Category Archives: Paul

No Context For You – July 20th

Some things look so complex but really can be so simple – if you know the key to cutting through the Gordian knot. I don’t know if I do, but I might be getting closer. Maybe.

I might be making it harder than it really is.

I might be grasping at straws in a desperate attempt to delude myself.

It might be none of these.

It might be all of these.

Time will tell. Time has a way of doing that.

Even doing nothing and cowering in fear of failure, time will rat your ass out and expose you. So you might as well give it a try, right?

What could possibly go wrong?

The answers to that stretch on into infinity – and we know it.

But – what could possibly go right?

If we could just focus on that a little bit more…

Leave a comment

Filed under Paul, Photography

Sticks – (Kapitel Zwei)

I’m surprised that I haven’t shared this story before. It seems that I at least mentioned it back in June 2017, but only as a tease that never got followed up on. At least, until last night.

The UC Irvine art classes. How did a physics major end up in the wackadoodle UCI performance art classes? And how did he survive?

First of all, what do I mean by “wackadoodle”? From Day One I was told about a guy who was a legend there, a guy who, for his master’s thesis, locked himself naked in a locker out in the middle of the campus for days, counting on the kindness or strangers passing by to give him food and water. As a topper to that, for his PhD thesis he did a performance which ended (as planned, it was part of the piece) with someone (a marksman?) shooting him in the arm with a .22 caliber rifle.

It was “art.”

(As a side note, I wondered for years if the legend had grown over time with repeated tellings and associated embellishments. Then I saw this article in May 2015 about Chris Burden, UC Irvine class of 1971, who had just passed away. The masters thesis was called “Five Day Locker,” the locker was two feet by two feet by three feet and is still there today. The piece where he was shot was called “Shoot” and was done in 1971 – no word on if it was a PhD piece, but it was done. Beyond that, I learned that he’s the artist who later did the “Urban Light” exhibit at LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art) which I’ve so, so, so much wanted to see for years. Now I’ll have to make it a priority.)

Back to our physics major. What happens when we go from “read chapter five and do problems five through twenty” to “take sticks and strings – make art?”

It’s entirely possible that a cranial short-circuit will happen and green brain goo will start to run out of one ear while wisps of smoke start to come out of the other.

It was touch and go for a while, believe me.

Then something amazing happened. The physics major found a different way to think, a different way to look at problems. There was a whole new world out there! All problems weren’t all right or wrong, true or false, black or white. There was a spectrum there, a rainbow. (Isn’t a spectrum a physics thing as well, come to think of it?) If I were able to toss my preconceptions and expectations just allow my less analytical side to play, interesting things could happen.


The other project I remember vividly was in spring quarter. “Take 100 or more identical objects – make art.” Physics Paul would have imploded. Art Paul said, “Cool!”

At the time I was working my way through college by working for Marriott, back in the kitchen in purchasing and room service. In an industrial kitchen you buy LOTS of food and staples in “number 10″ sized cans. Most of them come with plastic lids about 8” across, sort of like the lids you get on butter containers or cheap, imitation Tupperware. I started gathering them instead of throwing them out and quickly had more than a hundred. Some were already colored or white with food logos on them but many were clear. I took them and spray painted them different colors.

UCI didn’t have a football team, but they already had a great stadium. I took the class out on a sunny morning and sat them in the stands, while I went out to mid-field with a classmate. I put a stick in the ground to hold on to (hey, guess where I got that stick??!!), blindfolded myself, and grabbed onto the stick with my left hand. My classmate then started handing the lids to me one at a time, I walked in a circle while holding onto the stick, and flung the lids like Frisbees all over the field, at random, blindfolded. When I was done, they made a nice, pretty, random colored, and randomly scattered array across the green grass.

Art!! (Jerry loved it.)


Did I get my breadth requirement fulfilled with my art classes? Yes, that and more.

I ended up taking all three quarters of “Art 101” and I got straight A’s. Which really, really pissed off a lot of the art majors who desperately needed a good grade in this class in order to succeed in their chosen major. They were so, so earnest and trying so, so hard and getting so-so grades, while I had nothing to lose, didn’t really care, just did whatever fun shit came to mind, and got A’s. (There might have been a lesson in there for them, but it wasn’t for me to teach it to them.)

When I got to my senior year at UCI I only needed a couple of physics and math classes to graduate so I had plenty of open space in my schedule for the year. I seriously thought about trying for a double major, in both physics and art. A couple of “real” art classes (painting and drawing) convinced me that there might also be a certain level of artistic talent necessary for that plan which I wasn’t in possession of. I had fun in the “Drawing the Human Figure & Anatomy” classes, but the teachers there were more concerned with actually being able to make a recognizable human than being enthusiastically goofy.

However, on the other side of campus (literally), many’s the time, particularly on tests and finals, when that Art 101 mindset proved useful. As much as they might want you to learn HOW to do some problem or calculation in the homework, when it comes time to the finals they love to start throwing curve balls to see if you can apply what you’ve learned to problem solve instead of simply regurgitating it by rote. Being able to flip that switch in your head over to “art mode” momentarily to look at a problem often showed me the way when I was stuck.

Sometimes today I can still do it. When I remember to. It’s like a muscle that needs periodic exercise to stay strong.

I found that, similar to what I’ve heard about improv comedy, the biggest obstacle people have in “making art” like this is the fear of failure, the fear of being embarrassed, the fear of looking stupid. I understand. There are times that I’m drowning in those feelings and those exact thoughts.

When you’re drowning there, here’s your life preserver – “Make Art.”

Once you figure out what that means and how to flip that switch (and having no fucks to give on whether or not you fail or are embarrassed or look stupid) it’s amazing what you can get done.


Postscript – While proofreading I was curious and went looking for more on the Chris Burden “Shoot” piece.

Oh. My. God!! Watch this 5-minute documentary (including the shooting!) done by the New York Times in 2015 after Burden’s death!!! Amazing!!

2 Comments

Filed under Art, Paul

What I Left Behind – Sticks

No pictures for this one – I remember it was dark, reasonably early in the process, before the truly major panic mode set in, when I still thought that I had time to sort and save instead of cull and trash. This was one of the moments when I realized that I didn’t.

Out on the back porch, which had become something of a dumping ground for yard equipment and old pet stuff and a couple of dead barbecues and so on, I found a dozen or so wooden dowels. They were all 36″ long, about 1″ in diameter (maybe only 3/4″), all dirty, all very old. Replacing them if I needed to would probably cost me $1 each at Home Depot.

Wooden. Dowels.

One might think that they were there as debris, their origination and original purpose forgotten. How insignificant they were, how worn, how used, how old! Just some crap that for whatever reason I hadn’t bothered to throw out years ago, right?

One couldn’t be more wrong.

When I was an undergraduate studying physics at UC Irvine in 1977 or 1978 I had to take some “breadth” requirement classes. History. Art. Economics. English. Literature. Something other than math and physics and computer programming. I picked art.

Art 101 A-B-C at UC Irvine was not your typical class. UCI was (and still is) world renowned for modern art, avante garde art, performance art. I was expecting painting, drawing, sculpture, photography, that sort of thing. I got performance art (and a little bit of painting, drawing, sculpture, etc).

At the first session of class I got the usual information about how the class would be run. We would meet three days a week and do various things in class, while we would also have a weekly project to work on by ourselves outside of class. The first week’s project – “Take sticks and strings – make art.”

Let us pause to look at our 21 year old physics major who is expecting and used to assignments such as, “Read Chapter Five and do problems 10 through 25.” There’s some confusion, some ambiguity, some anxiety here.

WTF does “take sticks and strings – make art” mean??!!

I couldn’t get an answer to save my life. The teacher, Jerry Green, looked like he was ready to bust out laughing in my face the more I protested and asked questions and tried to pin him down. “Take sticks and strings – make art.” That was it. It was all in there. Figure it out.

The most I got from him was “something between toothpicks and telephone poles, thread and the ropes they use to tie a supertanker to the docs – make art.”

That wasn’t helpful.

In desperation, the day before it was due, I went to the hardware store (I don’t even remember if there were Home Depot stores that far back) and got about two dozen 36″ wooden dowels and a big ball of heavy-duty twine. I went early to the art department campus and outside of the classroom I started tying knots on a light pole there, then suspending the sticks. Sort of like a big spider web, almost random, not real stable, not really blowing in the breeze, some of the sticks tied together so that they made a bit of a 3-D form around the light pole.

It was a “thing.” It mean nothing, there was no symbolism, it was just a stupid thing that I did out of desperation and panic to fit the instructions I had been given. I hated it. I hated the class.

Jerry loved it.

It’s late, I’ll talk more about the art class tomorrow. But those sticks that I found in my back yard two months ago? The ones that were filthy because they’d been used to hold up plants and muck out drains and all sorts of dirty, disposable jobs over the intervening 40 years or so?

Those were the dowels I had bought for that class.

One by one I snapped them in half. It wasn’t hard, most were already rotted through or cracked. I tossed them into the trash and moved on. It didn’t take five minutes.

That’s one of the things I left behind in this move.

A dozen or so 36″ wooden dowels.

1 Comment

Filed under Castle Willett, Paul

What I Left Behind – Kids’ Toys

Two days ago I started to talk about how the heavy-duty emotional baggage of the recent move wasn’t in the house, as I had expected, but in many of the items that I found myself throwing away as I was forced to get brutal about what to keep and what to toss.

Another example was the kids’ toys.

There were a lot of decapitated dolls, broken trucks, and miscellaneous games pieces and bits with no indication that there was actually an entire game anywhere in sight. All of that got tossed immediately.

There were many children’s books, some of which got saved, most of which were in various stages of tatters and disintegration. The hardest to dump were some that I remember fondly but had gotten wet or moldy or someplace in the garage where critters used them for nesting material.

There were plenty of toddler and infant toys that were in perfectly good working order, but I couldn’t find any place that would take them for donations. Those plastic balls with the different shaped holes that you put the different shaped blocks in? No takers. The toy cash register? Nope. The wooden rack with the rows of spinning wooden tiles with pictures on them? Ditto.

Things like the wooden blocks had long since been relegated to “stuff for the grand kids (someday)” or “substitute doorstop” status. The nice four piece Christmas train still rolled along just fine, but there was no place for it to go except the trash bin.

I remember getting these cardboard blocks when the kids were all very small in a Christmas where the budget was tight. I ordered them online and they were delivered about two days before Christmas. I didn’t realize they had to be assembled – each one had to be punched out of the big cardboard sheet and then folded like a giant piece of origami. It took six or seven minutes to assemble each block and I had ordered the BIG package of something like 100+ blocks. You do the math. I was up until about 5:00 AM putting them all together and then getting rid of all of the evidence of assembly.

On the other hand, we used the crap out of those blocks, as you can see. Forts were made, walls were designed for destruction, supports were made for bridges of Hot Wheel tracks…

And in a house half the size of our old one, the kids all long grown and gone, the deadline from Hell looming to get out of the house…

If and when any grand kids show up, maybe I’ll order some new ones and stay up all night assembling them for the next generation.

1 Comment

Filed under Castle Willett, Paul, Photography

What I Left Behind – Darkroom

Back in the early part of the year when I first faced the very real prospect of having to move out of the house I had lived in for over 27 years, I thought that I would have some serious emotional attachments to deal with in leaving the house. In reality, by the time that I had worked eighteen and twenty hour days for weeks to get packed and moved out, and given the buyer’s known plans to gut and completely rebuild the place, I was so over that house at the end that I could not possibly have cared less.

On the other hand…

The biggest challenge was the literally tons of stuff that had been accumulated. At first I tried to organize and sort and catalog, but it wasn’t long into the process before it became a matter of survival. Everything I touched had four possible fates with little time to think about the judgement:

  1. Move to the new house
  2. Move to storage
  3. Donate
  4. Trash

There was no fifth option.

Option #4 got way, WAY more use than I thought it would. I became more ruthless than I have ever been in my life about letting go of material things and either offering them up for donation/recycling or just trashing them.

Now that we’re a few weeks down the road from that deadline, starting to settle into a normal routine, and I’m going back through the pictures I took to document the whole process (you’ve heard it here before – I take LOTS of pictures!), I’m finding that THIS is where the emotional attachment issues are.

For example…

I started learning to develop film and print my own photos in the darkroom when I was in high school, nearly fifty years ago. At that point I was a dead broke high school student with nothing but the income from a couple of paper routes, so equipment was hard to come by. But once I got into college, had a job, and had some discretionary income to use, some mid-grade darkroom equipment got bought.

Needless to say, it hasn’t been used in decades with the advent of digital photography. I never had a really good enlarger, so the cheap enlarger I had went into the trash, broken, years ago. But all of the other stuff was halfway decent quality, and it stayed in boxes. “One of these days…” was my mantra.

But in this moving and donating and trashing frenzy, my brain finally pushed to the point where it was capable of making the tough decisions, the darkroom equipment all went into the trash. The little light-tight canisters for developing film. The boxes of photo paper (which no doubt had become useless years ago just through exposure to heat and time). The frames used to make nice borders on 8×10, 4×5, and wallet sized photos. The frame for holding negatives and making proof sheets. The trays for holding the developer, stop bath, and fixer as I made prints. The boxes of cloth gloves and sleeves for holding negatives.

All tossed ignominiously into the dumpster, with only a moment to spare for a single photo because I knew, despite my exhaustion, that there was something being left behind.

Leave a comment

Filed under Castle Willett, Paul, Photography

Trick Question

It’s been suggested that I might need to make a slight alteration to my diet in order to make sure that I’m getting sufficient iron intake. Okay, I did some research, it makes sense. So what do I eat to increase my iron intake?

Let me summarize:

Image: from some really gross website talking about how liver is some sort of “superfood”

I could eat about 8 oz of liver every day. Apparently it’s chock FULL of iron.

Or…

Image: Amazon

I could eat two bags of this every day.

This must be some sort of sick and twisted trick question. I don’t get it.

To be healthier, would I like to eat liver every day or eat two bags of dark chocolate every day?

There’s got to be a catch, but for the life of me I can’t see it. The percentages of the daily recommended dose of iron add up just the same.

YOU CAN’T ARGUE WITH MATH!!

If you need me, I’ll be over here elevating my iron levels (and probably my blood glucose levels) into the stratosphere.

6 Comments

Filed under Health, Paul

That Feeling When – June 16th

That feeling when you’re thinking about the last straw again, the one that will break the proverbial camel’s back and you’re really hating that you’re the proverbial camel and you’re not sure how you got the gig or how much notice you need to give to resign and will you get any severance, but seriously you can’t figure if that last straw is going to be a steel beam falling from low Earth orbit or just feel that way despite only being a feather-weight and otherwise totally inconsequential thing and of course it’s going to be the latter since that’s the whole point of the figure of speech and wondering if the stupid thing you did tonight because you’re too fucking tired to see straight is going to be *IT* or just another wasted hour tomorrow to fix and you could fix it tonight if you really, really wanted to be an A-type but if you’re too tired to do things right it’s probably an even more stupid thing to try to fix it without getting some sleep so maybe you’ll just leave this here as a reminder and instead listen to some depressing and melancholy music for a while before drifting off in exhaustion and desperation…

Or I could just stay up another hour or so and start watching World Cup games. Who’s on first, Costa Rica and Serbia?

2 Comments

Filed under Deep Thoughts, Paul

Driving Lady Lilli

It’s always nice to see family – it’s especially nice when said family has a gorgeous old Model A that they let me drive!

(Photo by Melanie Kordis)

My dad had a 1929 Model A – this is (I think) a 1931 Deluxe Model A. The long-suffering-sister-in-law was kind enough to let me take it out for a while with her and she didn’t have a nervous breakdown or raise her voice or nothing!

(Photo by Melanie Kordis)

She did at one point very calmly and politely point out that we were passing the local courthouse and that coincidentally this is where the local speed limit was 25 mph and she had managed to not yet ever get a speeding ticket there despite the fact that it was heavily enforced… It seemed an odd point at first, but then again, I’ve often been accused of being a slow learner. (I slowed down, we did not get a ticket.)

Driving the Model A requires a delicate touch, even for those who are used to driving a stick shift. After doing my best to take 20,000 miles off the life of the transmission, I was catching on much better at the end. It was fun!

Thanks, Melanie!!

2 Comments

Filed under Family, Paul, Photography, Travel

That Feeling When – May 19th

That feeling when all you want to do is get some sleep, a lot of sleep, get caught up on sleep without being woken up by stress dreams or fever dreams or a full bladder or leg cramps (most of all by leg cramps!) and when you wake up you want it to all be better so that tomorrow (as being defined as “what happens when I wake up”) is missing all of the really shitty things from today but keeps all of the really good ones.

Not sure you can get there from here.

The only way out is through. Sleep deprived or not.

Leave a comment

Filed under Deep Thoughts, Music, Paul

That Feeling When – May 07th

That feeling when it seems you’ve been beaten heavily about the head and shoulders for weeks and except for being in ICU or prison or the morgue it’s not clear what else can go wrong or add more stress and you’re about to give in and go with “barely good enough” because it’s all that’s available and even that’s iffy but it’s all you’ve got left and “Plan D” is a HUGE freakin’ leap that’s sort of a last resort but at least you have that option when all of a sudden with no warning there’s an opportunity that’s like a bolt of lightning and while you really don’t dare to hope because you’ve gotten your spirits crushed repeatedly you want to hope and you need to hope and when things actually fall into place and this huge weight is being lifted you’re horrified to find that almost all you can think of is a nightmare “what if” scenario where all of this good stuff is just a trap that will temporarily put you on a pedestal so that the upcoming fall will be that much harder and you want to tell your brain to STFU but you can’t quite get past that as fast as things got better for no damn good reason other than blind luck they can get horrible again just as fast.

“Adulting” is sucking it up and going ahead full speed with the good things, despite knowing that those bad things might still be lurking.

Did you see “Arrival” a couple years ago? The big reveal at the end left me a weeping puddle. This is why.

We go on, despite our fears. Maybe some day we’ll even be able to let go of some of the fear.

1 Comment

Filed under Deep Thoughts, Music, Paul