Moon Head Studio

2012-02-22T12:35:00.003-08:00

Alone with old paper

2012-02-08T13:22:00.000-08:00

DaLovley

2012-02-06T13:45:00.001-08:00

Haloween

2011-10-31T12:17:00.000-07:00

Thank You - First Prints on the Challenge

2011-10-08T15:09:00.000-07:00

Peir - Bonkemeyer

2011-09-29T07:59:00.001-07:00

Holy Buckets

2011-09-25T18:05:00.000-07:00

We have to thank Andrew Churchman and his dad for making this transition into letterpress so easy. We cannot say enough good things about this guy without a direct call. Feel free to call us at 828-754-1608. Everyone should be so lucky to buy a press from the Churchman team. Also, who would have guessed that the person delivering the press to our doorstep was none other than Steve Robinson from Letterpreservation. We would have never got her in the studio without him. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you all.

Our very first print!

2011-09-25T17:20:00.001-07:00

Meet the Challenge (Proof Press). It has arrived!

2011-09-25T16:45:00.000-07:00

Press is on the way!

2011-09-23T06:27:00.000-07:00

A Book from Penland

2011-09-18T07:19:00.001-07:00

Someone Great is Gone, mixed media, 5" x 7"

2011-07-22T13:22:00.001-07:00

Elephant, mixed media, 5" x 7"

2011-07-22T13:20:00.000-07:00

Love Story... Whale and Fish, mixed media, 5" x 7"

2011-07-22T13:18:00.000-07:00

Tampa Nugget, mixed media, 5" x 7"

2011-07-22T13:16:00.000-07:00

Oh, My Singing Bird, mixed media 5" x 7"

2011-07-22T13:14:00.000-07:00

Suprising, mixed media, 5" x 7"

2011-07-22T13:12:00.000-07:00

Punch Drunk Love, mixed media, 5" x 7"

2011-07-22T13:11:00.000-07:00

Omit A for C, mixed media, 5" x 7"

2011-07-22T13:08:00.000-07:00

Upper Playground, mixed media, 5" x 7"

2011-07-22T13:07:00.000-07:00

Plates, mixed media, 5" x 7"

2011-07-22T13:04:00.000-07:00

Young Augusgte made the news

2011-05-31T18:47:00.000-07:00

Click here to see Young Auguste on the news for about 5 seconds.

The Skin Horse

2011-05-14T06:51:00.001-07:00

While working on this project I was reminded of one of my favorite childhood books, The Velveteen Rabbit. The bird, as I worked on it, took on qualities of the illustrations from that book, or at least my memory of them. In the sad story, the only character nice to Velveteen Rabbit was Skin Horse and that lead me to play around with those words as the title of this large project. Not long after considering The Skin Horse, two other artists in the studio suggested that the form could conceal a person like the Trojan Horse. So, the name makes several references - to my past and to my present - and should thoroughly confuse almost everyone who reads it.

Bird

2011-04-26T19:09:00.001-07:00

Blackbird Dreaming

2011-03-28T08:38:00.000-07:00

Hey Mouse

2011-01-03T15:24:00.001-08:00

Hey mouse you're spilling your words

Forget the Post a Day , I'll post when I want to.

2010-12-17T12:42:00.000-08:00

The Game Show Host

How did the Game Show Host age so fast?
Most of their names forgotten.
What was behind door number three?

I remember watching women on TV,

with dials
Their wet lips and roaming hands said:
“Let’s Make A Deal”

I thought, when I grow up I want to be a
“Lady’s Man” and go on date number two.
The studio would pay for it.

When I won something,
I would run around with my hands in the air,
Even if it meant making a fool of myself.

Hell, I’m a fool every day for my prize.
Stand in line, step right up. Everyone’s a winner.
Bargains galore.

A Post a Day (Thursday, December 16)

2010-12-16T15:50:00.000-08:00

A Post a Day (Wednesda, December 15)

2010-12-14T18:13:00.000-08:00

A Post a Day (Tuesday, December 14)

2010-12-14T17:57:00.001-08:00

I Envy Myself

treasure
in my
soil
or a dirty
passion

memory
eats
as memories
consume

- From Chris McCoy (read more of his work at The Swing)

A Post a Day (Monday, December 13)

2010-12-14T17:46:00.000-08:00

The Madness of Being

Please don't praise
the madness
of being

belong
in the moment
of praise

- from Chris McCoy (read more of his work at The Swing)

A Post a Day (Sunday, December 12)

2010-12-12T17:31:00.000-08:00

- words by Chris McCoy (read more of his work at The Swing)

A Post a Day (Saturday, December 11)

2010-12-11T14:04:00.000-08:00

I wish
we could
play
as children

forever
in the delicate grass
of spring

we waited for
all
winter long

- From Chris McCoy (read more of his work at The Swing)

A Blog a Day (December 10)

2010-12-10T21:59:00.000-08:00

span·gle (spnggl)

1. A small, often circular piece of sparkling metal or plastic sewn especially on garments for decoration.

2. A small sparkling object, drop, or spot: spangles of sunlight.

v. span·gled, span·gling, span·gles

A Post a Day (Thursday, December 9)

2010-12-09T17:14:00.000-08:00

Black Eye

Dont come to me

With a college degree
As your pedigree

I dont have time for the
Four star cliche'
Youve've been fingering
In your pocket

Waiting for me to draw

Outlaws
Raid
Without apology

But we must speak
In certain terms

Truth are words
Plainly spoken

Eloquence
Is truth
With sugar

The swollen eye
Is truth in
Action

- words by Chris McCoy (read more of his work at The Swing)

A Post a Day (Wednesday, December 8)

2010-12-08T08:43:00.001-08:00

Elephants.

I can see him standing in a hot, South Georgia landscape

Dirt dust flurrying up and down the midway

The sun as bright as hanging linins

Waiting to see the giant

Elephants.

For a poem by Chris McCoy

2010-05-13T08:15:00.000-07:00

Auguste and the Whale

2010-02-26T09:54:00.001-08:00

Mad Breath Lesson

2010-02-24T17:07:00.001-08:00

I had a dream last night that a bird flew five hundred miles to see someone that did not want to see him.

2010-01-11T17:47:00.001-08:00

Life is but a Dream (in process)

2009-12-04T22:09:00.000-08:00

2009-11-02T07:30:00.000-08:00

Check out another one of these and my friend Chris' poetry by following this link:

http://christoandthomas.blogspot.com/

Romare Doesn't Play Basketball Anymore

2009-10-01T14:45:00.001-07:00

Moral Hazzard

2009-09-19T08:26:00.000-07:00

Damon Hood

2009-08-28T08:40:00.001-07:00

He pays such close attention to everything,
And he looks at those things for far too long.
He can devote an entire afternoon just looking at the clouds or at twigs or at other people.

A painter, like me, can look at something for seventy-five minutes at a stretch, and consider it a day at the office.

But Damon is not simply a painter,
He is the coolest guy I know
And the only artist I have ever met.

Sally and Skip

2009-08-10T06:13:00.000-07:00

When I was younger my brother Skip had a girlfriend named Sally. I remember how pretty she was and that my brother was handsome. His favorite clothes to wear were blue jeans and a white button up with some kind of dock shoes that maybe someone on a boat might wear if they were trying to look stylish. He had a classic early 80’s haircut, you know with wings, and just the right amount of fuzz for a mustache. Sally had wings too, but her hair was longer. They were so cool, but I was 12 and everyone older than me seemed cool. Memories can be so strong.

Skip died in a car accident in 1983 when I was 12. One day he was there and the next he had left this life and moved on to the next. I remember wondering about change and how that event would alter the rest of my life. And, I remember worrying about Sally and wondering what she would do now that Skip was gone. Sometimes I still wonder about all those things but have come to one conclusion that change is good and change is something that is always happening. We get older, stronger, wiser, more in control, and less in control. We live, whether its here or the next life or in the memories of someone else. And we change, we always change (for the better, I like to think).

This is an image of my brother Skip when he was much younger and a pretty girl named Sally. They’re walking somewhere.

2009-07-17T13:31:00.000-07:00

That the heart beats once is amazing

That it beats a whole life time is miraculous
Like walking on the moon
Or dancing in the dark

To see more heart collages click here

Mom and Pop

2009-07-16T12:56:00.000-07:00

I called my grandparents (on my mother’s side) Mom and Pop. They lived just across town from where I grew up, in Georgia, near the factory village that my mother and my Aunt Gail grew up in. I remember going over to their house on Mobley Street and playing in their large yard with a creek in it. Times spent in Pop’s wood shop and Mom’s sewing studio played a major role in my concept of artist and craftsperson. They churned peach ice cream and cooked the best food. I drank my first beer with Pop when I was in the 6th grade (home from school with a cold) and watched my first rated R movie about two girls and a guy in Rio de Janeiro. When I day dream about my youth, Mom and Pop are there, watching over me. I did this painting at the beach, it is of my mother, my Aunt Gail, and Pop.

A New Drum

2009-05-11T22:53:00.000-07:00

Lynda Lea got me a new Tongue Drum for my birthday. It is kind of like crack, but more healthy.

Diablo, cha, cha, cha

2009-05-09T20:24:00.000-07:00

We know we're not the smartest,
In this place we don't have to be.
The lights are out, but anyhow,
This is what they see,
It's the Devil,
It's you and me.

- in response to The Notwists

2009-04-24T06:32:00.000-07:00

A collage (From the French: coller, to glue) is a work of formal art, primarily in the visual arts, made from an assemblage of different forms, thus creating a new whole.

I think of collage, like shooting from the hip. Responding to what is happening on the surface quickly, without regard to content or narrative. Stream of consciousness; like writing without reading. In the end though, you are left with wondering what it all means, how it tells the story and who’s story does it tell? Is it for all of us, a group of things we’ve seen before; a dream we can’t recall? Imagery of youth, of not youth, of a clown, of words, a group of sweet spots, April Fool’s Day, some blue, some electricity, a girl and a boy, you and me, everyone we know.

“Look”, she said, “The bell of All Saints Chapel is ringing.” Glancing up he realized, it was ringing for him.

Mistakes

2009-04-10T11:53:00.000-07:00

As if the moon could haul up all my mistakes
And store them up there
With its dust and its craters.

To be cleaned out ,
Only when spring weather reaches it,
And shined up like they were never mine.

I would succumb to be still,
And not so heavy hearted.
For a moment, at least

Until daytime.

Dumb Tourists

2009-04-03T07:26:00.000-07:00

That old water tank is bound to be empty.
What, after the drought and all.
A mild smell is bound to stick.

Age will be good, and it beats the alternative.
The change, to us, is bound to be noticed.
But by whom, and how often?
Those flowers on your head are bound to itch.

In the days between youth, and not youth,
When we are all grown up and working,
I might decide to remember,
And go on as if I never had.

Every time I see a mirror,
I think who the hell is that?
And
Is this going to hurt?

Come on, let’s climb to the top.
The view from up there is bound to be beautiful.

Incondite - a word I never use

2009-03-26T10:15:00.001-07:00

incondite
(in-kon'-dite) adj. badly put together; crude. [From Latin inconditus: in- "not" + conditus, past participle of condere "to put together" from com- "together" + -dere "to put."]

When you hear people using the word incondite in relation to a work of art, they are talking about its formal elements, aren’t they? The idea that something is put together badly is carried around by a work, like a passenger on a train, and is more complicated than it first appears. How important are the formal elements when weighed against the content of a work, and why? Doesn’t the content develop on its own, organically, as one works? And at what point does it take over? When people judge a work of art they are not only judging that work but also their ability to interpret or relate to that work. When a work of art requires a dialog, or a relationship, from its viewer, it enters into a realm that allows for incondite elements and requires incondite thoughts. It becomes, in itself, incondite.

Content is always reliant on the relationship of the viewer to the work. Today, we will surly see the man with his news paper and consider for a moment the markets that are failing around us. A year ago, however, we might have contemplated a close election, several years ago, an attack on our nation. The woman at the bottom; is she his lover? And the food at the table; does that represent wealth? If none of the questions are considered throughout the creation of the work of art, why are they considered after? Can the formal elements change and the work remain unchanged (in nature)? Content is subjective, therefore, the success of the formal elements of a work could also be subjective. Can’t they? And who uses the word incondite any way?

Joel Says

2009-03-13T07:02:00.000-07:00

When Joel Kincaid agreed to create our web site we were both excited. We knew that his sense of design was similar to our own. When we heard that Seth Hickel was programming the HTML code, it was even better. He has a way with the HTML (Auguste says “Oh Yea.”). I think that anyone would agree, our web site is beautiful. If you haven’t seen it yet, check it out at www.moonheadstudio.com, or click the icon located on the right side of this screen.

Again, most everyone associates with the moon on some primal, intellectual or possibly spiritual level. Or at the very least simply ponders its existence. In creating our website, Joel has been overwhelmed with the word itself and he was reminded of this lovely poem.

The Moon
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

Percy Bysshe Shelley
1792-1822

What does the moon conjure up for you? Comment to this post and let us know. (Anyone can add a comment, no membership required) To add a comment, simply click the comments link just below these words.

Why moon Head?

2009-03-03T21:11:00.000-08:00

We all have a love affair with the moon, it is so romantic. It has been there our whole lives, watching over us, following us, lifting our heads up to look upon it. We make wishes to it, sing songs to it, contemplate it. We get drunk to it, howl at it, write poems for it, make art, all the while it remains objective and mysterious. The Moon was the first universal measurer of time. In fact, it symbolizes time, fate, heaven, love, cycle, dreams, and of course the Great Mother or feminine influence.

One of the first dates Lynda Lea and I ever went on was star gazing at a local park in Radford, Virginia (back in the 90’s). The moon was there, so big and so necessary. We saw a shooting star that night, large and low to the earth. We were so in love that it is hard to imagine it has grown into now, all this love. And the moon is still there, hanging out above us, watching.

Not long after Auguste was born, Lynda Lea began teaching him to communicate with sign language. His first sign was “more”. Not long after that he learned the sign for the moon (hold your palm up to the sky and make a small circle with it). He has been enamored with the moon ever since. Every night, almost, he looks around for and finds the moon, saying: "Look, papa, the moon”.

So, when Lynda Lea suggested Moon Head, it made perfect sense. Of course, there is the art, and it has been part of our art from the beginning (draw a circle and there it is). But there is so much more, so much history, so much mystery, so much romance. The moon is so much a part of our lives, just like it is so much a part of yours.

“It’s not necessary to breath, forever is a long time, your head is on the moon.” – They Might Be Giants (but they may not be)