I started the Black Book Project in the 60’s and early 70’s. The book went with me everywhere as did my colored pens. The project was an attempt to get back to my beginnings; an attempt to forget what was known and to go on from there. As it turns out it’s a sketch book of something left unfinished; unfinished business I may need to return to.
This was the title page of what I later referred to as The Black Book Project. At some point into the project my son Eric at age 2 1/2 decided to make his addition to my pictorial notes.
1 I knew from the beginning I was embarking on something new – symbiotic of our move from Michigan to California in 1968. Enchanted and in a new world I didn’t know where to begin but I remember attempting to go back to the beginning.
2 Knowing these were notes that I would later reference for simple shapes or maybe even a whole page of content. On my first steps of a new journey I had begun to lay my cards on the table.Â
3 I remember listening to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band when assembling the chubby in the lower right corner. And now thinking the Beatles and going back to where I once belong to be one and the same.
4 From the words I remember being in a car. I was on a journey when lines, shapes and symbols began to merge with images. Not focusing on the journey’s end I had a taste of the enchanting now.
5 Guns were never one of my favorite things but their existence can’t be debated. Going back to the beginning of everything this is one barrier that needed to be crossed.
6 Unlocking the mind requires some kind of plan. One finds all kinds of strange items integrated with a kind of logic that measures their importance. Â
7 I look back on this one with a sense of confusion.  Somehow reminds me of the work of George Grosz. If not in style then in essence.Â
8 Still recalling how organic some of these new tools were becoming. But the journey was too young and needed to be developed. The number 4 was no longer a 4 but an unknown symbol with much importance but the mind’s eye was somehow in harmony.
9 After spending time with the dragons and other creatures of flight even the eye symbol took on a form of its own. As I covered my bottle of ink it fell and became attached to the page. Â
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The fallen dove and leaf required no imagery of what caused the sorrow. This little piece of imagery became alive years later when a artist friend asked me to create the dove and leaf with color. He silk screened that idea which became a thousand images on a transparent sticker. Even years later I saw one of those thousand on a guitar of a new friend. How amazing and unlikely was that?
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From this image I decided I would someday build a house that looked exactly like it,
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The runner and head were connected and somehow different and connected to other items and beings. Still searching but it hadn’t found me yet.
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What an unlikely mix. Note the wonder of the little person poking in his head on the right.
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This at times was no longer a journey but a time capsule. It noted the freedom of others and recorded it as part of the journey.
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This was a space suit. Note the opening on top where the traveler could exit and explore.
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This was another place you could go where even the dragons had no features.
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This was her looking at the eye and it changed everything.
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This was an unknown place. I think I saw something yellow on the other side of that fish with people in it but can’t be sure.
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This was another traveler I came across on the way. He seemed to know his way around quite well.
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Ahh… the battle with one’s self.
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Never knew what was going to happen when the pen and ink entered the Black Book Project. It was a game of chance and shapes that defined a place one could visit often later.
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This was the jolly yellow dot eater. The arrows somehow helped forward movement.
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Sometimes the images on the journey had to be recorded quickly for later examination with what ever tools at hand.
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Back to the quill and ink and Godzilla is attempting but the symbols are gleefully out of reach.
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A momentary awareness of the complete knowledge of the hermaphrodite. Another place to step back to and view the symbols with a new eye on the journey.
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Leaving the hermaphrodite behind to be in absence of form but not for too long. There was much to learn from on the journey but staying in one place too long could mean no return.
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As the dice rolled they turned into houses with the same number on every side. There were many occurrences of that theme. The hermaphrodite continued the journey by walking thru the houses ignoring the doors.
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As morning came the now never ending journey continued. Not being able to share this place now became an attribute.
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The yellow dot eater transformed something. It’s still huffing and puffing but now it has a heart. Or wait are those big red lips on one of the yellow dots?
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The story of dots and monsters is born.
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Trying to get back but as the puppet tells her story the mystery of age begins to unfold.
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Yes he declared, I do see the dots in the back and the dials on the machine. But also admitting he wasn’t aware of that other gent. He does seem quite demanding all the time he softly stated.
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The hermaphrodite well into the journey has transformed. Even the little on looker to the right has gone thru a change.
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The cosmic screw has been realized as other changes are apparent.
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The three dance and the shape under feet on the physical plane is a bed. There’s a mild vibration and awareness goes to the little cherub on the floor. Thoughts start to fly as a voice from one of the many cheerfully asks if we noticed the earthquake. On our one year visit to California that’s the only earth quake we experience.Â
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Some of the main women in the house had a cosmic interaction for dominance as the sounds of Cerberus in the back became audible.
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A different time but as Harold sat on the throne of Dots he was badgered.Â
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As the on-lookers left their space suites and looked down in awe at a reflection of their own future.
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John was quite masterful on his own throne. He dominated both women in the house as Paula was quietly on the side and I sat in solitude.Â
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From the lines was a alchemical pelican and new hope emerged.
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And joy momentarily returned.
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A loneliness and self rightness that the group was no more.
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Even the road map from the journey was nowhere.Â
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As attempts were made to create security in the world of people. After shortening his hair and becoming a taxi driver and finding the roads to be a mystery.Â
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And there’s another one with a sinister smile. It seemed like their game continued.
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Laughter, smiles and the images continue.
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It seemed like a building, a road and many faces. A road trip to a concert possibly?Â
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 Plans for that VW bus were no longer.
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Wow, this was an unexpected visit. The movement, the floating symbols, the strange vehicles and a deep journey of their own making. Even the wavy lines seemed to tell a story.
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And now this with even some color. Was the bird symbol growing something new. Wonder where that spiral road symbol goes?
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The journey of vegetation and time and a rabbit hole? Not a rabbit but something forgotton.
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A boat with a sale and a paddle and some wind. The wind is solid and somehow just for decoration. And looking up at the sail is something else. This is a drawing of a thought but yet the boat is still real.
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Ken Kessey. Never met the guy, but this is him on his farm.Â
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Oh yeh, some self analysis and a bit of an ego journey,
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Another roll of the dice and we can still see the proverbial flower in the background. As we find here: as to the back also to the front and life sustains itself on all horizontals. Â
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On the journey was a spatial divide. And at times each one of these representations was an object unto itself. And each seemed miles high and eons apart from each other. And this is a statement about the one on the journey.
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And on that journey things of disgust and of evil were on the road but just as a reminder for the experienced traveler.Â
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The proverbial hole in space and protected by the laughter of the bearded, one eyed whambat. And the perched gorgeoi laying a strange shaped egg.
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It was then that the innocent flower person did the necessary move with the key as his dog saw everything.
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And something that was good, pure, ancient and basic was still enacted.
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And then appears hippo man and with a cross. And a nice smile with a kind of bow tie. With all the holes in mind he was a happy stoic figure that moved on freely.
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Still happy and going thru many changes. Seeing it all in a new light. He was outside of his locked room once again.
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Again he traveled with other forms and was aware of even more.
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As the process of thought itself was a wetness that was responsible for any movement or new ideas. Any little part that came in contact with another part created a new form and he saw all these changes that made an idea. Now he began searching for the single dot that the ancient ones called the atom.
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And then he played like in a lucid dream. When moving the abstractions around that he tagged as dots and regrouping the he noticed the new thoughts they formed. The two in one sense were different from each other. But looking at one as a structure was responsible for the appearance of the other.
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It was a new beginning as he began to experience all as a child with the knowledge of a distant land.
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But as the dots seemed at one point to have a mind of their own it became a chore keeping track of them all. His trusty dog was a good sheep herder. But in the end the parts outnumbered the whole and as he lost sight of some dots as whole thoughts became dimmer.
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It was like a new teacher spoke and he was without words informed that for clarity one must let go of the structure and what forms it to begin sight without definition.
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As the dots appeared again they were a mystifying beauty unto them selves. The place the wetness is an infinite play ground.
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And in the awareness of wetness and flirtations of more dots in an imaginary substance the awareness of a story came to be.
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A Russian solider maybe in the sea of dots?
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Too funny, the man eater video game. Lots of bells, whistles and dots. Just don’t get caught.
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The happy clown. Not sure what happened to the eyes or hands but like the shoes.
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Fun crossing the street with the locals to another building.
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Not sure where this came from as an inspiration but it was memories of Paula in the CA days.
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Oh my and I thought those days were over.
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Running in her favorite night gound.
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A funny memory. Someone gave my son a little duck. And we had a cat. The cat wouldn’t hurt the duck while we were present. So the duck followed us every where in the house and the cat would creep up on the duck. This is the whole story.
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Poor little ducky had a mishap on a hammock. Little ducky had a nice funeral in a box with a picture of a horse on the side of it. It was midday in the woods and I remember a lady bug near by.
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Thoughts of the past from a solid place in the now. Sure took a while.
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What a toothache. Every aspect of it was recorded.
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I remember reading an article of old Franklin who did his wife in. Never knew either of them but felt for both of them.
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Oh yes, the octopus’s garden. It was quite wonderful.
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This chatter was a strange item to come back to.
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But then this made it worth it.
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That damn pollution!Â
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Had to re-simulate the face in the background with help of the dots.
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How do the plants view people?
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Space suites come in all shapes and sizes. Â
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One little word explains what was happening at the moment.
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The man at the beach.
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The fan that wasn’t spinning but there was a lot of energy.Â
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Boredom and many dots.
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My sister. Very likeable.
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The war of dots is forever. They were before and after going back they will be there again. It’s both a distant memory and a common occurrence.
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Nice organic movement and even the dots are nicely placed. Not a clue what was about to happen.
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In a distant land where the laws were confused with what was right and wrong. Even so, the misinformed few managed to create havoc.Â
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The man from next door. Yep The Man.
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Many declarations but who knows what really goes on in their heads. To be just aware of the forms and ignorant of the dots…
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And some things remained the same.
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A little self reflection never hurts.
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The cross with the falling chime bells. Did a big painting of this years later which I destroyed.Â
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A good evening. We never forget those good evenings. The boot actually did have a tear in it. Memories of waking up later and focusing on the boot and tissues. And flashbacks of dots everywhere.
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Back to the job at the plant.
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Night out at the bar with friends. Love music and spirits. That safety pin with the tape held something I mass-produced that many people wore. No memories of what it was the dots are not helping.
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Back to the plant. There seemed to be no escape from that 5 day work week.
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The Black Book Project made everything okay no matter what.
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And then the hole on the next page.
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And a prediction from where there was no escape from the twists and turns. There was a projection of another ending but even now only a new beginning.