The Pain Only An Artist Feels

   There have been a few things on my mind lately. Thoughts of my friends that aren't around anymore. Mostly my friend Ian McBride. He died in 1994. It seems so long ago, and sometimes it seems like just yesterday. He's the reason I left my hometown of Cape Girardeau, Missouri for the bright lights of Dallas. We moved there to go to the Art Institute. A horrendous institution, but it was almost magical to a couple of boys from a small town in the middle of nowhere. We were living four students to a two bedroom apartment in bad part of town. We were less than a mile from Interstate 35, under the approach path of Love Field, and right next to a train track. The noise of the big city was overwhelming, then it faded into the background. I didn't learn much from school, but it was cool hanging out with so many creative types. Sharing apartments with Ian was some of the best times in my life, although they were also some of the brokest times I've ever had. Ian had a way of making me think that we were just around the corner from being rich and famous. Anything was possible. Between the two of us we knew a lot of people. We'd go out on a weekend night and never have to pay a cover charge or for a drink. It was a magical time.
   After he died, my heart broke and I was a lost cause for about five years. Moving to Cleveland somehow sparked something in me that I thought was dead and go me motivated to start being an artist again:

"First Painting"

   Sometimes I stop to think about all the stuff that has happened in the 23 years since he left. I'm pretty sure we would have been famous if he had been on Facebook. Video games are miles ahead of the ones we played on. Computers have made it possible for me to do graphic novels like we always talked about doing. I wonder what he would think about my art and the progress I've made. I wonder what it would be like to hear one more McBride pep talk.

   Most days are okay, but sometimes I see something that sparks a trip to the past. Maybe a song. Maybe a drawing I do. It may be the way the sun beats down on me. Sometimes I can hear his voice, asking me "Dude, why are you still waiting tables? Why aren't you famous yet?" Dude. I don't know. This isn't how I pictured my life in my fifties. I'm happy with most things. I love my wife and daughter, my sister, I have some great friends and family. I just never pictured myself as a broken down waiter, trying to get my art career going. "Dude," he says. "You can't quit now. Every artist wants to be where you are now. You're about to hit it big. You're the best artist out there." It's just, as he used to say "the pain of being an artist" that gets me. 

"Frisco"

  Ah, Ian, I'll see you again one day. Until then I hope I can make you proud of me. 

Ian "Frisco" McBride 12-01-64---- 05-21-94

"I miss you more than all the others, this song is for you my brother" J. Carroll

I'm Here

   Not much exciting going on. The usual stuff. I'm getting all organized and productive. I'm still all frazzled in the real world, but in my studio things are zooming right along. My website went suddenly blank when I was trying to update it. Somehow all that knuckleheadery led to a better looking site. Hooray for me. Always taking the scenic route, even when I'm running behind. Eh, no real surprise I suppose. Here's a brand new painting:

"You Pay me Just To Talk"

Random Nonsense

  I'm still around. Still trying to find out what my fans really want from me. Insights into my creative process? World class artwork? A sense of humor like no other? Free art? I always think I'm on the right track and then somehow I get distracted. I'm rejuvenating myself. Getting all my biographical information updated ( artist's statement, business plan, bio, CV, all that jazz). It's not the most enjoyable thing I've done, but it gives me a sense of accomplishment. Like when I finish a painting:

  I'm still drawing, but the whole Zen thing seems to be falling off in popularity. I do it for myself, to relax, to access that deep part of my brain that separates me from the average, normal person. I admit it gets kinda far out there:

But, it makes sense to me. I'm fighting the personal demons that have hounded me all these many years. I've even tilted at a few windmills lately (in the name of animal rights).  I've also made veiled references to things that less than a dozen people understand. The main thing is I'm still creating art, much to the chagrin of my arch enemy.

   AKO ANG HARI
        DOUG

Some Thieving Bastard

  Opened a blues bar in my home town of Cape Girardeau, back in 2006 (ish). Blues On Broadway. it seemed like a good chance to get some exposure for my artwork. I hung ten blues themed paintings in there, looking for exposure and maybe a sale or two. After a few months the owner packed up in the middle of the night and stole everything that wasn't nailed down. Even some things that were. Light fixtures. Doors. Coolers. My artwork. My beautiful artwork. I haven't seen them since. I have no idea where they are. If they'd even remember me. Perhaps suffering from some terrible Stockholm Syndrome, thinking they are even paintings anymore. It's too sad for me to think about. These are the ones that were taken:

   I think these were all. There might have been two more, but my record keeping has become sloppy. I did report the theft to the Cape Girardeau police department. The officer taking my statement basically said it was my fault. I also called the Paducah police department. I very nice investigator took my statement and worked very hard to track the POS down, or at least find my paintings. She hasn't had any luck so far, but we are now married.  

  If you ever see any of these out anywhere, or any music themed paintings that look like this, please contact me. I'd just like to know they're alright. I wouldn't hurt to learn that the guy that took them has suffered unimaginable things, but I feel he'll get his in the end (perhaps even literally).

Ranting

  It's been quite a week. Hospital stay, doctor visits. Somehow I feel worse than I did when I started. I've finished the work on my studio, which, ironically, has slowed the work IN my studio. I've been off work from my day job for ten days. I thought I'd have more to show for it, but I suppose that's way too much to ask. The more I do this, the more stuff pops up in my way to slow me down. I guess as long as it doesn't stop me I'm good. Every once in a while I wonder what it's like to be a regular 9 to 5 guy. Work, go home to the family, BBQ on the weekends, vacation, and what ever else is involved (I've only seen it from the outside). Would I be happier? Probably not. Would I be less frustrated? Maybe. I'm really not sure, but sometimes when all the shit piles up I can't help but wonder.
  I do have some new ideas. My art supplies are readily accessible. I got a new lava lamp. I have live plants in my studio. All in all, I'm in pretty good shape. Doug from years ago would be impressed. Future Doug will probably be sympathetic. I'm just frustrated at my lack of measurable progress. I wonder if I'm posting too much pf my artwork. I seem to be getting less feedback. Maybe I should just log off and paint. And draw. And start that new sketchbook idea.

What A World We Live In

   It's an exciting time to be a fan of artist Doug Baltz, what with all the crazy new artwork he creates. But, it's also nice to be around to see all the previously unseen artwork that appears as he cleans out his studio. Here are some Sharpie drawings circa 1996:

  Granted, some art better than others, but none of them have been seen in over twenty years. That was in the last century. This is kinda like having a free art history class. You're welcome ;)

The Lost Works Of Doug Baltz

  While cleaning my studio and reorganizing my supplies I came across some JPEGs of some pastels on concrete works I did for a street painting contest:

 

Also, some t-shirts I made a few years ago:

And, a self portrait in pastel from the Dallas Years:

Pouring My Mind Out On The Internet

  So, I'm rehabbing my studio, sorting and organizing my art supplies, generally making my studio a relaxing place away from all my cares and worries. Over fifty thousand songs on my jukebox computer. Plants. Color corrected lights. Room to move. I'm very excited and all the energy released from ridding my space of clutter is flowing through me. I still got stress, but it's no longer allowed in here. In here all my dreams can come true. All my paintings are masterpieces. The music relaxes me and touches my soul.
  I'm also writing two blogs now. Maybe not at an expert level, but I'm putting myself out there. I'm getting my art posting back on track. I've done pretty good for myself. I usually post at least five paintings a week. I'm only about half way through my representational acrylics. I've created a lot of art.
  Anyway. I'm just checking in. Here's some art:

This Studio Of Mine

  Okay, I'm still refurbishing my studio. I am making progress, I have my drawing table set up for the first time in many years. I inherited it from my best friend when he passed away. I have big dreams and big plans. I haven't been able to sit down and draw in a very long time. Yeah, about as long as It's been since my drawing table was at the ready. I'm itching to get back to some watercoloring. Maybe some serious drawing. I'd also like to do another graphic novel. I haven't felt good about my artistic production in a long time, although getting all my paintings together in one place was very eye opening. I feel like my oeuvre is something to be proud of. I also feel like I could have easily done twice as much artwork if I had been motivated by an artistic man cave. I fear it's going to be at least a couple more weeks before I get to a stopping point. I am still painting. Still drawing. Pretty much ready to get something big going.

In The Studio

   Yes, here I sit in my revamped studio. Barely a third of the way through the overhaul. It's grinding on me. I have found some really cool stuff. Supplies I bought years ago. Including the drawing pencil set I bought before we headed off to Dallas. Still never been used. reminds me of the old days. Back when I had an eternal good attitude. I had a best friend who could always convince me that the top of the mountain was just around the corner. I get discouraged a lot lately it seems. Swinging between " I'm only a step, or two, away from fame and fortune" and "screw it, I'm gonna burn everything art related that I have". I just have to make some progress every day, no matter how small. Paint every day. Draw every day. Keep Those Guys moving. Pass out business cards. Push Doug Shoes. It's all I know to do at times. I have a general plan. I have all the pieces that I'm slowly putting in place. It's just I never see that punch of life that always seems to knock me back. Hopefully my sunshiney sense of humor returns as well. Here's some art:

   While you're here, take a look at this one. It's the latest I did with the One True Sponge. The subject started crying tears of joy when she saw it. It really made me feel like I make a difference. At least once in a while: