathing of Paula’s mother as she shuffled into the room, her oxygen hose trailing behind her, and stood by the other side of the bed. “He lived a good life.” She bent down and kissed his forehead.
“Yes mom, he lived a full life.” I held Paula tighter. She had stopped trembling. After a bit she started to cry and leaned back into me. I squeezed her and kissed the top of her head.
A tall man in blue scrubs walked into the room, just there to “pay my respects.” He was followed in by two women in bright maroon print scrubs who had come for the same purpose.
Eventually we walked back into the living room and sat waiting for the people from the mortuary to come for the body. It was the first time I can recall being in that room without the TV on.
Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.
I could hear the labored breathing of Paula’s mother as she shuffled into the room, her oxygen hose trailing behind her, and stood by the other side of the bed. “He lived a good life.” She bent down and kissed his forehead.
“Yes mom, he lived a full life.” I held Paula tighter. She had stopped trembling. After a bit she started to cry and leaned back into me. I squeezed her and kissed the top of her head.
A tall man in blue scrubs walked into the room, just there to “pay my respects.” He was followed in by two women in bright maroon print scrubs who had come for the same purpose.
Eventually we walked back into the living room and sat waiting for the people from the mortuary to come for the body. It was the first time I can recall being in that room without the TV on.
Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
...You Know I Love You!
When IBM was selling its own windowing operating system, I always thought this should be their theme song in their commercials. Listen and just replace "Oh it's true" with "OS2" and you will see what I mean. And I'm sure they could have gotten Flo and Eddie to record it for them.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Shedding a Tear
I have a question: is there a statute of limitations for feeling ripped off? How long after you have been had is it no longer right to feel incensed by it, given the number of years that have passed since you was played? I'm trying to figure this out, 'cause I am feeling pretty damn used even though the "using" happened decades ago and I only found out today.
What has me in a tizzy? That guy in the clip from the PDA above. I watched these things for years; old Iron Eyes Cody shedding a tear for the pollution of nature at the hands of the white man. Only, that isn't Iron Eyes Cody. That is Espera Oscar de Corti, of Italian descent. The guy is white. White!
I shed a tear for the innocence of my youth.
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Oscar Season - Best Actress
Today we saw Philomena which features Judi Dench's Oscar nominated Best Actress performance. Dench's was the last Best Actress nominee for us to see, so I now feel I can give an opinion on this category.
I loved American Hustle and though Amy Adams was just wonderful, she is overshadowed by others even in that movie. A share really; in a different year this might have been enough to win. When you see these clips you realize how amazing she was:
I am a big Gravity fan, and thought Sandra Bullock's performance is the glue that binds that startling story together; the amount of time she is the only thing on the screen must have been frightening to consider. But, I needed a little bit more from her than I got. I'm not sure what that would have been, but just a little something more. Hard to find a clip that showcases Bullock's range in this film, but just know that the emotion you are getting in most of these scenes is transmitted through her eyes and her voice; nothing else is even real.
Judi Dench was spectacular as the real life Philomena and in a normal year, she might win for this amazing performance that is funny and poignant and vulnerable and all so real.
But through it all one performance kept pulling me back. Kate Blanchett in Blue Jasmine jut blew me away. As the widow of a Bernie Madoff type character who has lost everything, she is nothing short of spectacular:
So for me that was it, a slam dunk for Blanchett. And then I saw August: Osage County and Meryl Streep just killed it. Every time I think I have seen everything that Streep can give us, she gives us something new, something more. This is not the best scene in the film by far, but you can surely see here that she is on top of her game.
So my choice for Best Actress is the incomparable Meryl Streep.
I loved American Hustle and though Amy Adams was just wonderful, she is overshadowed by others even in that movie. A share really; in a different year this might have been enough to win. When you see these clips you realize how amazing she was:
I am a big Gravity fan, and thought Sandra Bullock's performance is the glue that binds that startling story together; the amount of time she is the only thing on the screen must have been frightening to consider. But, I needed a little bit more from her than I got. I'm not sure what that would have been, but just a little something more. Hard to find a clip that showcases Bullock's range in this film, but just know that the emotion you are getting in most of these scenes is transmitted through her eyes and her voice; nothing else is even real.
Judi Dench was spectacular as the real life Philomena and in a normal year, she might win for this amazing performance that is funny and poignant and vulnerable and all so real.
But through it all one performance kept pulling me back. Kate Blanchett in Blue Jasmine jut blew me away. As the widow of a Bernie Madoff type character who has lost everything, she is nothing short of spectacular:
So for me that was it, a slam dunk for Blanchett. And then I saw August: Osage County and Meryl Streep just killed it. Every time I think I have seen everything that Streep can give us, she gives us something new, something more. This is not the best scene in the film by far, but you can surely see here that she is on top of her game.
So my choice for Best Actress is the incomparable Meryl Streep.
Saturday, February 08, 2014
Oscar Season - Supporting Actress
Last night it was 12 Years A Slave, up for nine Academy Awards:
Actor in a Leading Role
Actor in a Supporting Role
Actress in a Supporting Role
Best Picture
Costume Design
Directing
Film Editing
Production Design
Writing (Adapted Screenplay)
Yeah, it was pretty damn good. A little hard to watch, the inhumanity of slavery is just too much for my sensibilities, but a very good film. With this film, we have now seen all of the "Actress in a Supporting Role" nominees, so I can now venture an opinion on this award. To me it is a close race between Julia Roberts for August: Osage County and Jennifer Lawrence for American Hustle. I would be happy with either winning, though I think I would vote for Jennifer Lawrence by a hair.
Both have extremely powerful scenes, worthy of an Oscar. When Julia Roberts says to her mother, "I'm fucking in charge!" she had me completely, but when Jennifer Lawrence admits, "I don't like change, It's really hard for me," in my opinion, she won the award. See what I mean:
Monday, February 03, 2014
A Long, Long Time Ago
I don't remember the year, but it was the early 60s and I was playing a stack of my brother's 45s as I was wont to do in those days. A lot of doo-wop, a taste of Del Vikings, a little Stagger Lee ("Oh the night was clear, and the moon was yellow...") and something I had never played before. It was a song called "Oh Boy" and I found it infectious.
When my brother came home later that day I asked him who the Crickets were and he looked at me and said, "Oh...that's Buddy Holly."
And I said, "I like these others Jack, but this is just the best. Do you have any of his recent records? I want to listen to them." And that's when he told me.
And I was shocked, because in my world only really old people died and this guy didn't sound old. And it changed me a bit. Buddy Holly taught me that anyone could die. But over the years he taught me that anyone could live on beyond their body's demise, 'cause the Beatles played Buddy Holly and the Rolling Stones played Buddy Holly and over the years lots of people played Buddy Holly. And even those who did not record Buddy's songs, were influenced by his music.
Thank you Buddy, I wish I could have known you.
If it Wasn't for Junk EMail...
...I wouldn't have no email at all. To paraphrase Mr. Ray Charles.
I am not sure who the spammers think I am, but every single day I get two emails for each of these products/services:
- Exotic Car Rental
- Luxury Yacht Rental
- Private Jet Rental
People, I make a good living, but not that good of a living.
Monday, January 27, 2014
The Bright Sunny Day
He lies there shivering on the soft grass covering the hard ground on this bright sunny day. If he could concentrate on the world around him, he might find some humor in that incongruity, but the outside world does not exist for him. All that exists is his pain…and his need.
On this pleasant day of early afternoon sun, of mild temperature and soft breeze, his is a world of gnawing ache and uncontrolled trembling. He holds himself tightly trying to comfort himself like an old friend, as the sweat pours down his face, drips from his oily hair, pools in the hollow of his neck. His clothes are so drenched with his bodily secretions that they stick to him in odd ways, like insects trapped and dying on brown curls of flypaper.
His head throbs, pounding like a jack hammer, so much so that his only relief, his only solace is the pauses between throbs, when the pounding doesn’t feel like it will crush his brain and splatter it against the inside of his skull. The rest of his body is a mass of contradictions: it seems all he is aches in unison, a glorious orgy of pain and suffering, but he can feel the goose pimples dotting his arms and feels the cold numbness grabbing at his fingers, toes and cock.
The thought comes to him: if he lives through this day, will he ever have sex again, or is something fundamental to his manliness being broken? For the first time in hours he laughs, for the answer is a startling, “Who cares?” Sexual gratification is not his addiction, not today anyway.
That’s not what he wants. Damn him, that’s not what he needs, not why he aches in this self-made hell.
When he had started, they all told him this day would come. Somehow, he thought it would be easier. He lies there shivering on the soft grass covering the hard ground on this bright sunny day.
Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.
On this pleasant day of early afternoon sun, of mild temperature and soft breeze, his is a world of gnawing ache and uncontrolled trembling. He holds himself tightly trying to comfort himself like an old friend, as the sweat pours down his face, drips from his oily hair, pools in the hollow of his neck. His clothes are so drenched with his bodily secretions that they stick to him in odd ways, like insects trapped and dying on brown curls of flypaper.
His head throbs, pounding like a jack hammer, so much so that his only relief, his only solace is the pauses between throbs, when the pounding doesn’t feel like it will crush his brain and splatter it against the inside of his skull. The rest of his body is a mass of contradictions: it seems all he is aches in unison, a glorious orgy of pain and suffering, but he can feel the goose pimples dotting his arms and feels the cold numbness grabbing at his fingers, toes and cock.
The thought comes to him: if he lives through this day, will he ever have sex again, or is something fundamental to his manliness being broken? For the first time in hours he laughs, for the answer is a startling, “Who cares?” Sexual gratification is not his addiction, not today anyway.
That’s not what he wants. Damn him, that’s not what he needs, not why he aches in this self-made hell.
When he had started, they all told him this day would come. Somehow, he thought it would be easier. He lies there shivering on the soft grass covering the hard ground on this bright sunny day.
Copyright 2014 Barry Keller. All rights reserved.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Panel Love
For a few years I did a blog called DC Comics 40 Years Ago, which displayed what comics you could buy from DC 40 years ago. As much as I would love to get back to doing that blog on a regular basis, it is
just not in the cards right now. I am spending most of my free time in pursuits
artistic. Almost every Sunday you can find me at William Stout's studio, where I
join a collection of some of the nicest people you could ever want to meet, in
the joys of drawing the naked female form. Back at my own studio I have been
painting regularly for a bit now, in either pastels, acrylics or watercolors.
I've also been toying with the idea of doing an online comic, though nothing has jelled in that department as of yet. You can find some of my artwork on my website,
@ Source.
But I like to write. I have recently started updating this blog once again, am working on a novel and a couple other ideas. But I love comic books and I did so enjoy doing the DC 40 Years Ago blog; it was just the ever-present deadlines that took the fun away. So, I have started a new blog, one with no deadlines. In it I will revisit some of my favorite comic books, not just from DC, but from any publisher. Most of it will be new, but some of it will consist of repurposed and reedited entries from DC 40 Years Ago . It is called Panel Love and is just in its infancy. If you have even a passing interest in comics, I think you will like Panel Love. It is just me, my opinions and some of the greatest comic books of all time.
But I like to write. I have recently started updating this blog once again, am working on a novel and a couple other ideas. But I love comic books and I did so enjoy doing the DC 40 Years Ago blog; it was just the ever-present deadlines that took the fun away. So, I have started a new blog, one with no deadlines. In it I will revisit some of my favorite comic books, not just from DC, but from any publisher. Most of it will be new, but some of it will consist of repurposed and reedited entries from DC 40 Years Ago . It is called Panel Love and is just in its infancy. If you have even a passing interest in comics, I think you will like Panel Love. It is just me, my opinions and some of the greatest comic books of all time.
Friday, January 10, 2014
It's Over!
I feel really old and out of it when I see a photo of a couple on the Internet with the headline "It's Over!" and I have no idea who either person is
Monday, January 06, 2014
Then There's Maude
Sometimes the gods look down upon you with something less than loathing and give you a gift. Sunday they gave me Maude and an amazing 25-minute pose of her remarkable backside. Backsides like Maude's are the reason we heap tributes to the gods. Girault pastels on a La Carte Pastel Card. Painted January 5, 2014.
Thursday, January 02, 2014
Bowie
My son informed me last night that our family dog, Bowie, had to be put to sleep earlier this week and so my heart is filled with sadness for the loss of just a sweet little soul.
Bowie was a rescue dog and when we got him he was funny looking, having been completely shaved at the pound. I called him a "coiled python" because his big neck was solid muscle. At the pound they had called him Elvis, because he sang (howled) all the time. We knew he was a crooner, but my wife didn't want to keep the Elvis name, so we looked for others. I wanted to call him Torme, but my wife would not have it. Finally we settled on Bowie.
He was one of those happy dogs that loved people and his tail would wag so hard when you walked into a room that the whole back half of his body would move with it. Though he loved people, he was not so free with other dogs. It took a while for him to get used to Sophie when she joined our family. When we would take them both to the dog park, Sophie would run around and play with the other dogs and Bowie would scoot up next to us and cower.
He was just a sweet little dog and I loved him and I miss him. Rest in peace Bowie; you gave us so much love during your time with us that you deserve it my little friend.
Bowie was a rescue dog and when we got him he was funny looking, having been completely shaved at the pound. I called him a "coiled python" because his big neck was solid muscle. At the pound they had called him Elvis, because he sang (howled) all the time. We knew he was a crooner, but my wife didn't want to keep the Elvis name, so we looked for others. I wanted to call him Torme, but my wife would not have it. Finally we settled on Bowie.
He was one of those happy dogs that loved people and his tail would wag so hard when you walked into a room that the whole back half of his body would move with it. Though he loved people, he was not so free with other dogs. It took a while for him to get used to Sophie when she joined our family. When we would take them both to the dog park, Sophie would run around and play with the other dogs and Bowie would scoot up next to us and cower.
He was just a sweet little dog and I loved him and I miss him. Rest in peace Bowie; you gave us so much love during your time with us that you deserve it my little friend.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
This is a Man's World
So very jazzed that we will be seeing Trampled Under Foot in October on the Blues Cruise. This will be our first time taking the Blues Cruise and we can't wait.
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