What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity, devoid of troubling or disturbing subject matter, an art which could be for every mental worker, for the businessman was well as the man of letters, for example, a soothing, calming influence on the mind, something like a good armchair which provides relaxation from physical fatigue.
–Henri Matisse, Notes of a Painter (1908)
I love this passage from Henri Matisse expressing his aspirations for how his work might affect the viewer. I should probably be sharing some of his work but I am instead sharing a new painting from my upcoming show at the Principle Gallery. I can rationalize this by saying that I very much share Matisse’s desires for my own work and have often found it to be a soothing, comforting influence, as he put it, on my mind.
A good armchair in which to relax.
This new painting, The Pacifying Light, fits that description very well, at least to my eyes and mind. I find something very soothing in the color and rhythm of this piece, something that instantly puts me at ease without even pondering any meaning in it. It makes it very inviting, giving the viewer an easy entrance into it.
This accessibility is often half the battle in creating a piece of art that engages or moves people in any way. Feeling comfortable in the created space of an artwork allows the viewer to relax and really explore what they are seeing in the work and what that meaning that holds for themselves.
There is that sort of easiness in this piece. It feels quiet and invitingly peaceful while still maintaining space for deeper reflection. I guess that would serve as my corollary to Matisse’s stated aspirations– to put the viewer at ease while still giving them something to think about.
I think The Pacifying Light fulfills that goal.
The Pacifying Light is 20″ by 10″ on canvas.
is included in my exhibit of new work, Entanglement, that opens less than two weeks from today, on Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM.
Two weeks from today, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM. Hope you can make it either or both events.
Skip the Light Fandango–At Principle Gallery June 13, 2025
We skipped the light fandango Turned some cartwheels across the floor I was feeling kind of seasick When the crowd called out for more The room was humming harder And the ceiling flew away
—A Whiter Shade of Pale, Procul Harum
I can’t exactly say why the opening line from the old Procul Harum song came to mind when I was putting the finishing touches on this new painting. It really doesn’t have much to do with the song itself but since that moment that line seems glued to this painting in my mind.
I think it may have to do with the sky here, with the rolls crossing it reminding me both of pinwheels and cartwheels. There’s also something in the tone of this painting that feels a bit like that of the song to me. Unlike some of the other paintings from this show that employ this pinwheel/cartwheel sky, this piece carries more darker undertones. It shows a bit in the image above but is more evident when seen in person.
Even with the reference to the song, this is a painting that very much fits in with the theme of my upcoming Entanglement show at the Principle Gallery that opens two weeks from today, on Friday, June 13. I see the Red Tree here recognizing its relationship with the greater patterns of energy that make up all, understanding that it has descended from it and will eventually ascend back to it.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time glancing at this painting over the past several months. It has the ability to pull me in and hold my attention while creating a deep emotional response within me, a trait I find appealing in any piece of art.
Whether this applies to others as far as this painting is concerned, I cannot say. You can never tell for sure. That’s the beauty and mystery of art.
Now let us listen to that Procul Harum song that inspired this piece’s title. This is A Whiter Shade of Pale from 1967. If you’re of a certain age, you know that this song was radio staple throughout the late 60’s and 70’s and was played at every high school prom in that era. I can’t say for sure, but I think it was required by law.
Give a listen then let yourself out– I have tons to do this morning and need to get to it pronto.
Skip the Light Fandango is 15″ by 30″ on canvas and is included in my exhibit of new work, Entanglement, that opens two weeks from today, on Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on the following day, Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM.
The Entangling— Coming to Principle Gallery, June 2025
The outward wayward life we see, The hidden springs we may not know— It is not ours to separate The tangled skein of will and fate.
–John Greenleaf Whittier, Snow-Bound (1866)
This new painting from my upcoming Principle Gallery show might best represent the concept of this show, at least in how I see it. It’s a triptych called The Entangling. It’s simple and spare with the tangles of knots that make up the sky and their relationship to the Red Tree carrying the painting’s emotional weight here. It has a mixture of stillness and movement, along with a quietness that sings clearly, that connects with me and pulls me into the tangles.
I am showing it with its frame here. It seemed more important to show it as it will appear on the gallery wall rather than showing just the images of the three painted surface.
This piece probably deserves more discussion and time than I can afford this morning. But then again, maybe it doesn’t need it. Maybe it doesn’t require explanations. Maybe it is, in simply being what it is, the explanation of itself.
Hmmm… That’s something to think about today as I continue prepping work for the show. In the meantime, here’s a song from Lisa Hannigan that is at least somewhat titularly related to the subject today. It’s called Knots and this fun video does have to do with painting– sort of.
The Entangling is included in my exhibit of new work, Entanglement, that opens Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on the following day, Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM.
Airs of Independence- At Principle Gallery, June 2025
I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will,,,
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
I am running short on time this morning so this will be brief. This is one of the smaller paintings from my upcoming solo show at the Principle Gallery, a 6″ by 12″ canvas that I am calling Airs of Independence.
It’s a simple painting that, for me, represents the great willpower needed to maintain free and independent thought and speech– things that under attack these days, becoming rarer and rarer. The Red Tree here stands steadfast against the winds that are set against it, demanding that it give in to their forceful roar.
The Red Tree sways but remains unmoved. It holds fast.
As I said, this is but a brief synopsis of this piece. Even so, here’s a 1967 song from Cream that fills the bill for this post. This is I Feel Free. The rhythm and feel of it lines up beautifully with this piece in my opinion.
Airs of Independence, 6″ by 12″ on canvas, is included in my exhibit of new work, Entanglement, that opens Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on the following day, Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM.
Charles C Mulford Grave, Alexandria VA National Cemetery
The nation which forgets its defenders will be itself forgotten.
–Calvin Coolidge
I don’t have to do a search to know that I have never quoted Calvin Coolidge here before. With a nickname like Silent Cal, he wasn’t that quotable although his “When a great many people are unable to find work, unemployment results” is a classic. Probably a good thing he didn’t say much.
That being said, it is yet another Memorial Day. I am very busy getting ready for my annual show at the Principle Gallery, as I have been every year around Memorial Day for the last quarter century or so. But as I prepare, I am reminded of an entry I wrote about a small family connection with that city that was revealed to me several years back. I last shared this post five years ago but felt like it was worth running again on this Memorial Day.
I’ve been going to Alexandria, VA, a lovely and historic town that hugs the Potomac River just a few miles below Washington DC, for a long time, often several times a year. Outside of my link with the Principle Gallery and the relationships that have grown from that, I never thought I had a connection of any sort with that area.
Col. Eleazer Lindsley
But, as many of you who read this blog on a regular basis already know, I am an avid genealogist. I have documented some of my ancestral discoveries in a series of paintings, Icons, like the one shown here on the right, that I hope to get back to soon. While going through one of my lines earlier this year I came across a great-grand uncle by the name of Charles C. Mulford, who was the great grandson of Colonel Eleazer Lindsley, a Revolutionary War veteran who had served as aide-de-camp to Lafayette who is also my 7th-great grandfather, shown here in the Icon painting on the right.
Mulford was born in nearby Lindley, just above the NY/PA border, in 1821 and lived a quiet life as a farmer until the Civil War broke out. Serving for the 6th Regiment of the NY Heavy Artillery, he saw combat in battles at Spottsylvania, Cold Harbor, the Wilderness, Totopotomy and Petersburg. At the Battle of Petersburg, Mulford was shot in the upper thigh and, during his hospitalization, contracted typhus and died in early July of 1864.
It was the same sort of tragic ending that many of my ancestors met while serving this country. But the interesting detail in the account was that he had died in Alexandria at the Fairfax Seminary hospital and was buried in a National Cemetery not too far from the gallery.
On Friday morning when I went out for coffee at a local cafe that I frequent when I am in town, I decided to seek out my great-grand uncle. Under threatening skies, I strolled the few blocks to the cemetery that is tucked quietly among neighborhoods filled with townhouses. It only took a few moments to find the grave, sitting in the first row facing a stone wall.
The marble headstone was well weathered as you can see at the top of the page. I stood there for quite a while. I wondered if any others had looked closely at that stone in recent years, had uttered the name over that grave, had considered the life lived or the sacrifice given.
It was a small gesture but just standing in front of that stone for a few minutes was very calming for me, especially on the day of an opening when I am normally very anxious. Just knowing that he and I shared a tiny bit of DNA and a common beginning had meaning for me, connecting to me to my family, our history as a nation and to Alexandria, as well. I felt like I belonged in so many ways.
And there was great peace in that moment.
So, besides the many paintings that I know populate the homes of Alexandria and the friends that I have made there, a small part of my past will always reside in that city. I finally feel truly connected there.
Some extra info: Charles Mulford was the first cousin of General John E. Mulford (my first cousin 6 generations removed) who was President Lincoln‘s Commissioner of Exchange which meant that he arranged for the exchange of prisoners during the war. He is shown below in uniform in a photo from Matthew Brady that I believe was taken in Richmond in the immediate aftermath of the war.
You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.
-Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!
This is one of the smaller pieces from my Entanglementshow that opens June 13th at the Principle Gallery. It’s 6″ by 8″ on canvas and I call it Balancing Act. Not quite sure if the balancing act refers to this person to staying upright on the small peak or in life in general, as Dr. Seuss reminds us with his Life’s a Great Balancing Act.
Or does it refer to the act of living as we do between planes of existence, one physical and one ethereal as the tangles of energy in the sky here suggest?
Or might it be the balancing act between reality and perception?
Hmm. More to think about here than I first thought. I guess it all comes down to how someone is feeling at any given moment or how they see things as a whole.
I have to think on this a little more so let us have a little Sunday Morning Music. This song seems like a good fit and a fine way to jumpstart your day. This is Over Under Sideways Down by the Yardbirds (with Jeff Beck on guitar) from back in 1966. Sounds like a great way to describe the sky in this painting.
The Answering Light At Principle Gallery, June 2025
Who am I? This or the other? Am I one person today, and tomorrow another? Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others, and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling? Or is something within me still like a beaten army, fleeing in disorder from a victory already achieved?
—Who Am I?, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters & Papers from Prison
It is said that the true character of a person is revealed in times of adversity.
It is also said that true character is revealed with the attainment of power but I’m not going to talk about that this morning since having great power is much rarer than the many forms of adversity that can us common folk. Besides, that adage is definitively proven by the soulless creature now brandishing power here in this country.
But most of us face adversity of some sort at some point in our lives, a time when we are forced to make decisions that show just who we are and what is contained within our character. At such times we must decide whether to dither or take action. To speak out or be silent. To fight or take flight. To accept and succumb to our fear or to resist and overcome it.
This all comes to mind for me in this new painting, The Answering Light, from my upcoming Principle Gallery show, Entanglement. On one hand it is a quiet and somewhat placid piece, almost meditative in its nature. On the other hand, I see the house here as representing one of those critical points in time when such a decision must be made. It is still quiet but more brooding than meditative as an answer is sought.
I see the swirling tangle of energy in the sky as providing an answer which is to do that which is right, that which is not in disharmony with the energy of the universe. It is also a reminder that this is a point in which there is the opportunity to mold and alter the character that has been formed throughout one’s life. A time to overcome those mistakes of judgement from our past, to reestablish our strength of character– to find redemption of a sort.
The light and energy of the sky cautions that whatever you decide will define your character because you will do what you will do because that is what and who you are.
This same question of who we are and what that will us do is contained in a poem written in a German prison during World War II by theologian and anti-Nazi dissident Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I have written about Bonhoeffer a number of times here and the post on his essay, On Stupidity, has been by far the most popular post on this blog over the past several years.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German pastor and theological writer who stood in direct opposition to the Nazi regime and spoke out against its programs of euthanasia and genocide. He had an opportunity to stay in the US in the late 1930’s, safe from the reach of the Nazis, but he insisted on returning, believing that if he were to rebuild the German church in the war’s aftermath he must endure it with its people.
He was imprisoned in a German prison in 1943 and later transferred to a concentration camp. He was implicated in a plot to assassinate Hitler and was hanged in the waning days of the war, in April of 1945.
In this poem, Who Am I?, Bonhoeffer poses many of same questions and concerns that I see in this painting, They are the same questions and concerns that I have for my own character. I think it is a fine companion for this painting.
That’s a lot to say here this morning and I am not sure that I’ve said it clearly or with any sense at all. I write these things as first drafts each morning so sometimes they are not always all I want them to be. Some things are missed or said in a clunky way. Kind of reflective of my own character. Below is the whole poem from Bonhoeffer.
The Answering Light, 24″ by 12″ on canvas, is included in my exhibit of new work, Entanglement, that opens Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on the following day, Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM.
Who am I? They often tell me I would step from my cell’s confinement calmly, cheerfully, firmly, like a squire from his country-house.
Who am I? They often tell me I would talk to my warders freely and friendly and clearly, as though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me I would bear the days of misfortune equably, smilingly, proudly, like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really all that which other men tell of? Or am I only what I know of myself, restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage, struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat, yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds, thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness, trembling with anger at despotism and petty humiliation, tossing in expectation of great events, powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance, weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making, faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?
Who am I? This or the other? Am I one person today, and tomorrow another? Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others, and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling? Or is something within me still like a beaten army, fleeing in disorder from a victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine. Whoever I am, thou knowest, O God, I am thine.
–Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters & Papers from Prison
Setting Course— Headed to Principle Gallery, June 2025
Gravity is so strong that space is bent round onto itself, making it rather like the surface of the earth. If one keeps traveling in a certain direction on the surface of the earth, one never comes up against an impassable barrier or falls over the edge, but eventually comes back to where one started.
–Stephen Hawking, A Brief History of Time
I am not sure that the passage above from Stephen Hawking is perfect for what I am seeing in this new painting but for this morning it will do just fine. The painting, headed to the Principle Gallery for my June show there, is titled Setting Course and is 24″ by 24″ on canvas.
Though from its outward appearance the sailboat here seems to imply setting a course to some distant destination, that is not necessarily how I read it for myself. As it is with much of my work, I see all journeying and searching not as being outward but rather inward.
The answers we think can only be found by seeking outside ourselves are often contained within. Often it is the contrasting and gained experience we find on the outward journey that provides the clarity to recognize the answers within. We find that we didn’t know what we thought we knew, didn’t want what we thought we wanted, weren’t what we thought we were, and so on.
We may voyage around the world but it usually ends, as Hawking points out, with us coming back to where we started– the destination within ourselves.
I see this painting and its interwoven nature of the inward and outward as another form of the Entanglement that is the theme for this year’s exhibit. We are contained in everything and, as a result, become the destination for our every journey.
Every course we set leads back to us.
Okay, my head hurts a little now. Maybe I should have just said that I like this painting simply because I deeply feel its colors and forms and that the boat here makes me think of living a conscious life of self-reliance and self-determination.
Maybe even that is too much to say.
How about I just say that there’s something speaks to me, and I hope it says something to you as well?
Kind of a long journey to get back to that, right?
Like the boat here, I am moving on this morning. Here’s a favorite song whose mood and title feels right for this painting. Plus it feels like perfect fit for a cool, rainy May morning with lots of those same blues and greens outside the window here in the studio. This is Blue in Green from Miles Davis.
Setting Course is included in my exhibit of new work, Entanglement, that opens Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on the following day, Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM.
House of Blues – Coming to Principle Gallery, June 2025
She left me here with nothing, waiting here for something Something I could believe in Some were born to win the game, some were born to lose And they live their lives every night in the house of blues
— House of Blues, Gregg Allman
This is a new painting that will be going to my Entanglementexhibit that opens in June at the Principle Gallery. It’s 12″ by 16″ on panel and it is titled House of Blues.
This is one of those pieces where I wasn’t sure when it was done. Part of me wanted to add more, to make it feel less stark. Undecided, I set it aside for a while, occasionally putting it back on the easel to consider how I could add to it.
But after some time, I realized that adding anything would remove the heart of this painting which was in the naked emptiness of the horizon. Much like the atmosphere created by the Blue House itself and the bare tree beside it, the cold distance of the horizon mirrored the felt emptiness of longing and loss.
It’s a painting that has grown on me over the time it has lived with me. Like some people, it’s not a painting that welcomes you in with open arms. It speaks of spaces and thoughts that remain private.
Maybe that’s the appeal for me.
Here’s a song of that same title and much of the same tone from the late Gregg Allman. It’s not an exact match but it works, especially on a cool and gray May morning with rain beginning to fall.
Eternal tourists of ourselves, there is no landscape but what we are. We possess nothing, for we don’t even possess ourselves. We have nothing because we are nothing. What hand will I reach out, and to what universe? The universe isn’t mine: it’s me.
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
Wasn’t going to post anything this morning until I came across this post from just a couple of years back. Though it doesn’t deal with my upcoming show, Pessoa’s words certainly match up perfectly with the theme of my June show. Thought it was worth sharing again. Plus, there’s also a great Mavis Staples/ Levon Helm song. Win-win…
I recently came across the passage above from The Book of Disquiet, the “factless autobiography” of Fernando Pessoa, the Portuguese poet/author, that was published after his death in 1935. Reading it made me look further into the book and I was surprised at how his description of his internal travels lined up with my own. He wrote of the landscapes he saw within while I paint mine.
There is another similar quote from Pessoa that is supposed to come from The Book of Disquiet as well:
The true landscapes are those that we ourselves create. I’ve crossed more seas than anyone. I’ve seen more mountains than there are on earth. The universe isn’t mine: it’s me.
I haven’t been able to find this specific passage in the book yet. I believe it has to do with the variance between the several translations of the book from the Portuguese. However, this one rings even more true for my work. That sentiment of traveling the internal landscape has been the driving force behind my work for my entire career. It manifested itself in the large painting from 2012 shown at the top, The Internal Landscape.
It’s an image that has been shown here a number of times over the years and remains what I would consider a signature piece, a truly representative image of my inner world.
It felt like it needed to be seen again this morning.
Have to run because there are new places to see and explore this morning. In parting, here’s a song that feels like it fits. This is Wide River to Cross from Mavis Staples and the late great Levon Helm.
Redtree Times 