Imhotep, meaning: “The one who comes in peace” (2655-2600 BC.), served under Egypt’s Third Dynasty, King Djoser, and is considered to be the worlds first architect and engineer. In addition to being responsible for the famous step Pyramid of Djoser—oldest wonder of the Seven Wonders of the World—he was able to pad his resume with such titles as: doctor, poet, philosopher, priest; scribe, sage, astrologer, interpreter of dreams, chief minister, and inventor of the papyrus scroll.
His own tomb remains unknown despite efforts to find it, and is believed to contain an assortment of sophisticated medical treatises that would, undoubtedly, blow our modern minds! As if we weren’t already impressed!
“Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.”
― Rumi, The Essential Rumi
This song was written in 1981 for the second Crayon LP. “Crayon” was the name given to my singing partner Wayne Hueners and I by someone, I don’t remember who, just before the release of our first single. Wayne and I had begun singing together in high school with no hope or inclination to be professional musicians until we auditioned for a “Songwriter’s Showcase”at a local recording studio. When radio began playing our first single “Learning How To Love Again”, our producer, David Houston, and manager, Tom Romano decided a full LP should be recorded and a band put together to promote it. Thus, our little Crayon became a big Crayon with the addition of a five-fellow back-up band. At the time of our second record (and this recording), the five-fellow Crayon had broken up, and a three-fellow Crayon, consisting of Wayne and I and David Houston emerged. My writing assignment for every Crayon song was to come up with something catchy that Wayne could slather in harmonies. Hearing it now, it appears he did just that. Not the best lyric in the world, but it didn’t really matter since the song and album were never released.
In 983 or so, after killing a couple of his neighbors, banished Norseman Erik the Red sailed west of Iceland and came upon a chilly island with a Fiord in the middle.
Not surprisingly, he named the Fiord after himself.
Then, in an attempt to make a very cold place sound better than it was and more hospitable to settlement, he named the island “Greenland”. Sadly, things did not go well for the Vikings on Greenland, and they disappeared by the 16th century.
Art? That’s a man’s name.
This song was flicked from the ash of Crayon’s first record. I don’t remember writing it, and have no idea what it’s about. It featured myself, and guitarist Jim Beeler pluck, pluck plucking away; giving it one take, before producer David Houston declared from the control room, “That’s good; next—”
“Of all lies, art is the least untrue.”
Roland Vikre was born in Minneapolis, MN. in 1936.
Largely self-taught, except for a brief stint at the Academy of Art in San Francisco; he rebelled against what he felt were the pretentious, narrow tastes of late 1950’s modern art, to create a unique, modern style all his own.
Using bold, pure color painted in many layers, Vikre created a clean, vibrant pallet from which to tell his story. Philosophy, religion, history, mythology and the popular music of his time were the subjects of interest to him.
By eliminating what was not essential, Vikres’ work conveys a directness, and simplicity that is the mark of an adept craftsman.
He created art that is friendly, as well as thought provoking; full of wit and compassion. Art that spoke to his own curiosity about the world around him, and the world he found in books.
Suffering from a mild case of Tourettes Syndrome, Vikre
was quiet and unassuming. He chose neither to show, nor promote his work. Instead, he kept to himself and his family; researching subject matter, honing his craft, and building the large wooden canvases on which he painted voraciously until his death in 2009.
It is our privilege to introduce you to the first gallery of work by an artist whom you may not be familiar with.
An artist who believed that self-improvement was more important than self-promotion, and who understood that the surest path to finding your own voice was not to follow the world, but to follow your heart.