Skip to main content


I’ve been sketching all sorts of city scenes lately and finally decided to go out to a café and work on getting it sketched out onto some watercolor paper.

I miss working on art at Bauhaus café. It wasn’t as dead as I would have expected it to be on a Wednesday night in Missoula, but it definitely wasn’t alive. Probably the wrong place. I wish I could find where other artists go instead of overhearing flirting about how she is crap with art. The cliché can’t draw a stick figure line en cue.

I started reading Down and Out in Paris and London and the first chapter renewed my love of falling apart compact architecture (as if it needed a renewal…).

I got a lot of complements today for looking “sharp.” As well as a complement from my French professor who said that I should be in the higher level class because it seems to come so naturally to me and that he thought it was surprising that French was the class that would bring down my grade point average back in high school … I kind of wonder if he thought that by bringing down my grade point that I didn’t mean the occasional high C or low B. I don’t really exude the honor class student image, or at least I don’t think so.. Then again I am the only one who wears a tie to class, or other nice (alright most of them have tears, or holes, or stains, or sewed back together with dental floss, but they still look nice) formal clothes.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

New Birth.

Hey. C'est moi.  It has been a few years. Since I last discussed into the void here I attended grad school for architecture at the University of Washington, finished the Master's program by the skin of my teeth, graduated into a global pandemic (I would not recommend this), gave away most of my worldly possessions, and am now flâneur-ing around Europe on the slim budget of my life savings. Allow me to reintroduce myself : I am the artist, Gaston. My interests include ; architecture, sustainability, art, vintage fashions, antiques, and flâneries. All while consuming massive quantities of tea. “I know where I'm from, but I don't know where I'm going.” I recently heard this line at a video playing at the Tate Museum in Liverpool, and it rang strong in me. In the film Casablanca, when Rick is questioned on his nationality he responds that his is a “drunkard,” insinuating that he has renounced his American nationality for that of someone who owns and runs a bar. From ...
1 comment
Read more
French underworld tattoos at the turn of the century. The man sports a tattooed mustache intended to foil the prohibition of facial hair in the Foreign Legion. The World of Tattoo by Maarten Hesselt van Dinter. I can only dream of being anywhere near that combination of badass and crazy. Though at that point the Foreign Legion was probably still the best place for criminals to get their record cleaned so perhaps he is as well quite legitimately scary upon all of that. I find myself flipping back to this page time and time again to romanticize the French underground from around 1900. Give him an accordion, a beret, and some braces. Prostitutes who could easily kill you if you ever come up short and tattoo the names of their ‘actual’ lovers between their breasts, close to their heart. Tattoo ‘Je mother fucking t’aime’ in a tattoo cursive along my collar bones.
Post a Comment
Read more

The Toulousian Painting.

I sneak in a mirror reflected reference photo. While we were in Toulouse we ducked into a nice little salon de thé that to me felt like something out of a 1940s representation of Europeans in Africa. Probably just the French dealing with the heat of the south. While at this place I noticed a girl sitting alone at one of the tables reading on her phone. Perhaps surfing the internet, perhaps reading a book, I couldn't quite tell as it was in Asian characters. I would guess that it was either Chinese or Japanese. In such a beautifully intriguing place I found it to be somewhat odd that she would pass the time ignoring her surrounding to immerse herself in her phone. I remember they also had nice restrooms. The girl then left and we stayed a bit longer sipping on our drinks, which if I remember right were not actually tea but something cool to counter the heat of Toulouse. Taking a breather in the hectic nature of our vacation. It was one of those towns where I ...
Post a Comment
Read more