V-i-afrog? Vy not a duck? As Groucho Marx might exclaim. Or, for that matter, vy (that is, why), not any other type of animal, a squirrel or a goat or an octopus or an ant or…any number of things. Why a frog? And I say, v-i-afrog because, if you have ever seen the Marx Brothers movie, Duck Soup – no, wait a minute, I think it is Coconuts. Yes, Coconuts. Not Duck Soup. Even though the joke I am telling has a duck in it. It’s Coconuts. Not Duck Soup… Groucho Marx has the bit about why-a-duck/viaduct in that movie.

Why not a coconut? Okay, that’s ridiculous. Of course I would not sculpt a coconut. Nobody is going to buy that. Although my shrink one time suggested, hey, a pineapple, that would be good because I live in Mount Pleasant, a suburb of Charleston, SC. And the pineapple is the state something or other. Or maybe it is the town something or other. A lot of people have pineapples on their walls on the outside their homes, on the entrance way and such. This, because at one time, pineapples were valuable, and offering them to a guest was hospitable, and that’s what we southerners are supposed to be, hospitable and friendly. 

You watch. Someone out there is going to sculpt a coconut because I suggested it. 

Coconuts, however, is not the subject of this blog entry. Viafrog. That’s the subject. Which is to say, Why – a – Frog? It’s a question I often get, ad nauseum. Don’t be offended I say ad nauseum. I know it might not be a question you ask very often. But, you see, for me, it is another matter. It is a question I hear very often. Okay, so before I go on, I will give you my typical answer, as to why I sculpt frogs. 

Answer: because people buy them. It’s a niche my father discovered many years ago. My father, also a sculptor, had a patron one time ask for a frog sculpture. Charles, why don’t you make a frog? I would buy a frog from you, I think. So my father made a frog. Which this wealthy patron bought. He had collected a lot of sculptures from my father. He got me to make a painting of them, one time – so long ago, now. What, about 35 years ago. 

My father made big frogs, like, human-size. Every time he made one, it sold. So, I and my brother, we both liked that. So we also started making frogs. Family business. Not. Artist egos – not a family business. We all worked together for a very short time. Then my father worked with my brother. They worked together. But I worked by myself. 

Anyway, we all started making these large copper frog sculptures because, lo and behold, people bought them. That’s the short answer. But you must understand that this frog making, this making art by making a frog thing, has become something of a Zen koan for me. So it is not just about making something that people like to buy. I guess it is that way for any artist. They kind of become what they focus on, day after day. Have I become a frog? Maybe. Sort of. Do I love frogs? Sure, but not like some people do. Some folks are actually quite gaga for frogs. They totally love them. It’s a niche, I tell you. 

By the way, this blog entry, I am getting this information out of the way. It is just something I have to get out of the way. It is not totally what this blog is about. It may SEEM that way sometimes. I mean, if you look at all the art I have posted for the past decade or so – two decades now or more? If you look at all that, you would think, yeah, this is just all about frogs. That’s all he makes. 

That’s another question I get, quite often. Not as often as I get the other question. But often enough. Is that all you make? No. Well, yes. Well, I do sometimes make other things, but for the past 30 years, it has been frogs. To quote Al Pacino, I try to get out of it, and they pull me back in. 

I don’t have a problem with that so much now. In a way, I do. I really feel the need lately to expand my horizons. I have certainly felt that way time to time. Let’s be honest, I have felt that way a lot. Try to get out of it, they pull me back in. So this has always been a gnawing concern, just making frogs. So the question, if I am honest, is kind of annoying. Do you JUST make frogs? Well, yeah. I guess so. What do you do? Are you JUST a plumber? Do you JUST focus on plumbing? Why don’t you try, well, something different – maybe in the same ballpark, like, well, handyman stuff? 

But I also don’t have a problem with JUST making frogs because every time I make a frog, I am making it by hand. I am learning something. I am doing something different, changing it up. And, by the way, you would be amazed at how many different dishes of frog a sculptor can serve up, when he puts his mind to it. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I repeat themes. There are certain types of frogs that sell well. Okay, these are anthropomorphised frogs. That is a damned hard word to spell, by the way. A damned hard word to type, too, as you would imagine. It means a lot to me, that word. When I went to art school, that is kind of basically what I studied. I studied animation. This is back when there weren’t any digital devices to allow for easy animating. No software to speak of. We were filming with Bolex cameras. Using real film. So I was learning how to anthro – Jesus, this is a difficult word to spell and type – Anthropomorphize. There, I used the voice command and allowed the computer to spell it out for me. You couldn’t do things like that back when I w as in art school. A lot of things have changed. 

I also do not have a problem with JUST making frogs because I have learned to enjoy whatever I am working on. So, if I wash the dishes or clean the house or make my bed or pay bills or write in this blog – whatever it is, I enjoy it. That is an important skill, as far as I’m concerned. Love what you do – even when you don’t love it. Love the one you’re with. Okay, I have got to admit, I have never liked that song by Crosby, Stills and Nash. Who the hell got stuck with not having the one they wanted and so had to love the one they are with? Was it Crosby, Stills or Nash? I think, maybe Crosby. I dunno. 

If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with. Doesn’t that kind of damned stink? I don’t like that. I wouldn’t like that situation. I have never liked that song. Love the one you’re with? Because I cannot be with the one I love? And, while we’re at it, what if you are the one I’m with? You probably would not like that situation any more than I would. He doesn’t love me, not like he loves her. But, he settled for me instead, so he’s making a point of loving me – fuck you! Right? 

So, that’s no good. Either you love me, or you don’t. But, for God’s sake, don’t be pining over someone else. I don’t want that. Go do that to someone else. I’m not into being what a friend of mine would refer to as a “spare tire”. And, it’s not even a damned spare tire. It’s what you obviously don’t want, because if you are pining over someone else… Okay, I know a lot of people get caught with the rebound. But, in my short time on this earth, I have noticed that the rebound rarely gets the final say. There’s the rebound. And then someone else takes the shot. The rebound rarely gets the girl, or the girl get the rebound. Of course, I suppose you could write such a love story, the rebound working out, becoming a permanent fixture, for good or worse. But Romeo and Juliet it is not. And hell, don’t you prefer Romeo and Juliet? Okay, Okay, so they both die at the end of the story. Kind of tragic. But it makes for a beautiful love story. 

Now, if you are loving the one you’re with, that’s not Romeo and Juliet. That is something else. You could make it work, I guess. But if you ended up really loving the one you are with, wouldn’t that be the one you wanted to be with? Kind of like Titania falling for Bottom in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She would never have done that, but for her enchantment. So you have to get enchanted. Or enchant yourself. And…I could see how that could work. And it could be quaint. Sweet, even. 

But I tell you, I was married to the woman I loved. She died of breast cancer 14 years ago. Yes, I know. I’m sorry, too. Anyway, I have a hard time seeing myself loving anyone else like I loved her – still love her. Picasso loved one woman like that, I read. And it was not the last wife. It was Marie-Therese, (his junior by about 3 decades). His most sensual paintings were of her. No other paintings of any other women were like his paintings of her. She was also mother to his first daughter. 

How could I love any woman the way I love Anne? I do not think that is possible. 

We kind of got off track, here. Which I don’t mind. I hope you don’t, either. I mean, it is a blog. I get to do that. In fact, I might even try to do that, some. 

By the way, no, I did not remarry. There is no other one I’m with. I am celibate, by choice. Kind of a personal statement. But, I guess I will allow you that information. I love Anne. I never stopped loving her. In fact, I would recommend to those who lose loved ones: just because they die, you do not have to stop loving them. You can even love them MORE. It is possible. And it does not have to always be painful. 

So, I guess I am not into loving the one I’m with after all because I love Anne, and I am not with her. Which kind of sucks. No, it doesn’t just kind of suck. You understand. I have chosen not to love the one I am with because I am not with anyone. I don’t know where to take that thread. It has kind of petered out with my last statement. 

So, what the hell was I talking about anyway? Lucky I wrote it down. Okay, loving the one I am with, as a metaphor for liking to do whatever you are doing even if it is not what you would like to be doing. Now that I think on it, that metaphor doesn’t work so well. It is not the same with stuff as it is with people. 

I will say, if I had to wash dishes all day, I may not like that as much as making art. I am pretty sure I wouldn’t. Although…when I was a kid, sometimes I washed dishes all day when I worked in restaurants. It was pretty fun, actually, when you have the right equipment. 

Loving the one you are with, that metaphor doesn’t work the same with stuff as it does for people. And yet… You know, I must say, I did have to learn to love making frogs. I did not at first, for the longest while, for a variety of reasons. Mainly, ego reasons. Kiss the frog. That was the whole thing. I figured that out, told Anne about it. Yeah, I have to learn to kiss the frog. Eww. Over and over and over again. Until I really started to like it.

But, let’s be honest. I am making art. I am enjoying my work immensely. I do not mind kissing the frog anymore. In fact, I would not use that metaphor.

Hmmm. Seems like metaphors are just not working for me today. This is the second one that doesn’t quite fit.

So you must acquit. Okay, that metaphor really doesn’t work.That makes three useless metaphors, now. Shall we go for a fourth?

I do go on.

What the hell was this blog entry about anyway? No, I’m just kidding. I know what it is about. Why a frog? But I already told you. But there are so many other reasons. It’s a metaphor. A meta-WHAT? Not another metaphor! And not the frog, for crying out loud. Now you are messing with my income stream. 

Maybe I should skip the part about it being a metaphor. I mean, you get that. It’s a metaphor. But I actually do make frogs. And people, maybe you, buy them. So, why do people like frogs? Is it a metaphor? Probably. Isn’t everything? 

Do people like them because they are skinny and green and a little bit slimy and cute in a pudgy sort of, homely sort of way? Why do you like frogs? Maybe I will start asking my customers that. Maybe I should. 

I have met people who have large frog collections. One woman, quite impressive: everything in her house was just about a frog. I mean, really, she liked frogs. She liked me, too, I think. But I am already spoken for. I love the one I am not with but still I am sort of with her. I love Anne. (I love to say her name, and write it. I really love to write it.) I could tell you more about Anne, but I am not going to do that. We are talking about frogs. And Anne is certainly NOT a metaphor for frogs. And frogs are not a metaphor for her. Although… My son, Julian, alerted me that I am more like Miss Piggy and Anne is more like Kermit. I guess I would have to agree. Even though I am the guy, and she was the girl. 

Okay, there are other reasons why the frog, why that is the creature I make. And it is not a metaphor, the other reasons why, or, at least, some of the other reasons. But, guess what. I’m not going to tell you the other reasons right now. They are a secret. Keep reading this blog, and maybe, just maybe I will enlighten you. Suspense. Real suspense, too, because there really are other real legitimate not metaphor reasons. 

It’s a niche. Oh yeah, I said that already. Look, I don’t know exactly why it works, but it does. I know niches. There is definitely a frog niche. But it is more than that. 

I know this guy, Thomas Arvid – he actually owns a frog of mine. (I don’t own any of his original work: I can’t afford it) He’s a painter, a very successful painter, like, I mean, a $40K+ original painting successful painter. You with me? He paints wine bottles. Bottles of wine. That’s his niche. He paints wine, and he does it very well. Now, you can imagine how many people are going to go for that, someone who paints wine bottles VERY well. The wine bottles, they are usually either full or half empty. Or half full, however you want to look at it. And they are painted very incredibly. If you want a painting of a wine bottle, Thomas Arvid is your man.

So, that niche is not as hard to understand, I think. It’s like golf. Some artists just make golf stuff. There’s a market for that. Let us say that all you did was create golf art, and you were very, very good at it. There’s definitely a market for that. Hey, all you golf fans, I am the guy, or gal, who creates incredible golf art. I mean, incredible. I’m the best. Others copy me. So, you can imagine, such a person is going to be massively successful, with all the golf nuts out there. 

I know. I’ve have made a few golfing frogs in my time.

Golf holes… I was painting landscapes when I met my wife. She was living on Seabrook Island. We started living there together. Seabrook is, among other things, a golf resort. So Anne and I made the joke that I could paint golf holes and sell them. 

I was not into painting golf holes. She actually lived on the golf course. Her little apartment looked out onto the golf course. She was not an avid golfer. In fact, I don’t think she liked golf, much. In fact, I don’t recall her ever having played golf. I certainly didn’t. I think it is an incredibly boring game. 

I cannot get away from it, though. I live in a place in Mount Pleasant called Snee Farm. It was, once upon a time, a plantation. Now it is a very nice neighborhood, upscale, that’s the word for it. I inherited this home from my mother, who died of cancer as well, Leukemia. Yes, it sucks. Anyway, the neighborhood is very nice, and it has a golf course. And my mother, well, she and her boyfriend, this guy who was some years older than her, liked to play golf. I don’t know why. I just don’t get it with the golf thing. 

But I am an artist. I have made more than one golf frog in my day, and so I have to get the golf thing, on some level. I have to put my mind there. I have to feel what the frog is feeling. Because they are human-like. What’s the word? Anthropomorphic. Hard to spell. Hard to write. Even kind of hard to say. 

I have to put my mind there, so I guess I can kind of appreciate what one likes about golf. But still…it’s golf. It’s a really boring game, it seems to me. But the people out there doing it, I see them day after day. And I gotta tell you, if you don’t know already, they LOVE it. They cannot get enough of it. It’s like an addiction. I just don’t get it. 

A friend of mine loves seeing an expanse of cleanly cut grass, even though he does not particularly love golf. I’m like, wouldn’t it be nicer with some trees? I like woods. I don’t like all the trees cut down and just cleanly mowed grass like a well tailored crew cut. I’m not into that. I mean, it’s nice and all. Better than a strip mall. Better than a lot of things. But after our last president…I’ve not much taste for golf courses. Never did in the first place.

But frogs are not wine and frogs are not golf. I dunno. There is something magical about a frog. It’s not just a metaphor. It’s a fairy tale. Frogs are magical creatures. And they are creatures. I love creatures. I love animals. I don’t eat them. 

Frogs are magical, they are creatures, and they are also, the way I make them, human. There’s that word, anthropomorphic. (If I write it enough, I will learn how to spell it.) My frogs are people. But they are also animals. And you’ve got to know, or probably could guess, that is a thrill, for an artist to make something like that, especially a figurative sculptor, which is mainly what I am. 

So there you have it. They are a niche, and they are fun to make. That’s all you need to know. Of course, if you keep reading my blog, you may find out more on that subject. I will consider writing about it.