The alternate reality, 7th dimension publication of Depression Era Fortune Magazine

A few weeks ago on a trip to Cooperstown, NY to deliver paintings, I stopped by my favorite antiquarian bookstore to seek substrate for new work. Sometimes one can spot a deal on a book or old prints whose paper lends itself good enough to paint on. Success! For five bucks I purchased an October 1939 Fortune Magazine in good condition. 148 pages of skewed primary source history from the perspective of the 1% during the sunset of the Great Depression and a month into the Second World War. There is so much meat in these pages — from Monsanto®…


Thinking Out Loud About Stuckism

The Way of the Pilgrim 2016. 48 x 48” (Inspired by Andrew Makarov)

Stuckism. It’s fresh as a doughnut and as old as dirt. I am a Stuckist. I was a Stuckist long before I knew I was a Stuckist. Joining a commune doesn’t make one a communist just because Karl Marx coined a term. In fact, communism is a million years old and sharing societies have formed among human groups no matter what the political ideology. A modern commune can consist of right wing “Stop the Steal” conspiracy theorists all sharing equally their bread, chores, and the good news about Jesus who was a hyrdofracker before becoming a venture capitalist. I’ve been…


Strategies to Unguilt the Species

“A Symbol, Wear It Like a Cross” 2021. Acrylic on paper, 16 x 12"

I have so much to complain about at any given moment. Stop by and test me. “Ron, what time is it?” And I’ll tell you that it’s 100 seconds to midnight because the scientists tell me that. Many of them are actually paid to be consummate messengers of portents. Some get a hundred thousand a year and awards ceremonies. Some get book publishing deals with print runs of 5,000 copies to be distributed by cargo ships on oceans gradually becoming lemon water. Some fly to Melbourne to a conference with a headline speaker who explains…


The pharmaceutical flat-bottom line treatment for heart disease

I take drugs. I take drugs and fish oil to control hypertension and arrhythmia. I have a long history of heart disease on both sides of the family. If I continued my teen age love affair with fish fry and Stouffer’s macaroni and cheese® (and inordinate fear of doctors), I would have dropped dead a long time ago. Good thing an early change (for the better) in diet and a mid-twenties shift to moderate alcohol intake thwarted bad cholesterol’s evil plan to knock me off in the prime of life.

But it…


28.5 Hours of Painting

An Artist’s Guide for Pricing

Harry Heidelbergensis and His Three Sisters (Wives) 2021. Acrylic on paper and foam. Price: @$17 (2.5) + M + Element “X” = $55.25

My granddaughter paints. She is not an artist but she makes darn good art. She always finishes a piece she begins, usually before a half hour is up. She doesn’t care if you like her painting because she knows that you will. If she ever expected to get paid for her portrait of Grandpa, we would deem her a business savant or insane. She is neither. Just another wonderful child making art for joy and love. They’re everywhere.

Adult artists go to work, not to jobs or careers. They reside in economic limbo. For too…


“Pine Cobble, Northwestern Massachusetts” 2020. Acrylic on paper, 20 x 16"

From my book, A Spring Without Mulch, published March, 2021:

While coming to terms with my reality, I must face up to some hard truths. I am a prolific, untalented image-maker and hack writer. A human artist ostrich, with my head buried in the sand. By now, after 30 years of creative effort, I should have hit an acceptable plateau of celebrity. Two or three eager fans to keep the illusion alive and my head buried in output. This year I picked my head up, spit out a scarab, and assessed the truth. There are political and philosophical “followers” of…


I have been following the work of Glenn Greenwald for over a decade. I stumbled upon him online in 2007 debating with a writer of the New York Times. He was in his home office and dogs were climbing all over him while he made excellent mincemeat out of the corporate marketing-journalist justifying Bush and Cheney crimes of the day. He was an instant hit in my developing political mind. I was suffering shell shock of U.S. war crimes, and every word Glenn said about them rang true. He was such a refreshing presence of foreign policy opinion. …


I am in the control booth of a JLG 450AJ articulating boom lift. Life is laughter.

For six days I was original. I played a game thought up by another, and didn’t care if I won or lost. I was old and very young, mentor and devotee, committed and indifferent, one of the freest members of my species planted in this habitat, sheltered from storms and in dire straits.

And I began the study of breath and meditation.

Let me rewind to May Day and the last time I ate bread until I became free. The cardiologist wasn’t listening. I went into the practice seeking advice on rejuvenation and came out a trudging invalid on the…


“The Assistant Professor Turned ‘Girl With Ball’ Into Some Freudian Perversion Maybe Because He’s Very Lonely” 2019. Oil on canvas, 16 × 20"

Roy Lichtenstein taught art at the Oswego State Teachers College in the late 1950s. I researched and imaginatively painted his story in 2019, then had an exhibition of 35 paintings and received national recognition because someone in California and Texas mentioned it by name.

I’ll post the intro to entice you to purchase the book and read about the pop art legend when he was nothing much in Oswego, just like anyone anywhere is nothing much until someone who is much says you’re something much.

The artist is one who without effort inhabits a higher sphere of thought into which…


Frack Immaculata! Acrylic on oak panel, 48 x 24"

I am taking art to the level it was meant to be. Presently I am documenting our last battle.

I am one man, one artist insane, crazy enough to place the entire hydro-fracking debate onto my shoulders. I have taken up a position, and now will give the only argument morally acceptable. I shall schlop onto canvas, paper, and hardboard the property rapists of my country in all the colors of their inside organs and respective juices. …

Ron Throop

I paint and write myself in and out of Afib from a cedar shake cottage by the shore of Lake Ontario. I seek nice people who think like I do, sometimes.

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