I bought this Miro limited edition print from a guy who sold it to me as being real. I framed it and had it hanging on a wall until I finally got around to checking it out. I emailed photos of the print to the Joan Miro Foundation in Barcelona and asked for their help in authenticating it. They couldn’t say yes or no if it was original without inspecting it in person, but they were very gracious and helpful in giving me factual information. With the information they gave me, I came to the conclusion that it was a fake. The main problem was the signature. On the original, made in the 1970’s, the signature was produced in the printing process in black ink. On the fake, the forger wrote Miro’s name in pencil.
The truth was a disappointment, but disillusionment is always liberating for me. I didn’t like looking at it anymore. I couldn’t sell it even disclosing the truth that it was a fake, because it could get back on the market as an original and cheat someone else. So I burned it.
I used the ashes from the fake to make this Chinese ideogram for “crisis,” which is made from combing the ideograms of “opportunity” and “danger.” I recycled the frame; it was just an innocent bystander . So, in any crisis there is opportunity if one can deal with the danger.
Crisis 18 X 24 inches, ashes on paper
There was a bucket of ashes in the bottom of the Weber grill. I embedded them in the painting below, using a broom as a brush.
Ashes 75 X 59 inches, house paint and ashes on canvas
Here’s a poem I wrote that speaks of purifying fire, ashes, and some other things.
We Didn’t Hear No
The big wheel in the sky is squeaking
with constant nagging
One day one hour one split second
the sun will explode
the sun will rise
like a huge gray ash
from burning trash of yesterday’s newspaper
marked by events
what we wanted
getting it all
the hard way
and endless decades of the rosary
rosary beads polished
with worried fingers
worried that our slice of the pie might be too small
with bribes to God
we didn’t take no
for an answer
stir that smoldering trash
with a sharp stick
let the sparks fly
let the fire purify the burning trash
watch the ashes rise
in the hot september air
rising like incense up to the sun
that is burning out.
I did another large painting right after Ashes. Instead of embedding ashes I embedded a love poem for Jeannine, Stay A While.
Stay A While 67 X 54 inches, acrylic on canvas
Stay A While
I love your eyes
God saved this color just for you
there is nothing to fear
you can leave if you want
when you go
the silence will return
stay a while.
And just some music for the day …
ROBERT HOBKIRK thinks artist bio’s are kind of irrelevant. What you see in the art is what you get, but since the editors insisted, here it is. I’m Robert Hobkirk. Ordinary life, pretty much. Self taught artist although I did take a 3-dimensional class once at a community college and got an F in it. I didn’t learn my lesson, so I took a creative writing class at the same school. This time I got a C in it. For some reason the teacher hated my guts. I’m sure she wanted to scratch my eyes out, but she went with the C instead. I never won an art contest. Art for me is a way to fill the day without hurting myself, and fulfills the creative urge. Glad I had a day job, because making a buck from art is a bitch. My art blog site is http://hobkirkartblog.blogspot.com/