art

Sometimes we make pick ups

Sometimes I marvel at how perfect an amalgamation of both of my parents I have grown to become.  My mother taught me how to cook, how to dress,  and what luxury brands I should love.  I often see her in my own designs.  Simple juxtapositions of 2 ct. diamond rings, Louis bags and EBT cards.  My father taught me most everything else that a son should learn from his father.  I contribute some of my inherited artistic abilities to him and his proficiency in rendering a "turtle-necked black man w/ afro" at the impatient request of a child.  And from him comes my unsatisfying love for hot rods and/or muscle cars.  I have vivid memories of him using a chain and a towering tree limb to transplant a rebuilt Chevy 350 engine into a 1972 Nova.  These recollections inform me every time I click through my weekly Craigslist sweep of "C-10's".  Most of all, I think he has taught me how to see perfection in imperfection.  It is almost as if I have been indoctrinated with a certain "fixer-upper" mentality.  Although I am speaking in terms applicable to the entire design spectrum, there is a certain nauseating excitement that I feel every time I am in the presence of an idling older model vehicle.

With all that said...this is a 1966 C-10 I purchased in 2011.  In hind site I have identified it as an impulse buy that was meant to fill the void of a 1967 model that was stolen from me.

Getting lumber to build objects.

Getting lumber to build objects.