Machine Politick

I am currently working on a self-portrait  for a show at the Tannery Row Artist Colony in Buford, Georgia. The title of the show is The Music in Me and the format is square, as if we are designing album covers. Those of you who are familiar with my Liberty paintings will have some idea of where this painting is going. Because I work in so many layers, I have decided to start documenting each step in my paintings. While the details show through subsequent layers, it is often difficult to capture them in photographs, mostly because I am photographically challenged.

Here is the first step below showing the filigree that is often the first layer in one of my paintings. The gray menace in the background, scowling with disdain, is my husband’s cat Odin. He fancies himself a studio cat and loves to lounge on my work table, tossing my mixed media components to the floor with malicious glee. At seven, he is finally calming down, but he still enjoys making a mess.

This article will also be posted at Liberatchik.

Here are some images from one of our newest artists. 1) “Olive’s field with clay’s pots”– Oil– 2002 . 2)“Quiet river”  (Cuba landscape) –Acrylic–  2002 Spain shipped the Olive Oil in those pots. They are very typical in Camaguey province. It’s like the trademark for Camaguey Alexis also has a gallery on FaceBook to share some of her painting classes with Deisy Riera. Please check it out here. This article was written for Liberatchik.

These paintings are by Michael LeKites, who was kind enough to post them on our Facebook page. They were inspired by last year’s Taxpayer March on DC. I eel a personal connection to the work because I also attended the event. From the perspective of an artist, they are very well executed. The color and composition are amazing. From the point of view of a propagandist – they rock and I hope to see more work of this kind in the public forum. Please keep an eye out for future postings of Mr. LeKites’ work, as I plan to keep track of his progress.

These images have also been posted on Liberatchik

How do those two topics relate, and how did I come across them? That’s not a bad question for a reasonable person to ask. When I picked up Origami on the Edge, I thought I would be teaching my son how to make some cool monsters.

Like everything else that involves raising a child, I should have known better than to make an assumption. If I haven’t learned anything else in the last six years, I’ve figured out that I don’t know squat about kids and just when I think I’ve seen everything, I’m proven wrong yet again.

We went to the library this week to get books and origami was a subject we were interested in. So we came home with this book by Xander Arena: American Mensa member, custom stone craftsman, full time student, and animal groomer of all things. I think you can probably guess what I thought of the biography, so we’ll leave that alone. Once I was actually reading the book to figure out how to make the monsters, which was the actual purpose of getting it, I realized there was a blog post in the making.

On the front cover is this little icon that says Green Edition. I bet you can guess where this is going. Before you assume I burn trees every day because I like to watch the shiny embers float about or club baby seals for their fur, let me say – I understand the need to conserve and protect our resources and the environment. However, those goals should not be accomplished at the expense of human life, under false pretences, at the point of a gun. The inside of the cover on the book describes why the book qualifies as planet friendly publishing in a smarmy, you suck manner that makes me want to add Dover Publications to the long list of companies I don’t want to give my money.

So, on to the point of this post. Why do I care about the blatant propaganda campaign in one origami book? Because it is obviously geared toward young people. You wouldn’t believe how many books like this are out there. I don’t believe it is coincidental any more than I believe that The Rainbow Fish is about sharing. It is a blatant campaign to teach children from a young age that humans destroy the earth and we all need to do without. Once that goal is accomplished, it’s a baby step to the concept that we’re all equal and should have equal things. Equality of outcome not equality of opportunity.

Why is this in a post on an art page? Because we need to be doing the same thing to promote honest, Conservative philosophy. Yes, you can find beautifully illustrated books on American history and Liberty in the children’s section. However, very few of them are the storybooks geared toward toddlers and young readers. If we don’t ingrain these ideas in our kids before we pack them of to public school, we have no one to blame but ourselves when they turn into blithering fools dependent on the State for their ‘needs’.

All of this brings us full circle, back to the origami book. The portion of the book that set all of this in motion is included below. You would think the description of how the artist designed the polar bear would be innocuous. Again, you would be wrong. The intro reads as follows:

“Originally, I viewed this model as simply a bear, but after reviewing photos of various sorts of bears, determined that it was definitely the arctic variety. Polar bears are presently in a bit of trouble, and I really do hope that they are able to adapt to our changing climate. Or conversely, that we slow the change…It would be a shame to lose them.”

I promise to come back from my family camping trip with something positive to say about art. I’m sure a weekend in a national park will lift my spirits. I know cooking meat over an open flame will!

Just in case you’d like to know what your kids are learning on TV, check out this article by our contributor Greg Contiero.

This article was written for Liberatchik

One of the books I am currently reading is the Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I am not a religious person by nature. Therefore, the book has afforded me some interesting insight into religion and spirituality. I do not, myself, posses faith or the belief in a higher being although (unlike many atheists) I do respect the right of others to do so. I find the concept of religion interesting; particularly the wealth of cultural and iconographic influence it has bestowed upon society.

For this reason, I believe I have approached the reading of this book with an open perspective. I have no agenda or preconceived notion of what it is about. I am reading it simply for the sake of gaining perspective. Ironically, the letters from Screwtape to his nephew Wormwood could just as easily be from a congressman to their aid. Perhaps it is because so many of them have spent their entire career dismantling America in much the same way that Screwtape dismantles souls.

I am not yet finished, but here are some lines I found particularly fitting to the current establishment in Washington.

“An important spiritual law is here involved. I have explained that you can weaken his prayers by diverting his attention from the Enemy Himself to his own states of mind about the Enemy. On the other hand fear becomes easier to master when the patient’s mind is diverted from the thing feared to the fear itself, considered as a present and undesirable state of his own mind; and when he regards the fear as his appointed cross he will inevitably think of it as a state of mind. One can therefore formulate the general rule; in all activities of mind which favor our cause, encourage the patient to be unself-conscious and to concentrate on the object, but in all activities favourable to the Enemy bend his mind back on itself. Let an insult or a woman’s body so fix his attention outward that he does not reflect ‘I am now entering into the state called Anger – or the state called Lust’. Contrariwise, let the reflection ‘My feelings are now growing more devout, or more charitable’ so fix inward that he no longer looks beyond himself to see our Enemy or his own neighbors.”

Translation: Put yourself and your ‘needs’ above all others. It is the mantra and the goal of the movement for ’social justice’. People are kept in a constant state of fear about their future, their status as victims, who will or won’t provide for their ‘needs’ while being kept in a position of helplessness and dependency by the very people who claim to be helping them. It is no coincidence that those same people have simultaneously torn down the concepts of morality, the family and individual responsibility.

“Thus by inflaming the horror of the Same Old Thing we have recently made the Arts, for example, less dangerous to us than perhaps, they have ever been, ‘low-brow’ and ‘high-brow’ artists alike being now daily drawn into fresh, excesses of lasciviousness, unreason, cruelty and pride. Finally, the desire for novelty is indispensable if we are to produce Fashions or Vogues.”
One need only go into the nearest gallery for an illustration of this point. The art community, which touts itself as being avant guard, independent minded, and opposed to the system has become a mere tool to the Progressive agenda. It is now our job, as Conservatives, to stand up to the status quo in the art community and take back our culture. How can we expect the next generation to understand what we are fighting for if they have no concept of Liberty or individualism? Traditionally, it has been the art community that has gone against the grain to raise awareness and promote unpopular ideas. I say we take advantage of that tradition and the means by which it has been achieved successfully in the past.

Want to help? Submit a blog post on the subject for our consideration. Send us images of your work. Find that in yourself that inspires you to stand up to the system and put it in creative form – produce a video, paint a picture, write a poem – anything to get the point across. If you need help getting started, contact me directly at frances@machinepolitick.com or feel free to use the Conservative Action Tools on my web page for ideas. The future is what we make of it.

This article was written for Liberatchik

A friend of mine showed me this artist’s work over the weekend. If you live in Atlanta, take the time to stop by DK Gallery in Marietta to see it in person.

This post was written for Liberatchik

These photos are also posted at Liberatchik

The last couple of weeks, I have been back at Frankie’s Repair Shop working on his mural. It is a tribute to his father who served in the Korean War. In two weeks, Mr. Morales will be in town from Puerto Rico. It will be interesting to see how he reacts, and how accurately I have been able to portray him based on the grainy black and white photos I have from the war as reference.

Overall, I am very happy with the mural. Portraits are my least favorite subjects, but I think this one is coming out pretty well. I am extremely pleased with the eagle and the translucency of the flag. One of the most difficult parts of this project has been trying to achieve the layering that is prevalent in my fine art while using house paints.

I expect to finish up tomorrow. For now, here are the current photos:

This article is also posted at Liberatchik

I just posted an article over at Anystreet about how I spent the Fourth of July. I thought I’d take a minute here to post a poem we read our son to commemorate the holiday. Also, here is the most recent work in progress at the MachinePolitick studio.

Happy Independence Day to all!

Paul Revere’s Ride by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen my children and you shall hear

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;

Hardly a man is now alive

Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, “If the British march

By land or sea from the town tonight,

Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch

Of the North Church tower as a signal light,-

One if by land, and two if by sea;

And I on the opposite shore will be,

Ready to ride and spread the alarm

To every Middlesex village and farm,

For the country folk to be up and to arm.”

Then he said “Good night!” and with muffled oar

Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,

Just as the moon rose over the bay,

Where swinging wide at her moorings lay

The Somerset, British man-of-war;

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar

Across the moon like a prison bar,

And a huge black hulk, that was magnified

by its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street

Wanders and watches, with eager ears,

Till in the silence around him he hears

The muster of men at the barrack door,

The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,

And the measured tread of the grenadiers,

Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,

By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,

To the belfry chamber overhead,

And startled the pigeons from their perch

On the somber rafters, that round him made

Masses and moving shapes of shade,-

By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,

To the highest window in the wall,

Where he paused to listen and look down

A moment on the roofs of the town

And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,

In their night encampment on the hill,

Wrapped in silence so deep and still

That he could hear, like a sentinel’s tread,

the watchful night-wind as it went

Creeping along from tent to tent,

And seeming to whisper, “All is well!”

A moment only he feels the spell

Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread

Of the lonely belfry and the dead;

For suddenly all his thoughts were bent

On a shadowy something far away,

Where the river widens to meet the bay,-

A line of black that bends and floats

On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,

Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride

On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.

Now he patted his horse’s side,

Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,

Then impetuous, stamped the earth,

And turned and tightened his saddle girth:

But mostly he watched with eager search

The belfry tower of the Old North Church,

As it rose above the graves on the hill,

Lonely and spectral and somber and still.

And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height

A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!

He swings to the saddle, the bridle he turns,

But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight

A second lamp in the belfry burns.

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,

And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark

Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;

That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,

The fate of a nation was riding that night;

And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,

Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep,

And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,

Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;

And under the alders that skirt its edge,

Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,

Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock

When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.

He heard the crowing of the cock,

And the barking of the farmer’s dog,

And felt the damp of the river fog,

That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,

When he galloped into Lexington.

He saw the gilded weathercock

Swim in the moonlight as he passed,

And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,

Gaze at him with a spectral glare,

As if they already stood aghast

At the bloody mark they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,

When he came to the bridge in Concord town.

He heard the bleating of the flock,

And the twitter of birds among the trees,

And felt the breath of the morning breeze

Blowing over the meadow brown.

And one was safe and asleep in his bed

Who at the bridge would be first to fall,

Who that day would be lying dead,

Pierced by a British musket ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read

How the British regulars fired and fled,-

How the farmers gave them ball for ball,

From behind each fence and farmyard wall,

Chasing the redcoats down the lane,

Then crossing the fields to emerge again

Under the trees at the turn of the road,

And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;

And so through the night went his cry of alarm

To every Middlesex village and farm,-

A cry of defiance, and not of fear,

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,

And a word that shall echo for evermore!

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,

Through all our history, to the last,

In the hour of darkness and peril and need,

The people will waken and listen to hear

The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,

And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

This article was written for Liberatchik

This photo is from a show I attended recently. Because I have been busy working on the Patriot Pony Project, it got shuffled to the back of my list. I thought, however, that it might have been fitting to post it in honor of the Fourth of July.

My friend Alvaro, pictured here talking to his son, is a very patriotic artist. He has several series of American flags modeled after the work of Jasper Johns. The ones in this photo are a collection of 32 that hang as an installation. It is quite impressive to see, least of all for the impact it has on the Liberal patrons of the gallery. It’s a shame Alvaro doesn’t get more exposure, but that is a consequence of wearing one’s Conservatism openly in the Liberal art community of Atlanta.

I am proud to say I own two flags from a different series, titled “Hope” and “Honor”. They hag below the flag my husband received at his father’s Marine Corps funeral. This Fourth of July, think about the freedoms we still have and thank the people who make it possible. Continue to be active in your pursuit of Liberty, and consider becoming an active member in the Conservative art movement we are building.

This article was written for Liberatchik.com