The only record left of Santa Viking's existence.

Good Christmas Eve Saturday, y'all.

I am happy to report that I survived my ordeal yesterday with Mother Nature. I was afraid I would do something stupid and wreck Christmas, but, after about six hours of yard work, I am pleasantly surprised. 

Speaking about Christmas, this is my Santa Viking pic from yesteryear. When our family had young kids to celebrate Christmas, we'd ship our gifts to them from SoCal. My two brothers started a bogus Christmas company call "Dudenheimer Productions". Tee, Brian and I would look with much anticipation for all the zany silliness my brothers could conjure up.

It was always a fun time under the tree!

In retaliation, I started sending our gifts from "Santa Viking" who'd ravage and pillage and plunder... and blunder his way into the hearts of many a little Bensen! Many Polaroids later, this is the only record of Santa Viking's existence.

Enjoy... I think!

In case I forget, let me wish you all a wonderful Christmas. My Facebook and Google friends are the best...

Copyright 2016/Ben Bensen III

"Come All Ye Faithful..."

Holy Trinity Cathedral

"When we get there, I don't think we need to stay too long," my wife said. I thought to myself well what's the big deal. It's kinda rude just to show your face and then, run!

"Okay, whatever," I acquiesced.

When we arrived at the Holy Trinity Cathedral in New Orleans, which I later found out was first Greek Orthodox Church in North or South America, the parking lot was almost full.

http://holytrinitycathedral.org/index.html

About two Saturdays ago, I moseyed over for a cup of coffee and some abuse from the gang at Gus's restaurant, but there was no one or cars to be found as is usual. There was an envelope taped to the locked door of the restaurant. I wasn't sealed so I decided to open it up and see what was the reason for everyone's Saturday no show.

Written on a torn, half sheet of yellow ledger paper by a local landscape gardener, Steve Smith, was his condolences to the owner, Gus Michailakis. The first thing that crossed my mind was that Gus had complications from his inner ear surgery and passed away. 

I was not the only friend who shared that concern.

Sketchy information from close friends who spoke to witnesses said that on Friday night, with little or no warning, the eldest son, George, left the kitchen where he was working and went into the men's bathroom to end it all. George was the eldest son with a history of mental illness. One shot was all that was heard. 

Naturally, chaos ensued. The restaurant wasn't crowded at that time, but patrons poured out of the door into the parking lot. The local police showed as did the ambulance. Out of respect for the family, none of the patrons asked and little information was divulged. At this point, one week later, the details of his death don't seem so important.

Waiting our turn to see George in repose, I noticed in front of me, the neighborhood friend Therese and I ran into as we walked to the church. She stood in front of the casket with tears in her eyes. I looked around to see how precious friendships really are and what a simple neighborhood eatery means to a community. If only George could have understood the important part of his being alive and the out pouring of love that was shown at the crowded church.

I turned my head back towards the casket to notice that, our friend, Debra, touched George's hand which was surrounded by a crystal rosary. Her doing so reminded me of seeing our son in his casket and touching his hand. A hand, though still rather childlike, was a talented hand. Little hands that we had to hold so he wouldn't scratch himself from the many food allergies that plagued him most of his life. Soft hands that could easily grasped a double play ball or tap an errand throw of a football back into his arms. Talented hands that could build and paint model aircraft as well as create marker and charcoal and pastel art. 

The same hands that later would nervously pat me on the head as he passed by never knowing quite how I would receive it, were now cold and gray. It has always stuck with me. As our turn came up to pay our respects, I could tell Therese was beginning to have a hard time coping, for George was Brian and Brian was now, George. But when she met Pam Michailakis, in the receiving line, both mothers hugged and fell into desperate tears. I really don't know what was said or commiserated. I'll never know what it means to share one mother's heartbreak with another mother, but I could tell Tee was already exhausted.

We sat in a pew for a moment or two trying to regain some composure, then we walked back to the car. Starting it up, I slipped a Christmas cd into the player. The first song to play was,"Oh Come All Ye Faithful... It was then that I realized the "twenty minutes" was probably more than enough!

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

"The Courthouse Wedding Sketch.. A FollowUp!"

The happy framer, couple and artist!

This is just a follow up to the preceding blog story: http://graphicgumbo3.blogspot.com/2016/12/a-sketch-artist-court-room-and-wedding.html  

We, the framer, the couple and me, finally were able to meet at Pineapple Gallery in Mandeville, yesterday. 

https://www.facebook.com/PineappleGallery   

For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I was really concerned that they wouldn't love it. Maybe, it had to do with only having a few minutes to complete it! I sometimes wonder what the hell is wrong with me! 

But, they both were ecstatic about the framing as well as the artwork. Whew!

Copyright 2016/Ben Bensen III

"A Sketch Artist, A Court Room And... A Wedding!"

Really a cool concept...

I received my courtroom/ wedding sketch nicely framed by the Pineapple Gallery when I visited Carol Hallock and Tanya Firmin Dischler's art show. I am hoping to set up a photo thing with the wedded couple, me, the Hamilton's, and, of course, the artwork, but coordinating everyone for these photo sessions most times just isn't logistically possible.

Well, it all started about a month ago. A young couple arrived at my booth at the Three Rivers Art Festival  and ask if I had any experience as a courtroom reporter. When I told them that I did and could send them samples of my work, they immediately recruited me to illustrate their wedding like a reporter would, as a keepsake. After explaining that they didn't want to lose control of their wedding to either side of the family, they decided since the groom was a budding divorce lawyer, that taking their vows and exchanging the rings in front of a judge in the local court house would be a pretty novel idea.

I did too, but I had no idea what was expected of me on their wedding day. To a certain degree, I should have taken more control of the proceedings. I was not aware of exactly where the judge and the couple had to be to make the best use of the scene. Unbeknownst to me, traditionally the bride is to stand or kneel on the left side of the groom. Had I known that ahead of time I would've place myself on the other side of the judge's stand. I wanted to position myself where I could get the bride's face and gown and leave the groom, who was visually easier to draw sporting a straw hat and a well groomed beard, in profile. 

I should have explained my concern and asked for their patience in order to transport my easel and supplies to the other side of the judge's stand, but I just didn't want to impose myself upon the couple in that way. I am positive that they wouldn't have had a problem with my request even though they seemed a bit nervous about the whole idea and now, just wanted to get it done.

The ceremony was to start at 2pm, but the couple was twenty minutes late. While waiting for their arrival, I spent some time conversing with the judge.

"Sir, I asked, just how long does the vows and ring exchange usually take before you announce a couple man and wife?"

"Oh, probably not more than two minutes or so," he blithely commented.

"Two minutes? You're kidding?" I asked. "Man, I'm a pretty good artist, but I can't draw that fast!"

"Well, maybe we can pose for you, a bit!"

If the vows took five minutes, I'd have been surprised. When the ceremony was over, the couple turned to me and asked to see what I had completed. I showed them what I had and begged for a few minutes more. The three granted my request. As I continued to struggle within that time frame on what I considered a botched drawing, many of those in the wedding party including the guards came behind me looking over my shoulder complimenting my every move. I seemed to feel better about the sketch with every passing minute.    

Although I had him sketched to my satisfaction, it didn't take long for the groom to get fidgety... about ten minutes. I hastily laid in some tone with the side of my Prismacolor pencil and declared the sketch complete and as the party raced toward the door, the groom turned back towards me and said,"It looks great!" "Can you get it framed for us?"

Copyright 2016/Ben Bensen III

"Pondering That Old Matchbox Hole..."

My friend, "Paula and the Big Belgian!"

Good morning, all bodies. I'm sitting with the old matchbox hole watching the morning sun bun off the fog that's settled over our back paddock pond... and pondering.

Yesterday, I went to Giddy-Up to talk to the owner about his placement of a painting... on a wall mounted coat rack. I envisioned all kinds of scenarios about his reaction to my asking him about it.

Giddy-Up is a local coffeeshop that has become THE signature place to just relax with a book, a cup of coffee and a nosh. It was beautifully designed and built by the owner, who Tee and I have become great friends of, but the painting of a friend of mine on horseback just can't be hanging where it is and I wasn't sure how to express my displeasure about it being there. 

I remember how some AFAPO and Society of Illusrators members used to complain about the Air Forces placement of their art at the semi annual galas. I always found it to be a bit rude and presumptuous of an artist to make such a fuss. Some demanded moving someone else's art for theirs stating their tenured statue in
the program. Some used being a board member as a way of manipulating the scene.

So, it was with some trepidation that I went for some coffee wearing my blue "Giddy-Up" tee shirt... just in case. I actually hoped that the owner was not going to be there to avoid any awkward moments. I'd just steathfully grab the painting and tell the barista that I was taking it home for an upcoming show... that wouldn't have been a lie.

Instead, Frank, the owner was there, came by to greet me and some other guests and inquired about my recent epidural. Well, I thought, now's the time if there ever was one.

"Hey Frank, I know you take great pride in this place and I know that the walls are well ADORNED with art work and western stuff, but I can''t have my painting hanging where you have it. Ya know?"

"As it gets colder, people are gonna want to," I started to say.

"Yeh Ben, I apologize." I have a handyman that was supposed to come over the weekend and fix a few things. I was gonna have him hang your painting somewhere nicer where it can be seen, but he never showed up."

"I love the painting. I want it here, but I just haven't gotten to it yet."

"Okay, man, thanks, that' cool. I'm glad you understand my concern," I said.

"So, slightly moving on, Frank said, "it is a great morning. How come y'all aren't sitting outside?"

Satisfied that negotiations went better than expected, I sank deeper into the big comfy leather chairs and replied,"The chairs are incredible and great for my back!"

I've read that the Milennial generation doesn't know how to socially be with people and address situations that might not be to their advantage. Socialologists blame it on the iPhone and texting. They might have a point, but I can't say I'm all that great at it either.

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

"I've Suddenly Become The Victor Borg Of The Art World"...

Comedian Pianist, Victor Borge

Good Throwback Thursday, y'all.

Gonna throw it back all the way to last night... that's right!
I had a great time with the Jefferson Art Guild demoing at Lafrieniere Park. As part of my color theory, I mentioned the inimitable Keith Ferris, the aviation illustrator well known for his Smithsonian Air and Space murals, and for his penchant of only using the primaries and black and white.

When I realized that I only had two of those primaries to demo with, well, let's just say that's when the fun began. 

"So, I guess I'll just have to one up good, ole Keith," I said, "and do this with one hand tied behind my back."

I did not realize I was but one aspect of the guild's monthly meetings. I arrived twenty minutes ahead of schedule in order to prepare, but the spotlight didn't shine on me until well into the second hour. I had about 40 minutes to "explain myself" and convince the raucous crowd that I actually can paint. It was not going so well, so I pulled out my iPad to show a picture of the sailboat I had painted a few weeks earlier. 

Lucky for me, the group was impressed with the exception of one woman who thought the piece I was working on was better than the completed version I passed around... with a few minor adjustments. 

With my iPad in her possession, she pointed to a section that she felt needed to be changed. I turned to the audience smiling incredulously and mumbled...

"Art Directors. Everyone wants to be an art director!"

As the laughter died down, I attempted to mix a bit of golden tan with copious amounts of white to match the tone on the canvas that the diminutive art analyst decided needed to be changed.

Once again, laughter exploded when she said,"No, that's not it!" 

I turned to the audience and as I feigned my disgust, I handed the paint brush to her as to invite her with the continuation of my demo. With ten minutes left and cognizant that I've suddenly become the Victor Borg of the art world, I decided to just give it all up and have some fun. I dutifully corrected the tone, appled it on the canvas, and Mrs. A.D. was elated... as well as vindicated!

As I was cleaning and packing up, many came over to introduce themselves and thank me for an informative and entertaining evening. One woman told me that she was the featured artist to demo next month and asked if I could offer some suggestions for her presentation.

"Well, I said, I'm a pretty hard act to follow. Just don't forget to bring your yellow!"

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

"It Was Big Enough To Nab A Horse"...

Bananas Not Included...

About a year ago, I spent the summer at a plantation home in St. Francisville working on a film as a storyboard artist. I had a up stairs bedroom with my own bathroom and a door leading out to the back porch. For a while, it was great to go out to the porch and have a lunch overlooking a bevy of trees and a small lake to forget the deadlines and changes that always seem to make this job more difficult.

I say, for a while, because one morning, out of nowhere parked in the middle of the porch doorway this humongous spider. For the next four or five weeks this animal, which with legs and all was about as large as a long shoreman's hand. It seemed every morning there was some new insect or farm animal stuck in the web of this yellow monster with a head full of cold, emotionless black eyes.

Well, three weeks after cutting a bunch of tree branches that were hanging on top of the roof, I finally decided to clean up the mess I created. I casually walked between two large pin oak trees that are about ten feet apart from each other and found myself caught up in what seemed to be monafilament fishing line. In the blink of an eye, I was being sized up by a half dozen little black eyes.

The underside of the female...

I swatted at it as I untangled myself from the spider's web and ran to the protection of one of the trees. I noticed the badass spider also took off the shelter of the opposite tree. We both looked around the trees from afar, sized each other up and decided to leave well enough alone.

I came out later to take a few pictures in order to find out exactly who the visitor was and investigate its "modus operandi". I found it's commonly called a banana spider and to be a native. This particular spider is the only species of the genus Nephila to be found in the Western Hemisphere. They live in warm regions, from North Carolina and across the Gulf States through Central America, as far south as Argentina, and in the West Indies (found extensively throughout Puerto Rico).

Well, the good news is that the spider is a beneficial predator and it doesn't eat people. And, oh yeh, it's silk is being investigated as a component of bullet proof vests. That should say something!

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

"It Was Big Enough To Nab A Horse"...

Bananas Not Included...

About a year ago, I spent the summer at a platation home in St. Francisville working on a film as a storyboard artist. I had a up stairs bedroom with my own bathroom and a door leading out to the back porch. For a while, it was great to go out to the porch and have a lunch overlooking a bevy of trees and a small lake to forget the deadlines and changes that always seem to make this job more difficult.

I say, for a while, because one morning, out of nowhere parked in the middle of the porch doorway this humongous spider. For the next four or five weeks this animal, which with legs and all was about as large as a long shoreman's hand. It seemed every morning there was some new insect or farm animal stuck in the web of this yellow monster with a head full of cold, emotionless black eyes.

Well, three weeks after cutting a bunch of tree branches that were hanging on top of the roof, I finally decided to clean up the mess I created. I casually walked between two large pin oak trees that are about ten feet apart from each other and found myself caught up in what seemed to be monafilament fishing line. In the blink of an eye, I was being sized up by a half dozen little black eyes.

The underside of the female...

I swatted at it as I untangled myself from the spider's web and ran to the protection of one of the trees. I noticed the badass spider also took off for the shelter of the opposite tree. We both looked around the trees from afar, sized each other up and decided to leave well enough alone.

I came out later to take a few pictures in order to find out exactly who the visitor was and investigate its "modus operandi". I found it's commonly called a banana spider and to be a native. This particular spider is the only species of the genus Nephila to be found in the Western Hemisphere. They live in warm regions, from North Carolina and across the Gulf States through Central America, as far south as Argentina, and in the West Indies (found extensively throughout Puerto Rico).

Well, the good news is that the spider is a beneficial predator and it doesn't eat people. And, oh yeh, it's silk is being investigated as a component of bullet proof vests. That should tell you something!

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

"Hey Pete, Your Walk Can't Get Much Closer!"

Well, here in New Orleans, it is a sad Saturday, day. 

Pete Fountain passed away this morning at 86 years of age. No one, except Louis Armstrong, represented all the facets that is this crazy town like Pete!

"Hey Pete, your walk can't get much closer!"

https://youtu.be/YbJgLmUGSS0

Copyright Ben Bensen III/2016

"Aches and Pains Of Those Glory Days!"...

Five of the eighteen frames for Western Airlines that is currently my Facebook cover piece.

I don't believe this concept ever got sold and aired on TV. I thought the concept was a great way to introduce the new and improved Western Airlines. I could never tell, in the older commercials, if that spokesperson, sipping champagne while leaning against the vertical stabilizer in the tail section of the aircraft, was an eagle or a parrot! But, as the plane zoomed across the screen from left to right, the bird ( I'm told the voiceover was performed by the long time actor, Jim Backus ) looked toward the camera and with an rather deep and sophisticated voice garbled...

"Western Airlines, The Only Way To Fly"

I'm mentioning all of this because my back problems aren't going away, but there is a good story here. Once upon a time, while playing flag football at Santa Monica City College, I injured my back intercepting a pass. It wasn't a monumental, game winning feat. It was just another one of those weekend warrior interceptions of the mid air variety. Though I came down with ball in hand, I spent the rest of the game crumpled up on the bench. I really didn't think that much about it, but I apparently hurt it more than I thought I did. I never went to see a doctor about it. Eventually in time, it healed, but it healed wrong.

Well over the years my back would, every now and then, act up. One year it went BOING while I was peeling potatoes. Another time it TWANGED while I was up in our tree picking oranges. Seldom was there a rhyme or reason but it had never gave me a problem as I sat at the drawing board.

One day I got called to a meeting with an art director at NW Ayer/Los Angeles, I think. I got briefed on a presentation designed to changed the aircraft "branding" of Western Airlines and the creative team picked me to orchestrate this "floating ribbon" idea. I am sure that there were many other creative teams hashing out other ideas, but this idea was important enough to the agency for me to receive a large scale model of the McDonnell/ Douglas DC-10 to take home as reference. Over the years, being given what amounts to poor quality xeroxes to work from, having Ayer loan me this model as reference said more than enough to me about the seriousness of the presentation.

I brought the model home and proceeded to hang it from clothesline with monofilament line. I took lots of pictures of the plane from all kinds of angles because I needed eighteen frames to depict in the storyboard how the newly designed ribbon caresses and wraps itself, midair, all around the aircraft. A few days later, I returned the model and showed the AD my pencils. As it always seems, there were some changes to the sketches, but nothing too complicated.The complicated part came when I arrived home and got out of the car... DOIING!

When I finally got myself to bed, I stayed there for the next two days. When I could get out of the bed, I really couldn't sit for very long. The deadline loomed as I was being hounded to bring in the changes for the account people to make more changes and kick it around some more before going to the finals. This, naturally, was before the computer was in vogue. I couldn't get up, much less, drive over to the agency. So the AD and the writer suggested to visit me at my home "studio" to work with me on the details of the board. Although I gobbled up some pain pills, when they arrived, my wife had to lead them to my "sick bed."

"Man, you look bad. Are you okay to finish the job?" the writer asked.

Then, the art director chimed in, "Ben, you're the right guy for this job, but...uh"

I assured them that I was still excited about the job and that I'd be okay to finish the board in due time AND... that it would look great. In the back of my mind, I really wasn't sure at all if I was gonna be flexible enough to finish the project. But I wanted the money and the idea of me backing out of the job to hassle the account people for a kill fee was not something I really wanted to do. So, with me sitting up, kinda, in the bed with pencil in hand, we worked out the details of what I considered to be minor changes.

With the deadline looming larger, and the approval cycle complete, I was able to finish the artwork in a few days with the help of muscle relaxants, coffee and a couple of blocks of ice. The art director came by the "home studio" to pick up all eighteen frames and seemed pretty happy with the results. I suppose, though, he was mostly relieved that the work actually got done.

As I mentioned, I don't believe the concept was ever bought. I certainly never ever saw it run on local TV. It wasn't too much longer, maybe a year or so later, that Western Airlines along with PSA were no longer in the flying business.

For the longest time, I searched for the entire storyboard of eighteen frames, but never finding it. I'm not sure why. I'm not sure why I didn't photographed the entire set. I'm not sure why it was important to me to have the complete set. I was proud of my tenacity and that my patience and persistence had won out. Maybe, getting the job over with was my main motive. But every time I ran across these few frames in one of my many slide trays in hopes of using them in a promo piece, I would relive the past and all the hassle I went through to get the job done.

Then, I would think about my father.

How important should it be to me to show this work fifteen, twenty and even now thirty years later? How coincidental that my back is again showing it's age as I have once again attempted to find all of the slides. Why should it matter? What difference does it make? What story am I trying to convey by displaying art that is, while competently and painfully done, certainly way past it's prime?

Suffice it to say, that board, my back problems then and my back problems now are a constant reminder of something my dad always complained about whenever he would attend social gatherings like the ones the Diamond Club put on annually. The Diamond Club was a local organization comprised of living baseball heroes, officials, scorekeepers, sportswriters and such.

"All these guys want to do is gripe about their aches and pains and expound on their glory days... I'm tired of dwelling on the past. I'm about right now," he'd say.

And, as I now moan and groan to myself about my aches and pains, and shuffle through irony of my artistic past, his words continue to haunt me.

"Yeh Dad, I know, I got it, okay... I got it!

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

The 50th Anniversary of "Pet Sounds"...

Well, I can't think of a better place to see Brian Wilson than in Southern California. He had the audience the moment he, rather gingerly, walked on stage.

Good overcast and cool Friday morning, y'all.

The concert last night was wonderful. The catalogue of songs that man has contributed to rock n' roll is truly astounding. He repeatedly apologized, I thought, for not playing the hits. It must still be stuck in his mind that the second best album in rock history, ( by those who list such things! ) was a complete debacle in the mid sixties... even in the mind of his own band. But, everyone in the reserved level, where I sat, kept reassuring him that the 50th Anniversary of Pet Sounds was the main reason for attending.

He ended the concert with some of his hit records and received a standing "O" with "Good Vibrations!"

"Great Guy, Great Lunch, Great Book, Great Autograph!"

My long time aviation artist buddy, Mike Machat.

I met my aviation buddy, Mike Machat at the 94th Aero Squadron restaurant overlooking the Van Nuys airport. Every time I return to SoCal, I make an appointment to have lunch with Mike. He and I grew up making plastic models as kids and one of our major influences in our adult art career was Jack Leynnwood, who created model box top art for Revell and Aurora. So, even if we never had anything else to talk about having Jack in our lives is a topic we never tire of. 

Mike and I met on the board of the Society of Illustrators in Los Angeles and found aviation as a passion that we both shared. We spent many years painting for the U.S. Air Force Art Program and the American Society of Aviation Artists. We both worked at aerospace plants in LA and both had to split before the whole industry caved in on itself. The big difference between he and I is that he's a pilot and I am not, and he continued making a living as an aviation artist and I went the route of creating presentation art for the ad world.

This year, Mike published his third hard cover book entitled," The Art of Mike Machat" Painting Aviation Legends." In the book, he writes about the varied processes of creating historical art for the aviation industry working directly with the pilots that made so many contributions to flight. One year ago, he asked me to read a couple of pages to give him my opinion of the concept. I was flattered then that he wanted my perspective on the concept, and yesterday, was more flattered to receive my own autographed copy.

He signed it, "For Ben Bensen, Fellow Air Force Artist, Jack Leynnwood fan, and friend. With admiration, Mike Machat."

Thanks, Mike!

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

"Cockadoddlely- Did!"

The village of Folsom, LA has its own post office. At one time, the U.S. Postal Service was gonna close down the office to save money, but the locals spoke up and complained much to the surprise of Gary, our postmaster.

I think he lobbied hard to any ear that was within stamp licking distance.

But the little brick building ensconced in the corner of town is a country office and sometimes, we forget that. Returning from our trip to Michigan to pick up our mail and in between my conversation about the Air Force and Gary's veteran status, came a strange muffled groan. At first, I thought I was hearing things, but it grew from a faint hum to a cackled whimper. Gary didn't seem at all phased, so I blew it off, assuming that it was what I had for breakfast that was making sounds unfamiliar to any Post office.

Gary went back to pick up our mail and while he was gone, I leaned over the counter to see where the sounds were coming from. The groan sounded like a raspy complaint emanating from an enclosure of sorts. It seemed to gain momentum the closer I got until I hear that distinctive early morning wakeup tune.

"Eurt-eur-eurt; eur, EURRRR!"

It's a rooster, I thought. What the hell is a rooster doing in the post office? What? Is today, bring your pet to work day?

Gary returns to answer," Yeh, occasionally this one farmer who raises prize winning roosters will ship a few hens with his rooster."

"He doesn't sound too happy about his travel accommodations to me," I said.

"I'm told the eggs from this farmer sell for sixty bucks an egg!"

"No way, I said, that's wild, and a rather expensive breakfast, dont'cha think?

"Oh no, Mr. Ben," these are prize winning birds!"

Walking out of the door with an armful of mail, I asked,"Then, what comes first? The chicken or the prize winning egg?"


Copyright 2016/ Ben BensenIII

"Mudbug Madness"...

Ten pounds bought and I ate five!

It's all you can eat catfish or crawfish for a Friday night special at a local restaurant called, "Scoops" here in Folsom. LA. We got to the restaurant around seven and got the last ten pounds they were gonna serve tonight.  

I have a Facebook friend from Sweden and when I posted the picture, she saw it and said they serve 'em up annually around August. I didn't even know they had crawfish ( as we pronounce it here in 'da Bayou! ) in Sweden. I asked her how do the Swedish prepare such a delicacy and she replied, "We boil them with salt and lots of dill and eat them cold with toast or bread and an assortment of cheese and perhaps a salad. Sometimes here in the north, where I live now, we make a cheese pie of Västerbottenost, a local stronger cheese."

"When I was a child we went fishing for crayfish with my grandfather, who always pulled up his own from the lake where he lived. Sweet memories! Also, there is a saying in Sweden that "kräftor kräva dessa drycker", that is,"crayfish requires pilsner and schnaps" to be properly enjoyed!"

When my Swedish friend inquired about our recipe, I unloaded all the things one would put in the pot. Well, we boil them with salt too, but we add lots of seasoning such as cayenne, cloves, marjoram, bay leaves, thyme, black pepper, paprika, etc. in a cheese cloth bag and throw it into the boiling water. That was the old country way. Nowadays, there's a commercial seasoning packet that you use to add it with the crawfish. Then, we add coarsly chopped up celery, lemon, onions, garlic, sausages, corn on the cob, small red potatoes.

Beer is the libation of choice, I told her.

She laughed and mentioned one day getting together to "compare notes!" Well, I am part Swedish!

Copyright2016/ Ben Bensen III

smile emoticon

"Why Hasn't Anyone Thought Of This Idea?"

Inflation...  a nickel works, but a quarter works better!

My wife has a step stool that goes back to her teenage years singing in a band. When we moved to SoCal, she brought that step stool. It always came in handy where a full blown ladder would be too much. Unfortunately, she never ever used it again for it's original purpose. A sad event in my mind.

Over the years, it lost its sentimental value and became more and more a tool. Or so I thought.

Therese was really upset that I had personally wrecked the stool and any sentimental attachment by using it as most step stools are used for. It was laden with paint, plaster, glue and started to rust.

But, it is still alive and well. It has outlasted many lighter but less well made equipment. The only problem is that the legs of the stool have cut through many a plastic or rubber cup. After a few years, it inevitably cuts right through them and etches into the floor, the carpet, the grass, concrete, whatever!

After changing a few ceiling light bulbs I noticed it was needing replacements once again, and naturally, I had every size cups except the four that I needed. "You know, I thought to myself, it wouldn't etch right through the bottoms if I can put something metal inside of the cup... Like maybe, a coin."

"Genius idea, I said to myself... Absolute genius!"

Well, a dime or a penny didn't work at all, and a nickel worked better as I sized up one of the older cups by dropping the coin inside. A quarter, even though I had to struggle to jam it inside, worked best. "Inflation," I thought, "Wouldn't you know it?"

Later that day, I went to a local hardware store to find the correct size cup for the stool's lethal ways.
I complained to the diminutive, ball of energy, about the hassle of having to every five years or so, find and replace these cups. I showed her my wrecked sample with the hole cleanly cut out of the bottom, and she said...

"Well, I don't have it in white, only black, but I can tell you how to prevent the legs from cutting out the bottoms."

But before I could tell her of my genius solution, she said," I can sell you some metal washers just the right size that you can slip inside of the cup. It can definitely help make a difference!"

I thanked her for the added advice, bought the cups and the washers to fit and walked out, satisfied, but disgusted.

"Genius, eh?"

Copyright 2016/Ben Bensen III

"She Totally Ignored My Paintings, But..."

Nice to know I've still got it!

This is great. This is really funny. I'm standing next to my five entries at the Abita Springs Plein Air show last night like a good marketeer just waiting to explain my work and one women comes by and peruses. So, classic me, I nudge her gently into a conversation...

Any conversation!

I really don't remember what we talked about. The weather, the event, the guitar player, which I didn't like the organizers' placement of the musician, the knoshes... I might have said something about my career, whatever. But, when there was a lull in the conversation, ( which inevitably happens! ) she looked at all five paintings, rather intently, and said...

"I really love your signature!" It is really awesome!" ( She actually used the word, "awesome." ) and it is so consistent on each painting!"

Never one to be at a loss for words, even at my own detriment, I said...

"You know a friend of mine ( Karen Kuchar ) said she loved my signature and wished she could create one like mine. She also wanted to know how I sign it in oil because it is so difficult to do."

With a nervous chuckle, I said, "I told Karen, I do it very carefully!"

She took a sip of her chardonnay, giggled and walked away.

That's the best of my marketing acumen, last night ...

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

"Alone Again, Artistically?"

Framing created by Terri Hamilton at Pineapple Gallery

I had an interesting and often rare experience two days ago. It occurred after months of conversation over the phone and over the internet. The person I was "dealing with" was pretty understanding and readily admitted that he had little knowledge of how to accomplish this graphic feat. We spent months kicking around several ideas replacing a very old college decal into a frameable piece of art that he could hang in his office. The decal was quite brittle and the kind that you soak in water and apply to whatever you chose to attach it to. Back in the seventies, that usually meant one's car.

Ah, school spirit and all that rah, rah stuff.

Thankfully, Doug was not in a hurry to have this feat accomplished quickly and that was a real nice place to be for me when you consider most of my commercial work always needs to be done "yesterday."

After a few romps into a new visual concepts, we decided to stick with the Mississippi State mascot and bring the little pugnacious pup into the new century. These sketches were completed during the Christmas holidays and emailed along with my own designed Christmas card. Here are a few of the ideas...

Sometime in January, Doug emailed me that he loved the idea of the graph paper and wondered how I came up with that idea. Like many ideas, it came to me as an accident. For another project, I had incorporated, in the Photoshop preferences panel, the automatic opening of grids and guides. When I went back to this assignment, the grid automatically popped up. I thought it looked good. So, I sent the new design with the grid to Doug, thinking it really applied to being an engineer.

 Boy, did it ever. Doug loved it.

After many minor adjustments over time, Doug gave me the permission, in between his busy schedule, to have it printed. There were a few more emails to get an approval about colors, and frame size.

After it was all assembled and ready for pickup, we set up a date and a place to deliver it. When it was all said and done, it was suggested that I drop off the artwork and mail him the bill. In a way, I figured that would be the safer way to go if after all this time and emails, he doesn't like it. I wouldn't have a confrontation or the embarrassment of trying to explain myself or my design.

But, then I thought that I really wanted to meet the person that I had spent half a year working with. I decided that I was not gonna allow the digital world with everyone staring down at their iPhones and iPad screens, to keep me from making human contact.

We met at a local coffee shop, and had a wonderful time. It was great to see who he was, how he looked and see the expressions on his face... expressions I had heard over the phone many times. To me, it would have been a great loss to not have had the time to met him personally.

Over the last twenty years, the computer helped me acquire many jobs without leaving home, but seldom did I have any physical contact with clients I really enjoyed working with. In our meeting, Doug and I got to laugh about the project's progression, the changes, the silly ideas, and learned quite a bit about his work as an engineer at Shell. He introduced his wife as soulmate and art critic and shared a bit or their own personal life.

I think she liked me, and thankfully, she loved what I'd done.

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

"Might Be Too Bold For This Gallery!"

A Plein Air painting I just completed a few days ago."

So funny. I just sent a prospective gallery some of my latest Plein Air stuff just to let them know I am kinda producing. The gallery's retort was;
"Thank you for showing me what you are doing! Bright and graphic! Might be too bold for this gallery... Best of luck in Abita Springs."

Now, there's nothing wrong with that comment. It is really professional for them to even respond. Every gallery has their niche, and that's the beauty of art. I understand... I think there wrong, but I totally understand!

It does bring back a time when many of my friends and relatives were worried about me because many of my images were so dark and moody, and foreboding.

Entitled, " We Win."

"Who would want to have that in their homes?" my mother would say. She once, because I was in a funk about a guitar chord that I could not play, practically gave me permission to go to Bourbon Street and..."try to have a good time!"

Mothers... who can figure them out!

Galleries, too!

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

"Had Some Lunch And Relived My "Marker Days!"

A marker sketch

Um, I was just throwing out these leaves and decided to sketch them first while having a lunchtime break. Then, somewhere between the gouda and the Cabernet, I decided to color it. I sketched it out with a pointed water based Pentel and then, rendered it with grays and green Admarkers and Prismacolor markers.

I made my living this way... with markers. It was fun to find the ones that weren't dried up and render the drawing without the stress of a crazy deadline.

 I learned to use all three kinds and incorporate them in my comps; the water based, alcohol based and the petroleum based like Admarkers. I still have a set box full of them. Never know when you might need 'em. Besides, you can "rejuvenate" them with a product called, "Goof Off." 

Quite a few Facebook friends though it was a real set of eucalyptus leaves because of the use of the drop shadow... I'm flattered by all the nice compliments.

Although I used many kinds of markers to get the effect, I always preferred Admarkers, though not because of its aroma, ha! 

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III