Machine Politick

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

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

Watch it and pass it on please. If you don’t know why, you’ve stumbled onto the wrong website.

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

I took today of to spend time with my family and divorce myself from the state of the country. I thought it would be nice, for a change, to relax and focus on what makes America great. That’s no small feat for the angry right-wing workaholic artist in me, but I managed.

We slept in today, which is a miracle in a house with a six year old boy and a hungry hound dog. After hanging around the house for a while, we headed over to a Classic Car and Bike show. There were some really sweet cars out today. Some dated from the 20’s and were in great condition. It’s impressive to see that kind of craftsmanship preserved for so long.

I haven’t had much time to work in the garden this year, but we had some fun discoveries this week. I was able to get out there and take some pictures today:

These two pumpkins that will make yummy pies for Halloween and Thanksgiving appeared in the compost we put out on the flowers by the pool. We have also had a bumper crop of Blackberries this year that have started a canning campaign at our house.

Our parsley is now home to a huge population – at least 26 – of striped caterpillars. We think they will be swallowtails when they grow up, but  I haven’t had time to find out.

After swimming in the pool, throwing around the football and grilling our dinner, we sat down for some family time. We had a discussion about the importance of the 4th  and how our Independence was won. My husband read the Declaration of Independence to our son and we answered his questions. After that, he read Paul Revere’s Ride by Longfellow.

We finished the evening watching Bedtime Story, a surprisingly sensible movie, before watching the fireworks from the side of the road near our house. If you haven’t seen the movie yet, I recommend it. Adam Sandler actually has a line refusing to read the commie crap in his niece and nephew’s story books. If that doesn’t make you smile, nothing will.

I hope you all had a happy Fourth of July. Here’s the painting I started last week to remind you what we’re fighting for. Thanks for all you do and keep up your quest for Liberty.

This article was written for Anystreet

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