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Archive for October, 2009

What Certainty?

arn-the-knight-templarI’ve written before about how I am intrigued by the certainty that many people have concerning the truth and validity of their own beliefs and opinions.  It’s something you most often see concerning religious beliefs, where a person may feel that theirs is the only true religion and all others are somehow blind to this truth.  This certainty has led these people into many wars, has caused the ruination and deaths of those who do not share their belief systems and has carried them across many oceans to take the lands of native people, claiming it through some sort of divine right that their god alone grants to them.

This is the pattern of history, east and west, throughout the recorded ages.

I wonder about the certainty behind this belief, how these people can never doubt for a moment the veracity of their beliefs, can never ponder the sheer possibility that they may not be completely right.  I realize that in ancient times one had to have total commitment, both in beliefs and actions,  in order to merely survive, politically and physically.  I’m sure this is how this certainty was created and has evolved though time.  And as it moved through the ages, this certainty became a complete way of thought and a basis for the lives 0f many.

You should do this.  You must do that.  You will not do this.  You must live as I live.  Think as I think.  To do otherwise makes you a danger, a cleaver of my beliefs.

This certitude is evident today beyond the religious spectrum, although much of it stems from that background.  I see it as I peruse many blogs, particularly those of the extreme right.  They have absolute belief in the correctness of their opinions, absolute surety that they have only true path to a righteous life.  They alone can see the flaws in everyone else’s opinions, can clearly see the evil that lurks behind those with thoughts contrary to their own, can see ahead the future that is imminent without their guidance and pure thought.

They are, and always will be, right.

It seems, however to me, that there is a flaw inherent in this way of thinking.  This certainty leads these people to believe that they must be a majority, because how could so many people not see the rightness of their belief?  They come to  believe that their truth is the truth of the masses and they are therefore invincible.  It’s this arrogance of certainty that makes these people both dangerous and vulnerable.  By vulnerable, I mean that these people are so sure of widespread appeal of their beliefs that they become bolder and more vocal in airing their opinions which exposes to all the flaws in their logic.  They begin to show their weaknesses, their own words leading to a breakdown.

Take the tea-baggers, for example.  These are people who have passionate and absolute beliefs.  Unwavering.  Even when faced with irrefutable  evidence, they are totally convinced that theirs is the one and only true vision for America.  And as they yell louder, they begin to believe that, yes, we are the majority.

Look at us.  Hear our bellow.  We are so many: how can anyone doubt the rightness behind our arguments?

And they become louder and bolder and in doing so, expose their flanks, their flaws.  And inevitably they begin to lose steam as they are counter-attacked and have little, other than their certainty, with which to defend themselves.

Now, this is just one person’s observation and I have absolutely no certainty in its rightness.  What I don’t know could fill all the oceans and all the visible skies.  What I do know would barely fill my coffee cup.

Maybe knowing how limited I am makes me almost admire these people and their passion.  I don’t see the truth or logic behind their beliefs and am sometimes frustrated by their unwavering disbelief of fact and how easily they are manipulated, but I can’t deny their commitment.  It makes them truly formidable opponents to any sort of progress.  But so long as they keep screaming and we keep listening for the how’s and why’s,  hopefully a more inclusive vision of America will prevail.


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The+Ventures+-+Surfing+-+1963Well, it’s Saturday and we could all use a break, maybe dream of catching a big breaker and hanging ten.  Okay, it’s all in my head.  But I do have fond memories of how much grab there was in those instrumental surf classics from the 60’s.  When it came on, you couldn’t help but listen.

We had a copy of the Surfaris’ single , Wipeout , that had the kitschy Surfer Joe on the flipside.  I must’ve heard both sides of that single a thousand times, if not more.  Every listen was like a sonic sugar rush and I still smile when I hear either song.

For this Saturday, I am showing a version of Wipeout from the seminal instrumental surf band, the Ventures.  It’s a really high quality version from a film when they toured Japan in the 60’s.

Enjoy and may all your waves be true…

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BrushesI was looking at the brush in my hand the other day and I realized how rough I am sometimes on my brushes.  It was a natural bristle brush that was new just a few weeks ago, when it looked like the brush to the far left in the photo.

Over those few weeks, I caressed paint on to canvas.  I also pushed paint into the canvas.  I ground the paint against the canvas, using a lot of force, to almost burnish the surface.  I stroked.  I poked.  And when I looked down the brush had turned into that poor guy shown second from the left.

I can be rough on my brushes.

For my normal wet technique I use a natural hair squirrel mop like the two shown on the right.  It’s a big, soft brush that holds a lot of paint and is a staple in my studio.  The brush on the left is new and the one on the right is obviously not.  This erosion of the bristles shown here represents about 6 or 7 months of use.

Hard use.

I like the way the bristles whittled themselves down to the angle my hand takes when I normally strike the painting surface.  Unfortunately, it has eroded to a point where its capacity to hold paint makes it a hindrance to my technique.  So he is put aside and maybe I will find a use for him at some point, so I keep him with my other spent brushes.  I could never throw such  loyal workers to the trash heap.

I have amassed quite a number of brushes, both well used and brand new, over the years.  I have tiny detail brushes that I go through quickly.  I have  some cheapy brushes that work perfectly well for certain techniques.  I have some of my favorite medium priced brushes that I have stockpiled because they’re no longer made.  I also have some pretty expensive brushes.  I have a set of beautiful Winsor & Newton Series 7  brushes that are handmade with soft, luxurious Kolinsky sable.  I’ve had them for about 13 years and have only used one or two of them for a few minutes.  They’re lovely in the hand but I never felt comfortable with them and just wouldn’t feel right grinding them roughly into the surface.

So they sit and wait for a day when I’m ready to put them in the game.

Maybe today?  Maybe… but probably not.

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William Kamkwamba 2009Last night on The Daily Show, Jon Stewart interviewed a young man from Malawi in Africa by the name of William Kamkwamba, who has recently published a book.  The book, The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind, tells his story of how as a 14 year old boy in famine devastated malawi, with more adversity than anyone should face at such an age, decided to build a windmill so that his family might have electricity to run lights and give then running water.

Kamkwamba had went to school for a while until the famine fully hit his family’s meager farm, at which point his parents could no longer afford the 80 dollar annual tuition.  Left with only a few textbooks and a small library funded by the US government, he set to work building the windmill after having seen a picture of one in a book.

With absolutely no resources, he scavenged bits of tractor parts, pieces of wood and metal and eventually built a working windmill.  He designed and built switches and circuit breakers for his system that , while crudely built from found common objects in a way that Jon Stewart equated as being MacGyver-like, were testaments to the power of desire and human creativity.

He has subsequently built other windmills for his village and  word of the young man’s drive and intelligence spread.  With financial assistance,  he is currently here in the US studying for his SATs and hopes to use his education to further help his countrymen.

How can you not be touched by a story like that?  It makes me realize how important desire and drive is in the creative process especially when the circumstances are dire.  I think many of us have lost that inventive, manically forward driving spirit and I have no idea how we can regain it.  But William Kamkwamba’s story gives me hope and let’s me know that the human spirit to overcome is definitely alive.

Check out his book and story at his blog by clicking on the book cover above.

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High WindowsAfter working on the large painting whose progress I have been chronicling, I moved back to a few pieces that were incomplete and needed the final touches to come alive.  This is one , a fairly large canvas measuring 30″ by 40″, painted in the same obsessionist manner as my recent work.  This piece has a lot of things working for it- the way all of the landscape elements converge at the center, the pull of the alternating rows of the field, etc.

But the sky is the obvious star of this painting is the vivid sky.  It has a real glow in the studio and my eye is always pulled to it.  It is just calling for one’s attention.  The sky is intentionally comprised of built up layers of colorful daubs of paint.  I wanted the sky to have that appearance of the sky coming apart, separating into individual lights sources.  The result is a really active sky, full of movement, that is a dynamic backdrop for the quietness of the landscape below.

As I was finishing it, I began thinking of the colorful daubs of color in the painting as being stained glass windows, kind of suspended in the sky.  That reminded me of the poem, High Windows, from the late British poet Philip Larkin.  It’s an interesting poem, one that seems full of cynicism at first glance, almost rejoicing in the loss of reverence in the world.  But the last few lines have the cynic dissolving into a sort of new awe and  reverence for the immense unknown, which are symbolized to him by high windows.  That is the same immense unknown I see in the sky of this painting, which is now titled High Windows.

Anyway, here is the poem from Larkin.  I’m also enclosing a video that has the voice of Larkin reading his poem.  It’s always interesting to hear the author’s reading of the words, his rhythm and cadence.  Gives you more of an idea of his aim in writing the piece.  Hope it works for you…

High Windows


When I see a couple of kids

And guess he’s fucking her and she’s

Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm,

I know this is paradise


Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives–

Bonds and gestures pushed to one side

Like an outdated combine harvester,

And everyone young going down the long slide


To happiness, endlessly. I wonder if

Anyone looked at me, forty years back,

And thought, That’ll be the life;

No God any more, or sweating in the dark


About hell and that, or having to hide

What you think of the priest. He

And his lot will all go down the long slide

Like free bloody birds. And immediately


Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:

The sun-comprehending glass,

And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows

Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.

—Philip Larkin

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Final Version (?) GC Myers 2009Well, here’s what I’ve come up with for the painting that I’ve been working on over the past two weeks.  I added one window, on the central structure (thanks, Brian, for the suggestion) and went with twisting bare trees on the ridge to mirror the road.  I also added a little more light in the central section.

And there it is.  So far.

There is always the possibility that over the next week or so I may change it in some small way, a highlight here or there.  Just little tweaks to fine tune the weight of the piece.  When I say weight I refer to the way I look at the painting as though it were suspended from a center point in the painting and each visual element to either side of that point added weight, causing the painting to lean to the side with more visual weight.  I try to keep the painting centered and balanced on this center point, changing the weight on each side by adding elements or enhancing those that are there to create more visual interest, by which I mean weight.

Thus far, I like this piece a lot.  It has a lot of wallop in the studio with its size, 42″ high by 60″ wide, and its masses of bright red roofs.  The feeling of the piece has evolved over the process.  I originally felt that the focus and feeling of the piece stemmed from the area where the sky met the far ridge.  But the simple addition of one tall window  brought the focus down lower to that structure and changed the complete impact of the piece, giving it a feeling of warmth beyond the warmth of the colors.  Human warmth.

So that is basically how I paint in my additive  or obsessionist style, which is quite different  that my typical pieces which are reductive, which means I add lots of paint in a liquid fashion then pull paint off the surface to reach my desired end.  I may or may not show that in the future.

So this piece will stay with me for a few more weeks in which time, when I am fully satisfied of its completion, it will  be varnished then framed.  I use an archival quality varnish with UV protection to prevent fading from normal light over the coming years.  I usually use a gloss because I like the added brilliance and depth it adds.  The frame comes from my good friend Stephen who has built my frames for about the last twelve years.  He generally uses native poplar which gives a fine grain which beautifully accepts the stain that I apply after receiving the raw frames from him.   I will talk more about framing in a later post.

The final step is applying a title to the painting.  I have a few ideas but am open to suggestions.  No contest this time although there may be another in the near future.

But for now, if you have any ideas, let me know…

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Old Steele Memorial LibraryI love books.  I like the feel of books, the smell, the whole tactile sensation of holding a book.  To me, there is always a feeling of holding a talisman of some sort.  As though there is magic within the the two covers, just waiting to be activated by someone opening it.

I think this partly came from my first experiences with a shrine to books, our local library, the old Steele Memorial Library in Elmira.  It was an older Carnegie-built library from the 1890’s, a beautiful building that oozed charm and opulence. Old Steele Library Interior It had real character, with stacks behind the front desk that you accessed via cast iron stairs and had translucent glass floors that allowed a little light into the dark nooks.  There was a real sense of intimacy in this building, a feeling which seeped into the region between the reader and the books.   I remember sitting in the comfortable wooden chairs at the long, cool wooden tables and reading entire books while there.  Many, many hours were spent there in other worlds.

I have very specific memories of that place. I remember that my sister first introduced me to the child’s section there and that I devoured those books there and how excited I was to finally move out into the adult sections of the library, where new horizons of adventure loomed. I remember how excited I was to find the Paddington Bear books and how I carried an armful of them through the streets to my grandparents’ home on the East Side of town. I remember that they were both there outside the house and that my grandmother’s face was very pleased to see the books I carried. I was no more than eight years old and felt like the world was in my hands.

The old library was moved in the late 1970’s or 80’s- I can’t really remember- to a new and shiny building. Oh, it’s a nice facility with better lighting and spacious aisles with room for computers and other activities. Better parking and all the modern conveniences. Everything one could want.    Except for personality.  That sense that makes you feel as though you were entering a private and sacred place, a place of stored wisdom just waiting for you.

Just for you

There was a real sense of intimacy in this building, a feeling which seeped into the region between the reader and the books.  I remember sitting at the long wooden tables and reading entire books while there.
I have very specific memories of that place.  I remember that my sister first introduced me to the child’s section there and that I devoured those books there and how excited I was to finally move out into the adult sections of the library, where new horizons of adventure loomed.  I remember how excited I was to find the Paddington Bear books and how I carried an armful of them through the streets to my grandparents’ home on the East Side of town.  I remember that they were both  there outside the house and that my grandmother’s face was very pleased to see the books I carried. I was no more than eight years old and felt like the world was in my hands.
The old library was moved in the late 1970’s or 80’s- I can’t really remember- to a new and shiny building.  Oh, it’s a nice facility with better lighting and spacious aisles with room for computers and other activities.  Better parking and all the modern conveniences. Everything one could want.   Except for personality, one that makes you feel as though you were entering a private and sacred place, a place of stored wisdom just waiting for you.

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guitarSunday morning and we deserve a break from painting, at least in this blog.  I was thinking of a song I first heard back in 1975 when Willie Nelson released his classic Red Headed Stranger album, which was a concept album composed of sparse compositions that told the story of a fugitive on the run.  Just a beautiful group of disparate songs that come together to chronicle a tale.

When I heard Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain, I was hooked on the poetry and simplicity of the song, especially as performed in Nelson’s spartan manner.  So simple but so filled with emotion and feeling.  I think of this song often when I’m painting, trying to think how I can match that feeling of simple grace and depth of feeling in my own work.

I didn’t know much about the song then, always thinking that it was Nelson’s song.  But it had a long history, written in 1945 by the legendary Fred Rose for Roy Acuff.  Hank Williams recorded it in 1951 and a number of others have as well over the years.  It is considered to be the last song that Elvis recorded at Graceland, the day before he died.  But for me, there’s only one version that really stands alone.

Here’s the lovely Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain

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Empathy=Hipocrisy TomTomorrowI’ve been thinking lately, as I’ve been painting, about words that have big concepts behind them.  Words like reverence, devotion and empathy.

Empathy is a word that always comes back to me when I think of the chasm between left and right in this country.  I think that empathy is the quality, more than any other,  that really defines and divides both sides.

The right views empathy as a weakness, an admission that one can’t do for themselves and needs help.  Those who are without and need help obviously are out to take what the right has toiled to keep to themselves.  These people deserve only pity.  Not empathy, because how can we empathize with situations that we would never allow ourselves to be in?

The left has a large tent of empathy, looking out for everyone who has ever been down and needs a hand up, perhaps to a fault.  They have a sense of fair play that sometime opens them to being conned by those who would play upon their willingness to help.  They even sometimes treat their adversaries with empathy, giving them the benefit of their own doubt at times, allowing the opposition to hinder and sabotage even as they proclaim their desire for unity.

I know this is over-simplification to the nth degree and, god knows, I could be way wrong here.  But to me it’s just an illustration of how deep the chasm between these two sides remains and how incompatible their mindsets are.  This simple imbalance of a single human virtue on both sides makes any dialogue almost impossible and with every passing day we can see this in the news coming out of our capital.

Solutions?  I don’t know.  Perhaps if those on the left can absorb some of that self-righteous anger that has long been the province of the right and just swallow their empathy for a short time, something may be accomplished.  But until that improbable moment occurs, it’ll be the status quo.  Over and over again.

Thanks to Tom Tomorrow and his website for the cartoon.  I really like his style.

Tom_Tw-Liberal_Scum

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GC Myers 2009 adding BlueWell, this painting, a 42″ by 60″ canvas, is closing in on what may be its final appearance, at least in my head.  I have the sky close to where I see it finishing, the village only needs some highlights here and there  and the landscape is basically set in place.

My next move is to move into the last large area that needs paint- the waterway and the land on either side of it.  I first go in with a manganese blue, a rich color that I can play off as I move along.  I often use blue for water even though it seldom appears that way in nature.  There seems to be a childish element that allows us to imagine or see blue as water.  For me, it goes back to how the color plays off the other colors.  The harmony produced is more important to me.  I also start adding color to the bridge at this point, although I see it changing in color over the rest of the process.

GC Myers 2009 Nearing the Finish LineFrom there it’s on to putting some color into the lower segment of landscape around the waterway and the structures.  I start with a dark Hunter green which actually darkens this space with a real earthy almost black green tone.  I like the way this sets everything off but am feeling it’s a little too deep and dark, almost flat in dimension.  I think that I probably lighten this soon but I first transition back into the water where I start laying in a lighter blue over the darker manganese underneath.  There is a bit of violet mixed with the blue I’m using which warms the blue just a bit.  I feel like I’m close to where I want this to be at this point but there is still a little work ahead, especially on the water and the bridge.

I start by lightening the bridge so that it has more contrast against the blue of the water.  I want contrast but not so much that the eye settles there.  I next begin adding a little depth in the green of the landscape with a mix of cadmium orange and yellow, once more put on with a light, dryish brush.  The  technique with the brush is as though I’m dusting something off the canvas with short, quick strokes, leaving only a residual of pigment.  This little bit of color atop the green makes a huge difference and I take this same color and technique into the water, really lightening the color so that it has a violet-slatey color, much less blue than it started.  Here’s where I am:

DSC_0106 smallSo I’m near the end and I really like the feel so far with this painting- but…  There’s always a but.

But I really feel it needs one more element beyond the village to bring it all together.  A real object of focus.  Like the tree or trees I mentioned in yesterday’s update.  Or I could take one of the larger, centrally located structures and put even more highlight, more brightness on it.

I’m leaning toward the tree but this is the part of the process where the painting sits for a while in the studio and I look at it over the next several days.  I’m consciously weighing all the elements in the painting to see if there is balance in the structure.  Does it hold together as a composition and do all the elements and lines make sense, not make me stop and wonder why this is here or that is over there?  As it stands, does it convey a wholly realized emotional feeling?  Lots of questions.

So, I’m at a terminus and just have to put in some mind time.  Soon it will be done…

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