The Rogue likes M for Miracle

The Rogue Speaks: Merry Christmas to everyone, and especially to Jenny for making us test our brains twice a week. I decided that rather than write something long winded and pedantic, I would instead give your some pictures to ponder about the miracle of Christmas. To all my blogging friends, I wish you a Merry Christmas, or a Happy Holiday, or maybe just a good weekend--whatever applies!

Our Christmas Letter

The Rogue Speaks:



Dear Friends and Family,

It’s hard to believe that another year has passed since we last wrote you. I hope you can read this without too much trouble. I suffered a broken hand while picking up a quarter on the floor at WalMart during the after-Thanksgiving sale. I guess that fat lady never saw me dive for it first.

This has been a pretty rough year for us. Junior was convicted, as most of you saw on the national news, and is serving 25 to life. Grandma blamed herself for giving him that assault rifle for his 21st birthday. Poor Grandma became so depressed over the whole thing that we had to put her in the old folks home, but it was closed down after a drug raid, so she had to go stay with her sister in the Swan Lake trailer park south of town. Unfortunately, a tornado came through and flattened the whole park. We never did find Grandma, God rest her soul.

Dad is recovering from surgery after trying to scrape a fresh possum off the road and getting hit by the mail truck. Clyde,the mailman, claims he never saw him, but we don’t believe that for a minute. It’s hard to miss Dad’s big butt with that red bandana sticking out of the pocket. Poor Dad really wanted possum stew for dinner.

There was one bright spot in our year when little Clara Nell got married to Clarence Wallermuck. You remember Clarence—he’s the fellow owns the Porta-Potty clean-out service. Has his own truck and everything! The wedding was quite the affair! The kids lined the church aisle with Charmin’ in honor of Clarence. Mabelle Pust, who owns the Bait and Cake Shoppe, made a chocolate cake in the shape of a Porta-Potty. We had a lot of that cake left over, and I froze it for Clara Nell and Clarence’s first anniversary. I think people would have eaten more if Clara Nell hadn’t gone into labor at the reception. Her water broke right in the receiving line and Clarence’s mother, Iphelia, slipped in the puddle and broke her hip. After someone called 911, the reception sort of broke up.

Clara Nell had twins! Two little boys that look just like Clarence! Let’s hope they follow in his footsteps! I am enclosing some pictures. There's one of our new Christmas wreath. Since Dad is laid up, and can't go hunting, he made it out of shotgun shells! He's always been the artistic type. Then there's one of Clara Nell and Clarence when they got engaged. I enclosed a picture of the twins. Don't they look just like Clarence? I took a picture of the Christmas tree in the WalMart so as to give me ideas for next Christmas. Ricky Bobby snapped that picture of me picking up the quarter in WalMart just before that fat lady came around the corner and dove for it too. We're using it as evidence in the lawsuit.

Well, that’s all the news from here. I want to get this in the mail box pretty quick, and get down to the Circle ‘n Shop before they run out of their Christmas Spam special.

We hope you have a Merry Christmas, but don't drink too much of the family recipe, or you'll go blind like Uncle Hiram did that year at the family reunion at the Moose Lodge.

Love to you all, and write me sometime.

A Rogue With An "L"

The Rogue Speaks:

It' time again for YOU-KNOW-WHAT. Today I am writing about an artist who is also my friend. We met shortly after I moved to Tucson and soon became the best kind of friends that people can have in life. So without further ado, I present for my L offering, the life and times of Diane Loving:


Born the illegitimate daughter of Pablo Picasso and his eighty-fourth mistress, Diane Loving was forced to flee Paris after what has been called internationally “L’Incident du Louvre,” where she insisted upon “prettifying” her father’s works by cutting out facial features on his portraits and pasting them back on…properly. I mean, whoever heard of some lady having 2 eyes on one side of her upside down nose ?

Diane lived briefly in New York until the fateful night of the “Warhol Incident,” when she took a can opener to several of Andy’s famous Campbell Soup silkscreens. Though she was hailed by some critics, several members of Warhol’s Factory bought her a one-way ticket to Los Angeles where she thrived designing masterpieces sprayed onto buildings in the dead of night. This became known as the “Spray Paint Incident,” if only in Diane’s own head. She escaped to Tucson 2 steps ahead of the law.

The colors of the desert inspired Diane to paint canvases in beige, ecru, eggshell, brown, tan and dirt tones. She fought this inspiration however, and settled for exploring the intricacies of filigree with pen and black ink.

Diane’s works can be seen locally in galleries in Tucson and Tubac, and someday her works may re-appear in Italy, if the Vatican Council ever issues a pardon for the “Sistine Chapel Ceiling Incident.”

If you ever hear that I have been arrested and taken to jail for participating in some wild and dangerous act, you can bet the Diane will be my cell-mate, unless she was able to out-fox the law and make a clean getaway, leaving me holding the evidence.

Oh, and if I ever disappear while trying to find the home of a Guild artist who happens to live near the end of the earth, I guarantee that Diane will have been driving the car, leaving me to be the navigator, while knowing full well that I have serious right/left issues.

I must confess that I plagiarized the first part of this post, having stolen it from the Guild's Bio Book of Artists. I hope you still enjoyed reading it, though.

What Were You Thinking???

The Rogue Speaks:

I know I am getting old when it takes me more than two days to recover from Holidazzle! I haven't even finished reading all the offerings from Thursday, and it's Sunday! My offering for Jenny's Saturday Centus is kinda sorta true, but not all the way true. Here goes:

"An involuntary gasp of shock escaped my lips when I opened the shoebox and saw the pointy-toed shoes..."The grin on his face and the quizzical look in his eyes told me he was anxious for a response. I was speechless. Pointy toes? High heels? Where has he been for the last decade? All cruel shoes had been swept from my closet, never to be worn again in my lifetime. Had he not noticed my poor feet, and the horrible blisters and pain I had suffered? Did he forget about the surgeries and the months-long recoveries?

"I love to see you in fancy shoes! Try them on!!"

I stared at him in disbelief.

"You first," I replied.

A Rogue Named Klee (1879-1940)

The Rogue Speaks:

Paul Klee, who was born in Switzerland in 1879, didn't start out to become a rogue, even though he began drawing at an early age. When he was seven, he began playing the violin, and when he was eight, his grandmother gave him some sidewalk chalk. I am amazed that sidewalk chalk had even been invented back then!! In any case, Klee was equally talented in both music and art. His parents wanted him to become a musician, but when he became a teen, he rebelled! Now that sounds familiar, doesn't it? He wasn't too keen on the "modern" music of his day, and he wanted to be free to CREATE and explore new artistic styles.

Klee began keeping a diary when he was 18, so we have a lot of insight into his life and the way he perceived it. Like a lot of rebellious young people, he drew in his school-books, daydreamed, and barely passed his final exams. "After all," he wrote,"it's rather difficult to achieve the exact minimum, and it involves risks."

Well, wouldn't you know it! Like so many other artists I have written about lately, his youthful adventure revolved around pubs, and sex! He had an illegitimate son in 1900, but the boy died shortly after he was born.

Klee married Lily Stumpf, a pianist, in 1906. Lily gave piano lessons, and an occasional concert while Klee stayed home to care for their little son, and work on his drawings. As we all know, multi-tasking with a child around is not easy, and it was no different for Klee.

Klee was afraid of color in his early years. He had done mostly drawing and etching, and found using color to be somewhat intimidating. This all changed in 1914 when he was visiting Tunisia. The quality of light there seemed to transform him and he wrote, "Color has taken possession of me; no longer do I have to chase after it. I know that it has hold of me forever...Color and I are one. I am a painter."

His new-found love of color prompted him to begin painting in the pure abstract style, and his work took on a certain harmony much like a musical composition. I don't know if Klee had music playing while he created his paintings, but I certainly love to have music in the background to inspire me while I work! If only I could be as creative and expressive as Klee...

When WWI began, Klee joined the German army, but instead of fighting at the front, after some finagling by his father, he served by working as a clerk, and painting camouflage on airplanes. He still continued to exhibit his work, and by 1917, he had become one of the best new German artists.

In 1933, Paul became ill with a fatal disease, scleroderma. He still continued to work, although very slowly. In 1936, he only produced 25 paintings. Paul Klee died a painful death in Switzerland on June 29, 1940.

For me, Klee's legacy is his manipulation of color. He became a wonderful teacher, and taught the mixing of color, and his color theory to his students at the Bauhaus.

"Art does not reproduce the visible; rathert it makes visible." -Paul Klee

I hope you have enjoyed my letter "K" for Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday. I am off now, to Jenny's blog to read ALL of this week's offerings. I hope you will do the same!!

Whew! I'm Tired But Happy!!

The Rogue Speaks:

Another "Holidazzle" is now behind us. That's the name of the Southern Arizona Arts Guild winter exhibition and sale. This is the eighth year, and they just keep getting better and better! My BFA and I were co-chairs for this event. We have been as busy as ants since last Thursday morning when the artists checked into the venue with their work. Our reception was Friday night, and the place was packed. Just give a patron a couple of glasses of wine and turn'um loose. Needless to say, it was a financial success. Saturday sales were even better, and we broke our Sunday sales record yesterday. So today a few stragglers came to collect their paintings and then Diane and I went out to breakfast. I came home to my two furry children and we hugged and kissed and then collapsed in the recliner.

LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!

The Rogue Speaks:

Jenny Matlock has given us a very meaningful prompt for this week's Saturday Centus. Actually, she has given us two, but I will only address one this week. It is about boundaries. We all know what they are, and we should respect the boundaries of our friends and family members. Unfortunately, I am the only person in my family who knows about boundaries. That is why I live here, and they live there, and ne'er the twain shall meet! Unfortunately, this is an actual conversation between me and a member of my family who is now deceased. The prompt is in bold type, and here is my offering:

"My husband's salary is none of your business."
"Well, I just want to be sure that you are being well taken care of."
"That's a switch! You didn't give a rat's ass that my first husband was beating the hairy flang out of me on a daily basis."
"You're exagerating."
"You're just nosey."
" Humph! Well, forget about that! Come on! I want to show you what my renter has in the apartment downstairs."
"You have to recognize that a boundary is a boundary. You have no right to go snooping through her things! She PAYS you to live there, not to SNOOP!!"
"Whatever!"