A few years ago, I was awarded a Professional Development Course for artists. Part of the homework was to write an Artist Statement. I worked and worked; polishing an eliminating, until I only had the kernel that was “me.” When I read it out; I was told: “That’s what everyone would say.”
I got tired of being known as just “Doug,” or “Oh, him,” or “If he’s coming; I’m not going,” and decided to remake my image — “Doug the Beloved” [the guy who used to be just “him.”] I was just about to announce this, when there was a Pandemic and the bar was closed — why does this sort of thing always happen to me?
February 23, 2021
I have always felt this poem to be so on target that I pinned a doodle on it and let fly with an arrow of my own.
Today’s industrial agriculture has championed the concept of acceptable amounts of pollution and used “naturally occurring” as a smoke screen to misrepresent the real dangers of their actions.
One agricultural college professor I spoke with recently took the position that the sickness and death of rural families is a small and necessary price to ensure that industrial farming has ability to feed the hungry around the world.
His ivory tower must have a dungeon.