Redtree Times

Further On Up the Road– At West End Gallery

Now I been out in the desert, just doin’ my time
Searchin’ through the dust, lookin’ for a sign
If there’s a light up ahead, well brother I don’t know
But I got this fever burnin’ in my soul
So let’s take the good times as they go
And I’ll meet you further on up the road

—Further On Up the Road, Bruce Springsteen

Well, the work for Persistent Rhythm, this year’s edition of my annual solo show at the West End Gallery, has been delivered and will be going up on the gallery walls today. It might have been noted here in the past that there is often a bittersweet feeling when the work leaves the studio. There is, of course, a great feeling of relief– and a little pride– in having met the demands of the task. There’s something satisfying in seeing the work at last in the gallery, even on the floor.

There’s also a gnawing anxiety in the gut attached to this time, between when the work leaves my hands and the time people start seeing it. I worry that I have been deluded by my own work, that I am seeing things in it that aren’t visible to others. I worry about conditions that might affect turnout for the show, things I can’t control– the weather, the economy, Martian invasions, etc. Then there’s a worry that I might let others down in some way, that I haven’t done enough.

But along with the relief and the worry there is a bittersweet feeling of seeing something you have created, something that is part and parcel of who you are, leave the space it has occupied with you for the past months. They become almost like companions in the studio. They inspire. They reassure. They calm. They come to feel like living, breathing beings occupying real space rather than two dimensional images created by the placement of colors on a flat surface.

It sounds crazy I know but it sometimes feels like a friend leaving you behind to go on their own new adventures with new people in different surroundings. Their absence leaves a coolness, an emptiness, in the studio. The only way to move on is to get back to work with them now ensconced in memory.

Maybe someday they will come back. Some do. When it does happen, it’s like those videos of dogs seeing their owners after a long absence. They run and jump to them in their joyful excitement. Except in this scenario, I am the dog and the painting is the owner who has returned to look after me. I am often giddy in getting a painting back. That sounds silly and certainly doesn’t help me make a living but that’s the way it is.

Just glad to have an old friend back in my world for a while.

That might not be the exact meaning I glean from the new painting at the top from the show but it is in the ballpark. I see it as being about moving on in whatever direction you are called and leaving others behind with only the hope that one day you will again see them.

The future offers new adventures but the past, with all its connections and memories, still lingers.

I call this piece, a 15″ by 30″ canvas, Further On Up the Road. Its title is taken from the title of a Bruce Springsteen song from his 2002 album, The Rising. I have shared a wonderful version from Johnny Cash in the recordings before his death here in the past. I thought today I would couple this painting with a version from Springsteen when he a folk-based tour with the Sessions Band. This version is different from the original but is highly enjoyable.