Puppy Time!

We just brought Buckley home Friday - nine weeks old and oh. My. God. Is he something! He's a Vizsla, a Hungarian hunting and companion dog. He's been home for two and a half days now and I think between the two of us we've gotten about 4 hours of sleep. And yet . . . no complaints - he's a sweetie.

Just Like Norma Said . . .

"We had faces then!" Or something to that effect. I think it must be the constant deluge of magazine covers with your Lindsays and your Ashlees and your Parises (Pari? Pariahs?) that gets me all nostalgic for the glamour and allure and cheekbones of old Hollywood. Your Garbos and Dietrichs and even Crawfords (before she started drawing on her own eyebrows aith a Sharpie) Your Clarence Sinclair Bulls and your George Hurrells. I mean don't get me wrong, I like looking at Scarlett Johanson as much as the next guy, but it's rare that you see glamour photography nowadays that showcases female beauty without big arrows pointing to a cavernous cleavage.
Jeez, I sound more like a codger every day - I gotta stop watching TCM.

It's the pictures that got small . . .

Post Oscar hangover . . .
Norma Desmond was so right - they had FACES then. Now we get your Jessica Albas (Jeez girl, EAT something!) and your Jennifer Garners (all features except her eyes are oversized now that she has those milky mommy boobs) and your Jennifer Anistons (probably a nice woman, but even more ordinary than Julia Roberts if such a thing is possible) and dozens of other "Stars" both male and female imposed upon us.
Best Picture: Crash? I wasn't that crazy about "Brokeback Mountain" as Best Pictures go but at least it was a whole lot more memorable and discussion-generating than "Crash". I remember leaving the theater after seeing "Crash" and being more mindful of what kind of burito I was going to get for dinner. Mmmm, Carne Asada!
I am now officially a fogey - No matter how many times I pinch myself I can't believe they gave an Oscar for Best Song to "It's Hard Out There For A Pimp" - and I'm still pissed off this morning that the damn thing is stuck in my head. "It's Hard Out There For A Prostitute" maybe, but the concept of Pimp Sympathy is kinda problematic to me.
I thought Jon Stewart did well, in spite of a dead zombie audience. The Oscar-campaign commercials mimicking political campaign hit pieces (undoubtedly done by the Daily Show team) were really clever and funny. And even though it may have been slightly geeky, I thought Ben Stiller in the green suit was inspired and laugh out loud hilarious.
I was sad/glad to see Joe Ranft remembered in the memorial tribute, and annoyed they left out Don Knotts, Darrin McGavin and Dennis Weaver. And in general I thought the montages were too fast and that stupid Bill Conte and the stupid orchestra played way too loud over everything. The new ploy of playing music under the award winners to hasten them off the stage long before their time was up was tacky and annoying, even for the Oscars.

Sketchbook Superheroes

Seeing other artist's sketchbook pages is always mightily inspiring, but also humbling and a bit daunting when I see the quality of thhe thoughts and images that emerge from other heads/hands. Nevertheless, in the spirit of my goal of being more of a contributor to the world than just a consumer, here are a couple of recent sniglets from my sketchbook done during a trip to Arizona to visit my friend Mike.