The Good Earth

We grew this pumpkin in our very own backyard and fall means a little something different this year. (Also, check out that butt! Mmm, mmm talk about Harvest season)

The Other Aritst in the Family....

Why be clean, when you can be messy? The secret Martha Stewart never told you.

Self Portrait No. 4

Sam drew on the door.

Its a beautiful self-portrait of the artist playing a guitar. It's signed as well. The first three attempts were done with a white board marker and came off with a mr. clean. They were done on the bathroom door, both sides, during his "personal sit down time." The response from the local art community was marginal at best.

This last and final piece of installation art was drawn with a sharpie brand permanent marker. The artist choice of material was clearly making a illusion to graffiti artists and testing the avante garde status of local critics. Hurtado also harkened to performance artists by pooping in his pants just as the art work was completed.

However, it was not well received. With no first hand experience with the Graffiti and Performance Art Movement's idea of the world being your canvas, the critics scoffed, lamented and finally spanked when the mr. clean didn't work.

The artist pleased his artist case with the following concepts, "Its my playroom door and therefore does not actually belong to you. I thought you would like it. I may have to clean this door forever. And finally, I hate you. In hopes to expose mass auidences to this new medium, I present you Self Portrait No. 4 By Samuel Malcolm Hurtado.

Here's to contemporary art, I quit!

Visual DNA

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

SAFETY FIRST...dream second?

Thus began motherhood--full of right choices with mixed results. I've been thinking about my master's degree. I've been wondering about my writing skills...about redesigning my room, about dishes, about money, about kindergarten, about play dates and swim lessons and quality time....I've been wondering about painting and personal space, about dream and dreams exploding.... and I notice that I limit myself. Yesterday, I saw a woman on a motorcycle. I mean a motorcycle. I mean old Harley fat rider kind of motor. She had her young daughter on the back and I was both impressed and apauled at the same time. SAFETY FIRST. NUMBER OF MOTOR CYCLE ACCIDENTS! WARNING! SUDDEN DEATH OF FIRST BORN....I being safe, quickly decided then and there that I, the royal I, would never do that. You can't do that with kids.

But then I wondered and thought and remembered my adoration. and then this: How productive, how offensive to their little souls is it to hear that you believe you can accomplish nothing with them? As youth and self obsessed as our country is, (and let's face the honest truth, as I am) I have to remind myself there is still time for firsts. New beginnings didn't end with childbirth. I could still be punk rock. I could still get that degree. I could still explore. I can still be me. So blow out the candle, make a wish and dream. HERE'S TO FIRSTS!