17″x14″ pencil on Bienfang paper

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“It is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.”  -Henry David Thoreau, 1817-1862

Okay, I couldn’t resist this. I probably should have drawn this a couple of weeks ago after Limbaugh’s noxious remarks about Haiti. But alas, some people continue to expose their very worst on a stupidly consistent basis. What’s up with this guy? Oh well, we caricaturists actually love guys like him because of the fodder they provide for our strange visual musings. I find it amusing that this guy who makes his living spewing forth vitriolic swill, actually has a tiny mouth! Really, look at a photo of him. How does he get such huge amounts of crap to flow through that little space? It’s even more amazing that he chooses to smoke the largest cigars on the planet. He looks like someone shoved a fence post in his mouth. Hmmm?  Enjoy!

17″x14″ pencil on Bienfang drawing paper

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My grandmother started walking five miles a day when she was sixty. She’s ninety-seven now, and we don’t know where the hell she is.  -Ellen DeGeneres, 1958-

I thought I would start posting a few drawings from time to time. I try very hard to do at least one a day, but for all my good intentions,  sometimes poo poo gets in the way.  I’ve always admired a fine drawing, the draftsmanship, the craftsmanship the mother ship… huh? Maybe they’re about to act on their promise from so long ago and come back and take me away. Okay ArtGuy, slow down, regroup, get back on track. You can do this. Maybe my sons DO get their lack of focus from me? Who knew? I read somewhere that drawings are kind of a road map of the artist’s intent when preparing to do a painting. Not sure who said that, but he obviously never met me, I stay lost all the time. I say with much vibrato and pride, I AM Mr. Fly-By-The-Seat-of-My-Pants!! But I’ve been dazed and confused ever since Taylor Swift, that young, lanky, still 14-awkward at 20, “country” singer won the top Grammy last night! Holy crap, has anyone ever told that child she can’t sing?! In the words of my Pop, God rest his soul, “that girl couldn’t carry a tune in bucket”.  Okay, I’m sure she’s a very sweet, young lady that every 10 to 12 year-old-girl idolizes, but she still can’t sing. Now, where was I..?   Enjoy!

14″x11″ watercolor on 140lb. Arches paper

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“I was given a tremendous amount of credit for having unbelievable insights, more than any known shrink could hope ever to have. I might have stumbled on something, but really wasn’t something you could count on and call ‘insight’.”  -David Levine, 1926-2009

This is a caricature I did back in 2008 of famed caricaturist, David Levine. In my mind he was the best caricaturist that ever lived and influenced my work like no other. I heard a couple of weeks ago that he had died in late December 2009. I was crushed. His work in The New York Review of Books, which numbered 3,800 pieces,  was what introduced me to caricature and gave me the direction my life would take.  I told the story on a previous post, but to recap, I saw an edition of TNYRB laying on the desk of a reporter in the newsroom. I was a lowly copy boy, my first year in the business, 1973. I stopped to peruse the edition and after seeing Mr. Levine’s amazingly deft pen & ink line work in the faces of then current history makers, Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger, I knew I had to learn more. Eventually, I moved into the art department and never looked back. It took me a couple of years to really get a handle on pen & ink, but it became my bread and butter until newspapers began using color in the early 80s. In the early 1990s Mr. Levine came to my hometown, Columbus, GA to lecture at Columbus State University on the occasion of a one-man show of his work. After the lecture I made my way to him and waited patiently, listening to his every word, awaiting the moment I had often dreamed of. When I finally got my chance, I introduced myself and told him I worked for the local paper and that he was the reason I’m not driving a truck. He laughed a shy laugh and said something self-deprecating. He was charming and all that I hoped he would be. He autographed a hand-out card of one of his images for me as we talked and was gracious and encouraging. I will never forget that evening and the feelings I had being in a room surrounded by original Levine’s and in the presence of the man that created them. For me, had I been a young pianist, it would have been like meeting Beethoven. Thank you, Mr. Levine, I’ll be looking for those lines in the sky. Rest well.  Enjoy!

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/30/arts/design/30levine.html

http://www.nybooks.com/gallery/

17″x13″ watercolor on 140lb Arches paper

This piece is AVAILABLE. Please email me at CokerArt@yahoo.com for price.

“An artist, by nature of the joy he finds in his work and by constant excitement over everything he sees, keeps him young…forever. “  -Bill Nelson, Artist/Illustrator

This is another of my newspaper illustrations from the 90s. It is Courtney Love, widow of grunge rocker Kurt Cobain. I did the piece for an article in the newspaper about her life after Cobain’s death. She has apparently lived a life so on the edge that most of us can’t comprehend. Mostly sad, mostly tragic. It’s hard as an illustrator sometimes, particularly those of us who do “loaded portraits”, as the Brits once called them, caricatures, as they are referred to in America (a limiting term in my opinion), to portray someone so tortured. Our job is to try and look deeper, maybe pull out more of the personality, or maybe another side of the personality, always probing deeper. It’s a fine line to walk and one that is both exciting and at times perilous and downright strange.

This past weekend I found several of my illustration “heroes” on facebook and was thrilled to “friend” many of them. The above quote was by one of them, Bill Nelson. Bill was a star illustrator in the 70s when I began my career, doing cover work for the likes of  The New Yorker, Newsweek and The Atlantic Monthly. He was one of many that I looked up to. Still do. He took the time to write me a long, thoughtful and encouraging message on facebook. Today, he is still very much a vital and productive artist reaching beyond the limits of the struggling publishing industry to produce some of the best work of his life. Check out his website, you won’t be sorry. Thank you, Bill.  Enjoy!

http://www.billnelsonstudios.com/

14″x11″ signed limited edition print published from the original pen & ink drawing, edition of 300

Click here to buy a print, $30 plus $8 shipping

The one-of-kind original art is available matted and framed. Contact me at CokerArt@yahoo.com for price.

“You could almost touch the tension in Monticello (GA). For the town waited on the train and not the other way around. Monticello had all day to pack peaches and bale cotton and sort letters and talk about Gone With The Wind and get a haircut- but the mixed train only tarried 20 minutes to a half hour, and if you were riding down the line to Round Oak or picking up the mail and express or meeting your cousin, why, you’d best be down at the depot at half past the hour.”  -David P. Morgan, 1927-1990

I created this pen & ink drawing back in 1994. It was my first limited edition print. I never sold the complete edition, so I thought I would offer the rest of them now. I think there are over 150 prints left in the edition. The image is of the Central of Georgia’s streamliner passenger train,  The Man O’ War, that ran twice daily between Atlanta and Columbus, Georgia. This scene is in the rail yard at Columbus under the viaduct, circa 1947, where the brand new E7 unit, #806, was about to make its maiden voyage to Atlanta. The proud conductor about to board his train is believed to be Mr. B. C. Bennett of the Atlanta area. I debuted this print at a train show in Atlanta and a man walked up to my table and recognized his grandfather (Mr. Bennett) in my drawing. I was amazed! I based the drawing on an old photo I found in the archives at the newspaper at which I worked. I may do an oil painting of the same scene in the future. I’ve been thinking about it for years.

When I found that photo I knew I wanted to do a drawing or painting of it, because it reminded me of when I was a kid when I used to see the Man O’ War every day after school. I was attending Daniel Junior High in 1967 and when that last bell rang in the afternoon, I and a friend or two would head for the Cof G mainline on our way home to see the spectacle that was the Man O’ War. The engineer became quite familiar with our young faces and always blew his horn for us and waved.  Talk about feeling special! I can’t count the number of pennies that that train flattened for me. We would dig in our pockets to see if we could come up with a penny or two to carefully place on the rails. We would then back away across the ditch and await the train. As it approached the 45th Street crossing it would blow it’s piercing horn as if to say, stand back folks, the Man O’ War has returned! It was a proud stead, to say the least. We would begin to fidget with anticipation as we got our first visual. As the beautiful streamliner rolled past us it took all we had to stay focused on where our pennies were. We wanted to see the engineer and get a glimpse of the passengers as they rolled by in the lap of luxury that was this train. After she rolled by we would scramble to the tracks to find our flattened copper prizes and it was always like hunting for gold,  digging around in the chunky, gray ballast looking for that glimmering piece of elongated, flattened copper. I think I may have a couple of those left of the dozens I once had. I hope so. Yes, I know, in this day and time you can’t get near a railroad track without someone thinking you’re a terrorist. Sad. Engineers and conductors will still proudly wave from their big, rolling machines if they see you. Some traditions still live and railroaders proudly cling to them. I’m glad, because at the risk of sounding a lot older than I really am, those were the good ole days!  Enjoy!

5″x5″ oil on gesso-coated board

This piece is AVAILABLE. Please email me at CokerArt@yahoo.com for price.

“It is horrifying that we have to fight our own government to save the environment.”  -Ansel Adams, 1902-1984

I’m often asked how I choose my subjects for caricature. When I was in the newspaper business it was pretty easy. Visual journalism is about the news, the people in the news and presenting those people in such a manner that draws the reader in. All I had to do was follow the daily events of politics or pop culture for my “inspiration”. They provided me with all the fodder I could use. Although I have not been inside a newsroom in 10 months now, I still follow the news and the news makers. Once a journalist, always a journalist.

Now, I read several newspapers online daily as well as weekly and monthly magazines. I believe in staying informed, even when I have to wade through huge daily doses of pop culture crap to get to any real news of substance. You know what I’m talking about, Brad and Angelina cleaned out their garage over the weekend and Brad found two Harleys he forgot he had. Or, Jon and Kate announced today that they are pregnant with quadruplets. Oh, and they plan to divorce after the next batch are born. While perusing said magazines that are loaded with all the latest photos of the “stars”, I am inundated with tons of visual stimuli. Today, I turned the page and saw a great photo of Brad. I was struck by the structure of his face and the cool goatee, topped off with those flashy, star-like shades. I knew I had to paint him. I grabbed a piece of illustration board I had already prepared and began sketching in oils. Three hours later I had the image you see before you. So, it doesn’t always have to be some huge wave of inspiration to create a piece of art. Sometimes it’s simply a matter of flipping a page. Enjoy!

5″x5″ oil on gesso-coated board

This piece is available. Email me at CokerArt@yahoo.com for price.

“Artists are just children who refuse to put down their crayons.”  -Al Hirschfeld, 1903-2003

It’s been a cold winter here in Georgia so far. Okay, you folks in Chicago or Fargo would beg to differ, I’m sure. Everything is relative. Today, I took my camera and small sketchpad and ventured outside into the surrounding woods. I love the outdoors in winter. It trills me to walk in the woods with leaves, limbs and the cold ground crunching under foot. My deepest emotions are stirred along with a driving need to express them. I love to sit and sketch details of trees and photograph their many shapes and angles, absorbing to memory their very essence. I would much rather paint the bare, sculptural trees of winter than all the clumps of green trees in the summer combined. To me, there’s something intensely emotional about the winter landscape. I’ve never quite been able to put my finger on it. I’ve spent the majority of my life in the South, with the exception of a few years spent in southern Germany, Florida and Montana. There’s a quiet starkness that reaches deep into my soul and makes me want to capture its fleeting imagery. The air smells richer and your lungs have no trouble feeling the impact of the cold air when you inhale. It’s cleansing, ironically, like a summer rain.

I love the way the sunlight trickles over a gray, winter tree, exposing its skin, warts and all. I love to visit the same trees in different times of day to see how the changing light recasts new shadows every little while, altering the personality of the tree. I want to get as close as I can to see the crags and cuts of years of standing against winters and hot, Southern summers, to see the clinging vines of wisteria that have embedded themselves into the body of the tree. As a painter, I try so hard to stay loose and painterly, but when it comes to the detail in those winter trees, it’s all but impossible for me not to paint every nook  and cranny. I never tire of looking at those same trees I have looked at, drawn and painted for the 20 years since we built our home. Andrew Wyeth once put it this way: “You can look at the same object in all times of day or in your imagination with the myriad shifts of tones. It’s like Rembrandt painting his own face as many times as he did. A change of subject is really very unimportant to me, because there are always new revelations coming out of that one subject.” I will share some of my tree friends with you soon. Stay tuned. Enjoy!

16″x12″ watercolor on Arches 140lb. watercolor paper

This painting is AVAILABLE. Please email me at CokerArt@yahoo.com for price.

“Color does not add a pleasant quality to design – it reinforces it.”  -Pierre Bonnard, 1867-1947

I did this piece way back in 1990, almost 20 years ago,  for the newspaper on the release of Tom Cruise’s latest movie at the time, “Days of Thunder”. This was supposed to be a centerpiece illustration for the entertainment page, no frills, no “editorializing”, according to the features editor. Well, caricature is innately about editorializing. It makes a statement on its own merit. The caricaturist has to do very little to get his or her point across. I’m always amazed at the comments I get when I do a caricature. They elicit all manner of thought, which is a good thing. I’ve received hate mail, bomb threats, and love letters about my work. “Why do you make people look so weird?” is one of the most common questions I am asked. How do you respond to that? It’s a caricature.

This piece was one of transition for me. My style was transcending from a very naturally-colored way of painting to a far more colorful approach of expressing my caricatures. I was experimenting a lot back then, trying to find “my style”. I still am, I suppose. I have come to recognize that as growth. I was told as a young illustrator that in order to “make it”, I had to have a definitive style. I was trapped by that statement for many years. I knew that I liked doing different things as an artist, but I tried desperately to stay with one way of expression. After much inward looking and a lot of late nights fighting off frustration and pulling my hair out, I am happy to report that I am still looking!  Enjoy!

Artwork Copyright Columbus Ledger-Enquirer

7 5/8″x5 1/2″ oil on gesso-coated board

SOLD

“There never was any heart truly great and generous, that was not also tender and compassionate.”  -Robert Frost, 1874-1963

I hope everyone had a wonderfully peaceful Christmas. Mine was, well, busy, and a bit stressful. It’s one of the great mysteries to me. We rush about, shopping, trying to make sure everyone gets the right gifts, preparing elaborate meals that we don’t normally eat and gathering to eat way more than we need to. All the while, stressing over something that truly should not be stressful. The truest meaning of Christmas should provide us with a time of quiet thought and resourceful inward-looking. It should be that time when we don’t just slow down, but we stop, enjoy and savor those few quiet moments we have throughout the year with our families and loved ones.

I did this caricature of Robert Frost a few days ago, but haven’t found the time to post it until now. He had such a great face, one of peaks and valleys, texture and shapes, not unlike his poetry. I enjoyed sculpting his face with my brush, working those wonderfully bushy eyebrows that seem to act as lean-to sheds for his eyes. His was a face of a life well lived, time well spent perfecting a craft. Something that seems to have left us in these modern times. Let us slow down and find the time to perfect our own crafts and live our lives a little more meaningful, a little less stressful, a lot more peaceful and joyful.  -Enjoy!

7″x5″ oil on canvas

This painting is AVAILABLE. Please email me at CokerArt@yahoo.com for price.

“I’ve said that playing the blues is like having to be black twice. Stevie Ray Vaughan missed on both counts, but I never noticed.”  -B.B. King, 1925-

I love the blues, particularly old time acoustic country blues. I’ve played guitar since I was 18 years old, mostly acoustic, mostly folk styles like Bluegrass and Blues. I’ve enjoyed playing with friends and family through the years. I highly recommend it. The image of an old black man with a beat up old National steel guitar, or an old white man frailing away on an open-back banjo touches something deep inside me. Musically, they are about as rootsy and down in the dirt as it gets. Banging out an ancient tone on an equally ancient instrument is a very spiritual matter and one that acoustic players take very seriously.

I had a very good friend, Mac McCormick,  who was a luthier. For the unwashed, that’s an instrument maker. They build guitars, banjos, mandolins and fiddles, or violins if you love your music on the classical side. Mac passed away in recent years. He was a classic curmudgeon, long and lean, bent at the shoulders, with a scruffy beard and long, crazy eyebrows that sprouted over the top of his glasses kind of medusa-like. He wore worn, faded, beltless Wrangler jeans stained by years of wiping wood glue and stain from his knarly-knuckled fingers as he worked.  He wore once-white t-shirts covered in saw dust that hung loosely on his skinny frame like hanging on a coat rack. His constant cowboy boots were scuffed and stained from years of wear and tear and navigating sawdust-covered floors. He cut big slits in the tops of them to ease the pain of his bunions, which exposed the white athletic socks he wore every day. He rolled his own cigarettes from sweet-smelling, Captain Black pipe tobacco that hung mindlessly in the corner of his mouth while sanding wood or any of a hundred other tasks that were alien to the average visitor.  He would work around said visitors, tolerating their imposing presence only because they may be a customer. If he had his way, he would just build instruments and never have to deal with selling them. Sound familiar?

I was always amazed that this man, maybe the most unkempt, at times, straight up contemptable man that I ever knew, could take a block of wood, maybe spruce or walnut and shape it into a beautiful, one-of-a-kind instrument that sounded every bit as beautiful as it looked. I have the pleasure of owning one of those pieces, a funky, resophonic blues guitar designed and constructed after a classic 1918 National steel guitar that was in his shop at the time. He took measurements off the original and in a few weeks called me to come and get my new baby. That was August of 1996. That guitar has a voice that fills a room and kicks like a mule when played with a bottleneck slide. Yes, I call her “The Mule”. I traded art work for her, my craft for his. One of the best deals I ever made. I never get the blues when I play that guitar, mainly because it reminds me of the man who built it. I miss you, Mac.  Enjoy!