dear diary

so yesterday was sitting here and estimated based on driving up to Santa Barbara to get stuff, my new passport, that I had 50 bucks in the account. I got back I had canned food I could've just stayed put until Sunday for sales at the farmers market. But I needed a pack of smokes , so I drove down there with a folio of art and the guy at the Chevron told me I only had $10.91 in the account, so I paid half credit and the eight dollars in cash I had, went back to my car, lit up a smoke checked my bank account and it was at zero. So it's Halloween at Trancas Market kind of a ghost town so to say, but I said dude you got a put a folio on the outside table and hope someone comes along. Some guy rolls up in a Rolls-Royce, i had a dodger blue work, $200; went to the market got groceries and went home

dear diary

so the issue with the malibu art association has turned to harmony via diplomacy; picking up prints to put up in starbucks and shops on monday, driving all over calabasas and agoura for the show at malibou lake clubhouse nov 9; it will be fun

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dear diary

not through yet with the book-form of late poe biography, but the audible title says he briefly associated with jesuits, so late theory is they killed him; prob because of eureka. as you know i had tried to get through it my twenties, so will go through it again now

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Check out this title on Audible

Nevermore
By Troy Taylor
Narrated by Darren Marlar

Listen on Audible:
https://www.audible.com/pd/B09WT33PKZ?source_code=ASSORAP0511160006&share_location=player_overflow


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dear diary

 the 3i/atlas thing makes everyday like leading to Christmas as a kid, all kinds of conjecture about what's gonna be under the tree

Check out this title on Audible

W.E.B. Du Bois: Biography of a Race, 1868-1919
By David Levering Lewis
Narrated by Courtney B. Vance

Listen on Audible:
https://www.audible.com/pd/B0F1BMJ98P?source_code=ASSORAP0511160006&share_location=player_overflow


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https://music.apple.com/us/album/higher-truth/1440816954?i=1440817357


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dear diary

 so much going on; the political science project; orienting folks to the arts, etc.

Email to principles

 With further investigation found Malibu Art Association was incorporated in ’63, ran for ten years, then failed to file until 2005, when you guys picked up the ball.

I was under the impression that there was a through-line going back to ’53. You guys did the work, I don’t want to blow that up.

I have been in touch with the City and the Arts Commission, and having read the deed to Legacy Park, trying to get them to adopt/promote passive recreation (sharing art [what the park was deeded to nurture]). In fact they're already adopting a new approach to encampment, so it dovetails, and maybe one day Legacy will be a place where any vetted artist can show and hang out and have fun talking art with folks.

Again, you guys picked up the ball, and I appreciate the opportunities; some weight needs to be pulled, I’ll do it.

I owe MAA about $100 from the last day of sales.

Sincerely,
John

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recent email

 Dear Council Member Conrad,

I’ve been a member of the Malibu Art Association for some time and as you know we set up in Legacy Park one Sunday per month. I’ve noticed that homeless folks will be there in the morning occupying the stalls, but as soon as the artists start setting up, they vacate the premises. I have been there on Sundays when there are no artists, and the homeless stay put, and the folks shopping those Sundays have homelessness to look away from.

The deed to the park, found in City records, states it’s to be used for education and/or passive recreation. The latter includes anything from bird watching to sharing art. A link below testifies to the idea that art/educational displays as passive recreation in a park brings health to the community. If so, a vision might be to vet artists/artisans who are studied in their genre, and allow them to educate/provide passive recreation, while simultaneously mitigating the homeless situation. Action by the Council in this regard could and would turn Legacy Park into a wellness hub: 

https://www.nrpa.org/our-work/Three-Pillars/health-and-well-being/

https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/53045b41ea204719a6aace92481f99ee

Records show that a main component of the Legacy Park Project was/is to develop it into a public amenity with educational/passive recreation offerings, so actually, no heavy lifting is required, the City just has to put word out to artists, and in due time Legacy Park might evolve where locals and visitors alike, with a little free time on their hands, will be keen to go see what artists are showing. It really is a beautiful park, and really could become the place where neighbors meet to catch up and be surprised by the work of an accomplished artist/artisan; a place a parent can take their kids to learn and get inspired—a wellness hub.

Sincerely,

John De Herrera

805-708-1965

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22x30" monotype

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phone

sublime autumn day photo

dear diary

 May this year my automobile registration expired, and knew it was going to be a problem for it to pass the smog test, to get that little red sticker on the license plate, so I started the investigation and going through the motions of what could be done by myself to get it to pass. Did some repairs, got a little diagnostic device, and began the effort to remedy the codes so that the monitors would set. I successfully removed two codes, one by buying an additive for my catalytic converter and implementing that. In California, if your Volvo is 1998 or older, you don't need the monitors to set and the smog requirement is waived; in fact, a number of states have waived the requirement for Volvos that old. My car is 1999, so in California I could only have one of the monitors blinking, meaning it had yet to reset. After disconnecting the battery and taping cables together overnight, to drain memory from car to begin anew, the codes were removed, meaning there’s nothing wrong with the car, but I still had the oxygen sensor, the catalytic converter, and the evaporation system monitors which needed to be set. In order to set them one must successfully complete drive cycles. The factory drive cycle is to drive twenty minutes at 45-50 mph, stop, and then do another twenty minutes, and I’m like, where in southern California am I going to be able to drive forty-five mph for twenty minutes? And yet if you go to car forums, some mechanics suggest alternate drive cycles, and some say you have to just drive it in all conditions until they set. So I commence with a drive cycle on the 23 between Thousand Oaks and Simi Valley. I get it down to the CAT and EVAP blinking, then another day driving back and forth, kind of sweating being pulled over for no tag, but confident I could reason with any officer about the situation. Then one day, I do a cycle, pull over, plug in diagnostic tool, and all the lights go green; I quick get over to a smog station, and the guy says it won’t pass. I take the failed smog to the Bureau of Automotive Repair, and via patience, am kicked upstairs to admin, and told they’d send notice to Sacramento for temp extension on registration, they guy telling me I’m just under the wire, because a few days more it would’ve been too late. So I go back to drive cycles and get it down to EVAP only, then another test and the CAT monitor goes back on, then the Check Engine Light goes back on, and I’m crushed. I call the mechanic who had walked me through a previous repair, and afterwards had dropped off a work of art in appreciation, and he says bring it on in. When I pull into his shop the radiator light goes on, ugh. Anyway, we run the test, and he says it’s only the EVAP showing and I should try to get it smogged. I get it smogged, and go to get the sticker, and when the lady opened the draw and I saw that little stack or little red stickers, I couldn’t believe it. I had all my documents in my composition book, one of those black/white marbled ones anyone can get at the store. I put it on top the car while I affix the sticker and drive off. I stop to get some supplies, and realize the composition book is gone. I have about twenty of them dating back to 1984, with notes/updates/poems, and that one was like two years old. I’m sitting there, thinking are you kidding me? The highest of highs tempered with a low of lows? I call to see if anyone has turned anything in, and answer No, so I race back to see if I can find it. I come around the corner and see something in the middle of the street, looking like it might be it. It was.

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dear diary

 So, was able to get a Malibu City Council member on the phone to hear me out, and with that conversation in my back pocket, sent the following email to the two top dogs of the Malibu Art Association:

I wasn’t upset when Pamela ended a call last Sunday afternoon, saying her blood was boiling, saying I’m out of the MAA and hanging up. I was like, gosh, didn’t think it would come to this, but as I’ve processed things over the past couple days, reviewing past emails, I wouldn’t say my blood is boiling, but I am feeling indignant.

The expository information is, I went to Legacy last Sunday and made sales, and someone told on me. The charge is I jeopardized the MAA and its relations with the city, which is untrue. I wasn’t wearing an MAA lanyard or t-shirt, or had anything on my table with MAA on it; in fact MAA never comes up interacting with folks. I always say I’m an artist who had a studio in Santa Barbara and show them a laminate verifying that; and should I be questioned by an enforcement agent with nothing better to do, I would not drop MAA into the discussion. In the decades of selling on the street, the two or three times I’ve been questioned, I say I’m just sharing my art, that I love talking about art with people, and that I’m not actively seeking donations.

At the first Legacy gig earlier this year I said to Bonnie and Martha and another, I had already left an art association based on internal politics. Then I had an amiable conversation with Bonnie, her telling me she wanted help. During one conversation Pamela told me Tim wasn’t all that great at Membership. At that point I knew I needed to see the by-laws to determine how much time/energy I was going to expend.

Then, an email round-robin about the by-laws—someone has them, who has them, aren’t they on our website? I then texted Pamela playfully, saying I cease and desist from asking about the by-laws, I’m just happy to be a member and provided opportunities to sell work.

Last Sunday Bonnie plied me again, that she wants to pull back from obligations due to circumstances in her life, and Martha was there, and I said I had already suggested, we just need a Zoom to get on the same page.

Ideally, you’d put out word to membership about a Zoom, at the top briefly detail where MAA is today, then open discussion about what needs to be done and what might be done (and I have been in contact with city officials, and there are options available to MAA). If, you’re like, No Way, this rogue artist is not going to get involved in our polite society—too many of us don’t like him—and guess I’d understand—then let’s discuss what that looks like from here.

I’ve been involved in writ proceedings when it comes to the arts, and it wasn’t because I had nothing better to do, it was because when it comes to the arts there are certain lines if crossed, mandate I act. I know how to look up local court rules for pleadings and so forth, but I’m not interested in drama, I’m interested in sleeping at night, knowing I said/did what any serious artist would under the circumstance. If I’ve been accused of anything, list those accusations and allow me to admit or deny; the by-laws certainly contain language concerned with removing members, and if you show them to me I can show you how to legally remove me, keeping the integrity of MAA in tact, while honoring the work and legacy of Marjorie Knowles.

For now this is the nicest and most gracious email I could compose in over an hour. As far as I’m concerned I’m a horse that could and would pull weight for MAA, and you guys have spooked me. Do I want to put hoof to stall and file a Writ of Mandate with MAA on the hook? No, I don’t, but if it turns out that’s what needs to happen to honor Ms. Knowles, I might be forced to.

Please consider how the present drama can be turned into comedy and harmony. I’m not a bad person, I’m an old artist who still cares about the arts. I don’t want to be president or an admin, I just want to be able to sell art, and do the work the association needs done.

Sincerely,

John

dear diary

So, as you know, I joined the Malibu Art Association less than a year ago, and had been showing with them at Legacy Park. I had talked with a number of the members everything was sanguine, and I let them know that I was happy to step in and take up some of the slack. I also told the various members, a couple of them at least, that I've already either been kicked out or left to other art associations. So not to be rude, I'd like to take a look at the bylaws. I then went on to email round-robin and never got the bylaws. At that point, I told the president of the association, P. that I don't care, I don't need to see the bylaws. I'm happy to show up and sell art, and left it there. Then another member who had been plying me to step in, and who was one of the people that I asked for the bylaws, brought it up again. I said we should have a meeting lotta things of changed, let's have a meeting for whoever wants to show up can show up, do a zoom. That never happened, and the association is allowed to set up one Sunday a month and that's what I had participated in. And so because I'm broke and I really needed some funds I decided to go down there to the farmers market and just bootleg some sales. Of course I got a call from the president, telling me I jeopardized the agreement with the city. And I said I never mentioned MAA, but presented myself as an independent artist, no one even asked. I got booted by mischaracterization. If they only knew that while I was there today, the moment I had to tell a drunk homeless dude, making some younger women, uncomfortable, to bail; or the kids who showed up with their parents, and as I always if they’re an artist? And I say if you want to be an artist all you have to do right now, because you're young, all you have to do is look at a lot of different types of art, and read about art; and then when you're an adult, you'll be able to call the shots. Point is, as often has happened throughout my life people are mischaracterizing a situation as grounds for dismissal. I now have to find out what the city and county licensing is for vendors. On the day I bootlegged it down at Legacy Park, I did $900, which I really really needed. I'm still trying to get my car to pass smog inspection.

Check out this title on Audible

The Age of Voltaire
By Will Durant, Ariel Durant
Narrated by Grover Gardner

Listen on Audible:
https://www.audible.com/pd/B00Y3VYEWM?source_code=ASSORAP0511160006&share_location=player_overflow


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Poe as type

 edited excerpt from recent poe biography:

Cousin John and my mother have often attempted to describe Poe's appearance to me. They both said he was one of the most graceful persons they ever saw, never assuming by accident an attitude or making a gesture that did not seem to harmonize with his lithe slender but perfectly proportioned figure. Cousin John said he always appeared to be taller than he really was, he was so erect and carried himself so well, and he said he was a much stronger man physically than his appearances indicated. His hair was very black and slightly wavy and of the silken sheen and fineness. His forehead very high and broad and very white. There was nothing very remarkable about any of his other features except his beautiful expressive eyes. They were of a brownish gray color, sometimes called agate and sometimes a dark hazel. Very large and expressive and never just alike two minutes together sometimes they seemed black and sometimes brown. As they burned and glowed with the brilliancy of his changing thoughts, they were just as beautiful with a soft, dreamy, faraway expression, as if they were seeing visions never seen by man before. They both agreed more beautiful eyes they had never seen. There was a delicacy and refinement in the entire make up of his mobile and changeable countenance. His hands and feet were small and well shaped. With just a half or third of a chance he gave you the impression always of being extremely well groomed and dressed. When you came to examine his garments closely however, you were often surprised to find them well worn and threadbare. He wore them with such an easy perfect grace, and carried himself so well and proudly you rarely thought of his clothes at all in admiring his physique. Cousin John used to say Edgar was always unmistakably a gentleman in his appearance, when sober.

late notes on the Sun

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxgS9aR1bkU&t=39s

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dear diary

 

yesterday i contacted the oxford english dictionary. as you know i had done so years ago about adding the word colorfield. again i suggested that it ought to be a word, a noun, denoting a particular school of art born out of human art history of the 1960s where for the first time color and color combination became the subject of the work. that there have many colorfield schools subsequent to the new york school, and a colorfield ought to be identified as noun just as an abstract work is, just as a figurative work is.

19x24" ink on paper

old photos

 

 

another Vidal interview

 Of interest in a number of comments....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AiZ3J8XJuMo

art text

 Based on scientific studies going back decades, the body reacts physiologically to light and color; the 1950s, a doctor developed a color test which revealed that color and color combination is the emotional language of a human; why at a gallery showing, if the artist was/is working in your preferred emotional palette, you’re much more receptive; in greyscale art, one is not being led or repulsed emotionally by color, which obtains a serenity apart from art employing color.

Supports the convention process

https://www.theacorn.com/articles/supports-the-convention-process/


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Gore Vidal Interview 2 American Masters PBS

https://youtu.be/LS0DQEhG1zg?si=7YrWwUDJDm8pbeQM


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poem

Yes, let us call them Maxfield Parrish days, when the new season has announced itself, and the light and stillness implores you to be a God in the moment.

photo; autumn seems here

9x12" ink on paper

9x12" ink on watercolor paper

recent email

One of the things I wanted to ask but didn’t --who named Salty? Saw on Insta, loved it; such a great name, makes me giggle :) 

In regards to our talk today I wanted to use this reply as kind of a meditation on this moment in my life, so please take as sixty year old poet and couple of Coors, trying to say what will probably end up in the fourth book, I guess.

Most honestly I don’t want to talk about the convention stuff, it’s just a bridge way too far for most. I’ve tried to leave that aspect of my life three separate times over the past twenty years. I want to be seen as poet/writer/artist, but somehow the universe unfolds where I’m suddenly pitching the documentary idea again. Three separate times I’ve attempted to walk away and focus on art (after rupturing most relations, family and friends over it), but then something happens and I’m compelled again.

The art, because I’ve always been obsessed with it, is something I can’t believe happened, but did. I was an artist making stuff they liked under an overhang in a boatyard, tumble weeds blowing down the street, went on to promote group shows at the furniture store for five years, and from there money pours in, becomes hip spot, advertised extensively to Europeans, and now my colorfields are by the dozens in every major city of the globe. All my series combined—colorfields, abstractions, oil pastels, and ink paintings—I stopped counting at 1,500+ and it’s probably around 1,750+ now. I’m not saying this to crow, I’m saying I’m blown away how my life unfolded the past fifteen years—working, promoting shows, place blows up, hundreds of pieces everywhere. The reason I left is because a local rich artist dude who watched me post hundreds of sales on Facebook over two years, stole my abstraction series and the Blue Chip gallery in town (after the owner had visited and where I told him all about the motif of the scribble in art history and what I was doing with mine), did a solo show with his stuff. At that point I said, OK, struck out with the cool people, time to go finish fourth book.

The writer David Sedaris once recounted on a podcast how in his twenties and thirties he was just intense, “Like you how some people are like opening a hot oven--just really intense?” I wrote a letter asking if he ever feels that way today, he replied saying not much. I don’t like being intense, but sometimes can’t help it, it’s who I am and why most people have horrible stories about me and why I’ve never, never, never—what? Been an easily identifiable success? I’ve never been a lout, a creep, never debauched, never iniquitous, and why I can look anyone straight in the face, as many personal failures as I’ve had. 

Having met you and you calling, allowing me to put the idea across, I really do appreciate. I know I plied you with lots of information today, but it’s simple: we—Americans—have talked about this constitutional provision for decades while constitutional principles have been increasingly distorted and ignored (the city of Chicago today messaging ICE won’t be met favorably if deployed). Students going through the motions will be beautiful, display the takeaway, and likely win an Oscar.

In regards to teaching, because I did summer school in a unique environment where every kid there was there to learn art, I really did perfect a lesson(s) for young artists to cover a vast amount of intellectual ground about color and composition, all the stuff I had to learn on my own over the years. So, as a possible project, just a room, board and camera, to make tutorial for other teachers to watch and implement.

Attached is translation of Shakespeare, but just want you to read the introduction.

You really should have a TV show Kathy. Or maybe podcast; you’re an authentic thinker/artist with a big heart that still cares :) Which is what humanity needs.

If I don’t hear from you prior to NYC trip, please visit Horace Greeley Square and snap a shot or insta clip, I’m a descendant of his and why I’m a fifth generation Californian on both sides of the family; he had visited in the 1850s, went home, and in his newspaper told everyone to go west.

dear diary

 Well, it’s true, I do feel a weigh off my psyche; left good final message, phone machine of muse, and feel at peace. And today I happened to start going through old photos and found a number of myself, young. I’ve always been a monster; a monster in the sense that if you weren’t an artist fighting for truth, ok.

Check out this title on Audible

My Autobiography
By Charles Chaplin, David Robinson - introduction
Narrated by Steve John Shepherd

Listen on Audible:
https://www.audible.com/pd/B09SGTYWWD?source_code=ASSORAP0511160006&share_location=player_overflow


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dear diary

 I think it's finally over; been many, many years, but pretty sure it is. I'd hoped to demonstrate my value to someone, but they'e just not into it for whatever reason. It was that episode where seeing someone local who embodied the traits and characteristics of my muse, and how I failed to initiate contact, and how I was utterly perplexed, knowing it wasn't my muse but someone with a similar life experience, and how I froze up, and then see that same person a couple days later, totally randomly. And I really started to think about it, and today, driving without registration to get to my PO Box to get a desperate check, ready to sell the hell out of any deputy or officer who happened to pull me over--and I just said--you know what dude Even though there are still things uncanny and unexplained, you really were never meant to be with her. Just hope she's got a good seat to watch the end of civilization as we knew it, and maybe yet I'll prove all doubts, though well-founded, incorrect.

dear diary

 just like I can't believe all the things that have happened about me and to me and because of me, I can't believe how that recent stint teaching art taught me how to teach art. mr. toad? mr. magoo? escaping death more times than one would care to remember? how am I still alive? all I know is I just have to finish the novel with the art stuff and publish it

Edgar Allan Poe book

 enjoying the read, his younger years are: a beautiful little human full of vim and vigor, one of the boys who wanted to kiss girls; all his bros loved him and looked up to him; and he was imperious, a youngster with words and pluck to back it up....

dear diary

 Well, this morning was very interesting, and I kid you not, I drive to the market, getting some chips and I see a woman enter the aisle, didn’t notice she had a dog; she got what she wanted on the opposite aisle, I got mine, and now after her in leaving the aisle notice her dog, same, dress, same, it’s her. I say something and I see her body fright at me saying something from behind, she gets out into the end aisle and turns and  I tell her I had seen her just the other day at the mechanics, “Oh what a coincidence, have a good day.” So I finish shopping, and it turns out we have to come in close proximity again and I look away; then I get out before her (she used self-check out), and as I’m loading groceries, turns out she’s parked right near me and approaching her car; I finished loading and we are now twenty feet apart and i say have “Have a great day!” with a little wave, “You too! she says.” Of course she was strikingly beautiful and indeed did have a very similar pulchritude as an actress I’ve always had as a muse. Really wish she’d say Hi, let me send poems; I’d write a lot of good ones.

dear diary

 today i had booked a tire rotation at the local gas station; while waiting a woman pulled up with her dog, and after coming away with mechanic information, saw her face round with the adorable chipmunk cheeks and heard the lilt of her voice, and said that’s her; the spark to speak out was almost there, but didn’t fire; maybe another time, and if so, i’ll have a funny story about when i went to get a rotation which led to a hunt for two new tires.

poem

(untitled)

 According to the Hopi we're here

to make joyful movement

and joyful sound;
and according to the Vedas

we're all just a fractal of divinity—

each one of us everything

out there and inside

all at once--
which is frightening and why

ignorance is bliss.

poem

(untitled)

To be perfect as perfect can be

just burn light for truth

and the key indisputable moments

of our history; every moment,

between falling and waking.

playscript

"Ya know, I know a couple of people in life--same age as us--one's Catholic, one's Buddhist; both of them maybe buying a cheeseburger as we speak; and the way they each conduct their life--their turn of mind--it's just always so righteous. They always have the right touch in contentious moments. They always identify what's-what well. So I try and be like them."

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dear diary

 Came away with three contacts from the weekend with plans to talk further this week (the gallery owner too), and one of them sees me, a rad unknown artist, the vehicle issue is dead. Sold $300 at a gig today then found a ticket for no registration, fingers crossed for this week. Any three of them could be like oh you need a car man? No problem.

(fragment)

The stiff ocean breeze on the sycamore tree, bending back windward leaves

to a silvery green; you look from this to the square of people

buying art below and think how badly you need sale,

only to return to your vehicle to find a ticket

for expired registration;

knowing didn’t make all you thought you did,

but in looking at the fee

not bad a nick, thinking

if sun and wind and trees and people

discussing art  

recent email

Dear Rob and Brenny, you guys don’t know each other but you’re the last two tethers to me existing—Rob the dad of a nephew, Brenny the friend since high school; Rob’s agnostic, Brenny’s Catholic.

In some regards this is a last will/testament because tomorrow night is an art reception at a reputable gallery in Malibu, and I got two pieces hanging, and I’m hoping to parlay it into support as a visual artist. If it doesn’t happen, my car won’t smog, driving on tags from May, and pulled over Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride ends.

I’m sixty, got hundreds of pieces hanging around the world and thousands of copies out there of the first novel (both perhaps to be discovered in the future), and as a playwright, eyeing my own narrative, maybe hiking to a cliff over-looking the Pacific and doing a swan dive is a pretty fuckin’ cool way to end it. Of course I’d rather live to fight another day, I’d rather complete the novel I got ten yeas work into and include this letter in it.

If you guys split cost on lease for vehicle for six months, I’ll get a job at Costco or somewhere and become a working stiff; just focusing on being sustainable.

Was hoping dad/Pops would be there, and we talked and I impressed upon him I’m about to lose my vehicle (all that stands between me and living in the bushes), where he said OK, I got you. Then nothing. Pops is a five year old now and Mike controls him. Guess my younger brother stole my dad is part of the narrative too.

I don’t expect either of you to be burdened by me, fuckin weird mother fucker as I am (who has never been debauched or iniquitous [which is why I can look anyone straight in the face, as many fails as I've had]); just didn’t want to let this moment pass without saying such. Tomorrow night on Malibu Road until 9pm will be a definitive moment for lil ‘ol daydreamer John De Herrera :)

Love you guys and how you conduct life, knowing you both you’d make each other laugh. You are studs, I’m a misfit and maybe only in this day and age. Regardless, the fuckin colorfield art will live. Fingers crossed, time will tell.

Rob: 408-763-

Brenny: 310-717-

poem

 (untitled)

Having just had the crow caw from the brach some yards away,

I was reminded how essential they are to my well-being;

and though it is summer now, I know one of my favorite moments

is coming soon; where I put a long read aside near sunset

at the end of Autumn,

staring out the window at changing light,

and caw of them then, when the world is

slowing down in cycle;

their hark a reminder all is well.

recent podcast

 https://www.buzzsprout.com/791252/episodes/17617341

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