Caught

Caught

Out past dawn

saying goodbye

in the rain.

Caught

soaking wet

without a taxi.

Caught

by the nosy neighbor

kissing your best friend's wife.

J. Binford-Bell

Just a Junk Yard Dog

Wheels within Wheels by J. Binford-Bell

Our glorious fall is turning nasty. And the aspens are about done with all the spectacular gold. Thoughts of winterizing house and car take precedent and so I found myself at the local mechanic's garage waiting for my rear brake job. I always bring my camera because he has a wonderful parter yard. The above I am told is a part from a clutch but it looks rather like a spaceship. The one in Stephen King's Tommy Knockers comes to mind.

Junkyard Clown by J. Binford-Bell

This ATV waiting for repair had the look of a horror flick clown. And I could not resist doing a post processing acid trip to heighten the effect.

Fender abstract by J. Binford-Bell

I forgot about the cold wind as I moved around behind my camera searching out details to record. I have done other parts of the old truck above before. I love the abstract painting qualities of focusing in on broken out tail lights, etc.

Transfer case????

Clutch Plate in Black and White by J. Binford-Bell

Conduits by J. Binford-Bell

Junkyard Dog

And of course the junkyard dog. Shows you just how laid back our community is. There is even a junkyard cat that was hiding out on this particular day.

Eye am Watching You

Eye

Am watching you

always gave me the creeps

I line the bills up 

face to the front

of my wallet

not wanting to see

or be seen by the eye.

Money

the root of all evil

all that more demonic

with the eye staring

at me.

Satan or Under God

does not matter.

I

do not like

the eye watching me

It should watch

politicians

instead.

J. Binford-Bell

October 2012

Do I do prints?

Dawn on the Grand Canyon by J. Binford-Bell

Once again the question has come up of do I do prints of my art work. Yes, if it is a photograph. And you can have it the size you want and on paper or canvas.

But no I do not do them of my paintings. I figure this is about fairness in business practices. A person buying a photograph knows they are buying a print. Photographs are prints. All prints. But paintings come in originals and now because of Giclee (just ink jet) prints. They are not even limited edition or signed prints. And the ones on just paper strike me as just being posters in a more pricey form. I own a couple prints by artists I admire and who only do limited editions. One was used as a poster for Music of Angel Fire. I have have never even taken them out of the tubes.

I researched the whole print or not to print subject for years while doing fairs with my originals beside other artists selling prints of their work in every size and shape and quantity. I quite honestly think that is very unfair to the customer that buys the original. Collectors of original art do not want to see the image everywhere. Even on coffee mugs. And why pay for an original if you can get a print for far less money? So the artist never sells the original.

And even if I print one of my original works of art on canvas like it is painted it is different. The metallic does not translate in sprayed ink.  Nor does the texture of the oil sticks I use over the watercolor. The only print I could even consider would be on canvas with the addition of metallic inks and oil to make it look like the original. But my work is still very cheap. I have not entered the $9000.00 Santa Fe gallery atmosphere where I recently saw a print with a $1500 price tag. My most expensive painting is $1200 and most fall in the $600 to $900 range.

As I discovered when recently printing a photograph on 20 x 30 inch canvas that makes not a huge gap between the print and the original. The above photograph is $300.00. And at a recent exhibition I say a photograph on canvas go for $900.00. Giclee is not that cheap because of the cost of inks.

I may revisit this subject when my originals are going for $10,000.00 or my heirs might. But for now the answer to "Do you sell prints of your work?" is no if we are talking paintings and Yes if we are talking photographs.

Midnight

Curtis Wilson Cost - Midnight Snack

Perhaps it is too close to Halloween to see the above image just as  someone up to grab a snack. Or maybe it is that at this time of year, in the relatively remote area I live, there is more night and more sounds in the night. And more times that raised hair on the cat or the low growl of the dog has you up and turning on the lights.

Midnight

Nothing really

I am sure

But my black cat

ceased purring

my labradoodle did that low growl.

The growl

only I hear

listening to the sounds

when you hold your breath

the screech of a cat beyond the trees.

Counting pets

with groping hand

turning lights on with the other

the wind?

Coyotes on the hunt?

Totally awake

walking from room to room

peering out the black windows

Magique wagging her tail

the all clear sign given.

Quick stop

at the cookie jar

then back to bed to read a while

the night silent

except for the purr of the cat.

J. Binford-Bell

October 2012

As I lay dying

Sick Woman by Jan Steen
Image Provided by The Mag

Once upon a time in a land not that far away or a time not that removed women were not allowed to be ill - just hysterical. And doctors were not permitted to see them in their death beds or examine their bodies for the physical evidence of their path to death. Sometimes they could not be in the same room.

Dying women must pull themselves from bed, dress and sit in a chair as if to entertain and hope that with just a pulse to relate to a doctor the reality of their physical being. And so it is without understanding the number of women who died because of being female. Victims of their very physical natures or witches should they live.

And have we come that far? Or are we still being disbelieved. Fed tranquilizers and hormones and antidepressants for fibro and lupus and chronic depression and other diseases the medical profession continues to say are all in our head. We are seen through monograms and MRIs. Our knowledge of our own bodies disregarded. "Silly woman, you are just depressed. Nothing a good man could fuck out of you."

And at one time that is what doctors did so no wonder we are still being screwed.

Woman, heal thyself.

And so we go to herbal stores and the woman next door.

Or we choose to die. Whole with all our parts.

Seeing Uniquely

Aspen in the Mists by J. Binford-Bell

We are having a glorious fall and everyone with a camera, or these days even just a smart phone, is out trying to record the magic. For those of us that live here it often becomes about getting that unique view. We stand on our heads, do back bends and walk for miles looking for that special perspective nobody else has captured. Sometimes the weather helps. Last night we had snow and this morning a thick fog.

Through the fog by J. Binford-Bell

Blowing in the wind by J. Binford-Bell

The day before we had gale force winds which provided a sweep to lone stands of aspens already effected by the colder than normal nights to produce oranges and reds. The winds blew one of these brilliant trees down, and I found myself in a more somber mood.

For the fallen by J. Binford-Bell

Horizons through the fog by J. Binford-Bell

Fall seems the most fleeting of seasons as if the glory of the colors and the remaining good days to be out and about cannot last for long. Soon it will be winter and all the beautiful leaves will be on the ground, in our memories or on our computers.

Snow on the rose by J. Binford-Bell

So sad as it is my most favorite of seasons.