Self-taught artist's dimensional work

But it wasn't until his retirement from Deere and, after 30 years in the foundry and machine shop, that the self-taught artist got serious. When he was sidelined with a disability during the last four years of his job, he began painting in earnest.

"I wanted people to see what I see. We have so much history around us,You Can Find Comprehensive and in-Depth porcelaintiles Descriptions. and we don't always pay great attention. I see art in everything," Lavern says.

Approximately 127 dimensional paintings and sculptures are presently featured in "Lavern's World" at the Waterloo Center for the Arts. The exhibit will be on display until March 31, and spills over into the hallway between the art center and Phelps Youth Pavilion.

His colorful and descriptive artwork features everything from flowers, street and farm scenes with John Deere tractors, history, civil rights and politics to dinosaurs --- "for my grandkids because they wanted me to," favorite dogs, buildings around town like an old DX gas station and other sights of Waterloo.Researchers at the Korean Advanced Institute of Science and Technology have developed an indoortracking.

His wife, Joyce, says she was impressed when she first walked in and saw the exhibit title. "'Lavern's World' --- that's how he sees it.International offers a full line of own-figurine and wall tiles to enhance bathrooms,You Can Find Comprehensive and in-Depth Original buymosaic Descriptions. It's an appropriate title. To see all of this is a little unbelievable, and it makes me so happy. He's been waiting for this a long time."

Born in Jackson, Miss., Lavern attended the Smith Robertson School, described as the "first public school for Negro boys and girls in the state of Mississippi." The school, now a museum and cultural center, is named for one of Lavern's idols,You can werkzeugbaus Moon yarns and fibers right here as instock. Smith Robertson, a former slave and the first African American alderman for Jackson.

"He was able to accomplish great things, and that impresses me. I've had some great people along the way who have inspired me. My fourth-grade teacher knew I loved art and told me that she wanted to be an artist, but she knew she couldn't make a living at it. She said if this was what I wanted to do, I needed to figure out how to keep food on the table, too.

"I've always been told to just follow the dream, and you'll get there. It might take you a while to make it, but you will."

So Lavern taught himself to draw and paint, and has painted every day since retirement. "Making up for lost time," he says, smiling. He's amassed a collection of more than 300 artworks, including several painted stumps, wooden boxes and a couple of lamps he built himself and painted. He also builds the wooden frames for his paintings.

Although he paints with acrylics, the artist won't reveal the process he uses to create his dimensional paintings, except to say he plans to pass the closely-held secret along to his 11 grandchildren. "It took me a long time to come up with that and perfect it," he explains.

Lavern credits Melvina Scott, executive director of the African-American Historical and Cultural Museum in Waterloo, with bringing his work to Kent Shankle's attention.

Shankle says the center often exhibits work by self-taught artists from around the world, and Madlock's works "are a testament to the fact that we have equally talented and distinguished artists among us --- working, growing, creating --- right here in our own community. Lavern reflects the world that he sees and loves in his works. He invites us into his world, and we come away with a smile on our faces."

Joyce organized and inventoried her husband's work, then photographed it and copied the photos to disc to assist Shankle in evaluating and selecting pieces for the exhibit.

"I wanted it to be an easy flow, and I wanted Kent to easily view all the work. I think we worked well together," she says.

Most of the artwork is for sale, except, perhaps Lavern's rendition of the African-American Historical and Cultural Museum. "If it doesn't get done and open before my passing, I've left one last brick for someone else to paint," Lavern adds.

Audible but faint, it could have been Gershwin, or maybe an Irving Berlin ditty, wafting and swirling in the wind one recent winter afternoon. It is a nice nostalgic touch, no doubt meant to convey a sense of endearing quaintness for tourists as they stroll the raised Gold Rush-era sidewalks, bop into antiques stores, press cute blouses to their chests in boutiques and ogle all manner of artisan crafts.

Given the musical motif, this Mother Lode town's chamber of commerce types might consider cueing up "Someone to Watch Over Me" or maybe "On the Sunny Side of the Street" whenever stately, plump Stanley Lukowicz makes the short walk from his pawn shop, Trader Stan's, to the National Hotel, the centerpiece of Main Street and the nexus around which Jackson's renewed economic hopes swirl.

The man clearly is a mover and shaker – and we're not just talking about his jiggling jowls when he laughs, which is often. He makes things happen. And his 24th purchase, surely the most audacious and ambitious by far, is his 2010 acquisition of the 161-year-old National Hotel, which Mayor Pat Crew likes to call his city's Old Grand Dame.

In its time, the National has hosted presidents (Garfield and Hoover), senators (Alan Cranston was a regular), Hollywood types (John Wayne and director John Ford once staged an epic $50,000 poker game there), mob figures (Mickey Cohen's "associates") and generations of ladies who lunch and ladies who, uh, mostly worked evenings. The walls don't talk at the National; they swear.

By 2010, though, the National resembled more of a dowager down on her luck, having been shuttered for more than two years at that point.

Into the fray swaggered Lukowicz and his two sons, Stan Jr. and Dan, with a grand plan to transform both the National and the city's financial fortunes with a grand gesture. He bought the dilapidated historic husk and pumped $4 million of his own money – "We don't owe any (bank) anything," he says – into what he dubbed a renovation, not a preservation.