Redtree Times

The Stars Above, The Stars Below— At Kada Gallery, Erie

It’s a lifelong failing: she has never been prepared. But how can you have a sense of wonder if you’re prepared for everything? Prepared for the sunset. Prepared for the moonrise. Prepared for the ice storm. What a flat existence that would be.

–Margaret Atwood, Stone Mattress

I am just going to leave it at this on this 10th day of November: A new painting that is at the Kada Gallery show along with some words from Margaret Atwood on the sense of wonder that sometimes occurs when one encounters something for which they are unprepared and a favorite little known jazz piece from Richard Boulger.

Spices of life. Along with a cup of coffee, it sounds like a good start to the day. Let’s hope it fulfills that promise.

Forget hope, make it happen.

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People try to put us d-down (talkin’ ’bout my generation)
Just because we g-g-get around (talkin’ ’bout my generation)
Things they do look awful c-c-cold (talkin’ ’bout my generation)
Yeah, I hope I die before I get old (talkin’ ’bout my generation)

— The Who, My Generation, 1965

I know that the title of this post refers to one song from The Who while I display the lyrics of another. But both fit the feeling I got from seeing the youth movement in yesterday’s elections. In every generation there is talk of the youth finally recognizing their collective power and showing it at the voting booth. And every generation’s youth voting has disappointed.

But there are signs that the kids– and I say kids with all due respect– are waking up to the fact that they are the ones will have to live in and bear the burden of the future being forged in this moment. It is their bodies, their decisions, their choices and opportunities that were on the ballot.

And yesterday, they seemed to finally understand that they have a major say in how that future will look. They can possibly make the world a place in which they want to live.

And I, for one, couldn’t be happier for them. And thankful for the major part they played in avoiding the dark future that may well have been in store for us without their hard work.

The kids are alright.

Here’s the ultimate kids’ anthem. May the kids from this generations do a better job than those that came before them. Last night makes me think they can, if they stick to it.

Let’s hope…

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Man’s capacity for justice makes democracy possible, but man’s inclination to injustice makes democracy necessary.

–-Reinhold Niebuhr, The Children of Light and the Children of Darkness (1944)

No lectures or beseeching this morning. You wouldn’t be reading this if you were still trying to make up your mind at this point. So, I am going to let the words of other minds speak for me today.

Exercise your rights. Preserve democracy.

VOTE.

You have no idea how much it might matter.

Ignorance is an evil weed, which dictators may cultivate among their dupes, but which no democracy can afford among its citizens.

—William Beveridge,Full Employment in a Free Society (1944)

Democracy is not a state. It is an act, and each generation must do its part to help build what we called the Beloved Community, a nation and world society at peace with itself.

–John Lewis, Together, You Can Redeem the Soul of Our Nation

The test of a democracy is not the magnificence of buildings or the speed of automobiles or the efficiency of air transportation, but rather the care given to the welfare of all the people.

–Helen Keller, The Home Magazine (1935)

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Sharing Heart– At Kada Gallery

Meanwhile the old couple noticed that, as soon as the mixing bowl was empty, it refilled itself, unaided, and the wine appeared of its own accord. They were fearful at this strange and astonishing sight, and timidly Baucis and Philemon murmured a prayer, their palms upwards, and begged the gods’ forgiveness for the meal, and their un-preparedness. They had a goose, the guard for their tiny cottage: as hosts they prepared to sacrifice it for their divine guests. But, quick-winged, it wore the old people out and, for a long time, escaped them, at last appearing to take refuge with the gods themselves. Then the heaven-born ones told them not to kill it. “We are gods,” they said, “and this neighbourhood will receive just punishment for its impiety, but to you we grant exemption from that evil. Just leave your house, and accompany our steps, as we climb that steep mountainside together.”

They both obeyed, and leaning on their sticks to ease their climb, they set foot on the long slope. When they were as far from the summit as a bowshot might carry, they looked back, and saw everywhere else vanished in the swamp: only their own roof was visible. And while they stood amazed at this, mourning their neighbours’ fate, their old cottage, tiny even for the two of them, turned into a temple. Wooden poles became pillars, and the reed thatch grew yellow, until a golden roof appeared, richly carved doors, and a marble pavement covering the ground. Then the son of Saturn spoke, calmly, to them: “Ask of us, virtuous old man, and you, wife, worthy of a virtuous husband, what you wish.”

When he had spoken briefly with Baucis, Philemon revealed their joint request to the gods. “We ask to be priests and watch over your temple, and, since we have lived out harmonious years together, let the same hour take the two of us, so that I never have to see my wife’s grave, nor she have to bury me.” The gods’ assurance followed the prayer. They had charge of the temple while they lived: and when they were released by old age, and by the years, as they chanced to be standing by the sacred steps, discussing the subject of their deaths, Baucis saw Philemon put out leaves, and old Philemon saw Baucis put out leaves, and as the tops of the trees grew over their two faces, they exchanged words, while they still could, saying, in the same breath: “Farewell, O dear companion”, as, in the same breath, the bark covered them, concealing their mouths.

The people of Bithynia still show the neighbouring trees there, that sprang from their two bodies. Trustworthy old men related these things to me (there was no reason why they should wish to lie). For my part, I saw garlands hanging from the branches, and placing fresh ones there said: “Let those who love the gods become gods: let those who have honoured them, be honoured.” 

–Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book VIII, 679-724

Above is the end of the Baucis & Philemon story, taking place after the aged couple have opened their impoverished home to Zeus and Hermes (Jupiter and Mercury, in the Roman version) who were disguised as mortal beggars. The two gods had approached all the homes in the village where Baucis & Philemon resided and were rudely turned away from every home. That is, except for the home of the poor couple.

I told that story a couple of times on Friday evening to folks as we stood before the two Baucis & Philemon-inspired pieces in my current Kada Gallery show, such as Sharing Heart, shown above. It’s a story I have told numerous times here so many of you will be familiar with it.

The one thing I have failed to mention in my past tellings of the tale is that I have my own Baucis & Philemon trees that I see every day. Not more than twenty feet away from the back stairs to my studio’s back entrance, which I use numerous times each day, stands two trees whose trunks have grown together.

Oddly enough, though I have told the Baucis & Philemon story for years, it wasn’t until recent years that I actually noticed that a similar situation was only a glimpse away.

I don’t know what that says about my powers of observation. I guess it’s a case of taking that which is close for granted. We search for distant vistas then often look past those things that are near and familiar, not recognizing that the amazing and the beautiful is readily available to us. Like the old Acres of Diamonds story, the one where the farmer in Africa sells his farm to go search for treasure and the new owner discovers that the farm’s land is rich with diamonds. It soon becomes one of the largest diamond mines in Africa while the former owner fails in his search for treasure.

You might say that we often can’t see the forest for the trees.

But now that I am cognizant of these two mythic lovers living so near, hardly a day goes by that I don’t take pause on the studio steps to appreciate the pair. And I feel just a small bit richer for it…

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Society cares about the individual only in so far as he is profitable. The young know this. Their anxiety as they enter in upon social life matches the anguish of the old as they are excluded from it.

—Simone de Beauvoir, The Coming of Age (1970)

Last year, I was approached by a film production company for permission to use the painting at the top, The Angst, for use in a documentary on the massive anxiety that afflicts this country, focusing mainly on how it affects the youth.

It had an incredible team working on it. It was led by Academy Award winning documentary director Vanessa Roth, written and produced NY Times bestselling author Laura Morton, presented by model/designer/activist Kathy Ireland, and a whole bunch of others with multiple awards and credits.

It looked like a no-brainer. I was told that there was no guarantee that the image would make the final cut. But that didn’t really matter since the subject was right in my personal wheelhouse and The Angst is a painting that has more personal meaning and connection for me than almost any other piece. I agreed and forgot about it.

I was contacted recently that The Angst was, indeed, used in the film and that the film was complete and premiering at the Newport Beach Film Festival and being screened at a number of other film festivals.

I will be eager to see how the image is employed. It’s gratifying to see it play a small part in a quality project, even if only for a moment or two in the film, especially one whose subject is so close to my heart.

Anxiety has plagued me for most of my life. When we moved to a new school district in the 8th grade, my anxiety skyrocketed. I remember my hair coming out in clumps at the time and the alarm it raised in my mom.

I got through it at the time, but anxiety, along with the depression that often comes along for the ride, has been a constant companion all these years. I have learned to live with it with assorted coping behaviors that evolved through the years and have done what I consider a pretty good job in masking it.

Most people I have met or known over the years would be surprised to learn how anxious I am at any given time. I don’t know if that’s good or bad or if I am even correct in assuming that I was successfully masking my struggle. Or that the strategies I employed were truly healthy or successful. I guess that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I got through to this point and have adequate tools and support to live my life.

I can’t imagine being a kid today with the kind of anxiety I had back then. Though I grew up in stressful times, the stress levels today in every aspect of life seem to be off the charts. It’s constant and pervasive, not giving kids much time or room to develop tools or strategies in order to deal with it.

I wish I had advice to give but it’s kind of like giving advice on being an artist– it’s such a personal path that there is no one way that applies to all. Or even most. Each of us has our own set of circumstances, relationships, history, emotional triggers, etc. What works for me might well be a disaster for someone else.

My hope is that this film helps brings this plague to light. It, and other associated efforts, will hopefully forge some better understanding, helping us develop strategies to cope with and possibly stave it off somewhat for future generations.

We can hope.

I will keep you apprised on when the film will be available for future viewing, or you can get alerts and other info through their site at AnxiousNation.com.

Well, I wasn’t planning on writing on this subject this morning and certainly wasn’t planning on pulling back my mask. But there it is. Let’s move on to some Sunday Morning Music. Here’s something that has nothing to do with the painting or subject. It’s the Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra playing Skaravan in a hotel room. Though I like this and think it’s great fun stuff, if I see these guys getting off the elevator on the floor of my hotel, I might well head down to change to another room, many floors away.

I needs me sleep, mateys. Carry on…

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Force Natural– Coming to the Principle Gallery, June 2023

The Moon Resonates- At West End Gallery

The words “Think and Thank” are inscribed in many of the Cromwellian churches of England. These words ought to be inscribed in our hearts, too: “Think and Thank”. Think of all we have to be grateful for, and thank God for all our boons and bounties.

–Dale Carnegie, How to Enjoy Your Life and Your Job

All in all, it was a very pleasant evening at Erie’s Kada Gallery last night as my solo show, Places of Peace, opened there. It was good to see many faces that I had missed since my last Kada Gallery show in 2017 along with many new faces to take in and meet. I got to tell some stories, answer many questions, and catch up with many folks.

Plus, the show looked great in the space. Many thanks to Doug, Anne and the staff at the Kada for doing a bang-up job with the show and for making those in attendance, myself included, feel welcome. It is much appreciated.

And, of course, thank you for those of you who were able to make it out to the gallery on a warm and busy Friday evening in November. Thank you for your appreciation of my work as well as for the kind words and the insights you shared. It gives meaning to my time here in the studio and I am forever grateful.

Thank you all for the boons and bounties you have provided. My best wishes to you all.

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To have all your life’s work and to have them along the wall, it’s like walking in with no clothes on. It’s terrible.

–Andrew Wyeth

I’ve employed the words above a number of times over the years on opening days for my shows. I am sure that is how I will feel at tonight’s opening of my show, Places of Peace, at Kada Gallery that kicks off with an opening reception that runs from 6-9PM.

After all, as Wyeth pointed out, your work is always personal and revealing in some way. Like family photos. So, to have it exposed to people who might not share your emotional investment or see its personal importance to you can be nerve-wracking. Even when you yourself judge that the work is everything you hope it to be, you worry that others won’t see it that way, that they won’t be able to discern the time, effort, and emotion invested.

You worry that your own judgement was wrong and that you will look like a silly, misguided fool.

It can feel like a pretty big monkey on your back on opening days. But as is the case with this show, you trust that work that moved you, that filled you with emotion, will somehow find souls who experience it in a similar way. 

It often does. And though I am filled with anxiety and uncertainty, that is my hope for tonight since I do feel strongly about the work in this show.

Here’s a bit from a post from a couple of weeks back that serves as a casual show statement:

I am coming into the final two weeks of preparation for my next exhibit. The solo show opens Friday, November 4, at the Kada Gallery in Erie, PA. I have been represented by Kada since 1996 and this will be my tenth solo show there, the last having taken place in 2017.

I am calling this show Places of Peace.

It’s a simple and straightforward title because, for the most part, that is the thing I am seeking in my work.

A place of peace, of quiet and harmony.

Much of my life has involved searching for something I couldn’t envision or describe. I was looking for something that would relieve an anxiety that seemed to come from both inside and outside myself.

I soon realized that they were not to be found in the outer world until they had first been found in the inner.

What I was seeking were Places of Peace— places anchored more in feeling and imagination than reality. Places that allowed me to find an inner balance and harmony while living in an outer world that I often did not understand.

I ultimately found these places in my painting.

These places of peace have provided much needed refuge for me over the past 25+ years and in that time, recurring symbols and icons– the Red Tree, the Red Roofed Houses, the Red Chair, the inward leading path, and the ever-present Sun/Moons— have formed the language with which I describe these places to others. Over the years, that language has evolved and grown, adding nuance with the use of deeper and more layered colors and textures.

This symbol language is all there, making up the better part of this show. That makes this a show that very much speaks to and for me. The paintings from this show, such as the one at the top, And Peace Arrives, have provided me with places in which I find that balance and harmony that I sought for so long.

My hope is that it does the same for others.

The reception tonight runs from 6-9 PM. Hope you can stop in and say hello.

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Radiant Hearts– At Kada Gallery

Without strong affection, and humanity of heart, and gratitude to that Being whose code is mercy, and whose great attribute is benevolence to all things that breathe, true happiness can never be attained.

–Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

This new painting, Radiant Hearts, certainly falls in the Baucis & Philemon series of my work, with its intertwined trees representing the aged couple from Greek mythology were granted an eternal life together by Zeus in recognition of the goodwill they had extended to him when he appeared in their town disguised as a beggar. Though they were the poorest of the townspeople that Zeus had approached that day, they were the only ones who opened their home to the masked Zeus and offered to him all that they possessed.

Zeus swept away that town with a mighty flood that killed all. That is, all except Baucis & Philemon.

Moved by their benevolence and charity, as well as their obvious bonds of love, Zeus spared them. He then made them priests and guardians of a shining golden temple that arose from the now receding flood waters in the place where the town had once stood. And when they died simultaneously years later, he granted them their wish that they remain together for eternity by transforming them into two trees on a hillside that grew from one trunk.

This piece, Radiant Hearts, has a great warmth and sense of harmony. Much like the painting from yesterday’s post, A Rising Peace, this piece had an immediate calming effect for me. Whenever I stopped to take it in, I would lose myself in the glow of the colors and the rhythm of the forms of the landscape and the light of the sky.

In those times when I did so while feeling a bit disenchanted with mankind, it had a way of replacing my misanthropy with feelings that were more generous towards my fellow humans– and myself, as well. It would calm me and allow me to focus on the good of this world rather than on its darker aspects.

Maybe it is that same spirit of calmness that Zeus felt as he witnessed the love and generosity of Baucis & Philemon.

I can imagine that being the case.

Here’s a song rom the late Warren Zevon that feels right for this post. It’s Keep Me in Your Heart, a song that he wrote while in the throes of the terminal cancer that took his life. Zevon led an interesting, if sometimes crazy, life. His father, a Jewish Russian immigrant, was a bookie and close friend of mobster Mickey Cohen. When Warren was 13 he studied with Igor Stravinsky before quitting high school in the early 60’s to go to NYC to be a folksinger. He knocked around for years before finding success both as a songwriter and performer. This success came and went several times, often as result of his own self-destructive behavior. He died in 2003 at age 56. I’ve always thought it was shame that so many people only know him for Werewolves of London when he wrote so many other beautiful songs such as this.

Radiant Hearts is a 24″ by 12″ canvas that is included in Places of Peace, my new solo exhibit that opens tomorrow, Friday, November 4, at Kada Gallery in Erie, PA. There is an Opening Reception running from 6-9 PM. I will be in attendance, my first appearance at Kada since my 2017 show there. I hope you can find time to stop in to say hello and see this piece and the rest in the show.

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A Rising Peace— Now at the Kada Gallery

He knew the depth of beauty, He was for ever surprised by its peace and its majesty; and He stood before the earth as the first man had stood before the first day.
We whose senses have been dulled, we gaze in full daylight and yet we do not see. We would cup our ears, but we do not hear; and stretch forth our hands, but we do not touch. And though all the incense of Arabia is burned, we go our way and do not smell.

–Kahlil Gibran, A Philosopher: On Wonder and Beauty (1928)

The painting at the top is titled A Rising Peace. It is 18″ by 36″ on canvas and is included in Places of Peace, my solo show at the Kada Gallery that opens this coming Friday., November 4th.

I pulled a lot of tranquility from this particular painting while it was in the studio with me. There are certain pieces that just emit that vibe, that have a cohesive wholeness and harmony to which you immediately react, even from a distance. For me, this is one of those pieces.

Wherever it was in the studio, my eye would always find it and rest on it for a few moments. Without fail, this short viewing always provided me with some sense of solitude and hope. Even on those days when my mind was racing and scattered, it had a centering effect for me, reminding me to take notice of the beauty in this world and not be distracted by the ugliness that sometimes seems to crowd our days.

What more could I ask of it?

Here’s a well-traveled song, One Day, from Matisyahu, who is an American musician who carries a lot of labels– reggae artist, rapper, alt rocker, and then some. Just a guy who makes music, I guess. His stage name is the Ashkenazi Hebrew pronunciation of the name from which the Anglicized name Matthew is derived.

The song fits well with what I see in this painting.

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Sundown, yellow moon, I replay the past
I know every scene by heart, they all went by so fast

–Bob Dylan, If You See Her, Say Hello

The Moon Resonates– Now At Kada Gallery 

The paintings are at the Kada Gallery now, delivered yesterday. Out of my hands now and tentatively on their own while I sit here in a relatively empty studio. There’s always a coolness in the suddenly opened space created by the departure of a show’s works. IT sometimes make me shiver a bit.

I generally feel good about competing the task but also feel a small sense of loss in their absence. Some have shown themselves in the short time they dwelt with me to be good companions. Actually, more than that. Like family, I suppose, in that they are part of me. I guess you might say that they are that part of you that you address when speaking to yourself, either in inner dialogues or out loud.

When paintings like this head out the door, I always have a twinge of despair that they may not return, that they will head off into some new existence beyond me. Kind of like the memory of the last time you see a loved one before they pass on.

Pieces like the one shown here, The Moon Resonates, fall into that category. Maybe that feeling is because such pieces are ultimately derived from the kind of memories whose feelings they evoke.

Paintings are, after all, memorialized emotions and to see one leave means that another reminder of a memory might well be gone forever. That’s cause for a bit of reflection and a touch of despair.

Of course, the redeeming feature of this all is that there is the recognition that the work will somehow remind others of the emotions from their own memories, happy or otherwise.

Whatever memory they feel strongly enough to want to be reminded by a particular painting.

This piece spoke quietly to me, gave me a bit of reflective calm. A soother. It reminded me that though the night is often dark there is always a bit of light. The dark might blot out the details but there is light enough to see the essence of things, that sense of the whole which really matters.

I hope it finds a home that sees such things in it. If not and it comes back to me, I will no doubt be giddy with joy, like that joyous feeling of relief one has when a pet who has been missing for days somehow finds it way home.

The show, Places of Peace, opens Friday, November 4, at the Kada Gallery in Erie, PA. I will be in attendance at the opening reception which runs from 6-9 PM. If you can, please stop in and take in this painting and the others. We’ll talk, if you want. Your choice.

Here’s a Bob Dylan song, If You See Her, Say Hello, from his Blood on the Tracks album. The lyrics might well describe the feeling of a lost love that I sometimes attach to my works. That might sound a bit goofy to some, but if you have one of my paintings, say hello for me. They’ll know what I mean.

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