ArtWalk Podcast

WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE link below:Also available to listen to on Spotify, iTunes, Amazon Music, and Google PodcastsEpisode 16 of the ArtWalk Podcast: Solo Thoughts: Will artificial intelligence steal your creative job? Aaron Massey discusses his thoughts on whether certain A.I. has the means to take your job, in several areas of the creative industry. This conversation spans several different topics that stroke the brush over the art world, music making, and film industry. Are we safe from artificial intelligence? Let's dive in! You can also find the Artwalk Podcast wherever you listen to podcasts, or go to https://artwalk.substack.com/ to subscribe to Aaron's newsletter.- Aaron's Youtube Page -Aaron's Instagram: @Massive3Twitter: @ArtWalkSubstack and @aaron_masseySPECIAL ARTWALK NEWSLETTER OFFER: FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL:If you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you for reading. Peace. -AA This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit artwalk.substack.com

WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE link below:Also available to listen to on Spotify, iTunes, Amazon Music, and Google PodcastsArtWalk Podcast - Solo Thoughts (EP #15) - Little Victories In this epidsode, Aaron Massey highlights the importance of small wins, which he calls "The Little Victories", and how to be more creative by making daily habits. The emphasis on doing the little things on a smaller scale can help relieve anxiety about large scale creative work, and over time create a more expansive body of work. https://artwalk.substack.com/ - Aaron's Youtube Page -Aaron's Instagram: @Massive3Twitter: @ArtWalkSubstack and @aaron_masseySPECIAL ARTWALK NEWSLETTER OFFER: FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL:If you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you for reading. Peace. -AA This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit artwalk.substack.com

WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE link below:Also available to listen to on Spotify, iTunes, Amazon Music, and Google PodcastsArtWalk Podcast - Filmmaker Eric Latek (EP #14) - State of the Movies: In Episode #14 of the ArtWalk Podcast, Aaron Massey talks with filmmaker Eric Latek about everything from Tom Cruise, to the writing of Network, to whether or not movie theaters are a dying thing.http://ericlatek.com/ http://cinepunchfx.com/ Anna Documentary: https://vimeo.com/user2530575 https://artwalk.substack.com/ Eric’s Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/phantazma_vfx/Aaron’s Instagram: @Massive3Twitter: @ArtWalkSubstack and @aaron_massey SPECIAL ARTWALK NEWSLETTER OFFER: FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL:If you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you for reading. Peace. -AA Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

*Click the “Listen Now” /Play button above, to follow along with the Audio Experience. When you walked by with him it caught me off guard. I thought you had moved out of the neighborhood. I honestly didn’t even care about him. I was simply upset at the fact that you were close again. Never left I guess. Did you look in? Did you see me? Did you see me see you? Maybe even staring out of the side of your eyes so as not to draw attention to the moment, up and to the left, just over the freshly cut hilled lawn in front of my candle lit window. I’m glad you saw the grass that way. A nice, clean, mowed down version of my living arrangements. I drank you. I drank the poison from the cup you delivered to my quenched lips. I was a fool for you, and fooled. Damnit. I never said the words to you, but I felt it. I surely did. I wonder if you even came close. And I will never know. And it doesn’t matter either. Matter of time, matter of time. It had happened before, remember? Running. I called you by your name as we crossed in opposite directions, like a silly metaphor, and you stopped. I wanted to hug you, but couldn’t reach that far. You stood so far from me. Remember that? I don’t know why I felt, and somewhat still feel that way about you. All you did was make me sick with your poison shots, jabs, pricks, pokes, punches, mashed up words of death, all hurled at me over my castle walls like a fire engulfed catapult launch. You broke my defenses, and got inside. I could barely fend you off. I was a dead man. A dead, man. But the sun rose. It rose with a bluish tint, and it flooded my eyes. I was alive. Rested and rousted from your poisonous sleep. Molting back into a new skin, a skin that was fresh, and familiar. You can have the scraps. You can have the empty bottle you wedged down my throat, emptying the liquid of your derision. I was the fool. I am a stranger now. Built in the memories of your own mind. You will not live in mine. If you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you for reading. Peace. -AA Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE link below:Also available to listen to on Spotify, iTunes, Amazon Music, and Google PodcastsHaruki Murakami's Thoughts On Patience: ArtWalk Podcast (EP #13) Solo Thoughts - In this episode #13 of the ArtWalk Podcast, Aaron Massey discusses his thoughts on a Haruki Murakami quote about finding patience in your creative field and your art. Social media has created a constant stress of needing to be seen and validated. What does Aaron think about social media's requirements for content and art? Check out this week's episode. SPECIAL ARTWALK NEWSLETTER OFFER: FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL:Aaron's Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/massive3/ Aaron's Twitter: https://twitter.com/aaron_massey ArtWalk's Twitter: https://twitter.com/ArtWalkSubstackIf you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you for reading. Peace. -AA Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE link below:Also available to listen to on Spotify, iTunes, Amazon Music, and Google PodcastsSPECIAL ARTWALK NEWSLETTER OFFER: FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL:In this podcast episode, Aaron talks with Paul Lindsay about television production, some old stories about how the two met as stand-ins on a tv show, and how to hustle in the film and television industry, to climb your way up the ladder. Ego Is The Enemy by Ryan Holiday Paul's Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/gogetpaul/ Aaron’s Twitter: @ArtWalkSubstack and @aaron_massey Aaron’s Instagram: @Massive3If you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you for reading. Peace. -AA Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE link below:Also available to listen to on Spotify, iTunes, Amazon Music, and Google PodcastsSPECIAL ARTWALK NEWSLETTER OFFER: FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL:Aaron talks with Megan about life as an actor in Hollywood, how to audition, casting directors, and making bold life decisions like moving to Los Angeles to pursue a career in movies and television. There is even a body slam story in this episode. Megan's Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/megthehippie/Megan’s IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm3655078/Megan’s Website: https://www.meganhensley.com/Aaron’s Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/massive3/Twitter: @ArtWalkSubstack and @aaron_massey If you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you for reading. Peace. -AA Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE link below:Also available to listen to on Spotify, iTunes, Amazon Music, and Google PodcastsSPECIAL ARTWALK NEWSLETTER OFFER: FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL:In this episode of the ArtWalk Podcast, Aaron's talks with Director, Producer, and Entrepreneur Justin Polk. Justin is the co-founder of the ad agency Invisible Collective, based in Los Angeles, Ca. The creative company has a main focus on collaborating to make content using diverse talent in production for tv and digital. Invisible has worked with major brands such as the Major League Baseball, Amazon, Hulu, and many others. Aaron and Justin have a fun discussion around Justin's career path, and how the two of them met on a movie called Freeloaders, based on a "sort of" fictionalized story about The Counting Crows' lead singer, Adam Duritz, and his friends. Invisible Collective: https://www.weareinvisible.co/ MLB spot: https://www.weareinvisible.co/justin-polk Freeloaders Trailer (*Explicit*):Justin's Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/justpolk/ Justin's Twitter: https://twitter.com/JustPolk Aaron’s Twitter: @ArtWalkSubstack and @aaron_massey Aaron’s Instagram: @Massive3 If you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you for reading. Peace. -AA Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE link below:Also available to listen to on Spotify, iTunes, Amazon Music, and Google PodcastsSPECIAL ARTWALK NEWSLETTER OFFER: FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL:Welcome to episode (#09) of the ArtWalk Podcast. Host Aaron Massey discusses his solo thoughts on a creative life, broken down into Four Acts. The Hope, The Struggle, The Experiences, The Rewards. What should you expect when choosing a life of creativity? How do you navigate the people around you? Aaron offers tips and advice for all creative fields in this episode. Are you a beginner, just starting your career? Or looking for a change in your life? Do you have any creative aspirations or desires? This is a great episode to listen to and watch. DON'T FORGET TO SUBSCRIBE AND SHARE! Thank you! Twitter: https://twitter.com/ArtWalkSubstack and https://twitter.com/aaron_massey Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/massive3/If you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you so much for your support. Peace. -AA Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

I was craving a large, filling meal after my journey east by train. I checked into my lodging, which was quaint, but reasonable. I have learned to accept small quarters and wayfarer roommates. The streets here were thin and rugged, many of them filled with uneven water stone, giving ground to the vendors that sold trinkets along the twisted pathways that lead downward from my perched hostel on the city’s hillside. Down below, I took time to walk throughout the town center, and along the Genil River. It was a pleasant evening. I sat on the stone wall built to keep fools out of the wet. The sun set early this time of year. The sky turned purple, then wrapped itself around the lovers that watched it. I found an Irish pub in town, figuring they would have substantial portions of meat and potato dishes. I found an empty barstool near the front door, and ordered a pint of Guinness. I was disappointed when the bar keep told me the kitchen was closed, and so I drank my frothy beer with good pace, so that I could continue my hunt for a gorging. I should have realized an Irish pub in the middle of Spain should not have been my first option for food, but maybe I was seeking a sort of comfort away from home. I moved on to a tapas bar and met a man from London, after he had heard my American accent and worked his way into my conversation with the bartender, then slid down a few seats toward me, to get closer to ear shot. His name was Jack, and he ordered a round of dark beers for us on his tab. The Brit was a firefighter back home, and was in Granada on leave, studying the Spanish language here for a few weeks.“Why Spanish?” I asked.Not sure really. I guess it is something I always wanted to do, but never did. So now I’m doing it,” Jack said, still thinking about it. “I understand. That’s noble.”Jack nodded and drank the remainder of his beer, then flagged down the bartender with his right thumb raised out, wiggling it from side to side.“Two more, thanks,” he said. “And how’s it coming along?”“What’s that?”“The Spanish,” I asked.“Terribly, but my teacher is extremely attractive so that keeps things interesting, right?”“Maybe you’re having a tough time concentrating?” I asked him.“I potentially worry about nothing, and enjoy all of it,” Jack said, in a confident manner, as if he has said this phrase over and over, to those wanderers that he would meet randomly in places such as this. The comment stayed with me for a moment. Then I put it in my pocket. We talked awhile longer over more pints and tapas. I told Jack that he was a comical fella, and reminded me of a famous British comedian, to which Jack replied, “He’s an egotistical twat,”I explained to Jack that you more or less have to have an ego to be a comedian, coupled with extreme bouts of depression. He agreed. I told a couple jokes from the famous comedian’s repertoire. Jack did not like my London accent when I attempted one. We made our way to a couple other tapas bars, eventually stumbling upon an establishment that was a local favorite according to Jack. It was small and hidden down an alleyway, far from the roaming tourist’s nose. The beer was fairly cheap here in Granada, and the tapas were outstanding. We mainly ate seafood, ranging in various types of morsels from the Alboran Sea to the south. We had a good time and talked of country, job, and enjoying one’s self in places of travel. Jack wanted to meet out again tonight after a quick siesta. That is when I realized it was only 6:30pm. Spain’s ways were unusual to me in regards to their eating and drinking habits connected to unorthodox timetables, but I imagined it was something I could easily get used to with enough practice. I told Jack I may or may not come out again this evening, as I had a long day of adventure beginning at sunrise. He told me to meet at a place called El Bar, a couple blocks from here at 9:00pm if I decided to join. We shook hands and walked in opposite directions. I would not meet him again. If you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you for reading. Peace. -AA Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

LISTEN to this podcast by clicking the play button above.WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE below:Also available to listen to on Spotify, iTunes, and Google PodcastsSPECIAL ARTWALK NEWSLETTER OFFER: FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL:ArtWalk Podcast - Filmmaker Eric Latek (EP #08) - Indie Filmmaking: In Episode #08 of the ArtWalk Podcast, Aaron Massey talks with filmmaker Eric Latek about his process of filming documentaries, narrative indie films, and creating behind the scenes visual effects tools for motion picture films of all sizes. A discussion around ‘pacing’ in films comes to the forefront. Eric and Aaron let out some of their movie nerd sides, and dive into filmmaking greats like Kubrick, Nolan, and Spielberg, and whether or not nostalgia plays a part in a film becoming “a classic”. Was it a great film? Or was it nostalgia talking? Items discussed in the podcast….Eric’s Website: http://ericlatek.com/ Eric's Vimeo: https://vimeo.com/user2530575 Floyd Mayweather "LightEm' Up!:Branch (Full Movie):Love Squared the Series (Trailer):https://artwalk.substack.com/ Twitter: @ArtWalkSubstack and @aaron_massey Instagram: @Massive3 If you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you for reading all the way down to this very period. Peace. Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

LISTEN to this podcast by clicking the play button above.WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE below:Also available to listen to on Spotify, iTunes, and Google PodcastsSPECIAL ARTWALK NEWSLETTER OFFER: FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL:ArtWalk Podcast (EP #07) Solo Thoughts: Holiday Special. Tis the Season! Welcome to the 1st ever Holiday Special of the ArtWalk Podcast. Aaron discusses three things he will be changing in the new year of 2022. And also four things that he is going to be doing as career goals and habits. A year in review of accomplishments, things that didn't work out, moving forward, and ultimately a time to separate for reflection. FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL: https://amzn.to/3qMmCrJ https://artwalk.substack.com/ Twitter: @ArtWalkSubstack and @aaron_massey Instagram: @Massive3Welcome to the ArtWalk Podcast Episode #07, Solo Thoughts: Holiday Special (3 Things I’m Changing in 2022)If you value this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber! This helps support my writing and time spent creating 5 Cool Things, Wordplay, and the ArtWalk Podcast. Paid subscribers are purely donation based. Thank you! Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

LISTEN to this podcast by clicking the play button above.WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE below:Also available to listen to on Spotify, iTunes, and Google PodcastsSPECIAL ARTWALK NEWSLETTER OFFER: FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL: ArtWalk Podcast (EP #06) Andy Rossi: Actor, Writer, and Director Andy Rossi talks shop with Aaron. Andy's directorial debut Dead Body has entered the '21-'22 film festival circuit and taken audiences by storm, winning several awards. Andy and Aaron get into all kinds of fun stories in this episode including moving west to Los Angeles, DJ'ing together, and eventually working as actors and filmmakers over the years.Welcome to the ArtWalk Podcast Episode #06, Andy Rossi, Dead Bodies and L.A. StoriesDEAD BODY TRAILER:Andy’s Info:PBJ (Sketch)Doctor Behr (Sketch)Evolution of Movies PodcastRich & Rossi CreativeAndy's InstagramIf you value this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber! This helps support my writing and time spent creating 5 Cool Things, Wordplay, and the ArtWalk Podcast. Paid subscribers are purely donation based. Thank you! Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

{{ www.artwalk.substack.com - Click the play button above for an immersive audio experience, and/or READ along below }}After finding a seat and settling in on a nearly empty train car, I struggled to close my eyes to get the much needed sleep that my body beckoned for. My mind swirled in thought and kept me from falling into any kind of rest. The trip would take just under ten hours, a lengthy timeframe indeed. I was traveling a pretty good distance so there would be plenty to witness along the way. I had heard nice things about Portugal, so I was eager.My thoughts jumped back and forth from my time in Madrid to ultimately thoughts of my brother. It had been almost a year since his death, and a little longer since I last saw him. We grew up in a small town in Ohio called East Palestine. It was a modest childhood, and our parents were generous with their love towards us, giving us the freedom to roam about the neighborhood to make our own adventures. There was always food on the table, the home-cooked kind; David and I usually fighting for the leftovers. We were two years separated in age, I the elder, and we got along well for the most part. The both of us played in the woods a lot as children, along with some of the other neighborhood boys. We made rope swings that would carry our small, delicate bodies over steep, sheer ledges of limestone, out into the floating air, dodging various tree branches as we swung through it, yelling towards the earthy floor thirty or forty feet below. Water gun fights in the thick woods during the hot summers were one of David’s favorite things, and something he was really good at. He could sneak up on almost anyone. David was fast and light, and his feet barely touched the ground when he ran. I always preferred him to be on my team. As we got older David and I grew into our own interests. I’m not sure where he obtained his free spirit from. Both of our parents were quite conservative in their makeup and philosophies. I remember seeing a change in his viewpoints during his high school years when he began to focus heavily on astronomy courses; perhaps a juxtaposition on his religious upbringing. He began to form his own opinions, instead of taking up our father’s. He started to become his own man, with liberal ideas on the world. When David was fifteen he saved enough money from cutting neighborhood lawns, and purchased a used telescope from a yard sale a few blocks away from our house. It was not in the best shape, but it worked. He would sit outside on the back deck of our home, in the muggy summer nights of the midwest, sometimes for hours, and stare up into space through that warped glass while the crickets played their songs. He must have seen so much nothing, and everything in between it, that it made him crave the why and the how and the who. I only wished to dream as big as he did. If you would like to support this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber (donation based). Thank you for reading all the way down to this very period. Peace. Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

LISTEN to this podcast by clicking the play button above.WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE below:ArtWalk Podcast (EP #05) Andre Welsh: Low-budget indie filmmaking is the topic of conversation during this ArtWalk Podcast interview. Andre is a filmmaker all-in-all, including being a director, cinematographer, editor and screenwriter who has overcome minimal budgets and small crews to create some of the indie world's most beautiful images on screen. He is a crafty storyteller that redefines the thriller genre with his comedic beats sprinkled in, in all the right places. His new film Disrupted is a neo-noir thriller that exemplifies all of the previous notations.FREE AUDIBLE TRIALDisrupted Website: https://www.disruptedmovie.com/ Watch on AmazonAndre’s Vimeo: https://vimeo.com/andrewelsh Andre’s Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/andre_welsh/ Aaron’s Twitter: @ArtWalkSubstack and @aaron_massey Aaron’s Instagram: @Massive3 Welcome to the ArtWalk Podcast Episode #05, Andre Welsh, Low-Budget Indie Filmmaking. If you value this newsletter, please consider becoming a paid subscriber! This helps support my writing and time spent creating 5 Cool Things, Wordplay, and the ArtWalk Podcast. Paid subscribers are purely donation based. Thank you! Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

LISTEN to this podcast by clicking the play button above. WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE below:This is the first interview in the ArtWalk Podcast series. Ryan McCann is an artist, actor, photographer, musician, and much more. In this conversation, Aaron and Ryan discuss creative freedom, discovering the flow state, how to find balance in your creative life, and what determines success in the creative world.Welcome to the ArtWalk Podcast Episode #04, Ryan McCann, Finding Balance In Your Creative Work.ArtWalk Podcast Special Offer: CLICK THIS LINK FOR FREE AUDIBLE TRIAL Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

{{ Click the play button above for an immersive audio experience, and/or READ along below }}Bobby Fraley scoured public police records through the Van Nuys public library internet system, seeking out anyone convicted of art theft in the past few years. He struggled to find a single report on this matter. He mentioned hiring a private investigator to the photographer who took Bobby’s portrait, but he balked at the idea, stating to Bobby that, “It was just a photo.”It was rumored that Bobby Fraley took that comment personally. So personally, that he vowed to ruin that very photographer’s local business, by training himself the art of photography over the next ten years, opening up a portrait studio right next door to the photographer’s place of business, and running session discounts so attractive, that Bobby would steal all of the portrait business in the area, ending his long time rival’s career, and putting his shop out of business. One of the problems with that long term plan for Bobby was that the only building next door to the photographer’s business was a McDonald’s. Bobby claimed that he would find a way to partner up with the burger company in his scheme to make things right for the community. After almost three months of mediocre investigative work by Bobby, he had decided to purchase advertising space on a large billboard, located at the corner of Fulton and Ventura Boulevard near the Casa Vega restaurant. The sign simply had a photo of the stolen portrait with the words: Have You Seen Me?, as well as Bobby’s cell phone number at the bottom of the bright yellow signage. There it was, Bobby’s face, with his phone number, for the entire Valley to see.The calls came pouring in. Day after day, Bobby sifted through the hundreds of voicemails that he received, most of them prank calls made by vulgar tongued teenagers, a few odd characters claiming they were with Bobby on the UFO craft that had abducted them in ‘83, and also some that had a love interest toward the man with the sunburned photo, which by now had faded from his everyday look. Bobby soon became such a local legend, that the neighborhood’s small companies would offer free merchandise to him, in hopes of some needed exposure. One clothier even began making Bobby Italian silk capes, free of charge, but in exchange for some word of mouth advertising when folks asked him about his eye-catching style. Bobby enjoyed the exposure at first, but felt that all of the attention he was receiving was steering his investigation in the wrong direction. He let people know, on 4” x 6” flyers he had printed, that the purpose of all of this hubbub was not about him, but about the famed portrait of him. Through Bobby’s efforts, he was able to raise a reward for information leading to the reacquisition of the stolen photo. The sixty-eight dollars could be all that was between Bobby and recovering the object. Bobby’s background in mathematics allowed him to calculate the prize money into a tangible offering so that the common person could see the value that it stored. One would be able to purchase eighty cans of tuna, if done so during the Tuesday sale, when the price dropped to .79 cents a can. This would leave the buyer just four cents short of purchasing the eighty-first can, when including the California sales tax rate. A metric, according to Bobby Fraley, that could “easily be found in the cracks of sidewalk, underneath the parking meters along Ventura Boulevard.”One evening, while Bobby Fraley sipped a mint tea in the cozy confines of his 650 square foot apartment, he received an interesting phone call. A woman spoke to him on the other end of the line, claiming that she knew where the stolen portrait was. She told Bobby, that her name was Janice. She told Bobby, that she was the one who had stolen the framed artwork the night of October 29th, 2011. She told Bobby, that she wanted to meet him in two hours, at the laundromat on Moorpark Street, when the clock struck midnight. - Part Two. Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

LISTEN to this podcast by clicking the play button above.WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE below:In this episode, we discuss the job of the artist. What does it mean to be an artist, in any creative field. What is your duty? How do you produce work consistently and often? Let’s take a deep dive into some thoughts around productivity, and “quality quantity”. Welcome to the ArtWalk Podcast Episode #03, Solo Thoughts, The Job of the Artist. Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

{{ Click the play button above for an immersive audio experience, and/or READ along below }}Bobby Fraley was a person of interest. No one was quite sure how he arrived at the position. His whole life was spent doing the right things; saying hello to the strangers he passed on the sidewalk, cleaning the dishes at home, and even cutting his neighbor’s lawn. Twice in one week back in June. Bobby woke at 6:00 a.m. every day, including Sundays. His morning routine consisted of the usual bathroom stuff, and he drank his coffee black from the machine he was gifted at the end of the year party for Stewart, Kilner, & Glaxo, where he worked as an accountant. He made his bed daily, and even washed his car at home, using the finest cloth to dry it, so as not to scratch his 2006 white Toyota Camry that he purchased from a man named Caesar, who owned a used car dealership on the Northside of Van Nuys. Due to his early waking schedule, Bobby was often tired, and he refused to take naps, as he claimed it would ruin his energy later in the day. He normally dressed in khaki slacks, brown Steve Madden dress shoes, and a short sleeve button up shirt, colors varying from white to cream. He combed his hair twice a day, parted left to right, and wore brown framed glasses that he found at the local thrift store, for which he never changed the prescription of. Bobby Fraley was the usual man, an everyman of common status, living out his life in the hopes that his lunchtime bagel would stay fresh in the Saran Wrap he folded it in early that morning. But Bobby would never get to eat his plain bagel on the day of October 2nd, 2011, for he was punched square in the face by a teenage misfit who was robbing the gas station market Bobby had gone in to retrieve some change, four quarters for a dollar, so that later that day he could purchase a Nestle Crunch bar from the vending machine on the third floor of the office building he worked at just one block south of Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks.Bobby eventually quit his accounting job that same month, declaring to his boss that he lacked the patience for numbers. He said that numbers acted like children; stubborn in their way, always mocking him behind his back. Bobby’s boss thought this was an interesting perspective, and accepted Bobby’s two week notice. Bobby Fraley never executed the remaining two weeks of work. He simply started waking up whenever his body wanted to. Bobby started to put his morning toothpaste into his dark roasted coffee, claiming that he found a process to quicken his morning routine, meanwhile giving his breath the much needed minty boost that he strived for. Bobby Fraley started to enjoy wearing capes, and eating spicy tacos at lunch from the various Mexican food trucks that The Valley had to offer. He was never one for the “hot stuff”, but had somehow morphed his eating habits to include the likes of jalapeno, cayenne, and innumerable sorts of hot sauces. Those seated at the outdoor tables near Bobby, would often hear sounds emanating from his direction while he ate. “Yip yip yeeeooowww!” Bobby would yell, after taking several continuous bites of his fiery dish. And if there were less than seven people eating near him, he would usually buy the lot a round of horchata on his way out. “Interesting,” said the middle-aged Mexican woman, sipping her milky drink, as she watched Bobby walk away while his red and black plaid polyester cape waved through the air behind him. Bobby began taking long naps in the park after his lunchtime meals, letting the sun’s UV rays dive deep into his epidermis. Sometimes Bobby slept so long in one position, that the sunburns he developed left him days later with peeling skin across his forehead and nose. A devastating blow to many, but Bobby carried on in all confidence, even once getting his portrait taken from a local photographer while his face looked like a crab shell. The photographer asked Bobby if he could use the portrait in his upcoming art show. Bobby obliged the man, telling him his image was “fair use,” and to, “use at will”. The portrait was such a hit, that Bobby’s photo was featured on page five of the Van Nuys Tribune. And in even greater news, the 20 x 24 inch framed portrait of Bobby Fraley was stolen from the art show just a day after that publication was released. A sad day in the art world for all. A sadder day for the sunburned man, who vowed to track down the thief of he, himself, in print form, Bobby Fraley. - Part One. Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

{{ Click the play button above for an immersive audio experience, and/or READ along below }}I wondered around a bit in the streets of Madrid after a decent night’s rest. The morning was chilly, but the sun was out, so I stopped for a moment near a bench, letting my face absorb the sun. I stumbled upon an empty coffee shop near a small neighborhood park, and ordered a cafe con leche from a Swede named Nils. The shop was a tiny, narrow place, maybe seating four or five at the bar with a few small tables and cheaply made chairs placed directly along the dark cherry red painted wall that hung pictures of various Spanish figures of history. Nils was a tall, slim, bearded gent who was very kind, and we talked of the world, politics, and art. He was a musician living here in the city for almost a decade now. His clothing was weathered, and the sole of his right sneaker detached from its base, and snapped back up with each step, fighting for its last days. I became hungry after the potent coffee Nils served me started to work my empty stomach over. I asked him if they served any breakfast food.“Not really,” Nils responded, “but I can fix something up for you.” Nils walked his slappy shoe through the crooked doorframe that led back to the kitchen. I became unsure of his proposition, “What do you have back there?” I asked. I started to become even more unsure of a kitchen that did not regularly serve food. Nils leaned his head over, back in sight through the doorframe, and simply told me, “It’s very good, trust me. Simple, but very good.” A long slice of sourdough bread, toasted with minced tomato, salt, and olive oil was the breakfast he brought out to me, on the house. I was pleased with the taste, and how uncomplicated it was. It was unexpectedly delicious. As I ate my delicacy of a breakfast, Nils told me of a hostel in Rome that he had stayed at, and recommended it when I visit the capital city. I told him I would surely look into it.An old man entered the quiet cafe, spoke a few verses in Spanish to Nils who then responded to the man quickly and keenly and handed him a fifty cent piece. The old man delivered over a newspaper, which Nils then folded and slid under his left arm as the man walked out of the shop. Nils looked at me and explained that the old man had just sold him a communist newspaper. “Do you favor that political agenda?” I asked him. “It is the neighborhood, and not my particular political view,” Nils replied, “I am actually quite liberal and do these things to balance out the coffee shop’s reading selection.”“A true businessman,” I said. Nils smiled back. “Do you have wifi?” I asked. “No,” he said almost smugly, “I believe that the internet is anarchy, so I do not wish to have it in here. Positive and negative all mixed together,” he shook his head. I responded, “Isn’t that life in general though? Positive and negative all mixed together? Then the world is anarchy.” Nils looked at me with a profound grin and he took my finished plate off of the counter. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Nils, the Swedish liberal hosting a communist cafe in the middle of the Iberian Peninsula, serving tomato toast to those willing to lend an ear for a bit. We said our goodbyes after a while, and I carried out into the Spanish day. I’ve thought of Nils from time to time, wondering if he ever found success in music. Wondering if he instead, joined the communist party. Wondering if he still collects political newspapers from the wandering folks of the neighborhood. Wondering if I can replicate that damn tomato toast when I get back to the states. Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

LISTEN to this podcast by clicking the play button above.WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE below:In this episode, we discuss where ideas come from. Is it an idea tree? A genie in a bottle? The guy named Frank who sits on the corner of Neil and 3rd, sipping Surge cola with a straw while wearing feathery boots? Let’s explore where Frank, and many of the great artists out there discover their ideas. Welcome to the ArtWalk Podcast Episode #02, Solo Thoughts, Where Creative Ideas Come From. Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

{{ Click the play button above for an immersive audio experience, and/or READ along below }}The morning sun sang back at the birds, and the hostel began to smell like cinnamon. Perhaps someone was making cookies downstairs. Perhaps it was a perfume that I was just not familiar with in this part of the world. I did not know the names of the two lovers sleeping in the single bed next to mine, nor had I met them yet. They had come in late last night waking me up briefly before my eyelids drew heavy again. I cannot remember if they truly made love, since it may have been a dream. The young man, maybe twenty-two, twenty-three, or even twenty-four years old, looked over to me, his head still on his pillow.“Good morning.” He said with a thick Spanish accent. I nodded, “Morning.”  “What is your name?”“Ben,” I replied. “You?”“Fernando,” He said while touching his bare chest, “It’s very nice to meet you Ben. This is Alma.” Fernando continued to lock eyes with me, completely focused on the present moment. “Hello Alma,” she barely moved a muscle when I spoke to her. Alma rested her head on Fernando’s lap, glancing over to me, then back to the ceiling where the fan spun the room. The two went back to speaking in Spanish, a language I had not mastered. In fact, I could barely put a sentence together. I could not understand anything they were saying, and they probably knew it, as they spoke in a regular volume. From the looks of it, she seemed very depressed. He talked a lot.  After cleaning up, I was ready to find a cafe. Madrid was a city full of buzzing energy. People think fast here, and speak faster in their native tongue. I imagine to understand them, but I do not. Not far from my hostel, I made my way down Plaza Tirso de Molina. Many of the buildings here boasted themselves with a rainbow of color, from blue to pink to yellow. Dogs stare down at you from their second floor balconies, noses punching through the iron fixings of the railing. You could sense them judging you because you were foreign. Not too far into my walk I found a small corner bakery. I claimed a barstool facing the barista, a well groomed, tall young man who carried around a stern, yet welcoming manner.“Cafe por favor…y croissant, chocolate,” I said to the man behind the counter, as he nodded politely. Yesterday, I spent much of my time getting into the city, finding my hostel, and landing on my stiff, springy mattress. I was hungry, and needed caffeine quickly. The breeze came into the shop through the raised outdoor coverings carrying the scent of fresh bread from somewhere nearby. The croissant I was eating tasted decent, but I was truly looking forward to the French pastries during my travels. The freshly brewed coffee lifted me up quickly, and was pretty good drinking. A local newspaper sat next to me on the countertop. I felt like a child leafing through the pages, only looking at the pictures.An older gentlemen, likely in his eighties, entered the cafe, and sat two stools down from me. He wore a faded salmon colored sweater with khakis, and dark leather loafers. He propped his walking cane against the bar below his seat, then removed his flat cap. He looked chock-full of experience, of wisdom. I get the sense that he is a good man that led a noble life. I am sure of it. The barista placed a cappuccino in front of the man. The two simply exchanged a nod, leaving unnecessary words out of the occasion. I want that. The simple, yet perfect relationship between community, fellows, and time. No b******t. No frills. Just an understanding of each other. A congenial interaction of space dust that formed into that moment of joy for the man next to me, sipping his morning ritual. “Adios. Gracias,” I said, laying some euros on the countertop. “Goodbye sir, have a great day,” the Spaniard replied in almost perfect English. I wanted the old man to look up at me. I wanted to see his full face. I wanted to remember him, forever. I wanted to steal the calming, yet commanding presence that he carried into the place, which had affected me. I yearned for his wisdom to become my own. He never looked. I had to find my own position here. I had to build my own sophistication.I have three days here before I set out for Lisbon, and I want to see as much as I can. There is an awful lot to do. And there are a lot of strangers to meet. *Copyright Aaron Massey - Steel Valley Productions, SVP, LLC Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

LISTEN to this podcast by clicking the play button above. WATCH this podcast on YOUTUBE below:Hello my friends! I’ve started a podcast. So cliche, I know. But, guess what? I don’t care. This is for the artists, the creatives, poets, musicians, filmmakers and actors, writers of the world, photogs and painters. All of them. And anyone else for that matter who wants a little more in-depth discussion around the creative community. I will be hosting solo shows, and also interview shows with other artists in all kinds of creative fields. I think this will be a place to come and have fun, get some insight into the creative mind, and discover some super talented individuals through our talks. I hope you enjoy. Here is Episode 01 of the ArtWalk Podcast. Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe

{{ Click the play button above for an immersive audio experience, and/or READ along below }}There is a feeling I get walking into an underground bar. The kind with a staircase that leads you down into the soft belly of earth. The kind with no windows, and dark, amber lighting. Jazz playing from the four-piece on a slightly raised stage. That’s a place. That’s a place I can sink my teeth into, and taste the history of it. The energy goes bop bop bop ba dum bop bop dabu dabu dabu dabu dum damn! Whiskey please! I love encouraging the bartender with a compliment. Maybe he’ll give me a little extra on the pour, what do you say Sam? The music rides through my glass and I can see the waves of the B flat ripple along the circular surface of my ten year aged in oak. The beer is nice here, but the whiskey; lord have mercy. She is wearing a black dress, tighter to the body, no loosey goosey stuff tonight. I can only pretend to have the words, the proper phraseology of genius men that would send her dark brown hair swinging left of her near perfect design of a face, lord have mercy, and locking her full attention to me standing behind her barstool. How many men have died here tonight? Right in the very spot I stand? I can feel the pools of blood beneath my shoes. Oh, my black leather shoes, soaked in death. We danced, and she pulled me closer to her, a true sign I was in over my head. Gladly. The saxophone player ripped on some high notes, as the bass player slapped to hold the whole thing together. The chocolatey atmosphere gave off an energy that invigorated us, me, her. A kiss on the cheek was all she left me. Damn. Worth it. Dreams can send a man into insanity, pushing the reality of his core to the brink. She was my dream. I’ll call her Vivian and remember her red lipstick still stuck to my face. Mental picture saved. The cracking of the broom off of the chairs tell the folks it is time to fly. Be gone you drunkards. Sam laughs at the one’s he overserved as he wipes down some highball glasses. “Vivian! Where are you?!” The wet street echoes the footsteps that tap upon it, while the few cars left at this hour provide a shhhhhhwwwww sound, passing my raised hand. “Taxi! Vivian!” Either one come save me goddamnit. Three hours till dawn. Might as well run home. Seventeen blocks and all of my thoughts between these monstrous buildings all looking over my shoulder. And I’m off! See you tomorrow whiskey man. Maybe I’ll be so lucky to get that drink, hear those tunes, have that dance, receive that kiss, and run underneath the stars. Goodnight sweet Viv, you did me in. I hope I remember your face in the morning, damnit I hope. *Copyright Aaron Massey - Steel Valley Productions, SVP, LLC Get full access to ArtWalk Newsletter at artwalk.substack.com/subscribe