For a Little While

 

87th Street, Oak Lawn, IL

For a little while, I lived in Oak Lawn, IL. This picture is probably from right after I moved in. I had a small room with a single bed, a black and white TV that relied on its built-in antenna for coverage, a Fender Vibrosonic amplifier (one powerful 15 inch speaker), a borrowed Fender Telecaster, and for some reason a cat carrier. Oh, and a top hat. Not much else.

Wonderful things happened in the short six months that I lived in the Chicago area for the first time. Weird things, too.

Wait -- this could not have been right after I moved in because I painted that painting on the wall in that condo. That painting no longer exists (as far as I know) because I do not have it. 

Memories.

-- douglas brent smith

The Cubist Kong

 The Cubist Kong - sketch by douglas brent smith, 1977

Mustard Seed Theatre Company Logos

Notes:

Peter, Harry, and I started a little touring theatre company we called the Mustard Seed Theatre Company. We had very limited success for an all too brief amount of time. I later revived the name at churches in Chicago, and I'm sure that any search would uncover other theatre companies bearing that name, but we loved it while we proudly wore it on our t-shirts. 

These sketches are modest attempts at logos. circa 1977-1978

What Is Real?

 What Is Real? sketch by douglas brent smith, (1977)

Notes:

Cece and I used to play a word game we called "What Is Real?" The idea was that we were all living in a movie, or simulation, or game, and only some of us and some things are real. It seemed a bit advanced for 1977 but I was reading a lot of science fiction at the time and Cece has always had a very open, very curious, very creative mind. It was fun.

We'd also draw pictures, sometimes using a surrealist technique known as "exquisite corpse" where you each draw half of the picture, without seeing what the other person has drawn. The paper is folded in half with a couple of lines visible on both halves to show you where to connect the pictures. It was also fun.

These sketches are just doodles from one of my journals.

Washing Down The Phone

I drew this cartoon in 1977 -- long before we carried around mobile phones. Every phone was attached in someway to a wall. The phones were heavy enough and strong enough to withstand an alien attack, a building collapse, or a major earthquake. You didn't own them, you rented them. Not exactly the good old days.

Of course when the phones got dirty, we just hosed them down.

-- doug smith

cry Wolf -- inside back cover

 

Back inside cover of journal #10, cry Wolf (1977) douglas brent smith

Inflated Pinned and Leaking

 Inflated Pinned and Leaking - sketch by doug smith

five years

 thru five years

we've danced daringly with many

diverse partners

crept thru bedroom windows of 

a few starched spirits

and spilled a few

tears of our own

after five years

kids become searching adults,

your face remains soft and warm

and my hands remain calloused but curious

(a learning, yearning, burning process

breathing Spring,

simmering Summer

fearless Fall)

in five years

it appears:

some dreams last longer than others

and life's road turns faster with eyes open

as it rolls on revealing (with a

wink) that some cycles and hearts

remain synchronized, and that dance steps 

echo softly and that i love you still.

douglas brent smith

some lies

pacing thru the time tripped delicately on

edges of faceless fancies freed from the

rushing resentment of relentless realities

battering upon a daring door of dancing

chances taken and rebuttals received

answers mistaken and desire deceived.

douglas brent smith

 

secret dreams

so what if

your hair style

is three years

ahead

of the trends

and you will

not regard fashion

because we are

above and

beyond all that

caught between

generations

and

secret dreams

"your mustache

tickles,"

she said.

-- doug smith

 

a breath and a sigh

magic never mattered much

spells and incantations are

punchlines pounding air

barely worth a chuckle and

lately most of life stacks

a natural order and predictable

placid piecemeal wave

but

a breath and a sigh ago

in the warm night air

somewhere between the pause

of the sunset and

the promise of dawn

you touched me gently

recklessly upsetting all mystery

a promise no proper landing

dancing between knowing and 

hiding in a never-land of 

grins and giggles

shakes and surprises

dreams and desire

say,

maybe there is magic after all.

douglas brent smith

 

in need of a doctor

she held back her tears

as she told me the reason

she just could not hold me tonight

"i'm in need of a doctor

who does not ask questions

can you tell me a place to go?

and my body is trembling

from a night past remembering

and i don't want the family to know

"why does it happen it's my cross to bear?

i hear thru your silence -- you weren't even there

but i do need some help some how

"i know it's not unusual

it happens all the time

but it's so devastating

when the choice is mine..."

she refused to cry

as she ended the call

"i will find a way

to overcome it all..."

and never spoke of this again.

douglas brent smith

  

openers

universal bang it was a universal bang

it was a universal bang it was

a big bang

got to thinking about the nature of existance

and with a certain degree of persistence

i proceeded to untangle all the angles

that approach us

from the cosmic cloud encroaching us

all leading to the theory

that a weary sort of human

needs awakening acumen

to make sense of any reasoning

and weather all the seasoning

that's bound to blow right thru you

no matter what you do you

come up a little short and then

it slips right thru your hands again

it hasn't changed much to the aliens

deciding if we're enemies or friends

still hoping that we finally get the joke

universal bank it was a universal bang

it was a universal bang it was

a big bang.

douglas brent smith

Note:

from journal #10, cry Wolf (1977)

cry Wolf

here and gone and

here again the most

peculiar fleeing friend

you stay you go you

tell me so i know

it's sure it's what you name

it's all in how you play the game

but oh i wait here for your kiss

there's something that you should not miss:

cry wolf my

dear

and see what shows

the wolf

will

come

and i

will go.

douglas brent smith

 

Pie Out-Moded

 

Pie Out-Moded - sketch by douglas brent smith, from journal #10 cry Wolf (1977)

Note:

Another silly cartoon, drawn with a flair pen in a spiral bound notebook. That is a lot of ice cream.

napkins and things

dorinda likes to doodle

daringly on napkins

unseen unnoticed by

the scramblers eating eggs

or sipping bitter coffee

sometimes she pops out a song

or sketches a summer scene

from somewhere no one's been

now here i am in Chicago

frozen to the bone

doodling on a napkin

and wishing i was home

but, lacking that i

send a pre-doodled napkin

to someone who appreciates

napkins and things.

douglas brent smith

 

A Safe Bet

 A Safe Bet, sketch by douglas brent smith, from journal #10 cry Wolf (1977).

I was not much of a cartoonist, but that didn't stop me from occasionally trying. The joke here is basic and obvious and probably just came out of idle doodling.

A Slightly Sinister Creature

 

Sketch: A Slightly Sinister Creature - from journal #10 cry Wolf (1977).

Five Sketches in Search of a Hat

 

Five Sketches in Search of a Hat - from journal #10: cry wolf (1977)

typewriter

i left my typewriter in new jersey

as if some  bloodied murder weapon

trying to hide the crimes

or forget the posturing

of the scene of all my passion

and pathos

for these seven quite odd years

where manhood came

and with it the twisting

torture of passion's pain

distressed and then daring

darling and then distressing

messing with alternatives

though the people traded places

sliding parade-like suddenly

my massive wooden desk i

called the aircraft carrier (covered

with unfinished scripts, snatches of poems,

and doctors' bills)

half my soul (it seems) was

spilled poured and splattered

into these gold, black, red walls

onto the dusty floor filled with

cat hair, beard hair, auburn hair

too precious to sweep away

no, it was not a castle

or a page from Architecture Digest

but it gave me all I ever needed

to become an artist

they say we become completely new

every seven years

we'll see i suppose we will see

i left my typewriter in new jersey

i guess i'll need to return for it.

douglas brent smith