No one is exempt from talking nonsense. The great misfortune is to do it solemnly.

I'm thinking that this one would be good on the inside slip of Ezra's debut LP. It's such a shame vinyl has been technological superseded, as its sheer size offered a host of possibilities for artistic expression.

Comments

Jackie said…

I thought that was Henry when I saw it in my feed reader. I don't usually see the likeness (as they're both their own men, of course), but he really does have more than a touch of the Henry about him in this one. A fantastic portrait.

9 October 2009 at 20:47

yamini said…

I like the look in his eye and the bottom four teeth. Lovely portrait Kris and yes, it should be on the inside cover of his first LP. My vote is already with you. :-))

9 October 2009 at 20:56

Sue said…

'Ear, 'ear!!!

10 October 2009 at 11:21

Kris McCracken said…

Jackie, Henry was convinced that it was Henry as well.

13 October 2009 at 10:15

Kris McCracken said…

Yamini, we just need to record it now.

13 October 2009 at 10:15

Kris McCracken said…

Sue, people say that Van Gogh cut off his ear, but it was only a bit of the lobe.

13 October 2009 at 10:16

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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