the molecule farm

A lot of people are disturbed by this image, so I had better explain it. According to the ancient classical meditative traditions of India, a person's life is divided into twenty-five year sections: during the first twenty-five years, one is a student. For the second twenty-five years, one becomes a householder, and tends to worldly affairs. At age fifty, one should become a forest dweller; one should go live in a forest and think only of God. I have always liked this system, and have tried to live according to it. But when I turned fifty, it was obvious that it would be very inconvenient, both for myself and for many other people, if I went to live in a forest. First, in the state where I live it's illegal to live in the forests, and if I tried to do so I would probably end up being a jail dweller instead. So I decided that the forest in which I would live, thinking of God, would be in my mind, and that's what this painting is about.

This is an oil pastel drawing, 18" x 24", on paper. I would part with this deep spiritual statement for 350.00, framed, or send you a signed, dated, matted high resolution print for a mere 75.00. Some people have asked me what "high resolution print" means. I have all my copy work done by a very reputable, locally owned reproduction house that caters to architects, engineers, designers, and, occasionally, fine artists like myself. I have stuck with this company for nearly twenty years, because their work is unfailingly impeccable. All copies I sell are either mounted or copied directly on heavy, high quality, archival paper.

Until bananas turn to ink
I'll keep you in my heart.
Till helium begins to sink
I'll hope we never part.
Until pillows grow on trees
And the ocean turns to glue
And polar bears raise honeybees
I always will love you.

These are the first few lines of a poem I wrote on Valentine’s Day, at one o’clock in the morning, at a bus stop, under a street light, in a snowstorm, with a broken pencil stub, on a discarded paper bag. My wife was pregnant with our daughter that year and I was bussing tables nights to make ends meet. That particular night as I left work, one of the waiters said “Happy Valentine’s Day, Bill!”
His words struck me like a bomb!
Valentine’s Day! Our engagement anniversary!
I had always surprised my wife with some special little gift on Valentines Day, and here it was: Valentine’s Day, 1:00 am, snowing hard, no car, no stores open, and not the shadow of a possibility of getting any kind of gift for my wife. As I waited for the bus I tried not to think about it, but I was sure my wife would be waiting up for me, and I was doubly sure she would remember that it was Valentine’s Day.
A car drove by, its wheels sloshing through the wet snow. “They roll with squishy sounds,” I thought. I liked the sound of that, and suddenly the words of this poem began pouring through my mind. I fished the stub of a pencil from my pocket, found a paper bag in the bus stop trash can, and wrote frantically til this poem, from beginning to end, was recorded. When I gave it to my wife that morning (she was waiting up, and she did remember), she loved it so much that, years later, when she was pregnant with our son, I illustrated it lavishly, printed a little edition of it, and gave it to her again on a Valentine’s Day.
I still have the tail end of that edition - about 200 books, all hand signed, which I am offering for sale at $20.00 a book, plus shipping. Contact me at moleculefarm@sbcglobal.net if you are interested.

You know, the minute you turn your back . . . The things in the sky were a lot more threatening in the sketches for this piece. I toned them down to reach a wider audience. The big cement-like things are supposed to be thought balloons. Concrete thought; get it?

I have felt like this painting more than once.

The original of this piece is available for 350.00, or you can have a high resolution, signed, dated , matted print for 75.00.

I have always liked origami; I love the idea that remarkable things, like sculptures of frogs, lie hidden ordinary things, like pieces of paper. The sandwiches, by the way, aren't scrambled frog; they're just plain scrambled egg. I think the rest of the picture is fairly self-explanatory.

This is a 14" x 18" colored pencil drawing. I can let you have the framed original for 350.00, or send you a matted, signed, dated, high resolution print for 75.00.

I started painting rather late in life, in my early 40s. Little Timmy and the Mouse machine initiated me into the wondrous, beautiful world of paint. I would hope that Little Timmy represents my approach to art, and to life in general. It's a cheerful painting, but it's also rather dangerous looking, in a way. Some people suggested that I paint Little Timmy standing in a pool of water, but that just seemed too obvious. What I really love about this painting is the idea of a machine powered by a potted plant.

Although this is my first real painting, I'd still let it go for 350.00, or do a signed, matted, high resolution print for 75.00.

This picture is the progenitor of a lot of my work. Late one rainy summer evening we were driving through a semi-rural section of Highway 70. As we drove by a horse farm, I was certain I saw a sign over the gate saying "The Molecule Farm". Startled, I asked my wife if that sign had really said "Molecule Farm". She burst out laughing, and I knew I had something. So I wrote down "molecule farm" in my sketchbook, and this drawing eventually grew out of that. To this day, I don't know where that horse farm is. We have driven that stretch of highway dozens of times, but I have never seen anything like a "Molecule Farm" sign again. So I'm thinking maybe it was a divine vision.

Sacred as it is to me, I would still be happy to see this drawing find a new home for $350.00, or do a signed, matted high resolution print for $75.00.

We all know the old song: "Jellyfish girls, won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight? Jellyfish girls, won't you come out tonight, and swim by the light of the moon?"

This thing took me 5 years to paint. The girls are from live models, but I just made up the jellyfish. When I started it, I took it as far as I could at the time, but it still looked harsh and unconvincing to me, so I stuck it away in storage and didn't look at it for several years. Then one day I stumbled upon it while trying to find something else, and suddenly I could see how, by using glazes, I could bring the image closer to my original idea. While I was working on it, my son suggested some very nice finishing touches, which I incorporated into the painting. The piece was in a gallery for a short while. Fishermen liked it.

This is an acrylic painting on watercolor paper, about 18" x 24". It's worth 350.00 to me; or 75.00 for a signed, matted, high resolution print.