Redtree Times

Entwined in Time— At the West End Gallery

Then only in the empty spaces,
Death, walking very silently,
Shall fear the glory of our faces
Through all the dark infinity.

So, clothed about with perfect love,
The eternal end shall find us one,
Alone above the Night, above
The dust of the dead gods, alone.

—Rupert Brooke, The Call

The new painting at the top is another in the Baucis & Philemon series that I have documented here many times over the years. They feature intertwined trees that represent the poor elderly couple from Greek mythology that won the favor of Zeus. In return for their warmth and hospitality when he had been spurned by all their fellow townspeople, Zeus granted their wish that they should be together through eternity by transforming them at their deaths into two trees on a hillside that would forever be as one.

This particular interpretation of this theme is called Entwined in Time. I chose to pair it with the last two stanzas of a poem from Rupert Brooke titled The Call. Brooke was a young British poet who died, at age 27, in World War I.

As a result, though he only wrote a handful of poems having to do with the war, Brooke has always been considered one of the British War Poets. Even in the video below for The Call, which was written long before the war in the years between 1905 and 1908, it is depicted as being about a solider at war. There is another video version of this poem that is totally based on war imagery.

But I read the poem as being solely about the attraction– the call– of another that leads to a form of enduring love. Perhaps even an eternal one that lasts beyond the time of man and gods.

You may see this painting in a different light. Again, that is as it should be. I don’t expect that people will see the same things in my work or interpret them in the same way. Actually, I am often heartened when hearing a different take on a piece because that means that it struck a deep enough chord that this other person took time to ponder over their reaction.

And as an artist, that is all I can ask.

Entwined in Time is a 20″by 10″ painting on aluminum panel that is included in this year’s edition of my annual solo exhibit, Chaos & Light at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. The show opens tomorrow, Friday, July 22, and there is an opening reception that runs from 5-7 PM. Harpist Meredith Bocek will be performing in the Upstairs Gallery.

I will be in attendance and will be wearing my mask since I am cautious and also anticipate speaking with quite a few folks. However, the gallery is not requiring that you wear a mask. That is left to your own determination based on your personal preference, comfort, and risk levels.

Hope to see you there.

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Between Order and Chaos– At the West End Gallery

In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order.

–Carl Jung

There is a philosophical concept called Unus Mundus— Latin for One World. Its premise is basically that behind the evident chaos of this world and the universe there is a unifying realm of absolute knowledge on which all existence is based.

It has been around for ages, going back in some form to the ancient Greeks. In the last century, Carl Jung became the biggest advocate of this theory, using it to explain the similarity in the content and construct of the myths and stories of the cultures and their belief systems. Each represents the discovery of some small bit of the order or pattern contained in chaos surrounding this world and becomes a recurring symbol, forming what Jung termed as an archetype. 

I describe an archetype as being how there are universal reactions and interpretations to certain images. One of the main reasons I use the Red Tree and the Red Roof, the Red Chair, and the ball in the sky that serves as the sun/moon is that each translates seamlessly across cultures. You don’t need specific cultural knowledge to understand the reality they symbolize. Each carries universal meaning.

This theory, the Unus Mundus, is what I see as the force behind the new painting at the top, Between Order and Chaos. It’s about how we struggle to create order in the face of constant chaos (represented in the sky’s slashing marks) with the orderliness of the flower beds representing this attempt.

The round flower bed caught in the curve of the path echoes the sun above. I see it somewhat as a symbol of synchronicity, another term coined by Jung. He uses it to explain some coincidences that seem to have some sort of meaning though there is no explanation for this feeling.

A coincidence might be just that or it might be that we have unwittingly come in contact with a strand of the Unus Mundus.

I sometimes feel as I have had fleeting moments of synchronicity but I can’t be sure of that.

How does one really know such a thing?

And I can’t say that we will ever learn more about or understand the Unus Mundus or the meaning of synchronicity, even though it might be for the betterment of us all as a species.

Perhaps we have become too comfortable living in this slice of the universe between order and chaos?

I don’t know. But for now, it’s all we have.

Between Order and Chaos is a 16″ by 20″ painting on aluminum panel that is included in this year’s edition of my annual solo exhibit, Chaos & Light at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. The show opens Friday, July 22, and there is an opening reception that runs from 5-7 PM. Harpist Meredith Bocek will be performing in the Upstairs Gallery.

I will be in attendance and will be wearing my mask since I am cautious and also anticipate speaking with quite a few folks. However, the gallery is not requiring that you wear a mask. That is left to your own determination based on your personal preference, comfort, and risk levels.

Hope to see you there.

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The Allure— Now at the West End Gallery

Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.

― Rumi

A lot of paintings have bodies of water in them. Most likely, this is a result of living in the Finger Lakes region of New York state. I don’t take advantage of this proximity to the water very often but just having it nearby has an effect.

There’s always a thrill in coming over a ridge and having the lake roll out below you. At such times I sometimes feel like I’ve stumbled on a scene from a snowglobe with the lake at its bottom and a huge dome of cool, clear air over it.

That thrill of seeing the water and air and land merging together creates a pull of its own. This attraction is common to all people. From the folks around the lakes to those at the edges of the great oceans and seas to those who live alongside the rivers of this world. I built a pond here years ago just so water was never far out of sight.

The allure of water is certainly powerful.

And that is part of what I see in this new painting, The Allure, which is from my upcoming West End Gallery show. The title refers to allure of water as well as other forms of attraction– the pull of the sun, the open road, the far horizon, or the security of home.

We are all drawn by those things– people, places, tastes, art, etc.– that we cannot always explain or deny. And maybe we shouldn’t attempt to do so. Perhaps we should just trust our mysterious instincts and allow ourselves to be drawn by those things we love.

Hopefully, as Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, wrote above, it will not lead us astray.

This year’s edition of my annual solo exhibit, Chaos & Light, opens Friday, July 22, at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. There is an opening reception that runs from 5-7 PM. Harpist Meredith Bocek will be performing in the Upstairs Gallery.

I will be in attendance and will be wearing my mask since I am cautious and also anticipate speaking with quite a few folks. However, the gallery is not requiring that you wear a mask. That is left to your own determination based on your personal comfort and risk levels.

Hope to see you there.

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“Big Time”

“Homefield”

If you don’t think too good, don’t think too much.

― Ted Williams

The words above may or may not have much to do with baseball– or art– but the fact that they were spoken by Ted Williams, long considered perhaps the greatest pure hitter in baseball history and the holder of one of my favorite nicknames, the Splendid Splinter, made it worthy of inclusion here today. That and the fact that it’s good advice for anyone– baseball players, fans, artists, or anyone else.

I thought since Major League Baseball is on break for its annual All-Star festivities, I would take this opportunity to show off a couple of new baseball paintings that are part of my exhibit of new work that opens Friday at the West End Gallery.

The two pieces shown at the top are Big Time and Homefield. Both are 12″ by 16″ on aluminum panel.

I enjoy painting these baseball pieces. Part of it undoubtedly comes from some innate attraction to the geometry of the baseball diamond, something I’ve felt since I was a small child. Another part is just the simple process of composing these particular paintings. They always start with the diamond at some point on the surface and then the rest of the composition spreads out organically.

Painting that spreading part is a constant process of problem solving, weighing and balancing each element while trying to predict what one mark on the surface will dictate for the next. These pieces, while enjoyable to paint, are also very taxing. They require long periods of tight concentration with little time to let the mind wander or go into a state of stillness.

I generally feel a little wiped out after working on these pieces. Maybe that can be attributed to the advice from Ted Williams. Perhaps too much thinking for my limited capacity.

But so long as the result pleases me, I can deal with that. And the baseball pieces generally please me very much. I can’t put a finger on any one aspect that triggers this reaction. They simply please some inner part of me. Sometimes it feels like I have an unspecified personal need to paint these pieces and these two have fulfilled that need.

Here’s a little Baseball Boogie from Mabel Scott to kick off the All Star break. Now, play ball!

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Of Good Cheer– Now at the West End Gallery

Be of good cheer. Do not think of today’s failures, but of the success that may come tomorrow. You have set yourselves a difficult task, but you will succeed if you persevere; and you will find a joy in overcoming obstacles. Remember, no effort that we make to attain something beautiful is ever lost.

― Helen Keller

The new painting above, included at my West End Gallery show opening this coming Friday, never fails in filling me with a sense of possibility. Its surface has a brightness of tone that completely overwhelms its underlying darkness.

Oh, the darkness of the original black-painted surface is still present, still managing to serve as a counterweight to any pretense of cock-eyed optimism. Even so, there is a potent sense of joy and a real bring-on-the-day energy in this piece.

I can’t say for sure, but it might be the most cheerful painting I have ever painted. That’s saying a lot.

The title for this 15″ by 30″ painting is Of Good Cheer. It is mainly derived from the words at the top from Helen Keller though many will recognize the phrase from Jesus’ advice to his Apostles in his final days when he told them of the persecution and hardships they would be facing. I am sure it has also made its way into a Christmas carol or some other similar song.

Whatever the case, the idea of finding some joy in the face of hardship is good advice for anybody anywhere.

Of Good Cheer is, as I pointed out, at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY for my annual exhibit there that opens this Friday, July 22.

I hope you get a chance to see this particular piece in person. I feel that most of my work looks much better in person but that is especially true for this piece. I had a horrible time photographing it, in properly adjusting and matching the multiple blue and green tones in it. The image above is a fair representation but the original is far superior.

For this week’s Sunday Morning Music, let’s hear some good cheer from the Staple Singers from back around 1970. It’s a song that I think really lines up well with this painting. This is I’ll Take You There.

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Terminus— Now at the West End Gallery

The strangeness of Time. Not in its passing, which can seem infinite, like a tunnel whose end you can’t see, whose beginning you’ve forgotten, but in the sudden realization that something finite, has passed, and is irretrievable.

― Joyce Carol Oates, Foxfire: Confessions of a Girl Gang

The end of the road.

The end of land as it meets water and sky.

The end of light as it is overtaken by dark.

The end of yesterday as it becomes today and of today as it shifts to tomorrow.

The idea of the endings of things is the theme I see in this new painting, Terrminus. It’s a new piece included in my annual solo show at the West End Gallery that opens this coming Friday, July 22.

It’s often said that life is a series of beginnings and endings and I suppose that’s true. But so many beginnings are soon forgotten or never even recognized in their nascent state. Who knows what something will ultimately be when it first begins?

Endings have a more memorable quality, often having long trails that lead to them. An ending is a form of evidence of something having been.

I like this piece a lot. Its elements calm me. But more than that, it makes me want to think. The trees between me and the scene make it feel as though I am approaching something as yet unseen and that makes me think about ideas like the endings of things.

Or as Joyce Carol Oates put it above, the strangeness of Time.

I think I will think about that for a while now.

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The Homecoming– At the West End Gallery

Wild nights – Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the winds –
To a Heart in port –
Done with the Compass –
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah – the Sea!
Might I but moor – tonight –
In thee!

–-Emily Dickinson, Wild Nights

Well, the work for Chaos & Light has been delivered and is ready for hanging at the West End Gallery in advance of next Friday’s show opening. Always a relief in getting that out of the way, to experience the sense of satisfaction that comes with completing a relatively big task.

Of course, the flip side is that this is accompanied by a bit of sorrow in the emptiness of the studio now. I get used to having the new work around me, to being able to constantly take it in and relish those parts of it that really speak to me.  As the show nears, the accumulated closes in on me and I begin to think of it as a warm security blanket.

To have it suddenly gone creates a void, gives the studio a feeling of cool emptiness.

I know it’s temporary and only in my mind but it’s still creates a noticeable tone of sadness. I miss being able to see many of the pieces from the show since each has a lot of personal connection for me. I go through a lot of different feelings in the process of painting almost every piece, running the gamut from despair to elation.

The painting of each is its own form of catharsis.

Maybe that’s the attraction that painting has for me.

The painting at the top, The Homecoming, is a good example of this. It was one of the final pieces competed for this show and the feelings I experienced while painting it are still fresh in mind. So many times, I felt like giving up on it, wanting to put it aside or cover it with a fresh layer of black paint. But the addition of a spot of color here and there and my mood would elevate.

Then crash a short time later.

It was very much an up-and-down, love/hate relationship between me and the surface of this painting almost to the very end. Ultimately, perseverance triumphs. I would like to say I am elated at that point but the feeling is different. It’s not really satisfaction or pride though it does have elements of that.

I think I would have to go back to a word I used earlier: catharsis.

Each painting changes me in some small imperceptible way as I go through a wide range of emotions in the process.

I very much felt this with The Homecoming. Even though the piece has an implied narrative– of Odysseus returning to his home island of Ithaka— for me, all I see is the range of emotion experienced in painting it.

Maybe that’s why it is often so difficult to judge one’s own work objectively. It’s hard to ignore those personal emotions and revelations that are deeply engrained and often not obvious in the work.

There’s a lot more I could write about this piece, about the colors and shading and composition, all the things that make it what it is. But for me, it’s all about that feeling of catharsis I see in it.

And I suppose that is all I can ask of it.

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A Higher Way– Part of the upcoming West End Gallery Show

Thinking is learning all over again how to see, directing one’s consciousness, making of every image a privileged place.

― Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays

This new painting, A Higher Way, continues the theme of my upcoming West End Gallery show that sees humanity continually existing near the dividing line that separates chaos and order.

One aspect of this theme I have yet to mention is that we normally have a foot on each side of that line. I tend to believe that we need to have a bit of both in our lives, that chaos is the source of creativity and innovation while order creates a livable and sustainable structure. But skewing too far toward either side creates extremes forms of both chaos and order.

A sense of equilibrium is required and sustaining this sense of balance between the two states is dictated by our thought and perception.

And what I see in this painting is the Red Tree standing clear of either side. It is set apart the gathered factions of order that are symbolized here in the massed trees surrounding it below as well as the flower beds. But it is not fully part of the chaos that is the sky.

It still has an existence in both sides yet maintains its sovereignty of thought, aware of but free from allegiance or influence.

I am just knocking this off the top of my head early this morning so bear with me a bit. I can never be sure if these things make sense when I am writing. But I have reread it a couple of times and it still makes some sense. That is encouraging.

One observation after doing so is that this reminds me very much of how an artist distills their concepts and thoughts. Keeping a foot in both chaos and order, they take in source material– words and thoughts, images, sounds, emotions, movements, etc– then incorporate this information into something that is hopefully unique and of itself.

It has influences and a basis in what lies beneath and above it, yet it is now something unlike and beyond those influences.

It thinks and feels freely of its own accord.

So, maybe that is a higher way. Hmm…

A Higher Way is 24″ by 24″ on canvas and is included in, Chaos & Light, my annual solo exhibition at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. The show opens Friday, July 22, 2022.

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All things are ready, if our mind be so.

― William Shakespeare, Henry V

Last day of preparation before packing up the show and delivering it to the West End Gallery tomorrow. Things have progressed well thus far, even with the broken foot, so while it promises to be a busy day, it should not be a hectic one.

And that’s a good thing.

MY mind is ready…

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Riding Rhythm– Soon at the West End Gallery

Style is a very simple matter; it is all rhythm. Once you get that, you can’t use the wrong words. But on the other hand here am I sitting after half the morning, crammed with ideas, and visions, and so on, and can’t dislodge them, for lack of the right rhythm. Now this is very profound, what rhythm is, and goes far deeper than any words. A sight, an emotion, creates this wave in the mind, long before it makes words to fit it.

— Virginia Woolf

I’ve pointed out more than once that I know nothing about boats nor sailing nor the waves in the ocean. But that lack of knowledge doesn’t take away any of the enjoyment and satisfaction derived from painting the boat pieces such as the one at the top.

It’s called Riding Rhythm and is a 10″ by 20″ piece on aluminum panel that is part of my show at the West End Gallery that opens next Friday, July 22. As the title infers, I see this as being about being in rhythm with the elements– the waves, the winds and the light.

I think it’s the idea of this rhythm that makes me enjoy painting the boats pieces so much. I see painting, and all other art, as the capturing of the rhythms that surround us.

Art makes those rhythms apparent.

And painting a boat on the waves is perhaps as direct a form of representing rhythm as one can find. It is all motion and light. Throw in the symbolism of our smallness set against the grand powers of nature along with the sense of control versus chaos and contrasts of light and dark, and you’ve got yourself a painting.

And Riding Rhythm is what I believe is an excellent example of this. There’s a lot in this piece that I like that isn’t fully captured in the image of the painting above.

You’ll have to come to the West End Gallery to see that.

Here’s a musical piece to go along with this painting. I came across the music of the Yoshida Brothers who are a duo playing the traditional Japanese shamisen which is a three-stringed that sort of looks like a square banjo. It is played by plucking or slamming the strings with a plectrum that looks kind a scraper. The Yoshida Brothers have a very eclectic sound that mixes traditional Japanese music and sounds many other musical influences. I sometimes hear Celtic or Bluegrass influences in some of their pieces and hard rock and electronica in others.

This is a piece called Storm. As I said, I think it pairs well with this painting.

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