The Continued Story:

hey all,

it looks like im going to narrow things down a bit.

instead of running 2 blogs at once i think im going to kill this one and put all my adventures tales and art on my main blog so more people get to see. if you do want to keep up with my travels, please look at

myartwhale.blogspot.com

my work and current "characters" project is still underway but will hereafter be posted on the other blog.
sorry about that.

~mv

I did soon discover that in order to stay sane I need to keep my brain in a few different places, otherwise all parts are carrying out the same task and some parts get disgruntled for never getting a turn to do what they want to do. So for the semester I am keeping 2 parts running on slightly different projects that may end up coherent in the end without them knowing.

1. The original characters project where I meet and learn about people and record their story and image while keeping the pen moving on my own adventures,

2. The seafaring side of me is begging to paint dive helmets and whales. So there will be some of that, also involving fabricated lore and relics,

So below we've got a bit of a mix; a sketch i did of a musician here, a dive helmet and something else. If you think you know what to call it, please share with me.

Situated in an alley in Ennis singing into his banjo. Drew him up on a scrap of paper. Sounded like Irish Tom Waits to me.

Gouache on masonite.

Going to do more stuff like this.
Ink.

-mv

Unrelated.

Work and a story about a crow.

Ok, here is some stuff for you. Just got back from Dublin. That was pretty exciting. Full report to come, but for now check these out.

Getting there...

Terrible photo but whatever. As soon as I figure out the scanner there will be scans.

Spazzy Gerard: The Wild Eyed Drunken Crow Boy
met him after a dance party at one of the local pubs.
First finished(ish) piece. Not sure how I feel about it. The sketch was absolutely better... Nevermind this needs more work... gouache.
actually this is not what i wanted. warm up piece.

Last call had wrapped up the night at Logues Tavern a half hour ago, but a crowd of us were shuffling around in the cold outside waiting for the taxi someone had called to round us all up and take us in trips to the afterparty for the original party. It was at that point for me where I had become the most sober person there and was feeling like walking home and going to bed, but for some reason I didnt just leave. It had been fun, but after dancing with all these people I'd never met before I was a little hungry for some social interaction.
This is how I met Gerard. Still waiting for the cab, I started talking to this guy who seemed coherent despite his accent, but a tired looking young man with purple bags under his eyes walked up next to me and after a long drag on his cigarette told me that this guy, (nodding at Gerard,) was absolutley fucking retarded. (drunk, in case there is confusion there.) I made a note of this, but it was hard to escape Gerard when he was yelling my name from across the street when I had gone looking for someone sane to talk to, but I couldnt get out, and we ended up telling each other where we were from and where we went to school, and when I said I was from Maine he said "thats like in the mid west right?"
Suddenly he thought he knew quite a bit about me because I was from Maine, and he would point out to other people, whenever I said something, that whatever it had been that I said was exactly what you'd expect from a fella from Maine.
So I had decided I was ready to go home. My friends had all already gone to this afterparty and it was just me Gerard and Gerard's pushy friend who I'll call David. Gerard had been trying to get my number for a good long while, but every time he put it in his phone and tried to call me it wouldnt work and he would not leave it alone so i said to give me his phone and I would handle it, but when I found his contacts list, under what looked like my name, where my phone number should go he had entered in no fewer than 20 digits. I corrected it and he tried calling me and when I my phone rang he started screaming hello and if I was there before I had a chance to get my phone out of my pocket and turn it off.
Anyway, Gerard had started to form a bit of a froth around his lips and I was mindful of dodging drops of spit. As David kept going on telling me that Gerard was gay because he had asked for my number, Gerard was getting further and further away from being able to defend himself. When the taxi pulled up I tried to tell them I'd see them around but they put their arms around my shoulders and told me I was going with them. I said I really didnt know, but they insisted and said that they hoped to see such hospitality when they come to Maine.
I sat silently between them in the cab while David scolded Gerard about how rude a steriotype it was to expect me to know anything about Murder She Wrote simply because I was from Maine, (can someone check this for me, Murder She Wrote's connection with Maine. Maybe I just dont know these things,) and as we arrived at the party they continued bickering, "I think you've offended him," I heard David say, but that was pretty much all I heard because as they were pushing each other around in my name I had sort of been forgotten, and more or less I just hopped out of the cab and started walking home.


mv

The Cliffs and Other Stuff.

So here's just a few photos. Need to get better at taking more but my camera died. There were some action poses I need to recover from other students and stuff. Just take these in for now...Still in the Burren. I forget the name of this beach.

(by the way my roommate just inhaled his cigarette. He's ok.)

Pointing the way to Adventure!

And these guys were there...



BONUS!
Find the cat

~mv

Some Work.

So Tom Molloy is my Independent Painting tutor and we have been talking about my project and what I want it to be. I don't want to give myself any limitations at this point in terms of either content or style, although I am leaning towards something a little dark. For now, still just sketching faces and digging in the garbage for paper. Hoping to get in touch with The Hoff about some things...
Have some stories in the works including a GHOST STORY, (sort of,) and some talk of Galway, and a dance lesson.
I have been going to parties and meeting people, some good, some just kind of good. Went to what I guess they were calling a French Techno Party at the home of a an Englishman named James for his 31st birthday. There I met Englishman Mike who told me to dance and when I did he started singing "dancing! dancing! dancing!" He's a cool guy. Then there was Wild-Eye-Drunk Crow Gerard and his friend whose name I forget right now, but on the taxi to the party they were both asking me what I knew about "Murder She Wrote," swearing that I must be a genius on the subject because I'm from Maine... Anyway. More and more to come.

Here's some work.

Here be a teaser. Sorry, these photos will all be bad-ish. Scans (or better photos,) hopefully coming soon.


That Irish gentleman I met on the plane, remember him? This is a bit what he looked like. He had bigger eyes. Look for another version coming soon!

A touch of home. Painted this on some wood I found and hung it aloft above me studio. sort of making it like home y'know? This might me my favorite thing I've done since awhile. Yeah.

Cheers!
mv

Catastrauphic Activity Regaurding Airline Food:

Alright,

There is no organization in my life right now, everything is sort of happening like in the movie "Memento," where half the scenes are moving forward and the other half are moving backwards and the movie ends in the middle of the story. Anyway. Point is, I still have no routine here and now which I guess is good, its just hard to tell a story this way... Consider this a first draft.

And it starts with an Irish gentleman offering me his crackers and cheese on the plane. It was a six hour flight from Logan to Shannon, no delays, no connections, no sleep. I dont know why I didnt slide my credit card through that little screen on the seat back in front of me, I could have spent a good bit of time merrily chuckling in my seat to "I Love You Man," like the fellow next to me, but instead i found myself folded in my little seat, whole body bent into a book I had started reading a year ago. It was a real life adventure story about wreck divers discovering a sunken U-boat off the coast of New Jersey. Got me in the mood for adventure. (By the way, at this point writing, I've got no direction, I might be able to bring things full circle in a last second attempt at
making some kind of point or realization, but probably not, so if you think this is going anywhere, I'll see you later.) Anyway, I accepted the cheese and crackers with a thanks, explaining that I had eaten quite a big meal earlier which is why I didnt get any food and added in a sort of whisper that I never really trusted airline food. He laughed and said he didnt either. At first I laughed back, but then when he turned back to his screen I thought about his remark for awhile while quietly regaurding the man's empty food tray. I sort of wondered if he was the gambling type and if he was expecting any catastrauphic activity later on concerning his digestive tract. I figuered he thought his chances were good.

Airline food has a good way at presenting ultimatums. Think about it. Hungry or sick. Your choice I guess. I sort of picture myself saying these things instead of typing them. Like with an audience as part of a show.

Now I've lost my train of thought...


Ummmmmmmm...

Oh yeah, finished the book about when we landed, and just knowing I was back in Ireland I would have cried like a poet had I not been exhausted and jittery. It had been a few cups of coffee on the plane in an attempt to stave off jetlag which actually worked really well. Welcomed the man home and stepped off the plane.

The first few days there was frost on everything and I guess the country was in a state of emergency because they had ran out of grit to cover the roads with and everything was slippery and everyone I spoke to was all in a tizzy about the weather. I thought it was a little funny. Anyway. These are the things I remember.

So here we go...

Hello,

My name is Mike Vance and right now I am in Ireland, staying in a small town called Ballyvaughn attending classes at the Burren College of Art.

I am planning a project revolving around the people I meet and places I go to hopefully publish the artistic manifestation of my travels as a book when i return. (we'll see.)

This blog will serve as a place keeper for my progress and an opportunity to peek into my sketchbook and my process as well as keep up with some notes, writings, musings, stories, poems, observations, photographs and reflections. I'll get it up and running more so when classes start. A deeper synopsis of my project to come. thanks for looking.

Guinness is good for you,
~Mike V.