It was a wake, and I was awake,
The dark lights shine brightest at night,
Suicide King and a One Eyed Jack, big hearts,
Spades, an Ace and a Deuce, lovely loves, both so sharp,
Neon dreams and subtractive machine schemes,
Some love for a few of my friends.






I've been thinking about this since september. And when I was down in L.A. I was talking with someone at Mike's wake/life celebration. For those who don't know who E. Michael Mitchell was, he was a great artist and teacher, flew for the Royal Canadian Airforce, and as I'd said before a model of a man.
Just being around all of my fellow students, looking at Mike's drawings on the walls, I felt his presence there, I could even see him in the folks I talked with. Later on, I was talking with J.R. after he J.J. and Jonny had said their piece.
I stammered off, "My pops passed on when I was twelve and I suppose because of this I've always searched out father figures/role models, maybe because of this since I got to School, Corny and Mike, were who I went to the most." When I first arrived at Calarts I was even more erratic than I am now, my own personality even on a good day being something like a combination of mercury and dynamite. The other thing was I was so self conscious about the drawing I didn't think I was capable of being anything more than a hack.
Mike had the patience to help me with a package of drawings for a feature idea I had going before I got to school. During this meeting I learn something about being direct in ways I hadn't gotten previously. Around the same time I was going in to Corny's sunday class, I knew I found a friend when we started talking about old commercial gigs gone awry. My experience being that of a gnat in comparison to a mountains, but still, common ground all the same.
I can't really speak about Mike without thinking of something of Corny in the same synoptical flash. And over time through going to both Mike and Corny's classes and some meetings just going over series of drawings, much of my speedy thoughtlessness was transformed into possessed observation. Mediums like drawing and painting are more like women to me now, you have to take them on dates, and remember to call or the next time they see you the might rip your heart out and flatten your spirits like a pancake.
In a class on presentations Mike told me, "I don't care what you do, just make it clear!", this little piece of shrapnel will be imbedded in my brain permanently. As well as the last time I saw Mike, he was encouraging to the last, he told me I had it, if I believed it. Thanks Mike, I believe it, no bullshit.













































