We played paintball in the mountains here, with friends from work. I sprained my ankle and broke a rib and had quarter sized bruises all over my body. I limped for a week and still hold my side when I laugh or cough. It was great. We played capture the flag, every man for himself, king of the hill, team against team, assassinate the president (or protect the president, depending upon the side we were on.) In this photo Broadus was the president. He is displaying his helmet, and the green ooze from the shot Danny got off when he jumped up out of the brush and shot him between the eyes. We, the protectors, didn’t know that the game was supposed to be over when the president was shot. So we shot Danny, dozens of times, and then we shot him some more, just for good measure.
Broadus found a killer place to wait in ambush. He got us all, one by one.
the gods of war call, and we go.
we go nuts, but we go.
But there is another side to Mr B, one we call Ferdinand the Bull. He drags his reading chair to the soccer field, opens his book, and the world around him disappears as the world inside his hands opens and surrounds him. Sometimes, when we know he is really, really in another world we throw things at him, or drop the baby in his lap. But usually, we leave him alone. He is amazing.
Now, tonight: who am I?
Eating raw broccoli from the garden, other green things, lots of bean burritos. Almost bit into a snail hidden among the curly lettuce. Curly snail foot, greenish brown and speckled, riding curly leaves, frizzy edged lettuce.
Tripping over crap in the hallway. Dirty laundry, tools, brushes, books, reference material, mail on the floor; unfolded clean laundry spilling over the living room couch. Ruined paint shoes… all I have left now. Choose any two.
Managing to keep garden watered and critters fed – 2 pigmy hedgehogs from Madagascar or Zanzibar, some such place – and the fish alive, and in clean tanks, too, but all other housekeeping has gone to hell.
Writing from the bathtub. Decided not to drown myself but should be careful of electrocution. When is the last time I backed up this macbook pro?
Finished 10 week gig on Paul, a new movie in production here, brought to you by the British comedy team behind Shawn of the Dead, and Hot Fuzz. No scoops to be found here but will sell secrets cheap through back door channels. I’ll find or make up some interesting lies. Cheap, cheap, cheap, just like the little birdy said.
I have got to be out of my mind to write this here, but here I go anyway. I have just filled out the 22 page application for Bravo’s Chicago cattle call for under-recognized and/or mid-career artists who would like to compete in a reality show against others of their own, surely pathetic kind. Okay, I’m speaking for myself now, as I ponder selling out to the man – or to the woman, to be more precise. Sarah Jessica Parker is the executive producer behind this Bravo enterprise. But then, all art is commercial art, yes? Unless one has outside means of support. It is just a matter of degree. And dignity. There is that.
So, wind me up for ten weeks, then release me from a movie while my family, my anchors, are away and all the weirdness rises to the top, just like Papa Jung said. The task of the human, he said, is to reconcile the opposites we find in our own nature. Fine, but it seems I can’t do it just once and expect the reconciliation to last. I gotta do it over, and over, and over again; meanwhile not letting the laptop slide into the bath.
Family is in NC, where we still have property, business, lots of stuff for Naomi to sort through, pack up, discard, give away, store or send out here. (We came here to NM for a three month gig at United World College. That was two and a half years ago.) Many of my paintings are still there in NC, the ones which were not abducted by my four sisters and taken to Boston to decorate their homes until I pay them back the money I borrowed back when I was a starving artist.
I am digressing. My plan was to reveal the fact that I bought a ticket to fly to Chicago next week to attend a cattle call for artists who think they would like to participate in a reality show to be produced by BRAVO & Ms Parker. Here is an interview Parker gave to ArtNet Magazine about the project, called the Untitled Art Project.
Now why would any self-respecting, stable, mature, experienced, talented and handsome artist want to do such a thing? If you have read this far then you deserve an answer.
- Because his son, Jason Bruno, said, “It’s so wrong, it’s right.”
- Because his friend, Ian Gold, said, “You are a casting Director’s dream.” (But you should get a haircut, buy some shoes and fix that broken tooth.)
- Because one of his oldest and orneriest, closest friends, Venezuelan graphic designer and political activist, Maria Fernanda Sosa, said, “We have all seen you make a fool of yourself, but not on national TV. Do it.”
- Because I realized that the application form held questions I need to answer anyway, if I want to move from supporting myself through film work to supporting myself through the work I produce in my studio; and the sifting and sorting and selecting of images is also important to do if I want to take my famous career to the next level.
- But the real reason is, I believe, because the idea sends a shock of fear through me that I can feel down to the webs between my fingers and toes. Thinking about being in front of a camera is like mainlining a vasodilator, or staring straight into the Eye of Mordor.
So of course, I have to do it. #1 son, Jason Bruno, aka “Champ”, understands.
Well, I know I lost most of you during the year of movie work, Naomi’s over-committment, Broadus’ rollicking joy and Ada’s First Year. But maybe some of you do check back from time to time and when you do, you’ll find this long, thin, drawn out scream from someone who used to be just a regular guy but who is now rolling in dough, maybe, or maybe just cringing in embarrassment; or who maybe decided that those grapes probably were sour anyway.
But…. If you would like to be involved, there is something you could do. That is, to select 10 or 20 or however many favorite images from this blog: the storybook collaborative page, or from my website, rickmobbs.com, and email them to me (rickmobbs@gmail.com). Thumbnails are fine, and quick, intuitive selections of however many you want. Don’t trouble it too much. You should be able to drag and drop them. I have to take a portfolio of images to Chicago, and feedback would be interesting to me now. Your selections might help me narrow down my own.
If you want to participate in the show (God love you.) you are a little late, but you can still scramble and maybe pull it together. Twenty-two page application is online here. I only knew about it because last week Lakota sent me an email.
Interesting interview about all this with Magical Elves Casting Director Nick Gilhool on ARTFAGCITY.
So, wish me luck. I look forward to getting back to this blog, reorganizing and updating it, or else abandoning it and starting another one. It has been a rich experience. You are the most important part of it. I don’t want to get too far away from it, or from you.
Love to all,
Rick
p.s here is a photo of a work in progress, for Ada,
and another, a storyboard exercise for Jack and the Beanstalk that Broadus and I are collaborating on.
p.p.s almost forgot. Aug. 2nd – 8th I’ll be a participant in a writing workshop organized and led by Orson Scott Card, a favorite author. If I can’t get my famous art career off the ground, maybe I can work on being a famous writer.
p.p.p.s. maybe this blog will get me disqualified from consideration for the show. oh joy, oh sweet relief
Troy Davis, Born October 9th, 1968. Killed at the stubborn whim of the state of Georgia September 21, 2011.
