Christmas on Earth and I Will Pin This Post


The snow and cold is here. Those high summer trees in the photo are now naked and dormant. Their phloem, like mine, went below. Outward expression for the hardwood tree in winter might be a squirrel’s nest waving in the wind. Mine is a flannel shirt and an indoor dandruff flake storm. “Welcome the ‘intellectual season’,” the old timers used to say.

I say, “Bah, Humbug!” No, it’s just a spider bite on another moonless night.

Last night was different—a bitter cold for late November, but a cloudless, windless night and a full moon. “Tomorrow I will end the exhibition,” I thought. “On a high note”. This past week Lena sold two paintings. I sent her the money and felt like the greatest success I will ever be for a start of winter. Brian and Cathy messaged for the man in yellow peering into the water. They are patrons supreme and I am thankful for their support and renewed friendship. The talented Milton stopped by in the evening on the same day. Eric was over for a drink to celebrate his birthday, and Milton must have thought us entertaining gurus as I poured him a double Manhattan, and talked excitedly about the genius of Lena Ulanova.

He settled on Miles Davis in blue and viridian.

And Eric also purchased an Ulanova piece on opening night, the one we used in Manhattan to introduce Lena’s genius to the people of New York, outside the millionbillion dollar art bubbles pretending painting omnipotence.

These are people I prefer to share Lena’s work with. Tried and true, and giving back to me, and far away to Lena and her people, the wonder of life and personality to last as long as memory will allow. A painting (and painter) connects and cajoles the beholder to the past, especially so when the buyer gets involved in the process, and knows the painter by enthusiastic curation.

Lena Ulanova Entrainment was a great success because of people—local, regional and so far away, convincing by our presence the aliveness we all share together. Few can look up at a full November moon and suddenly commune with two painters five thousand miles apart, yet also connect themselves in the same memory of wine, food, song and autumn exhibition, as my friends and new friends have.

Owning a van Gogh today can only be self pride in its ugliest state. Vincent didn’t work for you nor ever hope you wanted him. Hanging an Ulanova in your parlor is living homage paid to the artist in your life. My friends and friends-to-be deserve this more than any museum does a master.

Thank you to everyone who made Lena’s first U.S. solo exhibition a wonderful memory. I intend to pass on the rest of her paintings to contemporary homes that matter. And I will pin this post and keep it here until every last painting has connected with persons who will connect with Lena because each made a difference in the life of the other.

I will be available for several weeks to take orders. Please visit site for holiday shopping. I will deliver a painting to please!


5 Minute Break

Acrylic on matte board, 26 x 18. Framed in metal, matted, under glass, 40 x 30″ $250

At present this painting hangs above the fireplace mantel at Fuel Gallery. It borrowed the honor from “Seedlings” by Alexey Stepanov. After it sells, I will give “Badger and Book” by Michael Flanagan winter right of way for the coveted spot.

Late capitalism deems us “consumers” because so many baby boomers and their spawn studied the social sciences in college, and economics sneaked in somehow as a worthy subject of study. The national radio host talks about the “consumer” class as if there is another class not consuming. Ecologically, all humans are tertiary consumers, and that’s how I remember the term from grade school. Like cave people, I ate meat and vegetables whenever they were placed before me. Except boiled spinach from a box. I’d starve in a tar pit before eating that Popeye lie!

Consumption is a biological function that fuels any life worth living, whether dinosaur, fish, or human being existence. It is real fuel, necessary to life, but that’s it. Now live.

The radio host spoke about tariffs on China and the struggle for dollar stores in the United States. A fifteen minute slot for millions of people to be propagandized into thinking that dollar-a-bag outdated pretzels are a necessary convenience to the consumer, like any rotting carcass on the path of a hungry Tyrannosaurus Rex—we cannot live without them because we are too stupid to not be dependent on the death of life—which a dollar store most certainly is.

So let’s stop using government words to talk about the stuff we like after acquiring food, shelter, raiment, and fuel. If our parents and guardians were half decent, all the necessaries have been supplied initially, and lessons taught and studied for their future acquisition.

The U.S. and Chinese governments, and their oligarchy swindlers deem you consumer as if these entities were providers, like immortal gods and devils. They don’t want you to spend your labor on a true luxury item, (i.e., a painting for your fireplace mantle). Obsolescence is the factory plan and you are just one in a billion protagonists trading your labor and creativity for their macroeconomic dystopia. I offer a painting today to save you from the T-Rexes. Recent studies show the latter ate their own kind when their own kind was breathing its last breath. So too, the businessmen of Wall Street, and the hyper-masculine greed that marks the dollar store an advancement of the age. They eat us, but only because we’ve pushed art and artist out of our lives, and expect to be fed by a poor mommy and daddy replacement.

Not necessary to be a dancer to appreciate this beautiful painting for a lifetime. More study into economics, on a micro level, can change your tastes and improve society. Let’s say you have thirty years to live, and this painting costs $300 (shipping and handling included). How much does this cost you a day, like a bag of pretzels costs the manufactured consumer class at the ubiquitous dollar store(s)?

x(cost) • 365(30) = 300.00

x = 2.7 cents a day. Let’s round up to 3 cents per day to possess fine art for a lifetime.

Now at death day you can leave it to your progeny, and if they loved you, then the price goes down, more and more, for each future generation that loved its forbears better than a cannibal T-rex could comprehend while crunching through the collar bone of its Aunt Martha.

I will be available all day and over the weekend to take your order(s). Thank you.