James Matthew Behan

This was a great day. It started out with false starts, frustration, acceptance and then an idea of what could happen. I am happy. I think this will be a good body of work….I want to call it the ganymede suite….but wonder if “suite” implies a certain number….oh well, maybe not that at all. I am thinking about calling the orange one “bee catcher,” titling work can be so difficult….I wonder if this is like naming a child???

Tomorrow I am going to make my italian soup….tonight it is pizza and wings!!! I like giving myself permission to enjoy life today….maybe I will sneak a cigarette….who knows??!! Anything can happen!

Talking with my friend Erich about his new house and his many attempts at painting his living room. I encouraged him to not be concerned about the most recent color and just go with it, saying that nothing is ever perfect. I then thought about how I have been waiting on these most recent paintings of mine, and how I am waiting, as it were, for things to be perfect: the weather, my mood, the paint, the light. What was I waiting for other than for things to be perfect? And so I jumped in, however imperfectly, and finished one of the paintings. The orange is for Erich, the painting, as yet untitled, a nice reflection on our need for things to go just so….

These paintings have kicked my ass for over a year and a half; finally, there seems some light at the end of the tunnel. These have been the toughest paintings I have ever encountered. You can see previous encounters of them in earlier posts. They have had so many incarnations, false starts and dead ends. It seems like a mountain climbed, falling, starting up again, losing hope and then, suddenly, you are on the other side of the mountain, and it is a smooth slope with an incredible view. And you are skiing down the hill without any effort. What was unclear suddenly becomes clear, what was false suddenly becomes true. The door opens, you walk in and do the work until it is done. And then your are back where you started.

Am I whistling in the dark or is my intuition correct that good things lie ahead? The road stretches far, and if I only look down, I see very little. But looking up, all things seem possible! When I lift my eyes up, I feel free.

I love the Texas landscape. It is like living on the edge of the world!

Today is different because Paul Newman has passed. Slowly we are losing the very greatest of the generation of visual film actors who took their craft seriously. Today we have carbon copies of the greats: paul, spencer, jimmy, cary, kat, bogard and so many countless others who gave us a great gift to enjoy for years to come.

Congrats Paul on a great professional career and a dedicated personal life! Pictured is Paul in one of his best loved films, “Cool Hand Luke.” Way to go man!!!

Nothing stays the same. The passage of time is relentless, it doesnt cower or retreat. I remember so much! I remember so much!

If you look down the page a bit, you’ll see these paintings as they existed a week ago. It is an understatement to say that I never know how a painting will turn, it seems that I have to get to a point of complete exhaustion before I am willing to do something different. But when it happens, I know that things are going well.

A good idea is always that until you try it. Then the rubber meets the road. Painting chairs on my painting seemed like a great idea until I tried it. Now, for something completely different. I took an inventory of my current work, dismantled one, and began to dramatically reconfigure the remaining pieces. What is left is a good beginning. Sometimes things have to break down before they can be built up. Im at a place with these works (my most difficult ever) where I feel I can begin (again!!!!!)…

Sometimes in trying to paint, I can work from my imagination. Other times, I have to start somewhere. So with these paintings, I start with apples. My next step is to add images of different chairs that I own. Why? Because why.

Everyone needs a good Saturday morning diner to take in eggs, coffee and good conversation. Sometimes the conversation is replaced with a newspaper; either a satisfying experience. It is a ritual I have engaged in sinces the 1980’s. The weekend diner breakfast is as necessary a marker of the passage of time as bells in a church steeple. The weekend wouldn’t be right without it.

The diner is a uniquely american experience. The more of the grill you can see from your seat, the better. It seems the same waitress works at all of them–a good hearted gal with a few knocks on her side panel but fiesty as all get out–and friendly if you get your order off quick enough. No asking for ingredients or in depth explanations of the special of the day.

I always get the hobo: eggs, bacon, saugsage, ham, home fries, and blueberry pancakes, and coffee, coffee, coffee. MMMMMMMHHHHMMMM. Makes you glad to be alive–and all for under $10~!!