Dry River Productions

The Pecos Pack

2009-05-04T09:33:00.000-07:00

Here it is, May and it has been a long, hard winter. DP, the Greyhound went on to the big track in the sky...he was around 96 in human years and a phenomenal beast. large muscular and white with a beige spot on his side, a retired professional athlete. Charcoal, the Shepherd/Hound mix, Princess Pom Pom and Joey Ramone (kats) were in deep mourning at the loss of their friend. Erin rescued him off the track back in Florida around eleven years ago and he was her constant companion. I had to get through the Greyhound to get to the prize and we became pals for life.

The Elite Dog Pack of El Rancho became the Pecos Pack as we moved from the desert up into the mountains, and pets came and went. We rescued dogs and cats along the way, which is both rewarding and heart-breaking. We lost seven animals in the past seven years, some due to age and some by the pitfalls of adoption and the inevitability of fate. Pit Bulls had been our favorite and a major source of rescue, as all forms of idiots think they either deserve Pits or deserve the money they get by factory-breeding them. We rescued a handful of them, sometimes literally taking them out of a neglectful/abusive owner's yard. Prior to the extreme, I would walk over with a gallon jug of water to the poor dog that was tied out in the hot Sun, the indignant (and ignant) owners telling me that that bone-dry bowl was actually full of water. Some people don't deserve their dogs and some dogs definitely don't deserve their humans. People that don't trust dogs are usually hiding something. Dogs can sense the basic instincts and while people don't have to like dogs, those that hate them or distrust them are usually to be approached with caution. People who can fool other people can't fool a dog.

We are blessed with our pack and blessed with the passing angels who still look over us, Molly, the Matriarch, Bo, Oscar, Hungry and Sweetie Pie, Lucky 13 (Kat) and the entire litter of baby Pits whose owner never had the brains to inoculate for Parvo...RIP. DP in his passing, led us to Montgomery Clift Burns White, a magnificent brindle racer who was rescued from the island of Guam. After they closed the track, they just released the Greyhounds into the wild. Go figure.

Balance has been restored with two dogs and two cats, two males and two females. Oh yeah, and two humans. The animals look over us.

Eagle Rooster Ram Dog

2009-04-13T16:34:00.000-07:00

Here I am, celebrating my [deleted] birthday...a Ram born in The Year of the Cock. That makes everything that much more of a challenge...being a Ram is one thing, but a Rooster Ram...watch out! Truthfully, I'm a reformed Aries....I got over myself, as much as an April-born can, but it's not easy. Rooster? Sometimes I'm a fighting cock and others just making sure the coop is safe.

I was given Eagle by a Tewa brother up in one of the Northern Pueblos, and as another brother told me...it doesn't matter where the Eagle came to you, it matters that you have it. It was a great honor and flies high with the Rooster Ram.

Dogs have always come to me. I probably have more Dog Spirit than the other (spirits). A Dog is two things that people typically are not...faithful and fearless. I believe it was Mark Twain who said, "The more I know people, the more I like my dog." Molly, a gorgeous Bernese-Collie, was waiting for me when I moved into my cave in northern Santa Fe County fifteen years ago. She and Bo, a manly black Akita-Chow stood guard on the hill on the corner of the property, overlooking the winding County Road. Many dogs have come to me since then...I got a tattoo of a Pit Bull at the base of my neck in the year 2000...it was a flash piece off the wall...people would ask me if it was my dog. I replied that it was not my dog, but my Dog Spirit. Five years later, in 2005, I came home to find Oscar, a wayward black-brindle, bow-legged Pit with a white belly, sleeping in my yard. The tattoo was the premonition. Oscar was the spitting image of the tattoo. Molly still watches over us from beyond.

The animals watch over us. There is much to learn.

Happy Birthday...

Initiation...

2009-04-10T07:53:00.000-07:00

Wow...

Here it is. Old-school, low-tech "reformed" NYC Graffiti artist, painter and writer, but why has getting around to blogging taken me so long? Because sometimes life gets in the way and sometimes it seems that people just masturbate in front of their computers. Where is the time and what is the purpose?

In New York, back in the daze...I pretty much painted. I had always been an artist, as one is really born an artist, more than chooses it...but the walls, the empty buildings and the abandoned lots of New York in the 80s and early 90s was the blank canvas I had always been looking for. I was in SVA some short time after Keith Haring and my Screen Printing teacher (name withheld though I retain undying respect) told me..."why don't you put this stuff up on the walls?" At first I did it just to get those images up, but in a short amount of time, the walls beckoned me and for several years following, I sold T-shirts and art by day and painted the walls by night, quite often until the Sun rose the following morning.

New York made sense in those days, sipping the last 40 from a paper bag as the Sun rose somewhere over Norfolk Street. That was the frontier and the world ended somewhere just past Brooklyn.