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Archive for July, 2021

GC Myers- Nocte Bleu sm

Nocte Bleu” – At the West End Gallery

Almost without exception, blue refers to the domain of abstraction and immateriality.

–Wassily Kandinsky



Though the Red Tree and the color red play a large part in my body of work, I am a confessed addict of the color blue. I have written in the past about instances of painting with blue where I almost feel an intoxication after hours of having my face inches from it for several hours at a time. I often have to consciously refrain from using the color at times for fear I will fall into an uncontrollable spiral where all my work is nothing but blue.

That might not be so bad, now that I think about it.

But I do let my addiction off the leash periodically, especially for my shows where there is generally at least a handful of what I would call blue pieces. The piece shown here, Nocte Bleu, is an example. It’s a new 10″ by 20″ painting on aluminum panel that is included in Through the Trees, my annual solo show at the West End Gallery that opens this coming Friday.

I almost felt guilty painting this piece, it gave me such pleasure. And it continued even after the process was done. It was one of those pieces that kept me peeking at it while it was in the studio. Just something in it that satisfied a need within me.

I understand that this doesn’t describe the painting or process or help you understand it in any way. But that’s the way it is with us addicts. Sometimes you just got to have the good stuff, the real blue.

For this Sunday morning music I am going to a favorite piece, a sort of obscure song from jazz horn player Richard Boulger and his 2008 LP Blues Twilight. Blues– see? He knows. The song is Miss Sarah, one that I have played here awhile back. I think it’s a great song to kick off a Sunday morning. Try it on for size.



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GC Myers- Day Reborn sm

Day Reborn“– Now at the West End Gallery, Corning, NY



I am dead because I lack desire,
I lack desire because I think I possess,
I think I possess because I do not try to give,
In trying to give, you see that you have nothing,
Seeing that you have nothing, you try to give of yourself,
Trying to give of yourself, you see that you are nothing,
Seeing that you are nothing, you desire to become,
In desiring to become, you begin to live.

― Rene Daumal



In desiring to become, you begin to live…

I wasn’t sure what to put up with the new painting at the top, Day Reborn, now hanging at the West End Gallery as part of my solo show opening there this coming Friday, July 16. I came across the poem above from Rene Daumal who was a French poet and a “spiritual para-surrealist“– I don’t know what that means either– who died from tuberculosis in 1944 at the age of 36. This poem was part of his last letter to his wife just before his death, saying that it summed up what he wished to convey to those who had worked with him.

It has a nice circular pattern that matches well with the circular nature of this painting as I see it, with every night passing into the rebirth of a new day. In that new day there is the potential for living and becoming something more, the possibility to gain a bit of wisdom and to give of yourself to the world.

Every new rising of the sun is a small miracle, illuminating the many gifts this world has to offer. It is sometimes difficult to recognize these gifts when we lose ourselves in negative actions and reactions, falling prey to envy, greed, prejudice and so many more of the other darker traits. 

There’s a tone in this painting that I think expresses the sense of possibility that accompanies the new day. It is forward looking but content to exist in the moment, to simply be alive in the moment.

Not desiring more from this world but desiring to be here.

That’s my take, anyway. It makes sense at 6 AM. We’ll see how it holds up at 6 PM.



Through the Trees is currently hanging and ready to be seen. The show officially opens Friday, July 16, with an opening reception that runs from 4-7 PM at the West End Gallery on historic Market Street in Corning, NY. Unless something changes, I plan on being in attendance.

The painting shown at the top, Day Reborn, is 24″ by 24″ and is painted on an aluminum panel.

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9921042 Dispersing Darkness sm

Dispersing Darkness“- At West End Gallery



People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.

Carl Jung, Psychology and Alchemy



Well, the show is out at the West End Gallery and will be fully hung today well in advance of next Friday’s opening reception, which runs from 4-7 PM.

There is, as always, a sense of relief in having the show out of the studio but this relief is forever accompanied by a feeling of anxiety in how the work might be perceived.

I know what I see in the work, what feelings and meanings I derive from it. It is created to satisfy and reflect my emotional needs. But how others experience it is always a crapshoot because one never knows what others are seeing of themselves in the work or what they desire to see.

Some folks want things I cannot offer and I have always been okay with that. I do what I do and put it out there, warts and all.

Some folks want nothing but optimism and light. While I understand this desire and attempt to keep my work optimistic and forward looking, I have always embraced a darker undertone in my work. I think it’s because I believe we are all delicately balanced between the opposing forces of dark and light.

The world is also balanced in this way in my opinion. It’s in that area of equilibrium between the two forces that harmony and beauty appear.

I think this is what I am seeing in the new painting above, Dispersing Darkness. We sometimes get out of balance and darkness becomes dominant. The key at these moments comes in knowing that this is only a temporary condition and  patiently waiting it out until light once more comes to push away the excess darkness.

Like the crow on the peak of the roof in this piece.

I see this piece in an optimistic, hopeful way but, as always, that is just my take. You will see what you need to see in it, no doubt.

As it should be.

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9921087 Through the Trees (and Toward the Light) rev sm

Through the Trees (and Toward the Light)– GC Myers



I have spent most of my life moving through the trees.

The title for my new solo exhibit at the West End Gallery, is Through the Trees. It is a show that focuses on the place of trees, specifically the Red Tree which has been my symbolic stand-in for the past twenty-plus years, in my work and in my psyche.

You see, I have spent much of my life moving through the forest whose trees and dark, cool spaces have been my companions since I was a child playing alone on the wooded hillside behind our old farmhouse.  It was there that I began to appreciate the importance of solitude and learned how to be alone.

My home and studios have been in the forest and looking out the window of my studio as I write this, I am greeted with a wall of verdant green foliage on the trees surrounding me. In the winter, the trunks and limbs of the trees are exposed like skeletons in shades of gray and black.

For the past twenty-four years I have left my home each day and walked through the trees to my studio, following a path that is now worn as though it has been in place since time began. And maybe it has. Who knows who may have traveled these woods in the ages before I found my way here?

I find a sort of symbology in this short trek, one that takes me through the darkness of the woods to the light of the clearing. I find unity with the trees and the wild spirit they represent during my walk and unity with humanity in my studio where I do the work that connects me with others.

But even in the studio, as I attempt to reach out to other humans the forest is always close at hand to remind me of wilder, primal parts of myself.

So, it is only natural that the tree shows itself so often in my work. This show highlights that fact and represents my journey from light to dark that takes place each day.

The painting at the top is the title piece for this show. It is called Through the Woods (and Toward the Light) and is 30” wide by 40” high. The show will be hung today and tomorrow and is available for previews. The opening for the show is next Friday, July 16, from 4-7 PM at the West End Gallery on Market Street in Corning.

At this point, I plan on being in attendance. I am honestly a bit nervous about that since it is my first appearance with people in the last two years. I feel a bit like an awkward kid. But unless something happens with our viral rate, I will be there to talk about my work and hopefully see some folks I haven’t seen in quite some time.

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GC Myers- Reverie sm

Reverie“- Coming to the West End Gallery



There are certain half-dreaming moods of mind in which we naturally steal away from noise and glare, and seek some quiet haunt where we may indulge our reveries and build our air castles undisturbed.

-Washington Irving, A Colloquy in Westminster Abbey



I am not sure if this new painting, Reverie, is the quiet haunt or the air castle here.

Maybe both.

It certainly has the feel and atmosphere of a daydream to me or maybe a meditative state. It has a sense of calm stillness that is often a goal for me in my work– and in my mind.

I would write more but I am in the final hours of preparation of work for my upcoming show before delivering it to the West End Gallery tomorrow so that the gallery can be hung and ready before next Friday’s opening. As much as I would like nothing more than to spend an hour lost in Reverie, there is still much more for me to do.

So, in lieu of writing I will let a piece of music do the talking, one whose title I poached for this painting. The piece of music, Reverie, is from composer Claude Debussy and is performed here by the pianist Lang Lang. For those of you not familiar with Lang Lang, he is a rock star among the classical set.

While a child of three in China, his first exposure to western classical music came in the form of Tom and Jerry cartoon that featured Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody. It set his future in motion. Trained at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia, Lang Lang became one of the most celebrated classical musicians of this generation.

I like his playing here. It definitely sets the scene for a short reverie before I get to work.



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9921076 To the Limit sm

To the Limit“- Part of the upcoming West End Gallery show



The purpose of life is to discover your gift.
The work of life is to develop it.
The meaning of life is to give your gift away.

— Dr. David Viscott



I wasn’t going to write about this today but I came across a tweet yesterday from a well known law professor who I highly respect using the quote above. Well, he used the shorter version– The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away— which cuts out the developmental stage in the middle.

All fine and dandy. However, he attributed it to Pablo Picasso. Things immediately stirred my interest because I like Picasso and he has actually said some very noteworthy things that end up as oft used quotations. But this just didn’t sound right.

So, off to Quote Investigator and, sure enough, there it was. No evidence of Picasso ever saying this nor Billy Shakespeare — I can call him that as we go way back– who is also often given credit for this quip.

No, it turns out that the first evidence in print came from a radio/TV psychiatrist who was very popular in the 1980’s and early 90’s, Dr. David Viscott. He died in 1996 at the age of 58. I don’t really remember him but he was pretty well known  for his fast diagnoses of callers problems and his in depth discussions on the required pharmacology. He even entered popular culture with his voice being the inspiration for the cartoon psychiatrist Dr. Marvin Monroe, who appeared regularly on the first seven seasons of The Simpsons

The earliest mention of the same sort of sentiment but in different, more specific words comes from an 1843 essay titled Gifts from Ralph Waldo Emerson:

Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.

Perhaps Emerson was the David Viscott or Dr. Marvin Monroe of his era? His advice is very much the same though it is a bit dated with females, half the population, being relegated to sewing handkerchiefs. Thankfully, today females populate every field of endeavor and can do much more than sew hankies. I don’t want to offend any hankie sewers out there but how many hankies do we really need?

But the idea of giving of yourself, to share what you do best with those you love as well as the rest of the world, is the idea here. The idea that thought, effort, and time have went into a gift make them all the more precious. Even now, as I sit here, I have several gifts within sight that have been given to me over the years. Each is precious to me for just those reasons.

The tragedy is that so many of us never find that gift or overlook it when it is right in front us. Or even more tragically, that for whatever reasons, we never try to follow the hints to our gift that we do recognize. 

So, now that we’ve cleared up the origins of the advice at the top, get out there and do something that you love and share it with friends or family or the rest of the world.

It’ll make your day as well as that of someone else.



The painting at the top, To the Limit, is a new piece that is included in my upcoming show, Through the Trees, that opens next Friday, July 16th, at the West End Gallery in Corning. I used this painting for this post because the blowing tree often represents for me self-sacrifice and the giving of all to an effort. I guess that would make for a splendid gift.

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Kandinsky I Am Here



The above quote is from Wassily Kandinsky and concisely captures what might be the primary motive for my work. I think, for me, it was a matter of finding that thing, that outlet that gave me voice, that allowed me to honestly feel as though I had a place in this world. That I had worth. That I had thoughts deserving to be heard. That I was, indeed, here. 

That need to validate my existence is still the primary driver behind my work. It is that search for adequacy that gives my work its expression and differentiates it from others. I’ve never said this before but I think that is what many people who respond to my work see in the paintings- their own need to be heard. They see themselves as part of the work and they are saying, “I am here.” 

Hmmm…

Redtree Times , December, 2008



I am in the final days of prep for my upcoming West End Gallery show and, as is the case with many previous shows at this point, the whole process of what I do becomes an abstract thing. Standing in the midst of the group of new paintings in various stages of readiness scattered around my studio, they sometimes feel almost unintelligibly foreign to me at this point. I look at them and though I know they are part and parcel of who I am, they suddenly seem not mine anymore and I find myself wondering how I got to this point.

What does it mean and why do I do this thing that seems so alien to me now?

And there is never a response that fully answers my questions. But I always come back to some words I strung together years ago in 2008, back in the early days of this blog. Shown above, they are my reaction to a quote from Wassily Kandinsky, an artist whose musings on the spiritual elements of art often strike a chord within me.

It always comes down to a need to have one’s voice heard, to have one’s existence validated in some way. That’s a universal desire. We all want to be heard, to not be overlooked or brushed aside.

My work is my means to that end, the I am here. It’s the only way I know how to find it. But while it helps me exist in this world, I want it to do a bit more. My hope is that it serves as a reminder, a symbol, for those who see it that their own voice, their own existence, is equally distinct and valued.

This thought brings the work back into focus, back from feeling alien to me. Some semblance of meaning and purpose is regained. It’s like a weight has been lifted and I can move forward, to do what I need to do to once more express the I am here I have been seeking.



My annual solo show, Through the Trees, opens Friday, July16, at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY.

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GC Myers- The Deacon's New Tie 1995

GC Myers- The Deacon’s New Tie 1995

Another Fourth of July here in America.

No big celebration planned for us today. I am still swamped with work as I try to finish up my next show at the West End Gallery, which I deliver later this week. I’ll be framing and and sanding and varnishing this Independence Day.

No complaints though. It’s just part of my American Dream.

And maybe that’s the idea behind this day, that we should all be entitled to pursue our own American Dream. That whoever we are and wherever we’re from, no matter the color of our skin, our religion or sexual orientation, that we are free to create our own life story with equal rights, equal justice and equal opportunity and reward. 

Free to create as big or small a life as one desires. 

That doesn’t seem like too much to ask, does it?

Unfortunately, that which seems so simple is often the hardest to accomplish. I certainly don’t think we have ever really reached this ideal state. It feels like an impossibility on some days with all the ignorance and hatred so proudly shown by so many these days. But so long as we aspire to that ideal and ward off all attempts to divert us from it, there remains hope.

Here’s my Sunday morning musical selection, July 4th edition. It’s the acoustic version of Pink Houses from John Mellencamp. I’ve always had a soft spot for this song and think he does a great job in portraying that ideal that I spoke of above, that the American Dream comes in all sizes. I particularly like this acoustic version.

The image I chose for today, The Deacon’s New Tie, from way back in 1995. The Deacon was part of my Exiles series and is permanently linked in my mind with this song mainly because several months after painting this piece I came across an article in the paper. It was about a 95 year-old man in central Florida who had won a case where he was trying to be forced from the land on which he had lived for nearly 70 years so that a highway project could proceed.

There was a picture of a bald old black man sitting on his veranda, a slight smile on his lips. There was something slightly familiar in that face, something that caused me take a second look. There it was: he was the spitting image of my deacon. The article went on to say that he was a longtime member of a local church and was known to friends and neighbors as the Deacon. 

The beginning of this song always brings that image of the Deacon sitting on his front porch with the interstate running through his front yard, thinking that he has it pretty good. Living out his American Dream.

Have a good 4th. Hope you’re living your American Dream.



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9921075 Hope Ascendant sm

Hope Ascendant“- Part of my upcoming show at the West End Gallery, Corning, NY



Well, that’s out of the way! I was up even a little earlier yesterday than normal to head out to Corning for an appearance on the WETM morning show. It was a segment that focuses on artists and artisans from this region hosted by the amiable Grant Chungo. It seemed like a good opportunity to promote my upcoming solo show, Through the Trees, at the West End Gallery, opening Friday, July 16.

Throughout the hour from 6 to 7 AM, we would discuss various things about my work and my upcoming show in a series of short hits — hey, I know TV lingo!– interwoven with the news ,weather and sports. These hits last 1 and 2 minutes long so there is not a lot of time to get out a lot of info, especially for someone not adept at short snappy soundbites. My inability to do so actually kept me off a nationally broadcast show several years ago but we wont’t get into that now.

But I tried. And Grant Chungo was gracious and friendly, which helped immensely. He also constantly explained the process as we chatted and waited in between the hits, which I found informative.

All in all, I guess it went okay. I would change or omit one or two things that I said but there were no earthshaking gaffes. I didn’t drop an F-bomb or anything like that.

Even so, I still cringed while watching it, always feeling a bit uncomfortable by my sound and appearance. Wanting a change of some sort, I had recently shaved my beard for the first time in decades and cut my hair shorter than it’s been since I was about 6 years old. It was a bit of a shock seeing myself in that way onscreen. 

But, like all things in life, you work with what you got and try to make the best of it. Using that as a guideline, I guess it went pretty well. No humans or animals were hurt during the filming. 

One of the paintings shown on the segment was the new one shown here at the top, Hope Ascendant. I think it showed pretty well onscreen, though I still contend that my work shows up far better in person. Hope you can come out to the West End Gallery to see for yourself.

If you’re interested in seeing the compiled segments, click the link below. 



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Cool and Composed

9921089 Cool and Composed sm

Cool and Composed– Part of my West End Gallery show-Opening July 16, 2021



The new painting above is included in my new solo show at the West End Gallery, opening in just over two weeks, on July 16. It’s the first piece from the show that I am showing and I thought I would use this particular painting because of its title, Cool and Composed.

Something to which I aspire.

You might think I am referring to the heat wave that has struck much of the nation. Yikes! It has been ungodly hot. But while I do often yearn for colder temps and a bit of snow, it is a different kind of heat that has me on edge.

As I mentioned yesterday, I am scheduled for an appearance on a local morning show, on our NBC affiliate WETM between 6 and 7 AM tomorrow. And it has me nervous.

Now, I have a lot of experience speaking in front of people about my work. I’ve done thirty or forty gallery talks and other speaking engagements and have been interviewed a few times on camera.

And I am always anxious. But this time even more so. With the pandemic and events of the past year and a half which restricted so many interactions, I am very much out of practice in talking with anyone about anything. Even now, I feel the urge to prattle on, vomiting out a word salad that never quite expresses what I want to say.

I’ll spare you that, as much as I can.

You might ask why I would do such a thing if it bothers me so much. That’s a good question.

For me, I don’t think it’s ego. I will no doubt watch the tape afterwards and cringe and agonize over every moment, feeling revulsion at my every word and movement. I take absolutely no pleasure in seeing or hearing myself.

No, I do it simply because promoting my work is an important part of being a self-sustaining artist. I wish it weren’t but that is just the way it is. I wish the work spoke for itself and would miraculously sweep the nation without the need for a single word from myself or any advocates I might have for my work, such as galleries, museum folks, or collectors.

But it doesn’t work that way for any artist.

The work needs to grow in an organic manner, with continued exposure and talk about it. Like throwing a handful of pebbles into a pond where the ripples move out and join together in ever-expanding rings.

It doesn’t sound like fun. It can also be exhausting, this constant drumbeat one has to produce. Especially when you put it on top of the effort required in creating a body of work that you feel is worthy of being promoted.

But, as an artist, I want my work to be seen. Its purpose is to be seen, to have an effect beyond myself. And to do so it must be tossed out into the world much like my pebbles into the pond. It has to be allowed to make ripples, even tiny ones.

And if that means I have to be uncomfortable for an hour, if I have to feel nauseous and self-loathing afterwards and wanting a shower, so be it.

I think my work deserves it. And if I don’t do it, who will?

So, if you’re up tomorrow morning between 6 and 7, take a look at WETM. I hope to appear as cool and composed as the painting at the top.

All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.

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