posted by Florida Wayne @ 5:06 PM
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You belong here and I hope you participate. You're not the weirdest kid in the classroom -- there's always somebody there who’s thought up something you never even considered. You're here to breathe art.
2 Comments:
At August 31, 2004 at 5:09 PM,
Florida Wayne said…
From all the conversations that I have over-heard as a child, I concluded that I was conceived at Buckroe Beach in one of Mr. Todd’s rental cabins across from the Amusement Park that was torn down in 1986. The carousel was renovated and moved to Old Hampton. I later developed, only to be born at Stuart Circle Hospital during a snow storm on March 11, 1949. My mother cried when she saw me, for she said that I was such an ugly baby. She accused the hospital of losing her baby, long before hospitals did that sort of thing. The evidence was clear to her. I had red hair, squinty eyes, and my hospital bracelet indicated a “Baby Barker”, therefore, this was not her baby.She took me home as much like one would take home a “loaner car”, only to be assured, much to her chagrin, by the hospital that I was indeed the fruit of Mildred and Ralph. DNA testing had not been discovered at that time; she would have used to technology to prove the case.
Most of my early childhood development and morals I owe to Gene Autry and Roy Rogers – you know – always carry a hand gun, shoot when shot at – try to just wing ‘um in the shoulder or wrist or try to get your marksmanship to a level that you can just shoot the revolver clean out of the desperado’s hand. Don’t trust anyone with a black hat or a derringer, always serenade beautiful senoritas, take good care of your horse and dog, Indians aren’t always bad, never take the stage coach (it’s always going to get robbed), be nice to the bartenders – you can always get lot’s of information from them, and always bet the ranch if a Chinaman is in the game ( they are always good luck), never cut a Chinaman’s pigtail off! And shoot first and ask questions later if 3 or more hombres approach you in the street at high noon. This code of the “Old West” has gotten me where I am today.
Vocations that I have attempted include: newspaper delivery boy, pyrotechnic engineer, public school art teacher-elementary/high school, gasoline pump mechanic, carpenter, underwater photographer, still photographer, camera man for national fishing show, graphic designer, graphic artist, computer graphic designer, computer graphic artist, college professor, cook, bartender, caterer, ad agency creative director, tropical fish collector for aquarium store, ad agency art director, house painter, producer of television commercials, producer of radio commercials, fine arts artist – painter, sculptor, potter, printmaker, and presently, 3D-modeler/animator and adjunct art history professor.
At February 5, 2007 at 9:28 AM,
Florida Susan said…
It's been a few years - but, the quest for intesting people to post a comment about the quest for human expression still facinates me. Post your artistic experiences/art exhibits/performing arts/ whatever.
We are all a part of the maze.
m.Boulanger
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