Redtree Times

Tango (1999)– At the Principle Gallery

You that love lovers,
this is your home. Welcome!
In the midst of making form, love
made this form that melts form,
with love for the door,
soul the vestibule.

Watch the dust grains moving
in the light near the window.
Their dance is our dance.
We rarely hear the inward music,
but we’re all dancing to it nevertheless,
directed by the one who teaches us,
the pure joy of the sun,
our music master.

–Rumi, Music Master (ca. 13th century)

This is another older painting included in my annual solo show, Flow, that opens next Friday, June 12, at the Principle Gallery. At 4″ by 9″ on paper and matted in a 12″ by 16″ frame, it is not a large piece.

As with many things, don’t let the size fool you. This painting always lived large in my mind.

From the time it was painted, this piece captivated me in many ways. The sensuous intertwining of the trees. The burst of yellow-orange in the midfield of the picture plane set against the flatness of the sky. Even the spew line at the upper right corner intrigued and pleased me.

It felt like a dance outside of time, moving to an inward rhythm and tempo that we are seldom fortunate to hear.

In short, I liked this painting a lot. So much so that after it was sold at the Principle Gallery soon after it was painted in 1999, I ended up buying it back a number of years later, around 2017 if I remember correctly.

This painting and a few others of mine were originally purchased by a collector in central Virginia, in the Charlottesville area. It turns out that this person passed away and their entire estate went up for auction in 2017. I happened across a listing online featuring this painting and the others up for auction.

However, they were not listed as paintings. They described them as prints. My first instinct was to notify the auctioneers and correct their mistake. But before I could, it began to irk me that they were not doing their due diligence in evaluating the paintings. I could somewhat see their confusion as all the paintings in this group were done on untreated paper with a very smooth surface, with little if any evident texture. And the exposed edges that mark my wet work resemble the edges of work that has come off a press.

Even so, my work was well established in the art market by then and it would not have taken much effort to discover that they were indeed original paintings, a fact that would have dramatically changed their listed value. It bothered me that I should have to be the one to inform them of their error.

So, I did not. In fact, I bid on and won all of the paintings– er, prints as they were listed.

I know this does not make me look good, kind of like some scuzzy inside trader making profit off information only they possess. And I did feel that way, to be honest.

I blame my transgression on this painting.

I really wanted this painting back.

The idea that it should be pawned off as a print and most likely end up in a trash bin some day in the future was something I couldn’t tolerate. I know that once work is sold it is out of my control. There is nothing I can do if someone wants to chuck it out or use it for target practice or line their birdcage. But here was a piece that had meaning for me, that felt like something more, and I had an opportunity to give it another chance.

Okay, I know you’re thinking that I could have just called the auctioneers and that would have given a better chance of avoiding a possible future trash bin as well. And you’re right.

But like I said, I really wanted this painting back.

And I got it. And it has hung and been deeply appreciated in my main painting space for the past 9 years or so.

So why am I now willing to part with it?

I don’t know exactly.

Perhaps it is that I have become less possessive in recent times? Maybe. If I were still as possessive of my work as I once was, I would never let this one go again. I didn’t have much time with it when it first was painted then quickly sold. But I have had a number of years now to take it fully in.

I feel it deserves to find a new hole where it will be once more fully appreciated for all it has to offer. And this show, with its mix of old and new, is the perfect place for this particular painting. If it leaves me now, I know it will be because it speaks directly to its new owner in the way it spoke to me. I will be satisfied in simply having known it once more.

Hope you don’t think less of me for detailing how this painting came to be back once more at the Principle Gallery.

Such is the lure of the tango…

Islander— Now at Principle Gallery

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

 –John Donne, Meditation XVII, 1624

The painting above, Islander, is another painting from Flow, my annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery, which opens next Friday, June 12. This painting from 2013, 24″ by 30″ on canvas, has always had a lot of personal meaning for me. It was even the title piece for a 2013 exhibit of mine. I viewed it in many ways as a representation of the solitary nature of my studio and, to an extent, my life.

Of course, as John Donne expressed over 600 years ago with his immortal phrase, No man is an island, I realized long ago that, short of abandoning everything and everyone to go live the life of a cave hermit, one can never be totally set apart from connective tissue of this world.

We are all, like Donne, involved in mankind and our care for humanity is to care for oneself.

So, while I feel many days as though, snug in the solitude of my studio, I am set apart and free of concerns of the world, it is only a mirage. It turns out that my island is not mine alone. My island is your island and is the realm of everyone everywhere.

We are all Islanders together.

Below is the statement I wrote about this painting in 2013. And below that is a song about being an Islander, of a sort. Not just any island– Newfoundland. Though it is a bit more specific and I have no attachment to Newfoundland outside of it being part of my island as I described a few paragraphs above, and have never heard of the song nor the group that plays it, The Navigators, it seems to be the song I needed to hear this morning.

If you’re an Islander, you’ll get it.

Islander is included in my solo exhibit, Flow, which opens next Friday, June 12 at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. The opening reception runs from 6-8:30 PM. I’ll be off my island for it so hope to see you there.

I am an islander.

But I don’t live on an island. Never have and probably never will.

No, my island is a metaphorical place, one that exists in the creative ether of my mind. An island that is completely apart from and immune to the outer world that exists across the deep surrounding waters. Self-sustaining and self-ruled, a blank slate on which I can create my own reality.

It’s a place free from the ire and pettiness of others. Free of strife and injustice. and filled with the quiet of solitude. Filled with color, warmth and emotion.

An island of creation and peace.

But there is a paradox in being an islander. While trying to remain separate, it becomes abundantly clear that we can never really exist as totally independent from the outer world. Actually, to the islander those bonds to the outside world become even more apparent and important. The isolation only serves to heighten our recognition of our inclusion and connection to the world. You begin to recognize them as lifelines, bringing those things to the island that you cannot create in yourself.

Try as one might, one can never live in isolation from their own humanity. I think the best you can do is to create an island that you can visit periodically to revitalize yourself. And that’s what I believe I see in this painting, a transport that takes me to that peaceful place, insulating me for a short while from the din and whirl of the outside world.

For that short time, I am truly an islander.

Solitude and Reverence– Now at Principle Gallery, Alexandria

I came here to be for all and with all, and what I do today in my solitude will be echoed tomorrow by the multitude. What I say now with one heart will be said tomorrow by thousands of hearts…

–Kahlil Gibran, A Tear and a Smile (1914)

Back in the studio after a day spent delivering the work for my show, Flow, to the Principle Gallery.  Though it was a long day it was good one, with gorgeous weather and a drive made easier by lighter than normal traffic.

The stars seemed to be aligned.

So, the work is out of my hands now and in the gallery. I always feel a great sense of relief in simply successfully getting the work there. Of course, that feeling is always short-lived as the worry of how the work and show will fare at the gallery replaces that sense of relief. That anxious feeling hasn’t hit me yet and I am not sure it will come this time with the same impact as in past years.

I think this slightly more relaxed feeling comes from the fact that I have lived with much of the work for quite some time. In some case, for well over twenty years. I know this work completely and intimately. I have lived through my initial excitement and the subsequent doubts and worries about each of these older pieces and have arrived at a place where I am totally confident in the strength and force of every one of them.

They feel battle tested to me, like they have been put through long and grueling batteries of tests to determine their durability. And in my eyes, they have passed every test.

For example, the painting at the top, Solitude and Reverence, has been personal favorite of mine since it first came the easel in 2015. It is one of those pieces that feel perfectly capture how I view my role, at least in an aspirational way, as an artist and a human. Though every piece contains some of that same aspect, there are some such as this one that I feel more fully capture it. The sort of pieces that at the end of my time here I could look at and say with great satisfaction, “That was who I was.”

I could go into a lot more detail on this painting, about the meaning held in its title for me and how I see the symbolism held in its forms. But I am not going to right now. I think what I have written says enough for me at the moment.

Here’s a favorite song from the Beatles, covered by Sara Niemietz, who came to prominence as one of the many talented vocalists who have worked with Postmodern Jukebox. It’s a lovely rendition of In My Life.

Solitude and Reverence is 24″ by 36″ on canvas and is now at the Principle Gallery for my annual exhibit there.  This year’s show, Flow, is my 27th solo show at the Principle and opens on Friday, June 12. The work is in the gallery and, though it is not yet hung, is available for previews and prepurchase.

Is prepurchase even a word? Doesn’t matter– I’m going with it either way.

Now, git a move on. I got stuff to do.

Artists are people driven by the tension between the desire to communicate and the desire to hide.

― Donald Woods Winnicott (1896-1971), British Psychoanalyst/Pediatrician

Well, the June issue of the American Art Collector is out.

I should be excited since it contains a short preview of my solo exhibit, Flow, that opens at the Principle Gallery two weeks from today, June 12th. While I can’t deny there is some excitement in seeing my work in a national magazine, I would describe it more as a form of nervousness or anxiety. Maybe fear.

You see, I like giving the work the exposure, getting it out there to a wider audience. I think it deserves it. But there is that neurotic part of me that fears it will reveal all its weaknesses and flaws, which by extension are my own.

Reveal me as a fake. Imposter Syndrome, I guess.

So, when I look and begin reading, it is always with a great deal of trepidation. It makes a phrase in the first sentence describing my work– child-like quality–seem more insidious than I am sure it was intended. Thinking about it for a few moments, I actually come to like the phrase since I have sometimes described my work as having a naive quality, not unlike the artwork of children, which I regard as being very honest and true in the way they express emotion.

Once I got past that child-like thing, I was actually pretty pleased with the article and think that the images of the paintings show really well in the magazine. They certainly don’t look like anything else displayed in the magazine. I am not sure if that is a good or bad thing but for right now, it pleases me greatly. I have always worked to have the work carry a unique identity and I think this displays that quality pretty well.

In the end, I find myself happy with the article. As I am buried in getting work ready for the show, this is a great relief. One less thing to worry about. My Imposter Syndrome quelled for the moment.

I have to get to work right now, in fact. If I am slow in responding to comments or emails, please bear with me. I will get to them soon, that’s a promise. I am a little worn down and things seem to be taking twice as long or more to finish. But I should be done tomorrow and have the show delivered on Sunday. Then I can rest a bit before the show opening.

That sounds pretty damn good right now.

Since this is about a little publicity, here’s a song that sort of deals with that, though nobody is looking to put me in the movies. This is Ringo Starr and the Beatles doing an old Buck Owens song, Act Naturally.

Vigilant (2002)- Coming to Principle Gallery

Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty; power is ever stealing from the many to the few.

–Wendell Phillips, speech to Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society in Boston, January 28, 1852

This is another older piece that is included in my upcoming solo exhibit that opens June 12 at the Principle Gallery. Titled Vigilant, this 8″ by 14″ painting done in transparent inks was painted in 2002 as part of a print series that circulated at print galleries in the Mid-Atlantic region for a few years. The prints from this painting were easily the most popular of the series. For some unknown reason, the painting itself was never exhibited, spending the last 24 years hanging in my studio.

I never even considered showing it, to be honest. And, again, the reason for this remains a mystery to me. But while I was assembling work for this show, I began to consider sending it along. It is, after all, both a fine example of my work in inks at that time and a bit of an anomaly, with the Red Roof houses displaying windows and doors, something that is seldom seen in my work.

It also has a striking presence on the wall and carries

This was painted not long after the 9/11 attacks and the idea of being super alert to threats from abroad was fresh in our minds. The Red Tree here stands on a hillock that casts a wary eye out towards open water and protectively over the homes below it. It has the posture of a watchdog.

It carries a message that was on point in both 2002 and 2026. However, today the Red Tree casts an equally wary eye inland. Some threats are home grown, as we now know. It seems that our watchfulness for foreign threats suffered a lapse in our own self-vigilance. Hopefully, we can recover from this and bear in mind the words at the top from Wendell Phillips, that if we wish to remain a free people, we must be ever on the alert for the corruption of the power we bestow on our leaders.

By the way, Wendell Phillips (1811-1884) was an attorney who was an abolitionist, an advocate for the rights of women and Native Americans, as well as a labor reformer. Phillips was held in the highest esteem by abolitionists and especially among the Black community. George Lewis Ruffin, a black attorney, stated that Phillips was seen by many black people as “the one White American wholly color-blind and free from race prejudice.”

I mention Phillips for partly selfish reasons. When I read his words, I thought I would compare his to the Phillips line in my own genealogy and found that we descend from common Puritan ancestors. He is a distant cousin. Of course, it means absolutely nothing. He has hundreds of thousands, maybe even in the millions, of such relatives. Probably a bunch of you out there, as well, though you might not be aware of the connection. Not that it changes anything in my or your life.

I am always just glad to find a distant relative that makes me somewhat proud. As anyone who has done genealogy in any sort of depth knows, that is not always the case.

There aren’t many songs that come to mind that have anything to do with vigilance. Here’s one that does but in a somewhat creepy way. It’s a great song, nonetheless. This is Sting with an acoustic version of the Police song, Every Breath You Take.

Okay, I have a lot to do so get out. But remember, I got my eye on you.