Redtree Times

Land Alive– In Continuum at Principle Gallery, June 14

Watch for the high tides of yourself and flow up with them; when the inevitable low tides come, either rest or meditate. You cannot escape rhythm. You transcend it by working with it.

–Elsa Barker, Letters From a Living Dead Man (1914)

I was looking for some bit of writing to open this post when I came across this passage from Elsa Barker. I liked what it was saying because I saw this painting, Land Alive, as being about the rhythm of a landscape. The land around us seems static but it is always changing in small ways, imperceptible to the casual glance. These changes mold the earth and leave a visible record that shows the rhythm of its evolution. And when you see that, the static scene takes on a sense of movement and life.

This was first brought to my attention when an elementary school teacher in telling us about the indigenous tribes of our area had viewed the landscape as being alive and how they identified certain landmarks such as hills and valleys by their human attributes. This changed the way I looked at landscapes and from then on, I looked at the curve of a distant hilltop as the curve in a human back and the gentle rhythm and roll of fields as the surface of the human body with all its curves and rolls.

The landscape became a living, breathing entity.

And that’s what I see in this new painting, Land Alive. It is a 12″ by 36″ canvas that is included in Continuum: The Red Tree at 25 which opens June 14 at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. It has a rhythm and organic quality that gives it that sense of being alive for me.

There is a sense of rightness in it, another quality that I look for but can never fully explain. It’s either there or it’s not. I think is present here.

As for the passage from Elsa Barker, though I was intrigued by her words, I had never heard of her. I always like to know a little about the writings I cite here just so I know we’re on the same page, as far as meaning and intent. I can’t say Elsa (who lived from 1869 until 1954) and I (still living) are on the same page but the books she wrote are kind of weirdly interesting.

The book the passage above is from her 1913 book, Letters From a Living Dead Man. It was written via automatic writing which is basically dictation taken from a dead spirit that comes through a living person. I can’t say I put a lot of credence in this but I am not in any position to debunk her claim. Who is? There was an author, Jane Roberts, who lived here in Elmira who gained quite a lot of fame from her books in which she channeled a spirit being called Seth. I wasn’t aware until years later that the house on Water Street I went by thousands of times had once hosted lively conversations with the dead in the early 1960’s.

Neither Elsa Barker, Jane Roberts nor their methods or experiences have anything to do with this painting. But Elsa’s words (or was it the person she was channeling?) on living in the rhythm of the world feel right.

And that’s good enough for me this morning.

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Watchful Presence– Part of Continuum at Principle Gallery, June14

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable.

–Helen Keller, Let Us Have Faith (1940)

Sunday morning and I am more than a little tired. The past few weeks have been grueling as I prep the work for the Principle Gallery show that I will be delivering a week from today. Part of it is in just the sheer amount of work for this show as well as changes in certain processes. For example, there were a couple of days during the building and finishing of frames that seemed to yield little progress as most of the time was spent in experimenting and refining the process. Trial and error with plenty of emphasis on error until I settled into a process that was efficient, consistent, and satisfied the same sense of rightness that I apply to my paintings.

It just seemed like a lot going on while little was getting done.

This has produced a higher level of anxiety than is normal. If you have read this blog for any amount of time, you might know that my normal level of anxiety is way up there. Always has been, even as a kid.

I was reminded of this while attending a memorial service and reception yesterday for my recently deceased friend, Brian, who I have mentioned here in the past. There was a nice turnout of Brian’s family, friends and colleagues, including a group of us who had went to grade school and high school with Brian. I hadn’t seen some of these guys in well over forty years. As we traded those tales of schoolboy antics that bore the hell out of our spouses, I was reminded of when I first met them after moving into the school district. It was a time of high anxiety for me, with my hair falling out in bunches which greatly alarmed my mom.

Settling in and becoming friends with this group, I learned to cope, often masking my anxiety with either a frozen form of stoicism or reckless behavior, some of which I was reminded of yesterday. Maybe that’s not really coping but it got me through the years. It was great seeing these guys and catching up, but I left feeling worn out. Like the past few weeks– and forty-plus years– had caught up with me at that moment.

It made me a bit melancholy. Maybe it was the clash of memories, the changes in us that occurred over those years and the awaiting fate that Brian’s death represented which hung over us all.

But that’s life, isn’t it?  Early on, you recognize that fate and you learn to deal with it. Cope in any way you can to the multitude of changes and shifts you will encounter in your life, some good and some not so much.

To be honest, I don’t know where this thing is going right now. While it was meant to be about the painting at the top, it feels more like a diary entry than a blogpost. Maybe I just needed to write it for myself. Who knows?

But it does fit the feel of the painting for me. There’s something in it that speaks to enduring the changes and shifts of life, to being able to stand back and take an overview of life as it passes. I call this painting, a 9″ by 12″ canvas which is one of the smaller pieces from the show, Watchful Presence.

Let’s finish off this Sunday morning with some music, as is the custom here. I looked through the archives and see where I have only played this version of this song once before. That’s surprising because it almost always make me a little teary eyed. It’s In My Life from Johnny Cash, his rendition of the Beatles classic.

This version is from the American recordings of Johnny Cash, done in the final months of his life. You can easily hear that age and ailments changed his delivery and imbued the songs with real heart-felt emotion and purity. It’s a powerful group of music. This version of the Beatles’ song is not so different from the original, but it has his own personal meaning which makes it his own. It’s one of those songs that lends itself easily to such a thing. I certainly can see my own life in it.

Most likely, you can, as well.

Watchful Presence is included in Continuum: The Red Tree at 25, my 25th annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. The show opens with a reception on the evening of June 14, 2024. I will be there to do whatever it is that I do.

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Time Reverberation— Included in Continuum: The Red Tree at 25

Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.

–Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths (1962)

This is another new painting that is part of my Continuum show at the Principle Gallery which opens in just under two weeks. This piece is titled Time Reverberation and is 36″ high by 24″ wide on canvas.

Time Reverberation (featured prominently in the preview of the show in the June issue of American Art Collector) is indicative of the underlying theme of this show which, as I see it, is about our relationship with time. Some things seemingly remain constant yet everything continuously changes as time carries us along. It is so subtle that it often goes unnoticed.

Things seems the same but it never truly are. What we thought was is often but an echo from the past.

And, like time, the river keeps flowing.

That all sounds pretty cryptic, I know. But it’s early and I’m tired. I will try to explain it all more fully some other time. In the meantime, here’s a lovely piece from the great Bill Evans about that some other time.

Seems right for this moment.

Continuum: The Red Tree at 25, my 25th annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. opens with a reception on the evening of June 14, 2024. Time Reverberation and I will be there.

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