Brown Eyes

Dear Reader, Thank you for reading my blog. As stated on the home page, this is my meager gift to you.  I want to hear about you and what's capturing your attention.  What would you like to read more of? Less of? You may post a comment on the blog site, or email me directly: artist(at)jpturnage.com. I look forward to hearing from you. Some people see the blog as a note on Facebook. You are invited to visit the site: FaceBook http://jpturnage.blogspot.com. You have joined an international readership. Someone in Guernsey has read this blog. I am humbled to admit, I knew nothing of Guernsey before.  Google Analytics tells me I have been read by people in fifty-five countries, including Iran, Nepal and Kenya. This blows me away.  Only a handful of people in these countries visit my site, but connecting with you gives me great satisfaction. We  live far apart and may never meet in person, but we can share some thoughts instantly. We can be of value to each other. I like it. I

When Max draws on the sidewalk, train tracks figure prominently.  I do this every year, for those who want to know what's going on with us. Please tell me the news from your world. At the end of 2010, all three of us are healthy and happy. No shocking changes happened this year, just normal ones. Misa kept our lives running, a considerable achievement. I turned 50, Max went to First Grade in both his English and Japanese schools. The rest is mostly photographs. Max had a birthday party at Daly City Party Playhouse . His friend Coco played air hockey in the arcade. We attended the wedding of Lynne Rutter and Erling Wold , a Rococo event, unlike any other wedding we'd seen. The photo of king and queen gives you a taste. A pleasant surprise, Moe Kawakami and her mom visited from Japan. We met the ABC PreSchool parents and children for a class reunion playdate. We live by the ocean, but it's not the Bahamas. About 363 days a year, the weather is cold and gray he

Read Part 1 here. Rea d Part 2 here. Into a murky future:  I returned to San Francisco from my adventure on 57th Street. The next three years were tumultuous. I separated from my wife and moved to a tiny apartment on Nob Hill. Most days were a struggle to keep my head attached, but I continued to paint and court gallery attention. A new gallery opened and showed my work. I promoted the exhibition along with the gallery director. I was glad to get the work out in public, but nothing sold and the show didn't lead to others.  One afternoon I talked to an artist friend who'd had a show in New York. He said art dealers wanted close physical proximity to their artists and if I ever wanted to show in New York, I'd need to live there. This made sense to me. I began saving money and making plans to move. I was fortunate to have other big moves behind me. I knew the first thing to do was to go scope out a neighborhood where I wanted to live, perhaps even see an apartment, then li