Latest Posts by patrickelvinart - Page 8

My son drawing in his moleskine. 2024

I have two young kids and both of them love to draw.

That, my friends, gives me quite a tickle.

My son drives his teachers nuts. He never pays attention in class they tell me. He spends all his class time doodling like I'm supposed to get upset about that.

When he comes home his book bag is filled with drawings. He loves showing them to me.

My son's doodles 2024

As a responsible parent I suppose I should be concerned about this but... what can I say.

My daughter, on the other hand, is more of the studious type. She doesn't doodle during class. But at home, she loves to draw and paint.

My daughter drawing in her moleskin. 2024

She usually has a bit of Jackson Pollack style to her art, but this time she added an ice cream cone.

A girl and her moleskine

Life is amazing.

MY life is amazing.

I'm so blessed.

A blue, so long ago

colored pencil and black sharpie

Calbayog City 2024

The Philippine Sea is a deep almost violet blue.

It came to me in a dream once.

And now I'm here.

But I'm not there.

And isn't that where I've always been?

This drawing is pretty much done, but it's not done.

In any case, I've moved on to the next piece.

Write that on my tombstone.

Samar, Philippines 2024

Akae Beka - The Earth is the Lord

Midnite - Envision

Life is so beautiful. And so amazing.

New Mexico

red and black sharpie

Somewhere in New Mexico 2010

In 2010 I moved from Miami Florida to Los Angeles California. It was a great trip. I packed all my stuff in my Honda and took two months off to drive across the country.

I wound up spending most of my time camping out in the mountains of New Mexico. I was traveling by mysef and let me tell you, sleeping alone in the pitch black darkness of the New Mexican wilderness was creepy..

I remember one day I decided to go for a hike. I walked up a mountain trail following a small creek into the wilderness. After I had wandered for a few miles I found, growing by the water, a wild cherry tree covered with cherries. The cherries were ripe and almost black and so sweet.

So I sat down by the creek and made a lunch of wild cherries and cool mountain stream water. In the middle of the wilderness. No one there except for me and God.

Me, somewhere in Nevada. 2010

During my trip I drew in my moleskine a lot. It was during that trip that I hit upon drawing with red and black sharpies. The above drawing is from my moleskine. I was feeling deep into the colors and imagery of the American Southwest.

Some where in New Mexico, 2010

I've returned to this motif several times since then. Here is one I did around 2016.

Arizona

red and black sharpie on manila paper

Los Angeles 2016

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T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo - Nougbo Vehou

This really blows me away. Going back I'm finding that I like my colored pieces better in black & white than in the original color. SMH

This really bothers me.

Next day...

It's not that I don't like the drawing's color. It's more that the drawing becomes lost in the colors and it becomes flat

Back when I did this drawing I wanted my drawings to have no there there. Nothing to suggest a shape other than the image in its entirely.

But now looking at it I want something to define something.

I'm going to do another one of these to show you what I mean.

Kind of Pink

Colored pencil

Los Angeles 2015

This morning eternity called.

This morning eternity called.

She is waiting for an answer. 

I have her on hold.

“Cole, they’re here!” My wife called to me.

I stepped outside the house and saw Ramil pull up in his center car.  I knew the pig would be in the back where the passengers usually sit.  Ramil pulled up alongside of me and we gave each other our warm wordless greetings.

I walked over to the back of the center car and looked in.  There on the floor lying quietly on its side was an adult pig.  All four of its legs were firmly bound with twine.  I looked at the pig’s face.  It was calm.  Its eye stared up at nothing.  I could see it was breathing but nothing else.

Up front on either side of Ramil were two of his kids, Marisol and Ramil Jr.  They both looked back at me, eyes wide with excitement, and then they looked down at the pig. 

About then Datu pulled up on his motorcycle and motioned for me to hop on. 

“Let’s go.”  He said with an easy grin.

I hopped on the back of the bike and we all sped off into the Filipino night.

Is “perfectly good” any more perfect than “perfectly bad?”

I suppose that is a legitimate philosophical question and I presume the answer is “no” but I still find it unsettling.  Of course, that’s just the human in me.  Always wishing for things to be good.  Or at least for things to make sense.

Calbayog City at night is exquisitely chaotic.  The dimly lit streets are alive and jammed with motorcycles, tricycles and hordes of people all crossing the street at once.  And noise.  Motorcycle engines, blaring horns, music blasting.  The smells of cooking street food mixed with smoke.  Datu’s motorcycle followed closely behind Ramil’s center car with me holding on for dear life.

We came to a stop at an intersection and waited while a sea of humanity swarmed around us. A young street kid came up to me and motioned hand to mouth with pleading eyes.

And we sped off..

Shortly we pulled off the main stretch and turned down a narrow back street.  Halfway down the narrow street the center car turned into an even narrower alley, and we followed.  Tall dark buildings loomed on either side us.  A few windows were lit in yellow light.  Presently the alley opened up into a driveway and we pulled in.

I got off the motorcycle and went over to see how the pig was holding up.  The kids got out as well and presently a few other people were there milling around speaking Tagalog.  I looked down at the pig.  It was breathing heavy and the whites of its eye showed as it looked back at me.

Suddenly the pig tried to run. It thrashed around furiously trying to gallop with its legs bound, squealing loudly.  The pig’s outburst made the kids laugh.  After a moment the pig quieted down.  It lay motionless again with heavy breathing.  And wheezing.

Ramil and Datu came over to the car with a couple of men that I didn’t recognize.  We all gathered around and looked down at the pig.  I noticed that the pig’s underbelly was lined with two rows of large nipples.

“Girl?”  I asked, surprised.

“No, boy.” Someone answered.

“But look.”  I pointed at the nipples in confusion.

“Boy” They all assured me.

“Transgender.”  I joked and everyone laughed.

Except for the pig.

Is “perfectly good” any more perfect than “perfectly bad?”

Personally, I’m going to hold off on answering that question. 

I will say this though, if I have learned anything in this life it is that nature is completely indifferent.

I guess that’s also a type of perfect.

The kids moved around to the front of the center car.  I joined them to be out of the way as the men got to work.

Several men reached in and grabbed at the pig.  The pig screamed and twisted its head around violently as hands grabbed at its legs and tail all pulling hard.  The pig’s mouth opened wide showing teeth, and it tried to bite.

“Watch out for those teeth,” I thought but the men were all laughing in the excitement.

After much pulling and fighting the men had the pig up to the edge of the car and then with a final heave the pig fell unceremoniously to the ground.

Quickly the men unbound the pig’s legs and then they tied a single rope to one of the pig’s front ankles.

The pig stood up with the rope tied to its ankle.  It looked dazed.  The men gathered around the pig talking.

Then one of the men pulled on the rope tied to the pig's front ankle and the pig stumbled forward.

I watched in awe.

The man pulled again, and the pig stumbled forward again.  This time though the pig recoiled and dug in its front legs and began bellowing loudly.

But the pig's resistance was futile.  The man gave another firm pull to the pig’s ankle and again the pig stumble forward.  A few more steps.  Bellowing and squealing as it was grimly led forward.

And I thought about those trucks, all in a line, filled with Polish prisoners.  Traveling slowly through the dark fog, into the Katyn forest.

When the trucks had pulled to a stop the men were led away.  One by one.  Into the forest.  Hands bound behind their backs.  Blind folded.  Some must have resisted.  Some must have yelled.

“Cole.” I looked up.

Datu was motioning for me to come.  The pig was being led down a narrow path between two buildings.

I followed behind and watched the pig as it stumbled forward, slowly making its way through the dark narrow, into a yard, where it met its final master.  A little girl.

The girl looked like she was about ten and she was standing there waiting for the pig.

The man handed the rope off to the little girl and she began leading the pig toward a little metal cage.

The pig saw the cage and would have nothing to do with it.  It turned as if to flee and the little girl hauled off and savagely kicked the pig on its side.

The pig was shocked and momentarily turned back to the cage but then it turned again and tried to flee and the little girl kicked it again.  And then again and again slowly kicking the pig into the little metal cage.

I still have eternity on hold.

I know she’s waiting for me, but I just don’t want to pick up the phone.

Not yet.

I still have some things left over and honestly, I don’t want to take anything with me.

The next day was my daughter’s birthday.

And the pig’s final appearance.

My daughter is three and it was a gala affair with a freshly roasted pig taking center stage.

And folks, it was delicious.  Not gonna lie.  A treat really.  If you ever have a chance to eat freshly roasted lechon do so.  It really is good.  And the skin is crispy.

Like super duper bacon.

…………………………….

Afterword.

Peter, the ancient Chinese told us.  They told us that the only reason why we have beauty is because we have ugly.  Even though it drives us mad, what is, simply is.  And try as we might the best we can do is raise a royal middle finger up to God and scream FUCK YOU!

But we all still love beauty.

Calbayog City 2022

Orchestre Poly-Rythmo

Aluminum can #1

Watercolor and pen

Los Angeles 2016

A friend of mine once told me that she liked Mark Rothko because she liked how he applied paint.

That got me thinking.

What I need, I thought, is a simple image to serve as a vehicle for the application of paint.

With this thought in mind I began painting fantasy aluminum cans.

Some of them turned out very pretty.

Here's another one.

Aluminum can #2

Watercolor and pen

Los Angeles 2016

These days I'm not so ambitious. When I want to apply pigment I just freakin' apply it.

All blue

Colored pencil and alcohol

Calbayog City 2024

A curious snail

watercolor on paper

black and white photo

Los Angeles 2018

It's easy, at least for me, to imagine that snails have characters.

Maybe it's those eyes, poking out on their stocks, looking....

I wonder, do snails dream?

And if so, of what do they dream?

Do snails dream of wet concrete and fresh clover?

Do juvenile snails have wet dreams?

I've never thought of that before but why not?

Little snail nuts messing up the grass where they sleep...

So cute.

watercolor

Los Angeles 2018

Early mornings

black sharpie and water color

Westwood 1986

Let me try to explain myself.

When I was a young man I loved illustration.

Perhaps the two illustrators who had the greatest influence on me were Aubrey Beardsley and Jean Giraud aka Moebius. Both artist drew with a fine line and I tried to emulate that.

Here's an old drawing of mine.

pencil drawing

Venice CA 1978

So back then I saw myself as an illustrator.

Then sometime around 1980 I was introduced to Abstract Expressionism and I had an epiphany...

Could I approach Abstract Expressionism with an illustrator's line?

A new world opened up to me and I started having fun with my drawing.

And then, for about 35 years I never drew an identifiable object.

No joke.

Still Life

black sharpie

Westwood 1985

Attitude Adjustment

pen, colored pencil and watercolor

Duarte CA 1996

Time never began

black sharpie on bond paper

San Francisco 2003

Dan's drawing

black sharpie

Rosemead 2011

i did a lot of these drawings. And I really enjoyed making them. For over thirty years I completely liberated myself from the rigors of drawing something that had to look like something. And I loved it. But then...

Sometime around 2015 I returned to illustration. Why? I'll be honest with you, I started to miss it.

Call it full circle but that's where I'm at now.

I still treasure my line though.

little boxes

black sharpie on paper

Los Angeles 2019

Thank you Aubrey and Jean.

Aubrey Beardsley

Jean Giraud aka Moebius

Pencil drawling

Calbayog City 2023

Dateline: May 12, 2024, Mother's Day.

Today the kids and I fixed mommy breakfast in bed.

With flowers.

Did you know that the egg that went on to become you was waiting inside of your mother's ovary when she was still inside of your grandmother's womb?

Happy Mother's Day

Pencil drawing 2024

Akae Beka - All my life

Leonard Cohen - Mastersong

We have two calamansi trees growing on our balcony. This morning as I write they are covered with fragrant white blossoms. The smell of the citrus perfume takes me back to Southern California and my own springtime.

Age has given me some peace and for that I am grateful. But youth gave me crazy love and for that I sometimes long.

Wine and Bread

Pencil drawing

Calbayog City 2024

So very lonely

Black sharpie on paper

Los Angeles 2016

De Kooning once said, "In order for art to work the finished piece needs to at least look better than the original blank canvas."

I think de Kooning said that.

Maybe I imagined it.

In that case I said it.

I don't know.

The Rolling Stones- 2000 Lightyears from home

Only with spring

Watercolor & coloredpencil

Monrovia 1996

Oh sweet spontaneous earth...

How often have religions taken

thee upon their scraggy knees

squeezing and buffeting thee

that thou mightest conceive

gods.

But true

to the incomparable couch of death

thy rythmic lover

thou answerest them

only with

Spring

e. e. cummings

E. E. Cummings

Who are we? What are we? Why are we?

Pencil drawing after Paul Gauguin

Calbayog City 2024

"Good artists copy. Great artists steal!" - Pablo Picasso

Paul Gauguin was a force of nature. I can spend entire days reading about his life. And his art... I feed off his art.

And being that I am only a good artist I copy his drawings.

Well, now wait a second.. In my defense I don't copy so much as I "interpret."

There's a difference. 🤣

I based the above drawing on this piece by the master.

Mother and Daughter

Paul Gauguin 1891

And...

I got the title for the drawing from Gauguin's imortal questions:

"Where do we come from? Who are we? Where are we going?" - Paul Gauguin

Love you Paul

Time is something

Black sharpie on board

Monrovia 1996

Time is something that happens on the outside but not on the inside. On the inside we are always.. always.

Eternity is not something we earn.

.

Those thoughts followed him

pencil on newsprint

West Los Angeles 1977

In 1977 I was renting an apartment in West Los Angeles with a surfer friend of mine. Every morning we would wake up before dawn and drive up to Malibu to go surfing. When we would get to the beach it was usually still dark but never once did I see the waves empty. No matter how early we got there, there was always somebody already out there in the dark surfing.

Surfers...

I can remember so clearly hitting the surf in the pre-dawn darkness. We would dive headlong into the waves with our boards.

What a way to start the day.

I was doing a lot of pencil drawing back then. I drew on newsprint so most of the drawings have disintegrated with time. I did however manage to save this drawing. It was one of my favorites so I put it away in a folder and forgot about it for thirty odd years until I found it again. I just took this picture.

Brings back fond memories.

Dawn Patrol - The Eiminators

Streets of San Francisco

black sharpie on paper

San Francisco 2003

I was driving through the streets of San Francisco one day in 2003 when I saw a billboard with something like this design on it. I just had a passing glance at it but I though gee, that would be fun to draw.

When I got back to where I was staying I sat down and drew this.

Just like that.

It's kind of cool. Maybe I'll draw it again.

Nothing else matters - Metallica

Pencil drawing

Calbayog City 2024

I know I used this song just two posts ago but seriously folks, this song talks to me.

About this drawing.

I tinkered with this drawing all day today and it's not finished, but I am, so here's where it ends.

Not unlike a couple of relationships I've had.

A girl wearing a sweater

pencil drawing

Calbayog City 2024

A drawing from yesterday's drawing.

Last night I slept well. Very well. I woke up this morning with that well slept glow.

And then I had the most wonderful cup of coffee.

A fresh cup of coffee on top of a well slept glow is Van Nuys.

Van Nuys indeed.

Nothing else matters

Pencil drawing

Calbayog City 2024

Nothing else matters - Metallica

This song...

I have to speak vaguely about this one but there was a morning in 2002 in Chicago when I finally got to do something that I had been dreaming about doing for my entire like. It was a lovely fall morning. For the entire rest of the world it was just another morning but for me..

When I got in the car and started driving into town, this song came on the radio.

As I drove I turned up the volume, and tears ran down my face.

Never give up my friends.

By the way, I based this drawing on a photo of the lovely Jing Yu. Instagram @yuki_injo

After Egon Schiele

Pencil drawing

Calbayog City 2024

Egon Schiele was the bad boy of European art but he drew like an angel. Redrawing his art is a double edged sword. I learn so much from his drawing but I am forever humbled by his genius. He created masterpieces while still in his teens. He gave us nearly 4000 works of art and then he died tragically at 28. Damn.

After Egon Schiele

Pencil drawing

Calbayog City 2024

After Egon Schiele

Black Sharpie

2016

Daydream

Pencil drawing

Calbayog City 2024

From my morning drawing. I tried posting this on Instagram and I got an immediate full screen message telling me to delete it or else!

Community guidelines..

Kind of funny.

A new chance

Ballpoint pen

Los Angeles 2014

I was in a lecture once and the professor asked,

"Why are babies young?"

That's a pretty deep question if you think about it.

How is it that the weathered old cells of two adults can come together to create a fresh new life?

The professor went on to give a scientific explaination which to me just lost the plot.

To me, when conception occurs a new reality begins.

A new miracle.

A new chance.

The next generation

I once knew a girl named Bambi

Pencil drawing on watercolor paper

Calbayog City 2024

Lather - The Jefferson Airplane

"Hijos Del Sol" - Hermanos Gutierrez

Black Sharpie on manila paper

Miami 2010

I lived in Miami for a few years. I rented a small apartment right on the bay. It was lovely. Iguanas and land crabs used to wander around the yard. Beat that!

Miami has some of the most lovely beaches on earth. I used to hang out at oceanside cafes sipping esspresso coffee and drawing.

Back then my main art tool was the ultra fine black sharpie.

I was into drawing what to me were guilts. Crisp black and white drawings done off the cuff. I drew a bunch of them.

Here's another one.

Black Sharpie on paper

Miami 2009

Bay Harbor beach, Miami, Florida

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8B pencil

Calbayo City 2024

I know this drawing is finished because it's dinner time.

Btw, I love Filipino food.

A young woman with bangs

8B pencil and finger rubbing

Calbayog City 2024

Bangs make me weak at the knees.

I keep tinkering with this drawing. This is where its at now.

Here's the initial sketch

Darkness blackens even the night

8B pencil on paper

Calbayog City 2024

Daily drawing.

I am happiest when my fingers and eraser become black with pencil lead.

Famous Blue Raincoat - Leonard Cohen

She come in colors

Colored pencil on paper

Calbayog City 2024

"Dad, what do you call a solar system without a sun?" Sean, my seven year old son asked me.

It was evening time and we were walking into town to get a snack.

I thought about it for a moment and couldn't think of a fast comeback so I said, "I don't know, what do you call it?" and braced myself.

"A system!" he said and looked up at me grinning. "Ya get it?" He asked and laughed.

Got to admit that made me smile.

It's about four blocks from our home to our town's downtown area. Along the way I stopped off at an ATM machine to get some cash.

When I got the money my son said to me,

"You mean you can just get money from a machine?!?!"

"Yah," I said not really thinking about it.

"Then why don't homeless people do that!!!" he asked in astonishment.

I started to answer him and then I remembered that thats basically what the government does....

I stopped walking and looked up into the sky.

Waiting for an answer that didn't come.

Calbayog City 2024

She comes in colors - Love

Orange skies - Arthur Lee and Love

4B pencil on paper

Calbalog City 2024

Sometimes, there is a moment when the drawing comes alive..

Like magic. Like life itself. Fragile magic.

Sometimes just one more line and the drawing dies.