Keyword: milk

  • Strawberry Fields

    “Strawberry Fields” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    Where does strawberry milk come from? Pink cows, of course.

    It’s a silly thing that some children believe; something grandparents tell grandchildren when pulling their leg.

    I created this painting for an art fair we exhibited at in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, a land filled with dairy cows. I was pleased that so many people who saw it got the joke, reminiscing nostalgically about the “fact” that strawberry milk comes from pink cows.

    Part of the humor comes from considering the silly logic of children, and the outlandish things they are prone to believe.

    I, for one, used to believe I was Superman. I wore my Superman shirt under my school uniform in second grade to prove it. 

    The ridicule of my classmates inspired me to reconsider that belief.

    But kids are not alone in their misguided understanding of the world. We grown-ups believe our fair share of ridiculous things, don’t we?

    After all, some of us believe that you can’t eat breakfast for dinner and should never eat dessert first.

    Some of us believe that Diet Coke is good for us.

    Some of us believe it’s bad luck to bring bananas on a fishing boat.

    Some of us believe that the first few years of parenting are the hardest.

    Some of us believe that it’s possible to do and see everything on vacation, and we should ruin that vacation trying.

    Some of us believe the news other people watch is propaganda while the news they watch is always true.

    Some of us believe that we don’t need to prioritize spending time with loved ones, as long as the scraps of time we do spend is “quality” time.

    Some of us believe that money is the best barometer of success.

    Some of us believe that skin color says something about who we are as a person.

    Some of us believe that good times will last forever.

    Some of us believe that bad times will last forever.

    Some of us believe that love is a feeling.

    Some of us believe the devil isn’t real.

    Some of us believe that they’d finally be happy, if only…

    Oh dear. Perhaps we grown-ups are not as grounded in reality as we like to think. Maybe we are all in danger of following a few rules that don’t exist.

    I know I believe some of these things some of the time. But it’s probably silly to believe that anyone who reads this will take a moment to re-evaluate their own beliefs.

    Maybe even sillier than believing that pink cows are responsible for strawberry milk.

  • Smack Daddy

    “Smack Daddy” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original in Private Collection. 🔴 Shop this art!

    Have you kissed a frog lately?

    This painting was inspired by Dig ‘Em, the cartoon mascot of Honey Smacks. But it represents something deeper than a favorite Saturday morning breakfast cereal from my youth. Whether it’s a beautiful princess or a handsome prince disguised as a slimy wart-ridden amphibian, frogs often find themselves in fairy tales as hidden forms of something else.

    Fairy tales aren’t real, but sometimes real life does mimic them.

    For example, do you know someone in your life you weren’t very fond of when you first met? When I was in Little League, Scott D. was the best player on the best team (which sadly, wasn’t mine). I was certain he was part-cyborg – no human was that good – who drank plutonium for breakfast. I pitched against him a few times.

    It never went well.

    I tried hitting against him, too (with “tried” being the operative word). He was the only kid in the league who threw a real curveball, and you couldn’t actually see his fastball, only hear it zip by you as you stood Jello-legged in the batter’s box. He fielded every ground ball that came his way and hit home runs over buildings, always with an air of ease and an ever-present smile plastered on his face.

    I hated him and that stupid, smug smile.

    Fast forward a few years, and we ended up on the same high school baseball team together. He was still a great player, but I discovered that he wasn’t part-cyborg. He was actually a super nice guy, and we became friends. Scott was the kind of person who made you feel better than you actually were. He was ten times the ballplayer I was, but he made me feel like we were equals. I was a second baseman, and we developed a sneaky pickoff maneuver when he was pitching. With nothing more than a knowing glance, we claimed many a baserunner with our clever trap. After the umpire called the out and our opponent slinked shamefully off the field, we always shared a smile.

    Some may have even considered it smug.

    Like a frog in a fable, we regularly encounter situations in which things aren’t as they appear and surprise us when their true identities are revealed. Enemies transform into friends. Setbacks turn into steps forward. Challenges become unexpected gifts.

    Over the course of the pandemic, stories of pain, loss, and anger have been plentiful. We know those stories well; they’re the ones trumpeted by the media and passed along on social media like a dirty crack pipe. But I love asking people to share good reports from the ordeal. In my virtual and in-person speaking programs, I can always count on receiving a stream of replies from attendees; stories of happy moments, unanticipated opportunities, and surprising blessings.

    Sometimes life feels more like a horror movie than a fairy tale, with our happy ending having gone missing.

    But pay attention; it might be hiding right around the corner.
     
    It can be hard to find hope in present circumstances. That’s why it’s helpful to look back on the surprise twists we’ve already encountered, to remind us of their presence and give us hope.
     
    The interesting twist in my story about Scott is that he didn’t change; only my perception of him did. And that’s the big difference between fairy tales and real life. In real life, it’s usually not the frog that transforms, it’s us.

    Might be worth keeping that in mind the next time you find yourself in a swamp, face-to-face with a frog.

  • The Captain

    “The Captain” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    I present to you a painting I made of a pirate ship sailing in an ocean of milk amidst floating Cap’n Crunch cereal.

    I thought long and hard about conjuring up some deep meaning on this one. Something that would make you shake your head in amazement and say, “Wow. He is a truly brilliant artist and thinker.”

    But you know what? There isn’t any deep meaning. The truth is, I was thinking about Cap’n Crunch cereal, which I love, and thought about a tiny pirate ship sailing in a bowl of it, which would be neat. But then I thought, what if the ship was normal-sized and the whole ocean was milk and it had giant pieces of Cap’n Crunch floating in it? That would be weirder, and possibly neater. 

    So that’s what I did: gave myself over to pure whimsy.

    As we get older, Adultitis takes over and kills our whimsy. We grow increasingly skilled in the art of taking ourselves too seriously. And all that seems to bring us is anxiety, stress, and a life totally devoid of fun. 

    We’ve mastered the ability to make the trivial monumental. We fret about all sorts of things, from gas prices and elections to how we’re going to kill those weeds in the yard and what we should wear to next Friday’s function.

    Becoming more responsible is one thing. But losing our sense of whimsy and taking ourselves too seriously is another. 

    I have long admired people like Dr. Seuss and Roald Dahl because they created magical characters and worlds that are so rich with whimsy. Their art depicts preposterous, physics-bending, imagination-stirring images and scenarios that exhibit a ridiculousness that is wholly original and entertaining. Meanwhile, within the context of their art, all of it comes across as completely normal. How did they do that? 

    It can be hard for me to give myself over to this pure, unadulterated nonsense, which I consider to be the unfiltered essence of the spirit of childhood. As someone who often errs on the side of practicality and reason, I have always wished I could be more like Dr. Seuss and Roald Dahl. After discovering Adultitis and its evil tricks early in my adult life, I have spent my life trying to get back to that level of creative abandon. Back to normal.

    And yet here I am, having created a painting that exists at least within the same universe as those two greats, frustrated because I cannot come up with words to explain the meaning of this painting. 

    Because there isn’t one. 

    And thankfully, I think to myself, “Well, finally. Some progress.”

    It took a while to become an expert at taking yourself seriously; it will take a while to get back to normal. Give yourself permission to start.