10"x12" Hand-Lettered Sign

          Here's a little sign I painted a few days ago - Gwen was giving it to her husband for a birthday gift.  Since there wasn't much money to be made, I lettered the whole sign in what I call "bash", a font that takes very little time to letter with a brush.  Gwen was very happy with the results, which always makes me feel good; a job well done.  When we have our Art Festival happening in a little over 3 weeks, I'm considering setting up my 1Shot sign paints and some small, stained 3"x8" wooden blanks to see if I can earn a few bucks "bashing" out people's names - 2 bucks a word doesn't seem unreasonable to me - could be fun.

8'x8' Pictorial Sign

          Another sign I painted recently was for the Farmer's Market in Woodstock.  As you can see, I used another form of "bash", which is quick to letter, which allowed me more time on the pictorial.  Like the other sign, since it was almost free/gratis and because of the lack of time I had to do the job and because my wife Sarah and I are a part of the Market, it was a good deal for all concerned - it took 8-10 hours to produce.  Looking at the finished sign now, I'm thinking of taking my sign paints next week - a thicker black line and a shadow on the lettering and pictorial just might spark it up a bit more, which is something I can quickly manage.  Besides, on Fridays, when we attend the Farmer's Market, I often just sit around, so painting a little bit will help pass the time a little quicker.  I should also mention that while I was painting this pictorial, a woman came up to me and asked if I painted on walls - ah duh - "I'm painting on a wall", I said to her.  OOPS - Just noticed I wrote about this sign already - oh well, you know old guys - they just go on and on and on and on - hahaha.  

          Writing this blog about painting signs, my son in law James Starr, who designs websites and lives in Toronto said, "Sign painting is making a comeback.  Many people are getting tired of the generic look produced by vinyl computerized lettering."

          To which I replied, "I don't really care - I'm not too interested in painting any more signs, at least in a commercial manner."  I certainly can't complain about lettering signs because I made a very good living doing it at one time - had a pretty major sign and graphic shop at - employees coming out the ying-yang, lots of equipment, major clients, etc.  I kind of like it now and I suppose being almost 72 has something to do with it as well - I like looking after chickens, building stuff and puttering around in my art studio; couldn't imagine going into business again.

           One last showing of my arctic documentary remaining - August 3rd.  Have four people committed to it so far, so there are still a few seats remaining.  If anyone is interested in seeing my little adventure film, please feel free to get in touch - as an added bonus, wine and cheese and other goodies will add to the good fun, when I answer any questions regarding the video.  So until I write the next blog - cheers, eh!

  

2 NIGHTS REMAINING TO SEE MY DOCUMENTARY

       
          July 20th, the first night showing of my documentary, Arctic Odyssey (I don't like to blow my own horn but toot, toot) went really well I thought; the Washington Post and New York Times have written "rave" and "standing ovation" articles about the video and Hollywood has been pestering me to make a full length movie starring Brad :Pitt as my character.  Although the proposition is in the high millions, I had to turn them down; I mean Brad Pitt, come on; I'm holding out for the starring role.  However, all kidding aside, the people who attended the first showing really did seem to enjoy the documentary; even laughed out loud several times.  I thought I could squeeze 10 people into my art studio quite comfortably but have since decided that an audience of 6 or 7 would most likely be a better number - have to take myself into account as well.  Although some people have already purchased tickets for the next 2 documentary showings of Arctic Odyssey, there is still some seats available on either July 27th or Aug. 3rd.
          Oh, oh - time to stop writing this blog - I see some members of the press and a line of people forming outside my studio door; they're most likely waiting for an interview and my autograph - mustn't disappoint my fans - cheers, eh!

COME SEE THE PREMIER OPENING OF MY DOCUMENTARY VIDEO - ARCTIC ODYSSEY - SAILING THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE

       
          I've had a few people ask if I ever had a video made regarding the sailing voyage in 1995 through the Northwest Passage, when I crewed aboard Dove III, quite possibly the smallest sailboat to do so in a single season?  And the answer is yes; I made a documentary video about our voyage several years ago.  However, because I'm not one to promote myself or my creative abilities on a wide basis, tend to keep things to myself, only a handful of people have actually ever seen the video.  However, although I'm still somewhat of a shy guy and some of the people who may attend are my friends, I'm thinking, watching the video and having a little chat afterwards over a glass of wine and some goodies, just might be a fun time.  I'm keeping the attendance down to 10 people because the size of my art studio is quite small.  And for that reason, the tickets have to be sold beforehand and we have to know, which evening is the most suitable for you.  Tickets can be purchased where I live at Golden Unicorn Farm - 115 Forest City Road or at the Farmer's Market in Woodstock on Fridays.
          Besides making the video, I also wrote a book, Arctic Odyssey, which I fully illustrated with pen and ink drawings.  The video, book and artwork of the sailing voyage will be on sale after the presentation.
       
           Arctic Odyssey (book, autographed by Winston Bushnell - skipper and the author)  $20.00
           Arctic Odyssey (video)    $10.00
           Artwork        Prices Vary 

    Books and Videos are available any time but SHIPPING is EXTRA.

          Although the voyage took place almost 20 years ago, I would like to mention that it was one of the highlights of my life.  It was an exciting, dangerous and yet relaxing time - looking back, I'm still in awe of the harsh beauty of the arctic seascapes and landscapes and will always be grateful for the generous hospitality of the people living in the northern hemispheres who opened their homes to three, often times, hungry, thirsty and unwashed sailors - cheers, eh!      

SIGN PAINTER LENNY

8'x8' Sign

          My wife Sarah and I are involved with the Farmer's Market in Woodstock, NB. where she sells her baking, other culinary wares and eggs and I sell my artwork, books and cards.  Almost every Friday, we travel to the market place in old "Buddy" (3/4 ton diesel truck) - it's my big day out once a week, whether I need one or not.  Last Friday, I finished lettering a sign on the wall, which took about a day and a half to produce.  It seemed a little odd to drag out my old lettering brushes to paint the wall because it was something I hadn't done for quite a few years but I guess it's like riding a bicycle, once a person learns how to do it, they never forget.  Since there are quite a few farmers and crafts people that sell their wares at the market, I had quite a few requests regarding the contents of the basket and what was strewn about it.  Unable to please everyone, I just pretty much painted anything that I thought would be appropriate and hopefully there won't be any noses out of joint when they see the finished product.  I have to admit as much as I enjoyed lettering signs over the years, I always just looked at the profession as a bread and butter situation and hardly ever got excited about the results.  I've painted a lot of different things and one of the largest and most unusual advertisements I was commissioned to paint was a gigantic blimp in the shape of an orca - Ruthy the Rutherford Whale, which once it was up in the air, didn't seem to look that big.

          The other day, a friend of mine asked me to letter some plywood boards, which he had painted with white enamel.  He was hoping I would do something very creative with them but the content was so generic, which many directional signs are, I told him that I was just going to apply lick n' stick vinyl letters to the boards because the signs were just too boring.  Also, if I had done a real number on them and then hit him with a price, his nose would most likely have been more out of joint - after all - anyone who brings me rough plywood boards (that will be lucky to hold up in the weather for a year) they've painted themselves, tells me they are already trying to save money.  And unfortunately, since the boards were so rough, the vinyl letters wouldn't stick to them.  But since I can be an ornery, cussed old guy at times, I just cut some coraplast blanks, which were the same size as the boards and applied the lettering to them so he can either screw them to the boards or whatever else he likes.  Either way, I'm finished with them.

          And talking about being an ornery and cussed old guy (I was a younger guy then) I once took a sign order over the phone to hand letter some large paper banners for a sale.  When I delivered them to the store in a shopping mall, the man of East Indian descent (no reflection on his race because I did work for other East Indians and had some good friends as well) after looking at them, told me the signs weren't what he had ordered and offered, because I had put so much work into them, to pay me only half the agreed price.  Since I was mainly out my time for lettering the signs, hardly any money tied up in materials, I said, "Fine," as I tore them in half and started walking towards the door.  The look on his face was priceless, worth more than the signs as I walked out of the door, looking over my shoulder, leaving half of them lying on the floor and continued saying, "If you decide to pay the full price, I'll bring the other half back."  Thinking back to that time, still puts a gigantic smile on my face, which goes to prove, it's the small things in life that are more meaningful and have more value - money isn't always cracked up to be what it's supposed to be, and clearly, the dollar bill meant a lot to that storekeeper than it did to me - cheers, eh!       

I'M A CONCERNED PARENT - ARE YOU?

         Lately, the weather feels a lot like summer, so I'm hoping it has finally arrived and that it will not be too short.  I have a fairly lengthy, sweaty outside job; shingling my studio without having to deal with a swarm of pesky mosquitoes is awaiting.  I've still been renovating our bedroom upstairs and we're hoping to make use of it before too long.  Also, since Sarah's daughter Rachel moved to Lethbridge, Alta., and the upstairs bathroom is in desperate need of repair, I'm going to rip it apart and expand it into her sister's (Jessica) bedroom.  For someone who has done very little carpentry work over the years, I find it all to be rather challenging but a good sense of accomplishment once a job is finished.  I just tell people not to look too close at my work; I describe myself as an ad-lib carpenter, a Mr. Fix-it (fix my own mistakes).
          Just when I thought all the hoopla was over concerning graduation, the Fosterville Community Centre held a breakfast for next year's graduates.  I arrived somewhat late with a couple of friends of mine and as I sat munching away on my scrambled eggs, bacon and hash-browns, I noticed a man who looked rather familiar making the rounds so to speak and shaking hands with people as he went.  It was none other than the Premier of New Brunswick, David Alward.  When he sat down across from me and my friend George, I was wondering how long it would take before my friend would say something to him and I was amazed when he just said, "I should say something.  My friends and I wrote a letter to him in April and I would like to know if he received it and what his views are concerning sustainability."  But he didn't say a word, which is unusual for George, who has personally confronted more than one politician and put them on the spot.
          I have to admit, I felt a little disappointed when we stood up to leave and George hadn't made his presence known.  However, I wasn't to be disappointed for long because the Premier had decided to leave at the same time and as he was headed towards the door, George decided to speak up.  When he asked David Alward if he'd received the letter, he said no and that he would look into it and make sure he read it.  I don't quite remember how their discussion went after that but somehow the subject of fracking came up; a very sore point for both George and I.  Now my ears really perked up because I wanted to hear first hand, right out of the horse's mouth so to speak, the Premier's views on fracking.  The first thing David Alward said was, "You'll notice there's been no fracking while I've been Premier."  He mentioned this same line about three times in the conversation and to me, it meant either one of two things.  He was either against or for fracking.  I was hoping it meant that he was against fracking, on the side of what I believe is the majority of the people living in New Brunswick but when he said his son was working in the Alberta oil sands and wouldn't it be nice if he could be doing the same job here, I immediately knew where he stood.  I lost all respect for our Premier at that point and when he went on to say as if we were exoected to look up to him, "While I've been Priemier, only seismic testing has been going on in New Brunswick."  I couldn't believe a man who is supposedly a farmer, someone who should be in touch, in tune and in sympathy with the land would promote such a desecrating and devastating industry such as fracking to be one of his prime political objectives.
          The Premier, David Alward also stated that fracking has become safer since its beginnings and that scientists are coming up with better ideas all the time to make it an even safer industry.  So what gets me; knowing that fracking is a dangerous industry and that he is in favour of such an endeavour; he seems more like a yes-man Premier and one with very shallow convictions.   However, to my way of thinking, especially after the extreme flooding of Calgary, if that flood had occurred in the oil fields and the toxic liquids had washed into the main waterways, a great part of Alberta could become a deadly wasteland and the people living there would all be well on their way to becoming like the dinosaurs on display at Drumheller, Alta.
          It appears that Toronto had a flash flood (not as bad as Calgary's) and I'm concerned about the safety of my daughter and her family.  It's pretty obvious mankind has been steadily destroying the environment (doesn't take an intellect or a smart person to realize that) and to keep on promoting problematic, highly toxic and dangerous industries such as fracking and creating pipe lines, which will destroy a great portion of the remaining ecological balance of the land across this country, in order to create jobs and keep a fictitious thriving economy alive, doesn't make any logical sense to me.  Like many parents, even an elderly guy like me who has been told by many other people my own age, "I won't be alive long enough to see what happens" (a real cop-out) I'm deeply concerned that the inheritance I'm leaving my kids and their kids, regarding world ecological conditions, is looking extremely bleak.  I mean how many people have you the reader actually heard, "What does it matter, I won't be here when everything goes for a big shit.?"  And how do they know that - I mean someone will be here to face the music and who's to say that even though I'm almost 72 years of age, I won't be here when that invent occurs?  And on that cheery note - cheers, eh!
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BOUNDARIES, RICHES, INHERITANCES, INSURANCE POLICIES - VIEWS OF AN OLD MAN

          It's the 4th of July, American Independence Day, which is like our Canada Day, July 1st  - the only difference is we say, "Happy Canada Day" and they say, "Happy 4th" - because all the rest of the hype is pretty much the same, waving flags, politicians patting each other on the back, exploding fireworks and forever saying proud to be this and proud to be that, etc., etc.  Like every other country before them, there's been countless ship-loads of blood (mega-times larger than the ill-fated Titanic) spilled to draw the imaginary lines that designate the ownership and borders of the US, Mexico and Canada - even states and provinces.  Here, where I live, on 50 acres of semi wilderness land, I also have imaginary lines mapping out our property's borders but hopefully, there wasn't any bloodshed, maybe a little cursing and perhaps still cursing whenever someone crosses over to blast away at a forest creature or cut down a tree.
          There was a time, when I was a typical worshiper of the almighty dollar and just couldn't grab enough of the little sons-a-bitches to bolster up my bank account, actually accumulate more than any one person should really have; yeah, I was a greedy little bastard.  And even now, when I look around at all the stuff I have, especially since so many people in the world have so little, I still feel that way to a certain degree.  However, one thing I didn't do and I'm thankful that I didn't, because I believe a person wasn't meant to just idly sit on their ass in the lap of luxury when they reached their golden-moldy years, have one big-ass holiday because that's what a person gets when they stop working and wind up sitting in a big old, well-padded, cozy recliner in front of a screen (TV or computerized) and that was to put a comfortable retirement package in place.  At this age, 72, knocking real loud and hard at the door, I'm a busy little guy.  I don't have a whole load of ambition to chase the almighty buck any longer; as long as I can earn a few of them with my talents, I'm a pretty happy guy.  I learned the hard way that earning money (although I can't imagine what it would be like with absolutely none), to the point of becoming a millionaire, which was once one of my leading priorities (if not the leading one) in my younger years, should never have become such a life-consuming objective.
          I'm not retired; I'm just tired.  It's odd, I was just sitting outside with my wife Sarah enjoying a cup of coffee, having a wee chin-wagging session about what we've been doing out here since we left lotus-land on the west coast of BC a few years ago.  With what little income we had coming in every month: old age pension and pensions from time put in working at job-jobs over the years, we figured we had enough monthly income to actually squeeze by without having to work at a job-job.  But there must be something wrong with us or perhaps it's the whole human race; we never seem to know when enough is enough.  Like, when I really think about my own basic needs, I believe I've got all the bases covered; food and water in my belly for sustenance, a roof over my head, fuel for warmth against the elements and yes, even at this creaky old age; sex.  So what more do I really need; all the rest just seems to be extras and for what end?  I don't believe it's really called for that parents should keep on accumulating wealth so they can leave it to their kids when they die, especially since most kids did bugger all for the family needs when they were growing up; it's up to them, just like any other creature in the world; they have to learn to make their own way.  There's nothing wrong with helping out but to leave huge quantities of property, cash, stocks and bonds, huge life insurance policies, shit-loads of other assets behind when you die, so whoever receives it all, can just add all that stuff to the stuff they have already accumulated, seems a touch ludicrous to me.
          When I was a rather prominent business man, I once had a life insurance representative approach me about investing in a life insurance policy, which I easily could have afforded at the time.  Just seriously take a moment to think about that statement, which I did at the time, and here's what I told him.  I said, "I really can't see the profit in investing in my own death."  To which, he had no answer, just sort of shuffled some papers he was hoping I would sign, stuttered and mentioned stuff about making sure my wife and loved ones were well looked after when I was gone; tried to make me feel guilty, which I have to add, I sort of did.  At one time, I used to sell antiques (mostly furniture) from a storefront, while I painted signs in the back.  When a customer would come in and sometimes a friend was visiting, he would say, "Don't you think you should try to sell them something?"  I'd just say no, they know where I am if they're interested in buying anything.  I quite often sold antiques to people who didn't have enough cash at the time.  I just let them make payments (no interest charges or storage fees) until it was paid for.  I guess some people wanted to pay for it right away so they borrowed the money from a bank or some other institute because one day, this guy showed up and wanted me to make it easier for the customers to buy my stuff by setting up a loan program.  He seemed a little offended and mystified, when I said no, wasn't interested in the least, just said, "If they can't afford to buy what I'm selling, then they shouldn't be buying it.
          Geesh, I'm beginning to sound like all the other old farts like me, I just keep rambling on and on; don't seem to care if anyone is listening (or in this case reading).  It's time for me to shut up - cheers, eh!