I’ve had a Bank of America account since I first began earning wages as a lifeguard in the early 2000s. I opened a free student checking account, and while I later adopted the Golden1 Credit Union as my primary bank, the B of A account has hung around.

The reason I kept the account was to access Bank of America’s considerably large network of ATMs. Once I started working, I plunked my bimonthly healthcare reimbursement checks into the red BofA ATM across the street from my office, and whenever I was in a bind for cash (a frequent occurrence in cash-only-happy San Francisco), a Bank of America ATM was usually close at hand.

All in all, BofA and I enjoyed a happy, functional little relationship. I put in checks, their ATMs spit out cash, and I went on my merry way. It all began to fall apart some months ago when I left my job.

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Happy July folks!  I was a little late getting this background together, but hopefully some of you are still sitting there with the June background and haven’t run off to some other site for some fly new background that you’ve fallen in love with.  This month’s background, based on a painting by Vincent Van Gogh, is bright and hot like the month of July (in some places).

Download the wallpaper for your desktop in various sizes here: 2560×1600, 1920×1200, 1680×1050, 1440×900, 1280×800.

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Has anybody ever offered you a paper towel with a big grin on their face?  Did you have the feeling that you were supposed to feel pampered, waited-on, and well cared-for, regardless of whether or not you asked for the paper towel or were even in need of such a large piece of dead tree?  People love passing out paper towels.  It makes them feel generous, helpful, and caring, and it’s easy!

I have a problem with this gesture.  First of all, paper towels are almost invariably overkill when it comes to wiping your hands and face during a meal.  There are very, very few times I can recall putting an entire paper towel to good use in a single meal.  Unless you’re gorging yourself on a massive pile of heavily-sauced chicken wings (and are compelled to clean your face and fingers between each wing), chances are most of your paper towel will go to waste.

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Last week, our “beloved” Bachelorette Emily took two gentlemen on a date.  It was the inevitable, dreadful, “two-on-one” date.  One rose to hand out, two guys.  If you receive a rose, you’re safe from elimination, if you do not, you’ll be heading straight home.

Jon and Nate are the unlucky two chosen for this date, and they meet Emily out in the beautiful Bermuda sea for an afternoon of jumping off rocks and general awkwardness.  For dinner, the three head down into the depths of a cave, where they sit side-by-side and stare at the rose Emily is to hand out.

Mercifully, Emily splits the group by taking Nate aside for some one-on-one time deeper in the cave.  In confessional, Nate tells us he knows how important tonight is, that he needs to open up to Emily and show her who he is.  They sit on a rock and Nate pours Emily a glass of champagne.  She asks him “what would you like for me to know about you?  Anything I don’t know already”.

Mr. Nate

Let’s just say that this is a ridiculous request.  How does one choose one thing to tell about themselves?  Emily doesn’t know a darn thing about Nate.  He could’ve answered with a joke like “I eat raisin bran for breakfast”.  Regardless, having no choice and no time, Nate gives it his best shot.  He summons up his whole self, and brings it to the surface for Emily to see.  He doesn’t really think about what he’s saying, and rambles a bit about how happy he is to be here, how lucky he is, and how wonderful his family—and especially his brother—are.  There are tears in his eyes.  Emily rubs him condescendingly on the shoulder and says “oohh hoo you’re so sweet”.

He is sweet, Emily, but more than that he’s courageous.  Nate is baring his soul at your request, presenting his big open heart without reservation to a girl he barely knows and a national television audience.

Realizing that he cannot explain his soul with words, and perhaps recognizing Emily’s failure to see him for who he is, Nate stops talking, collects himself, and says “cheers”.

I’m sure that on some level Emily did see him.  On some level she felt the presence of Nate’s heart and knew exactly who this man is.  But she couldn’t hang.  Herself unprepared to be so fearless and bold, incapable of meeting Nate at his level of emotional clarity and purity, she rejects him.

Jon “Wolf”, the data destruction specialist (not that there’s anything wrong with that), gets the rose.  Mostly for his confidence and dry tearless eyes.

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Happy June ladies and gentlemen! The heat has hit here in Carmichael, and it’s time to get in the pool. This month’s desktop background uses a photo I snapped today of our beautiful backyard swimming pool—the surest source of refreshment this summer.

I didn’t manage to squeeze in an actual calendar, but I figure most folks have other ways to tell what day it is, and the less clutter the better. Download the background here: 2560×1600, 1920×1200, 1680×1050, 1440×900, 1280×800

Wishing y’all a joyous June!

My first trip to an art trade show was quite a time in the big city of New York.  Three days in a row I headed to the gigantic Javits Center in Hell’s Kitchen on Manhattan’s West Side.  I learned a lot, saw some fantastic art and design, and soaked up the sights and sounds of an industry that for years has been humming along right under my nose without my knowledge.

If you go into the housewares section of any department store, you’ll find the work of numerous licensed artists.  Any product with a print or design is likely the result of a partnership between a manufacturer—the licensee—and an artist—the licensor.

95% of the industry is comprised of purchases made by women.  The biggest piece of the art licensing pie is Christmas and all it’s kitschy glory.  Snowmen, reindeer, and holiday cheer are what manufacturers plunk down money for every summer at SURTEX—planning ahead for the big shopping at year’s end.

Some other themes that always find their way into market: roosters, wine, cupcakes, chefs, coffee & tea, and nature.  That last one’s important, because I like to draw flowers.

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Today I’m heading to New York City to attend my very first art and design expo: SURTEX .  Surtex is an annual event where artists and designers show off their patterns, prints, and designs for companies.  The name of the game is art licensing, which is described by Wikipedia thusly:

A licensor may grant a permission to a licensee to copy and distribute copyrighted works such as “art” (e.g., Thomas Kinkade’s painting “Dawn in Los Gatos”) and characters (e.g., Mickey Mouse). With such license, a licensee need not fear a claim of copyright infringement brought by the copyright owner.

Hypothetically, I am the licensor, some cool company that likes my stuff is the licensee, and the art is my original art.  I didn’t rent a booth to show off my work, but over the course of the three days I hope to learn as much as I can about art licensing and how it might work for me.

In preparation, I’ve collected a number of pen-and-ink drawings and collages, and created a new page on my website: gaberobertsart.com/licensing.  I also created a little sequence of designs for Dolores Park.  Check out the page and let me know what you think!

I don’t know if I’ll have a chance to share my work, but if I do, I’ll use this page.  My friend Leah recommended I explore art licensing and suggested that my ink drawings in particular may have commercial appeal.  Whether or not this is true, I’m very excited to see what the pros have put together for this show, and maybe make some new connections.

If you’re in the big apple and would like to say hello, please drop me a line!  I’m looking forward to ten days of adventure on the east coast.

On Thursday night I had the distinct pleasure of watching the Denver Nuggets demolish the Los Angeles Lakers in game six of their NBA playoff series.  The win means LA must host Denver tonight for a decisive game seven.  The next morning, having come to a realization about my motives for watching the game, my Facebook status read “The Prospect of Kobe Bryant being eliminated: why I watch the NBA playoffs”.  It may seem harsh and cruel to root solely for a single player’s demise, but in my case it’s very true.  If I may, some words in my defense.

Adore me, oh inferior ones

Kobe Bryant is an arrogant bastard.  He may not technically be a bastard, but he is most certainly the most arrogant human being I can think of.  You can almost taste the self-righteousness dripping like the sweat from his brow; you can feel the presence of his massive ego.  His arrogance shows when he makes an important basket and sticks out his jaw in an “I’m bad” sort of way, or when he pretends to be amused when a ref doesn’t make the call his way.  A less arrogant player might react with pure excitement over a big shot, or surprise and dismay over a missed call.  But to Kobe, making a shot is thanks to his inferior teammates finally giving him the ball, and the missed call is the tragic result of a pathetically inept referee.

Kobe believes he’s better than everybody else, that he’s the most important player on the team and in the league.  In fact, he his a fantastic player, and has for years been the most skilled player in the league.  But that’s no excuse for arrogance.

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Happy May everybody! Spring is in full swing, and already here in Carmichael you can feel the summer heat just around the corner.  But for a few more days, at least, we get to enjoy double-digit highs, cool breezy nights, and the bright green of new leaves.  Hopefully the little veggie seeds we planted last week will have a chance to germinate and sprout before they get fried by Sactown’s sizzling summer sunshine.

This month I tried a little something different with the calendar background.  No scanning, drawing, or collage—just some Photoshop painting over a photo I’m fond of.  The picture comes from a gas station on the corner of Watt and Auburn in Sacramento.

Download in various sizes here:

2560×1600, 1920×1200, 1680×1050, 1440×900, 1280×800.

Mac users see below for further instructions.

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I went to Europe after high school.  Me and my buddy did the “go backpacking across Europe” thing.  It was fun, but I found it incredibly stressful.  I was always worried about catching the next train or booking the next hostel or not getting robbed.  In retrospect, I wish I’d slowed down a bit and gone with the flow, but I wasn’t to learn that technique for about six years.

We started and finished in a Belgian town called Ghent.  My Dad’s friend’s brother-in-law lived there with his beautiful Belgian wife and their two little boys.  It was a great place to start our trip, and after five weeks of traipsing around Germany, Italy, and Greece, we were real happy to get back.  The Mrs. cooked up some fine food, and the Mr. happily indulged our taste for smokes and drinks.  On one of our last nights there, just two days away from flying home to the good ol’ USA, my companion and I set out on foot for the neighborhood bar.

We’d been to the bar once at the very beginning of our trip, and we felt sort of like returning conquerors as we sidled up to the bar and ordered a pair of beers.  The bartender remembered us, and since it was early and the bar nearly empty, we got to chatting.  We told him of our adventures, how we’d loved Greece and stayed in a room with a view of the Acropolis, and how we’d fallen in love with a little beach town on one of the islands.  We smoked a cigarette with each beer, and soon we’d had four or five.  We asked our close friend and bartender Kim if he had anything special behind the bar, and indeed he did.
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