I have discussed in previous posts that I had a studio and that I painted in oils. I like to think that I was “good”, but not great. Never the less, it was a love of mine, and when I was “retired”, I lost everything. Here in this post / article, I preserve for eternity (well, at least for a while) some photos of my life prior to my “retirement”. Just some photos of my studio, and some of my paintings in various stages of creation. Sorry, but I really do not have any completed and finished paintings that I can show.

I dredged up these photos from an old email account.

I was surprised that they still existed. And in them I saw photos of family members now dead, and friends now dead, and my beloved pets as well. Now all dead. I saw pictures of my furniture, my homes, my cars, and my belongings. Now all long gone. I saw pictures of my art. Important to me. Now, forever discarded or sold off to others somewhere.

Please enjoy.

This first photo is of my den / office.

Most of these pictures come from my life in Erie Pennsylvania rather than my house in Arkansas. I wasn't in Arkansas long enough to acquire enough photographs. I was only there for a few months.

The strange thing about my entire retirement was that I had lived in Pennsylvania for years, then met a girl. Got a job in Arkansas. Moved there, and then six months later, I was arrested, imprisoned, lost everything and retired in the ADC Pine Bluff Diagnostic facility by some MAJestic staff out of Washington DC. It all happened in a short period of time. Months really.

But that's how it works. The "retirement" happens in an incarceration-friendly state. It was critical to get me out of the "mid-West" or East, and down to the hard "Bible Belt" where they could do what they wished without thought or opposition.

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Of course, today, my life is much more minimalist. Spartan, actually. I don’t have any books really. Just what I read on the internet.

But in those days, I had amassed an enormous volume of books. I had books upon books, upon books. And I loved every single one of them.

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Here’s a picture of one of my last works prior to my arrest and incarceration. I really liked it, and I planned to leave this under-paining and then begin with the glazes. Adding color and depth to the painting. Typically this period would take months. The first thing I would do is make up a sketch.

This could be in a book, or more often than not using pencil or charcoal on the canvas. Then I might experiment with some oils. Kind of roughing out the image that was developing on the canvas. I called this a pre- pre-under-painting. Then from that, I would lay out the under-painting.

This next picture is a of a under-painting before I began the real painting.

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You can see my pallet on the lower edge of the image, and my brushes and oils.

I really wish that I could have been allowed to finish this painting before it was destroyed. It spoke to me.

Here’s a clearer view…

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It’s not that I want to relive the past, but I have gotten some emails from jack-asses that think that I make up everything that I write about. They say things like “no one can be doing all the things that you claim to have done”, and other nonsensical insults along those lines.

Life is what you make of it.

My love was art, literature and poetry. My background has always been technology and the sciences. And my dream has always been directed to space and working with extraterrestrials. I lived that reality.

What’s so hard to believe about that?

Sadly few of my art work survives. All I have are a precious few photos. Here’s another one. Also an under painting. As most of my surviving photos just (by coincidence) are of my under painting efforts.

Unfortunately I have no photos of any of my finished paintings.

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Life is funny. My life now does not resemble anything at all like what it used to be. Still… but still, I do really miss painting.

Here is another under-painting. Yes. I did paint in color. It’s only that all my photos are of the under paintings.

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When I remember the police telling me that “you could paint houses”, not seeing that my strength was in the figurative forms, it just showed a callous disregard to my inclinations and talents. But they didn’t care. Their job was to get a conviction, and who cared what happened to me. Right?

A long as the world is safe from people like me.

People, you see my life, and what I did. Where in God’s name could I possibly squeeze in the time to be a sick predatory fuck like I was accused of being?

My hobbies took time. They were all consuming. They were my life.

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Life. You know. Life.

I look at my life today, and I am happy. I eat well, I have a generally low stress life (aside from the HATE CHINA bullshit that saturates the American “news” media) and what I do and how I live my life. Going through my old photos was a glance into what I was and in many cases, I no longer can relate to it. I look much different. In fact, I look older than I am today. I more resemble photos taken thirty years ago than those taken twenty. The life in the USA was not good to me.

It really wasn’t. And when I tried to live a quiet and unassuming life, sure as shit, someone or something would have to do something about it. An artist! A Painter! A rocket scientist! Nope. Not on my watch!

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The PTB, or the oligarchy have constructed a massive concentration camp. Everything is all about money, and if you are not contributing to make THEM richer, then you are threat to them. This is a top-down leadership.

Look around you.

Really look.

If you compare your life inside the United States with the life outside it, you can see. You can really see, just how “wonderful” you life actually is. Today, we have Federal, State, and Local governments that Americans must deal with. In addition there are County government, and an enormous number of Federal agencies, from ABC to ZZZ that you must deal with. Billions of dollars fund these minions whose sole purpose is to squeeze every last cent from you.

As one commenter stated so clearly, it’s all top driven. While the wealthy run off with handfuls of cash and bales of money, those under them end grab every iota of power and money…

…the crumbs that remain. Soon, it will be the lowest janitors and street sweepers taking the pencils, and paperclips out of the offices. It’s every man for himself.

It’s a free-for-all.

That is America today.

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These photos are just old dusty memories of a time that was seized from me. It’s like a room that I lived in before I walked down the hallway to another room. If I get the inclination, I will once again, pick up a brush and start painting again. Just as long as I am not accused of being an “evil predator” for my depictions of “devil worship“.

The following is a conceptual sketch.

I used to make up conceptional sketches before I would work out my under-paintings. Then I would flush out the painting using layers of semi-transparent glaze. This work (for reasons that I am unable to fathom) was considered to be a “classic example of the manifestation of the devil and his demons”.

I think (personally that it is a stretch, and I wasn’t thinking anything about demons or Satan when I was painting it. Instead I was thinking of higher callings, relationships, and the spiritual side of our beings.

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I only wish that I could provide pictures of fully completed paintings. But let it be known that I am a so-so artist, but not an expert or a professional at it. Each painting would take perhaps 400 hours of work. And it was an enjoyment and a pastime that I loved.

When I dug up these pictures I found long lost images of my dad right before he died, and my mother right before she died. I also found pictures of my cat Coco before he died.

When I was seized and hauled off to Jail to wait until my trial (it took two years), “friends” took care of my belongings. My father tried his best, but he made many mistakes. Friends took care of the rest. And after I exited Prison, nothing was found of my belongings except a WTF suitcase full of WTF items.

Anyways, I found some pictures of my cat.

When I was seized and taken to jail, a friend took care of him. He did well, and he told me that Coco was “concerned” for me.

Four months after I was arrested, my friend was taken to the hospital with a brain tumor and died within a week. Coco disappeared. I assumed that he died. If he’s still alive, he would be a very ancient kitty indeed.

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He was a little different cat compared to all the other kitties that I had. Instead of cuddling up with me, he thought he was a dog. He liked to play, He would play fetch, and those stop and action games you play with dogs. He would also roll over and let me rub his belly. He like to hang out on the porch and laze about.

Being a black cat and all, of course the Police and DA associated him with Witchcraft. When in truth I could care less what color he was. It wasn’t his fault that he was black.

He used to go out and go out bird hunting. he would always come back with birds and mice that he would put on the porch for us to be proud of. He was one heck of a hunting-cat. he was a great mouser. That’s for certain. He was a warrior kitty. Maybe I should have gotten him a suit of armor.

What do you think?

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Or maybe this…

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But alas that never materialized. Coco went off, I believe to Kitty Heaven, and my dog Buddy…

Well, he was carted off to the doggie slammer.

He was sent to the local shelter; kennel because my friend(s) didn’t have any room for him. (!) I guess I can sort of understand if you are renting a place and it is against your lease to have pets, or if you are so poor that a bag of Puppy-Crunchies might cause you to go into bankruptcy.

Anyways I don’t know what became of the dog. Maybe he ended up as some kind of Frankenstein’s Monster like a frankenpuppy.

I have been told by others, often well-meaning, that I should not get all caught up and concerned about my pets. “They are only animals” I am told. That I am better off with out them. That I don’t need their problems, their expense, and their hassles. Instead I should devote all my energies to rebuilding my life (at 60!) and making money.

Don’t you know…

So I think that they are wrong. These little guys were just great and a significant part of my life. And I just wish that nothing bad came of them. And when I was in Prison and I mentioned my concerns about them, most people understood. But there were some… some really sick fucks… who took my weakness and remorse to poke at me and fill my mind with “what if” horrors that they could have gone through…

…frankenpuppy.

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Of course, I really doubt that anything bad or unusual happened to them. There is about a 50/50 chance that Buddy was readopted. He was a real charmer. And Coco, well, he probably expired on one of his hunting expeditions.

Anyways, one of the last paintings that I was working on prior to my arrest and jailing was this paining of this gal in a tub. When I started this under painting, I felt that I was finally “entering my stride”. I had already some great ideas about how I was going to pattern the drapes, and the glazes that I would use on the skin for tones and shading.

Of course, you can argue that my work was still very amateurish, but I think that I was on the verge of creating some very nice works.

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Anyways, this a photographic record of the few remaining photographs of my life prior to my retirement.

I believe that we all have stories to tell. And while it might seem interesting or boring to you, you have to realize that everyone has a story to tell. That everyone has adventures in their lives and that if we find out the real and true story; the whole story, then we would have a much better understanding about how our world works and what powers this reality of ours.

I wish that I spent time with my grandparents and sat down and listened to their stories. I did manage to listen to some family stories from my parents, and they were interesting object lessons and curious adventures of what can happen in certain situations. I think we owe it to each other to listen. Just listen to others. And learn.

Learn.

Things are not that simplistic black and white narrative that we read about on the internet. It’s actually very complex and multi-faceted. It is up to us to learn the whole and entire story before we make judgements on others. Listen to others.

Learn from them.

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