Sunday, November 27, 2011

Pedro parts the sea of class


Formless perception
Perceived as perfect in part
Labeled normal as whole
Accepted as quality
Bought as rare and unique
Treasured and mistaken
Vile self imposed confecture
Raise your hands to the sky
Self ordained prince of antiquity
thy deprecating bile spills to the sea
Drivel is your ship o servant of our times
full head of steam my courageous villian of stagnation

Save us from ourselves
Take me to land
lost at sea
I plead
Seat me on your hand
Hold me near your dusty heart
Let us rub a stick or two or three or four or five
Friction fuels the class and diamonds flash for crowns
Oh smoke, oh beautiful smoke forget him now
Release her licking fingers on this hollow suit 
Wooded grain runs shallow
Maybe you walk
or walked away
at least for now

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Extreme exploring!

This guy knows how to explore the Moab trail system! He makes his own trail! Check it out and don't forget to support devinsupertramp who is listed below the video.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011


 Interesting little tidbit I read tonight, Jhator, a Tibetan ritual first recorded in the Tibetan Book of The Dead. Literally translated means, "Giving alms to the birds". I knew Tibetans gave their body to nature after death as a final act of altruism but I had no idea of the actual process. I once read that this burial process just happened to be the most practical way of disposing of the body in an area covered with rock and permafrost. Makes sense right? Pretty rough to dig a hole and if you wondered about cremation, the tree line in these glacial landscapes is more than just a few miles away. Animal dung is often used for fuel so I doubt you'd give up a nice crunchy piece of heat producing poo for cremation services! The interesting  part of the Jhator (sky burial) process is what happens before and after the body is left to the vultures. The body is dissected or cut in specific areas as instructed by The Tibetan Book of the Dead and completed by Monks or people called Rogyapas (body breakers) trained in this ritual. Once the body is picked clean by the birds, (the Eurasian Griffon Vulture was specifically identified in everything I read) the bones are pulverized into dust and yak butter tea is added to entice the birds back for seconds. At this point several bird species show up to feast. I'd love to learn more about this, if any of you have more resource info leave a comment or email me.

Eine melodie im wind: charcoal on 40 weight paper 2009

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

El rancho meets 2011

So I sat down with my parents a few days ago after years of bantering back and forth about actually sitting and walking through the process of "surfing the web". After a couple of minutes of simple google searching they both fell silent. Then they bombarded me with questions I wasn't expecting, they thought each page view cost money, when I engaged the live radio station from their "ranchito"  I felt embarrassed by my mothers giddiness! About ten minutes into the broadcast a three note chime announced the local obituaries in the area, again my mothers nervous excitement seeped through her childlike amazement. Amazing how much we miss out on despite the close proximity of our family. When we take a few minutes to share ourselves with  loved ones we fast forward the missed opportunities and feel as if nothing had been missed in the first place. I hope that's true.

What will my children be teaching me when technology leaves me behind? Makes me wonder.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Ashton Girl: A tribute to the 652!

It’s a strange thing growing up in a small town. Earlier this year I was working on a sketch of a friend who is snarling and throwing gang signs with the Idaho Falls LDS temple in the background. She’s covered in tattoos and sports an urban grill. I assume it’s urban since I’ve never seen grills advertised in Idaho that didn’t include gas or charcoal in the description.  I did see a grill store in the Dearborn mall while in Detroit Michigan. As a matter of fact it was the first store I saw as I entered!  (I took a “not from around here” cell phone picture to prove it). Ok….. back to the story.  

 My friend isn’t covered in tattoos nor does she sport a grill. She works as a dental hygienist at a local dentist’s office. She’s as conservative as they get and even bowls on a women’s league!  Anyway, the juxtaposition of these two very different elements of urban meets small town created an awkward feeling of my experience growing up in Ashton Idaho. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it for the most part. Some things I could have done without but who can’t relate to that?  

The “strange” had more to do with seeing my life through the fuzzy glasses of teenage angst. Confined by popular local beliefs we dragged Main Street listening to Metallica and experimented with big city influence. An innocent rebellion compared to the standards of urban mischief right? Well, there was more going on during that time that I’ll keep to myself but you know what I mean.  For the most part it was all about friends living it up whenever and however we could!  The influence of what I assumed was a “big city” lifestyle came to me through television and music. Mostly music but this isn’t what created the “strangeness” I wrote about. It was the thought of what exactly created this same rebellion in girls growing up in the same time and place.   
An example of what I is mean is, well, what influenced the huge bangs hovering over the forehead of these girls during that time? I really don’t know.  Was this a toned down version of an innocent rebellion?  If I remember correctly it was the tallest or highest hair sail that got recognized, or maybe it was the best styled? I’m not sure but they were big. So what influences the kids of Ashton Idaho today? What strange fad has made its way into the scenic gateway called Ashton Idaho? What innocent and not so innocent rebellion wafts through the air of those paved streets and open farm fields? 

Out of these confused questions came many ideas for a sketch or painting. So I took them and mashed them up and out came a new painting titled 652-GIRL.  It’s the 2011 clash of trends meets the small town Ashton girl.  Cheers to the girls graduating in the early 90’s with your big hair, platform shoes, neon colors, oversize sweaters, acid wash jeans and see through Fossil watches! Yeah! I can almost hear Jesus Jones screaming through the Z103 lifeline, "Right here, right now there is no other place I'd rather be"!

652-GIRL oil on canvas: Click on image to see details of lil ol Ashton.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

When the Man comes around

The Johnny Cash SIGNED ORIGINAL will be up for bid on ebay this Saturday at 10 a.m.! Title: When the Man comes around Sharpie 11" x 17" on 64 weight paper. Pass the word and support nerve-zero!

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Memorial Day.......a veteran.....

I took a trip with my family to a Memorial Day celebration in Pocatello this year. I spent a couple of hours visiting old town and sites along the east side of the railroad tracks. I visited the abandoned, dreary, sun bleached buildings running parallel along the tracks as if they're standing at attention and waiting to follow the next yellow engine right out of town.  The scene is not depressing, on the contrary it seems to carry itself with an allure of historical arrogance. I don't say that in a condescending way. I've been here many times and I've never seen this side of Pocatello. I'm usually complaining about the pollution that quickly turn me into a runny, snotty nose whiner! Pocatello has character, real character. 

While I was looking for photo opportunities and time to kill before the Memorial Day celebration at Century High I ran into a complete stranger by the name of Robert. He was nice enough, he was polite and inquisitive, as it turned out he was a veteran of the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. With several tours under his belt and a new set of problems resulting from combat exposure he kindly shared a brief snapshot of his life with me. I snapped shots attempting to capture what it might feel to have these splinters forever wired into his brain. In the end I don't know if I captured it or not, all I could really do is say thank you for the service he provided for me. Because of brave people like Robert and the people represented by crosses I later encountered at the Memorial I am able to spend a day doing what I like to do.....without fear. Free.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

He died as he lived life........connected and in tune.

When I die I want to die on my own terms. My grand father died two weeks ago and he lived life in a way I will forever admire. He was a wanderer and a dreamer......he was a great man. My memories of him are limited since I grew up in America. He came to America a few years ago for the first time. He spoke fondly of the American way of life. One comment he made to me while watching the Idaho Falls Chuckers play was "How in the world could a person ever be depressed or sad living in such a wonderful place, nobody to bother you, smiles from strangers,........", he said it in a way that I can't fully explain in words. He saw America in a way that made sense. He wasn't saying he disliked Mexico and America was better. He was saying I should be grateful and respectful of where I live. Without saying it directly. The message made me look out among the players and fans........below the lights.....below the American Flag I lost myself in a moment of being. Not doing but just being.

My mother, who dearly loved her father, wasn't able to attend the funeral because of the violence in Mexico. For fear of being kidnapped or worse she endured the loss from the confines of her mind. The reality that the death of a parent in Mexico brings children back to their family of origin and the possibility of a payday for some unscrupulous criminal hit home two weeks ago. Helpless does not begin to describe it. Oddly enough I have never been to the funeral of an extended biological family member. The reasons are many and the time to explain is not now.

I learned today that my grandfather died on his own terms. He had been hiking and exploring days and hours before he died. In the hills and valleys around Labor Vieja he could be found wandering alongside nature with the same wide eyed wonder of a curious toddler. One night two weeks ago he made plans to go pick wild cactus fruit with my Uncle Joel. (the equivalent of going fishing with your dad) Shortly after getting his tools ready he complained of breathing difficulties. They rushed to the hospital in Rio Verde.  That night he looked at my Uncle Joel and with a smile said "Son, lets get outta here, lets go home, I'm not going to make it, I know this...lets just go home." Seconds later he pulled the oxygen mask from his face and stubbornly refused to be reconnected to it and all other medical devices. He didn't suffer helplessly in a bed for years, he knew it was time and simply closed his eyes..... minutes later he died.

David Rangel: My grandfather

Monday, May 30, 2011

Ashton Idaho: A day trip

Sometimes a road trip becomes more than just that. It becomes a trip down memory lane. I always end up here. The place that brings me back, recharges my batteries, fills my tank. Ashton Idaho.

This old bridge actually transported cars between Squirrel and Ashton. That’s right Squirrel. I imagine even Drummond and folks from Teton Valley. I’m not quoting facts just assumptions. Any corrections would be appreciated.
The rings of the tree that sits below the walkways at Upper Mesa.

Mesa Falls was raging this weekend.

The Lower Falls looked amazing! You can see a person walking on the trail near the falls. Click on the picture to enlarge it and look at the right side near the center of the picture.  

The mist from Mesa Falls barrels into the cliff you see here. In the winter the whole face turns to ice.

Green Timber area: The Teton Range in the distance. This place holds many memories of many people I've know and lost contact with over the years.

In an attempt to get to Cave Falls we actually came upon a traffic jam. Really, several people in trucks, vans and cars with Utah plates doing the same idiotic thing and getting stuck.

Despite the snow, they still manage to push through.

The meadows near Horseshoe Lake. Many parties in this area.....many....

Hovering above the creek, this little guy was spotted by my daughter. I had to go back and take a picture. The kid has a good eye.

Chino hitting his stride near Hog Hollow. Yes, Hog Hollow, don't ask because you don't need to know. Those who know don't tell.  We were on our way to the _____________river canyon. 

 The river to the ocean goes,
A fortune for the undertow
None of this is going my way
There is nothing left to throw
Of ginger, lemon, indigo,
Coriander stem and rows of hay
Strength and courage overrides
The privileged and weary eyes
Of river poet search naivete
Pick up here and chase the ride
The river empties to the tide
All of this is coming your way. -----Michael Stipe: Find The River performed by R.E.M.

We found two deer who never made it through the winter. The two skeletal remains were within a few feet of each other. The only thing that remained besides the bones was hair and the mostly digested food in the GI tract. So they likely didn't die from hunger.

The lower jaw from one of the deer.

Alive and in full bloom.

Hiking out of the canyon. Time to call it a day. My own private Idaho. I love this place. If you want more detail just click on the image and then click again to enlarge it. If you want the original 15 megapixel image shoot me an email and I'll give it to you free of charge. ...............