Coleman Lighthouse

A still humid morning the train blows.

Rail splitter just sad and blue, work two shifts a day till your hands bleed through--Ride the line through that desert night--it's cold as hell and you lost your wife.

So back and forth we plow these pines--Done stripped the forest and cleared the way for the 9 line.  We split those pines into oily bones that the tracks lay down on to take you back home. Those steel rails take you home - 'cept somewhere deep down you be knowin' you follow them with some hope of finding love and you just come home to more work and a bed damn cold.  Just bare down the railroad life - it's ash and struggle and biscuits with strife.  Every now and again them tracks take you back to that sunny warm place with a little somethin' in your knapsack. 

This morning as the train pulled in I met Coleman Lighthouse and shared him some gin.  We walked up the street and turned back to my shack where I cooked up some grits and a little pork back.  Coleman talked and told me his tale of losing his women to his life on the rail.  I so graciuosly painted while he ate his fill and we walked on back-wave so long-parting ways at the tracks.  This cherished piece painted in oil on a 16x24 inch masonite panel.

Lola DuPrix

On a lovely lonely day in train town I work.

Sitting with Miss Lola DuPrix it's hard to tell how I ever find me. Getting lost in dark eyes so blue - Love struck & heart broke as the browns shine through. Her twinkling smile and winking lash, still seriousness in spite of subtle sweet slyness- can't never really hide god's sexy alluding shy side. 

Miss Lola loves and relics the simple hobo story - a quick sashay hands running through hair runs off fast when you engage in a stare.  Take her out and treat her nice, she'll drop you off without thinkin' twice.  Don't be fooled and think you on the know, 'cause Miss Lola DuPrix runs the whole damn show.

And with that little diddy we had a fine time and got to know each other and layed it on the line. And Miss Lola stayed as long as she felt we got to accept the cards that we both been dealt. Oh my fine Miss Lola Duprix - your perfume lingers - I crack my fingers - smile and thank you for giving me more then just your company.  This portrait painted in oil on 16x24 inch masonite on my studio floor that alone time night.

Gatsby Randolf

The sun is setting.

And in the early evening the clinking and joke telling fills the room where Gasby Randolf bootlegs his tales real soon. Amazing wealth and New York sails, he'll take you wherever the wind blows and bails. He charms and laughs and smiles at the world with his eyes set on you, and you feel you're the only one to who he's been true. We soak it up and hold onto Gatsby Randolf and his Django gypsy blues, spinning out the night where the trains roll through. His girl Lola swirls and shakes those hips while we all look at her and lick our lips.

On this sweet occaision of company and extravagance, me and beautiful Lola painted as I flew by the seat of my pants. We captured Gatsby on a piece of 16 x 24 inch masonite in buttery oil on that lovely melodic quaint festive night.

Egon's Debut

Good evening.

In the quarters of the Spanish flat plays the muses where Egon sat.  On certain evenings on the marina boulevard the muses move to the smoke filled beat - rainy stars shine iris and wine - and silly  happy Egon takes his red seat.  The Russian's and Blonds and Carmel ales flow through the night where the women sail.  Down the shiny streets you can see them dance and back at the studio golden honey flows.  Egon comes and takes a bow and entertains the muses and wakes up with a smile.

And in somewhere between now and then I was able to catch with mischievous pen, a character flushing with flash chagrin and lovingly painted in mirth and whim.  This done in oil on a 16 x 24 inch piece of masonite.  

Savannah Jackson

Cool Tuesday in the hot sun hello.

I had to sneak around the early morning train station digs to check out this cat stealing tags, all I knew is the tricks I carried in my little bag and knew this too be true......

I live uptown, I live downtown, I live all around.  I had money, I had none, I had money, I had none, But I never been so broke that I couldn't leave town.  I'm a changeling, see me change, I'm a changeling, see me change, I'm the air you breathe, the food you eat, friends you greet, In the swarming street. See me change, see me change.  I live uptown, I live downtown, I live all around. I had money, yeah, I had none, I had money, yeah, I had none, But I never been so broke that I couldn't leave town.  Well, I'm the air you breath, the food you eat, friends you great, on the swarming street. You gotta see me change, see me change.  Yeah, I'm leaving town, on a midnight train, gonna see me change.  Change, change, change, change, change, change, change, change, change, Whoa, change, change, change.

And the doors swung open and the box car lurched, me and sly Savannah Jackson rushed off to church.  We met Jesus and Moses, and beautiful Eve and wore our hearts on our fancy sleeve.

I worked that day on this piece and finished it today.  It is oil on masonite and measures 16x24 inches.  It now resides in the private collection of Miss D.A. Vergara.

The Harp Player

A quiet cool afternoon.

Under the shadow of the bridge you can hear the sweet sadness of his harmonica jig - rolling and winding its own little way down these greasy piers where oil slicks lay - from the working old boats looks just fine, it's a certain something you know in your heart come from work and soul and grime.  In this old town you can't have the love song without the dirt and the soot and the time, and baby you know as well as me you don't get the blues from nothin' that aint never hurt.

This is what I remember of the song as the harp player played away that day, the pier swayed, we laughed - danced - and passed the jug around and on that pretty day we had it made.

This piece measures 16x24 inches and is painted with oil on a masonite panel. 

North Beach Blue

A foggy day in the shipyard my friend.

This cat was strolling down the beat up old back streets in North Beach.  The hat caught my eye as he turned the corner and disappeared into the saloon, one of the oldest bars in San Francisco.  You can go in there any day and sit and drink with all the old ghosts, Kerouac frequents there and one fine sunny afternoon sat down and shared a few with me and a beautiful black haired beauty.  

I followed Blue Hat into the saloon and soon found myself engaged and laughing and good cold beer, having a good old time listening to a three piece blues band and chatting it up with this fantastically entertaining gent in the blue hat.  We shared stories of bar room 'capades, loosing the best women and dealing dirty spades.

He graciously let me wear his hat while I painted the day away in oil on a 12x19 smooth wood panel.