Well, it's the new year... Time for resolutions. I think this year my resolutions will be to take things up a notch:

* Find a non douchey gallery to rep me
* Start building my squirrel army
* Do more swanky art fairs 
* Finally master that whole Jedi mind trick thingy
* Crank out some new work

In retrospect, this past year was pretty rough... Productive but rough. I don't wanna repeat myself and come off whiney so I'll just say that everything seems to be fine. For now.

Thank the Great Sock Monkey for hpyomania and for Gwen. 

What's else is going on? Well, I'm still busy wrapping up a few commissions but am also planning out my next series, setting up some shows and making a play at teaching a course via the Chicago Art Institute’s continuing education program. 

In March, the missus and I are taking a trip to SF to see and be seen -- consider yourself warned kiddies, we may show up at your doorstep for a "pop in."

On our way back from Christmas in Ohio, we finally got to check out the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame, BTW and...

It... was... AWESOME! 

Otherwise, same old, same old: Looking forward to the spring thaw... Toodles!

Hey Kids!

It's been a while since my last post. Sorry. I've been surprisingly busy, like mad crazy. Seriously. This has left me pleased and pleasantly confused.

I was sure that -- what with the economy in the crapper and all -- that I'd have to pick up a gig dolling out espresso shots or shoveling drives or shaking my money maker in some seedy bar somewhere to, y'know, help make ends meet...

Instead, I magically managed to land a couple of commissions, sell a painting, collab on a mural and get an extension on my city funded residency.

I'm not trying to brag guys, honest, I'm just... well, kinda shocked. And grateful. Definitely grateful.

Tis the season, I guess.

Anyhow, I got stuff to talk about but prolly not until after the first of '09. Meanwhile, much love to all you all out there doin' what you're doin'. May you have some good luck and love tossed your way during these unsteady times.

Peace, etc., etc.

Hey kids!

I'm sure that by now you've heard me brag about my brilliant wife and her efforts at becoming a published author... Very recently, she completed the final revision of her first novel: "Cast the First Stone."

Currently, she's hunting down potential agents as well as making first contact to the publishing world.

Having a background in pre-press and print production, I know how agonizingly slow and frustrating this process to be, so... We decided to take the indy/grass roots approach and create a "pre-publication edition" for you, the bold supporter and close friend of the emerging arts.

Below is the summary of the book. Show your love by visiting: Gwen's storefront at Lulu.com to purchase a copy of your very own. As a bonus, if you send your copy to her, she'll gladly sign it and send it back. To do that, please send your copy with a SASE to:

D&G Productions
PO Box 59408
Chicago, IL 60659-0408
*Please allow for up to two weeks for redelivery.

AND... Don't forget to check out Gwen's blog for updates about her publication process, upcoming readings and events, news, and writings: Little Miss Gnomide

Ars Gratia Artis!
-David

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About the book:

Cast the First Stone is a first novel that is as humorous as it is bittersweet. This unique "coming-of-age" tale set in dreary, small-town Oklahoma, stars Denny Stone, a feisty girl with a sharp tongue and a taste for rum & Coke. Fiercely independent, she typifies the rebel in all of us – constantly redefining herself within the confines of her Podunk existence. By contrast, her best friend Haley is soft-spoken and timid – inexplicably trapped in the role of matriarch with her ever-growing, poverty-stricken family. They struggle with their emerging sexuality, social status, spirituality and family. As Denny plans her escape to California, Haley draws further inward, seeking out God and testing the limits of friendship and loyalty, leaving one burning question: who will cast the first stone?

Hi everybody!

It's been quite a while since my last newsletter – my bad, sorry. 

To begin, I am really, really sorry for not being a better friend and writing more often... In all honesty, the move to CHI last August threw me and I've spent all of a year fighting off a rather nasty depression that I only just recently -- as in; a couple of weeks ago -- got over.

BUT. I have been progressing along despite these obstacles and am winding up for new and exciting art adventures!!!

As many of you may have heard, I just finished a challenging if not mildly frustrating (haha) year running the painting program for The Little Black Pearl. Realizing that I'm not quite cut out to teach within the public school system, I have segued myself into the LBP's public murals and commissions program. This feels like a better fit and I am fastly making cool connections, both personally as well as professionally. Also, the semi steady income is very helpful, especially during these hard economic times. 

Show-wise, after the Artropolis International Art Fair and the Artist Project in April/May, an art walk in June and an art festival in August, I've decided to ease up my exhibiting schedule a bit in favor of cultivating my painting into something a bit more technically complex. I feel it's time. My work wants to evolve and that sort of thing can't be rushed. Also, after being burned the last couple of times, I am aggressively seeking out a better class of gallery representation.

What's new? Well, this month I am wrapping up a few commissions and have a 44' X 8' mural to complete while prepping myself for This November when I begin my short residency with Chicago's Cultural Center: Storefront in the Pedway below the Chicago Cultural Center, 77 E. Randolph St. Chicago, IL. November 1–29 Days and Hours: M-F 8-6, weekends by appointment. Those of you in the area are VERY encouraged to drop by. (I like visitors.)

Please feel free to drop me a line if you like or just tune into my blog from time to time for more info as it happens. 

Later, y'all!
-David

Lines. Everywhere you go, you're stuffed into a line and made to wait:

Want coffee? Get in line.
Buying groceries? Get in line.
Wanna kick W's ass? Get in line.

DMV…

What is our obsession with lines? Ever been to that theme park with the giant anti Semitic rat? Lines. Endless lines. And people run, knocking children and the elderly out of their way, simply gonzo to get their spot in line.

It weirds me out almost as much as it annoys the crap out of me.

A short time ago, Gwen and some friends of ours decided it was finally time to check out America's tallest building: The Sears Tower. Ever since I first saw Ferris Bueller's Day Off, I have wanted to go to the top of this architectural marvel, lean my head against the glass, look down and enjoy the cheap thrill of extreme vertigo.

Simple dreams, dear friends, simple dreams.

We arrived at the ground floor entrance and immediately found ourselves shuffled into a line for our turn on the elevator which – we foolishly assumed – would take us up the tower. Actually, after a fifteen minute lag time and being rudely shoved about, we discovered that the elevator went DOWN and opened up into: another line.

This line, as it turns out, was for the metal detector. Metal detector?!? What the hell for? Is the sears tower a hot spot for snipers??

"Watch out for that old lady and her grandkid – they look suspicious…"

"Better frisk that dude in the wheel chair – it could be a clever terrorist ruse…"

"Sorry Ma'am, your kid has to leave his leg braces here…"

Yes, naturally we all live in ball shrinking terror of little kids in leg braces.

(insert me rubbing my temples and taking a deep breath here)

After a grueling ten minutes, this line empties into… anyone? Another g*ddamned line, that's what! Ever been on a roller coaster where they forcibly snap your picture – screaming and or throwing up? This line had the same idea.

I'm not stupid. I know this was a security ploy masked as a cheesy souvenir. I know this, because you were not allowed to skip this step. 

NOT ALLOWED. 

So, begrudgingly, we were shuffled in front of a big green screen, made to pose like morons and then ushered into… another… friggin'… line.  I shit you not. This line was mercifully for tickets (at thirteen bucks a head) and I sighed as yet another fifteen minutes off my life withered, died and floated away. 

You'd think that at this point, we'd be in the elevator speeding to the top, ready to reap the benefits of our polite patience. Noooooooooo. Our celebratory sprint was abruptly cut short by -- a line. To the elevator, you ask?

HA, I say, HA.

This line, this fifteen minutes of agonizing social outrage, was to gain entrance into a small theater where we were subjected to a twenty minute mini-documentary of the Sears Tower. I'll spare you the mindless details save to say that the word "erection" got used way too often to be taken seriously. 

At long (hehe), loooooong last, we were finally stuffed into an express elevator that took us to the top. Yah-f**kin-hoo. Doing the head lean thing took all of five minutes. We then spent a good twenty minutes wandering around and reading some of Chicago's history that had been conveniently pasted up for our embetterment. My comment to Gwen at this point was;

"Gee honey, if they had all this shit posted up along the way, I might not have minded standing in all those god-awful lines…"

We then – you guessed it – got in line for the ride back down.

This is not quite the end of our grand adventure, oh no, not for The Fellowship of the Tower -- nay. As we birthed ourselves from the tiny express elevator, we plunged headlong into the five minute line to look-at-and-then-reject the lame photo of us superimposed in front of a random skyline. Then into the ten minute, "Thanks for visiting the Sears Tower" line for the elevator up and at last, out.

(sigh)

If there is a hell, it's an endless line to nowhere.

I was revisiting some Rage Against the Machine -- seems especially appropriate lately -- and came across this little note... I found it quite inspiring, maybe you will, too.

"I write messages on money. It's my own form of social protest. A letter printed on paper that no one will destroy; passed indiscriminately across race, class and gender lines and written in the blood that keeps the beast alive. A quite hijacking on the way to the check-out counter.

And a federal crime.

I hope someone will find my messages when they really need it, like I do."

Hmmmm...

OK, OK...

I've gotten QUITE a few "letters to the editor" in regards to my earlier post: "Life in Chicagoland: A Punk Guy Rant."

Geeeeeesh.

To begin, lemme just point out that I was (a) speeking in general terms and (b) not referring to anyone specific. Also, I'd like to add that I have met some truly awesome folks here that are fastly becoming good friends.

The landscape is breathtaking.
The architecture, jaw-dropping.
The art, phenomenal.

Yes, there are lots and lots of other ass-kissy things to say about Chicagoland. All of which make for a very dull blog.

Happy?

But. They are still the wosrt drivers EVER. I stand by that. Some have written me about their town's lousy drivers and smoldering stares. I don't doubt that at all. I'm just saying that comparatively, Chicago is worse.

To be fair, here's a short list, arraigned from worst to mostly crappy, to help ease that statement a bit:

1.  Chicago
2.  L.A. /Orange County
3.  New York City
4.  San Francisco
5. And, if memory serves me, most of South Florida

Anyway...

If you recall, last year I began writing a novel. It was part of the "challenge" to announce it to everyone so that I couldn't back out without lookin' like a total ass.

I got about halfway through it before I needed to put it aside in favor of painting, and wrangling up some rent money.

Now, here it is a year later and the writing group I am part of has decided to do it again so, I am dusting off my project and seeing if I can finish it up.

We begin (again) at midnight -- wish me luck.

Coming soon, more posts!!!

Here's where my head is right now...

I've been here a year and still don't know what to make of this strange, Midwestern city. This "Chicagoland." I feel like I'm constantly on the fence about it… I like the aesthetic – lots of greenery, and parks and giant potted plants that line the expressways and of course, the public art kicks ass. My favorite part so far though, is the beach.  It's about a mile from the apartment and any chance I get; I stroll down to the waters' edge and let my mind drift. Very nice.

This summer, I finally got the chance to go swimming. I love to swim, always have, but living in NorCal – as cold as it is, there's not much opportunity. Now here's Lake Michigan: it's nice and clean and much warmer than the Pacific -- totally shark free, too. (bonus) But the whole experience gets ruined by the Nazi lifeguards goose-stepping up and down the shoreline. Why? Because they don't actually let you swim. It's the weirdest thing. You can wade in as far as waist deep and kinda soak, but that's all. If you try to go out further, they hop into their row boats and chase after you.

No, really. 

And I can't, for the life of me, figure out what the problem is. It's not like there are any waves or undertow. I'm sure if it were storming, that would make a difference but I'm talking about still, nice, pleasant conditions.

Then, there's the whole driving thing. And I say this as one who has visited every continental state and lived, however briefly, in each major U.S. city: Chicago drivers are the worst I've seen.

Seriously. They suck at it. 

It's like a disease. They pass on the right, run red lights like it's optional, share your lane, cut off bike riders, speed around corners against the light and drive on the wrong side of the road in order to what? Jump the line and get to the red light first so they can wait the longest?? What kind of f**ked up logic is that??? They yield to no one, not ever. If you want to turn left, you have to wait in middle of the intersection until the red light and then quickly make your turn all the while avoiding being hit broadside by oncoming traffic. If you do attempt a left turn while it's green and legal, you will get honked at like, "How dare you?!?" And gods forbid you drive the speed limit! If the posted limit is 40mph, then everyone will do 65mph. If you are doing the actual speed limit – or even a bit faster like say, 45mph – people will pass you, honking and cursing and shaking their heads at you like you're the idiot. I tell you: I think I've developed carpal tunnel syndrome from all the birds I keep flipping.

Sidebar: Chicagoans love their car horns. I'm not even kidding. It's crazy. These assholes honk at you for everything:

"HONK = I'm backing out of my driveway!"
"HONK = It's a yellow light, Hurry!"
"HONK = Get your dumb ass out of my way!"

I got honked at once because I was stopped at a red light that was just transitioning to green by some f**kwad behind me who had to go, go, go. Amazing. Apparently, me being a law-abiding citizen and a halfway decent driver was f**king up his schedule.

Stupid prick.

Quite frankly, I hope that bastard gets into a wreck, ruptures something vital and then proceeds to die a slow, lingering, painful death – sputtering and choking on his own blood. The same goes for the countless morons and dipshits who drive with their crotches while talking on their cell phones, smoking and drinking coffee. Grrr.

Anyway. 

Aside from all that, I don't really have any complaints. I just miss home. California is the only place I've ever wanted to live, aside from Italy, which – he says, going off on a tangent, stands as an anomaly for me especially when you take into account that I've only ever been there once. I remember when I first landed in Rome to transfer to the bus that would shuttle me to Milan where I would begin my artists' pilgrimage through the birthplace of everything-that-matters, I recall – very clearly – the feeling of "coming home." I can't explain it any other way than that. 

But I'm drifting off point here.

In California, I feel like I'm part of something both awesome and unique: accepted as I am without being given a second thought. I can blend in. Sure, I like to stand out – who doesn't from time to time? But not always and then only when I want to, like at an art show or when I'm out on the town with my wife. It gives me the balance that I oh-so desperately need. Here, I stick out. In stores, I'm watched closely. When I walk down the street, people hold onto their bags a little tighter, a bit closer. Once, when I was leaving the library and headed back to the car, I passed by an older lady in a Lexus. As I did, it was hard not to notice the locks clicking. Or seeing the windows roll up suddenly.

If you've ever met me, then you know how silly this is.

I think maybe I'm just being paranoid so, I laugh it off. No big deal. What exasperates my paranoia however is the nearly constant and almost daily line of ridiculous questions I seem doomed to endure. I have actually compiled a list… My top ten list of stupid things I get asked since moving to Chicago:

10. Is that a barcode on your neck?
9.   Can I scan you and/or how much are you?
8.   Are you the singer for (insert band with bald singer, here)?
7.   Are you a tattoo artist and/or would you design a tattoo for me?
6.   Are you that guy from "Hitman?"
5.   Has anyone ever told you that you look just like (insert bald guy here)?
4.   Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and savior?
3.   Can I get a picture of/with you?
2.   Do you got change?

And the number one annoying thing Chicagoans insist on asking me:
1.   DeRosa?! Like Chicago Cubs second baseman Mark DeRosa?!?

Sigh.

…

Hey kids!!!

Long time, right? Sheesh, I'm sure sorry... It's been a rough ride for your local artist at large, what with the big move and all that... Why so rough you ask? It has to do (mostly) with my work. It's wanting to evolve again, I can feel it. How, I couldn't tell you, except to say that it has left me more than a bit frustrated.

For now, I'm just taking things one step at a time and remembering to breathe...

In the meanwhile, I have been burning the midnight oil getting myself immersed into the CHI scene. This is not as simple as I initially thought, as the scene seems to change from neighborhood to neighborhood. The trick, I'm finding, is to focus on the downtown. That's "where it's at."

For instance, this past April, I got myself sponsored into my first major art fair -- Artropolis. For the weekend of April 25th, the downtown area was the epicenter of the international art world complete with top shelf dealers and curators and big galleries and yes, even a few Kennedys. Quite the event, I must say. Naturally, I networked my ass off. Sold some work, too.

Since then, I've done a few shows, a couple of art festivals and recently begun doing public murals. Not my designs (yet) but paying some bills, making friends and learning the skinny.

My next big thing is a city funded open studio. (November)This is much like what I had in SF, where I'm placed in a storefront and churn out a new body of work while letting the public cruise in and ask me questions -- maybe even get them to buy something. It's great exposure for one, and great timing for another, as most folks will be hunting down holiday purchases. On top of that, I'm also being paid a decent stipend. So, either way, it's a good thing. (You can expect a newsletter with all the info, soon.)

For now, that's as far ahead as I'm willing to look. Once I've got my new direction all sorted, I'll start mapping out some new shows and getting in touch with the galleries I've been flirting with. (hehe)

Ciao' for now!

As many of you know, last month(ish), after taking a long, sad look at my website, I decided to do a MAJOR overhaul so, I scrapped the whole thing and started fresh, resulting in DeROSAart 3.0!!! The new version features new galleries, new work and newly improved browser compatibility -- YAY!

(Thanks to all my beta testers for your invaluable input!) 

Last, but certainly not least, I'm happy to announce the launch of my brilliant wife's website: www.gwendolynglover.com and to help raise awareness of her forthcoming first novel; "Cast The First Stone." Our hope is that it'll help get the old publication ball rolling.

Please swing by and show her some love...

I don’t know if I find this funny or sad. I spend a good hour and a half each morning -- online -- getting my news fix and checking email. I stumbled across this halfway through my first cup of coffee... Thought it might be interesting to pass it along though, I must admit that I’m pretty much over the psychological community and its obsessive need to diagnose EVERYTHING...

"Alcohol, drugs, food, sex, and even shopping are all candidates for medical treatment and are recognized as genuine mental disorders, so what about the Internet? Internet addiction -defined as "excessive gaming, sexual pre-occupations, and email/text messaging" - is becoming so common that at least one psychiatrist says it merits inclusion in psychiatry’s official handbook of mental illness, the "Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders."
Dr. Jerald Block of the Oregon Health and Science University is the latest voice pushing for this inclusion, noting that tech junkies display genuinely debilitating behavior, including drug-like cravings, withdrawal, and a constant need for more and better gear - just like a substance addict might exhibit.

But other doctors comment that Internet addiction, while it may be real, is too new of a condition and needs further study before being medically classified. There might be something to this: No one wants people being medicated or institutionalized if they aren’t genuinely ill.

The "Manual of Mental Disorders" won’t be published again until 2012, but an early draft will arrive for public comment in 2009. Meanwhile, mind docs say the problem is growing, now possibly affecting up to 10 percent of Internet users. Recent studies are surprising, indicating the problem is worst not among game-obsessed teens, but rather among middle-aged women who stay at home, constantly on the computer as a way of connecting to the outside world.

Is computer use (or computer downtime) causing a problem in your life? If so, you might be an addict. But you’ll have to wait a few more years to find out for sure."

Hey artfans!!!

I don’t really have much to say today but felt I should try and post something since I haven’t in quite a while...

For those of you wondering, yes -- I’m still ticking away at my book which for now, as far as I’m concerned, doesn’t suck.



As mentioned, I’ve had to stop writing for a long while in order to get back to my easel which, apparently, was feeling neglected and paint myself into a mumbling, half-crazed innsomniatic frenzy. These new works of politically charged sarcasm called "Counter Propaganda" (still in progress) will premier along with my dramatically re-vamped website -- DeROSAart.03 -- soon.

Along with all this, I’ve been learning how to teach autistic high schoolers and kids with ADD how to draw and paint while getting Gwen’s website ready to launch (next week!) and learn all I can about e-publishing AND keep tabs on my tour’s film project (hopfully coming this summer)...

(WHEW!)

Nothing like being ensconced in a bazillion projects to make you feel like you’re accomplishing something, eh?

Oh, and by the way, happy "first day of spring!"

Hey Kids!

Can’t stay long -- Trying to get as much work done by tomorrow morning as possible because... my new show opens tomorrow night!

HA!

Anyway... If you are in the Chicagoland area.... There are two openings for you to choose from so, if you can’t make the first, hopefully you’ll be able to make the second and say "hi!"

Here’s the details: Friday, March 7th 6pm until midnight and then Friday March 14th also from 6pm until midnight at the David Leonardis Gallery, River North: 217w. Huron St. 5, CHI, IL, 60610

The show runs through April 5th... hope to see you there!

www.artprimadonna.net

OK... I've had it with all the whining. I'm taking a break from my painting schedule to rant a bit on: Valentine's Day… The Big Let-Down. 

"It's so commercial!"
"Happy couples make me sick!!"
"It's sexist!!!"

F**k you all.

I do not share your cynicism of Valentine's Day...

I've always loved it, stupid red hearts and all. Maybe it's just me that the retail gods cater to – don't know, don't care. What I do know is that I can't seem to get enough of the mushy sentimentality, cherry cordials and random "humpings." Call me a "hopeless romantic" if you like, I take it as a compliment.

Sure, if you're alone – in whatever capacity and for whatever reason – VD can be about as fun as slamming your wobbly bits in a drawer over and over and over and over again.

I get that. I've been there. I understand disappointment. Trust me – I've sifted through enough idiotic, self absorbed, shallow, over-grown, pseudo intellectual, "why doesn't the world revolve around me" women than I'm comfortable admitting. So much so, that just before meeting my perfect somebody, I had come to the conclusion that anything I could get from a woman I could just as easily get from a bottle of hand cream.

BTW, F**k Candace Bushnell -- a good woman is just as hard to find.

(Oops! There I go again...)

So. My advice? Don't set yourself up for failure by "expecting" anything from your (insert comfortable euphemism here) – That's as stupid as it is selfish and you will – more than likely – be disappointed. Set the bar a little lower and let yourself be pleasantly surprised. After all, Valentine's Day is just supposed to be an excuse to take things up a notch.

Nothing more.

(Please keep your corporate conspiracy theories to yourself)

So go out there and kick some ass… have fun. Be silly. If you're single -- take this as an opportunity to do something completely stupid and spontaneous because the bottom line, kiddies, is this: the whole "Romance thing" goes both ways. That is, what you get out of a relationship is directly proportionate to what you put into it.

Always and without exception.

Happy freakin' Valentine's Day!!!