Sons of Turner Salon

Hey everyone. I am hosting what I hope will be the first of many of us all meeting up and getting to know each other better.

The details:

Saturday. April 30th ~6pm

at 49 W. Bryn Mawr Ave.

Roselle, IL 60172

It'll be a potluck sort of thing so please bring some food or drink (b.y.o.b.).

All are welcome, hope to see you there!

Define yourselves

Every time it rains, my mind gets lost very easily, and even at nearly 11pm, my lack of sleep is making me really contemplate some things.

I guess I've thought of these things before, but now they strike me the most, on muggy nights that make me miss Savannah. What does it take to be one of the Sons of Turner? What does it MEAN to be one? I always have that slight fear of people not really liking me or valuing what I have to say when an opinion is requested, and perhaps it's nonsensical paranoia, but I occasionally have this feeling in my gut that questions just why I am a Son of Turner. It's not at all that I mind being one. But I do feel as though our purpose is not really certain sometimes. Is it meant to be a community built around deeply seeded discussions? Is it simply for the love of art and travel? Are we meant to be closer to one another than we have settled to be, or is everyone just too shy, like I am, to ask?

Well, it's late enough at night that I can set aside just a little cowardice and ask these things. Maybe there's something I'm missing that everyone else understands about the Sons of Turner, and if such is the case, I can't wait to find out what that is. If not, the summary of this is that I want to know you all better. I want to have fueled discussions about art and life and the thick relation between the two. I want to meet for coffee and have sketching nights, travel the states, even the closer ones, just for the sake of finding an adventure with people that I am close with, who find common ground with me. I hesitate to say 'travel the world' only because budget is a difficult thing to plan in the first place. I know this firsthand; I'm unable to make the Maine trip and it's literally put me to tears a few times.

I want these experiences, I want the understanding and most of all, I want to feel like I'm a part of this thing, this group, that is so diverse and intellectual and valuable, only perhaps timid like I am when it comes to this comprehensive part.

-Dani

Busy week

This has been one of the busiest weeks since forever ago.
Put up the fine art show at school (that was emotionally AND physically tiring), taught three classes a day (kind of, when I wasnt in the gallery) including four days of three minute gestures, finished and framed this big commission for a client at 2.30 in the morning on the day of the hand-in http://mbkstudios.blogspot.com/
(for a while I thought I was going to miss my deadline for the first time in 21 years), arranged flights to Maine, met with a contractor about external works at the studio, paid my sales taxes for the end of 2010, wrote a pr piece for the East Pilsen Business Alliance, designed and submitted a half page ad for my studio,
hurriedly built a new website to itemise all works available in the studio,
http://web.me.com/mbkri/mbkstudios/In_the_Studio.html
talked with Caleb, then Tom, Rich and Duncan about an exhibition in the fall for the Hollow project, developed a brief for a competition for the school library, negotiated rehearsal space in my building for a theatre group and agreed to curate an exhibition for them, AND tried to be a husband and father to the boys.

Today I started the first of three paintings of Boston architecture that I have to submit on Wednesday.
This has been an unusually busy week and I cant say that I've done everything very well.

Fallen Leaves

Since MBK said there hasn't been many paintings posted as of late, I decided to post one.
While in Savannah, I took some photos of scattered leaves while I was watching the birds pick away at them.
I'm not sure if I'm done with it, still working out this whole oil painting thing.

Know Your Harbingers of Impending Doom: Boobies

Boobies.

Not the sea bird primarily found near warm waters - the fatty deposits that grace the chests of mature human females. Jugs. Melons. And while it's hard to imagine anything bad coming from something so good, there's an unfortunate horror movie phenomenon, Titsonics, that turns boobies into bouncy death traps.

In the Terrorverse, young women's breasts emit a high frequency sound (measured in mammahertz) that only horror movie villains can hear. The sound attracts them - not because they want a peek, but because they know that naked breasts indicate the presence of at least one highly distracted or highly vulnerable victim. The bigger the boobies, the louder the noise. And when those boobies are squeezed (say, by the fumbling hands of a young male), they get louder still.

Therefore, the only safe boobies are untouched, well covered boobies. and well covered means buried beneath enough clothing to muffle their sound (i.e., no tank tops). In fact, the ideal outfit for a young woman would be a parka over a ski jacket, over two sweatshirts, over two bras - with the nipples duct taped for good measure. But take heart, ladies. The moment you hit 23 your Titsonic profile becomes drastically lower. And once you have a kid, it disappears forever.

That covers it (haha) for Boobies. Tune in next week for: Know your Impending Harbingers of Doom: Visable Breath.

Who ARE you People?

so I'm wondering to what extent does your work reflect your generation, its values, its struggles, its perceptions? Tough question, because for some of you there may not yet be enough work that you had the freedom to direct yet, but even school projects are opportunities for your values to be expressed.

In other words, how and why is your work of today, how was work differently fuelled in the 80's or the 50's or the 1850's. Who ARE you people?

Maine Prep 101: Know Your Harbingers of Impending Doom

Hi everyone, Caleb here!

In prep for our journey to Maine, I thought I'd offer you a few more doses of survival training via the How To Survive a Horror Movie book. Today's lesson is all about light.

In the Terrorverse (where Maine happens to exist....), light is usually your friend. It cuts through the menacing night, chases away shadows where creatures lurk and blinds night-vision equipped serial killers. But there are times when light is the last thing you want to see. Especially when it's coming from somewhere (or something) it shouldn't.

ANYTHING THAT ISN'T A BULB OR FLAME: There are some things - wood, metal, briefcases, stone - that aren't supposed to give off light. If they do, don't stare in slack-jawed fascination. Run.

KEYHOLES:If there's a powerful beam of light shooting through a keyhole, you can bet there's something very, very nasty on the other side of the door.

EYES: Light only radiates from the pupils of evil creatures, and it usually signals an imminent attack.

MOUTHS: If light is pouring from your mouth, you're about to be torn to shreds from the inside out and transported to another dimension - probably a bad one.

NOWHERE: The worst place light can come from is nowhere. Only the most powerful creatures are capable of self-illumination - namely demons and false gods. For dramatic effect, they'll backlight themselves to constantly appear in silhouette.

Well, that does it on light. Tune in next week for our next chapter of Know Your Harbingers of Impending Doom: Boobies.