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Archive for June, 2025

The Floating World

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on June 9, 2025| 2 Comments »

The Floating World— Now at Principle Gallery

Living only for the moment, turning our full attention to the pleasures of the moon, the snow, the cherry blossoms and the maples, singing songs, drinking wine and diverting ourselves in just floating, floating; caring not a whit for the poverty staring us in the face, refusing to be disheartened, like a gourd floating along with the river current: this is what we call ukiyo.

–Asai Ryōi, Tales of the Floating World (1661)

Back in the studio this morning. The paintings for my new show, Entanglement, have been safely delivered to the Principle Gallery and will soon to be on its walls in time for Friday’s opening. All that’s left for my part with the show is to write several blogposts this week before making my way back down to Alexandria on Friday. And figure out how to proceed with the Painting Demonstration that follows on Saturday.

A relatively easy week. Well, if I could just shake the anticipatory anxiety that comes with such shows as I wait to see if my hard work will create sparks within others or if what I see in it is but an illusion only visible to myself.

But it’s out of my hands now and I will just do what I can. Maybe I should adhere to the words above from the novelist Asai Ryōi who wrote in the early Edo Period of Japan (1660’s) about the ukiyo or Floating World.

You may have seen the term ukiyo-e in reference to the beautiful Japanese woodblock prints, of which I am a big fan and have shared many on this blog over the years. These prints were first produced at a time when there was a strict class system in Japan with the merchants being low on that particular totem pole. In a time of prosperity, these merchants attained great wealth but were unable to move beyond their low rank in the class system, so they began to show off their wealth through lavish lifestyles and conspicuous consumption, including attaining what little art was available to them, which is where these prints found their way into their culture. 

This lifestyle of earthly pleasures– brothels and excesses in food and drink were all part of it— was described by the word ukiyo which meant for them this transient world in which one should live for the moment, taking in all that this world has to offer. Grab for the gusto, in other words.

Their use of the word derived from the same word in the Buddhist religion which meant the Floating World, which referred to the earthly plane of death and rebirth from which Buddhists sought release. The Buddhist use of the word encouraged using the time spent in this earthly plane in ways that would be of use when one is finally released from it into the ethereal and eternal planes of being. Living the ukiyo lifestyle as it was seen in Edo Period of Japan might actually hinder one from release from this plane of existence.

Though I love the Japanese ukiyo-e prints depicting scenes of the earthly pleasures of that era, it’s this Buddhist definition that I feel better suits the new painting shown at the top, The Floating World. That thought was not in mind when I painted it but it soon became evident that, for me, those small islands represented our tenuous and temporary existence here. The basketlike weave or entanglement of the sky represents our ultimate destination, a return to our place in the harmony and rhythm of that universal energy. 

Our true home, if you will. 

Our time here is short and fleeting. Ultimately, we are but tourists, visitors, and sightseers in this world. It is what we take home with us when our visit here is done that matters.

That’s my reading for this painting. Actually, when I look at this painting, I find myself barely noticing the islands, instead losing myself in the entanglement. I find it very calming and reassuring.

It does exactly what I need it to do for me. For you? I can’t say.

The Floating World is 20″ by 20″ on canvas and is now at the Principle Gallery, for my annual solo show, this year called Entanglement, opens this coming Friday, June 13. As I wrote, the work for the show is now in the gallery and is available for previews.

I will be attending the Opening Reception for the show that runs on Friday from 6-8:30 PM. I look forward to chatting with you.

And the following day, next Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts. Hope you can make it.

 

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A New Urge for Going

Posted in Uncategorized on June 8, 2025| 3 Comments »

Urge For Going— At Principle Gallery Today

Whatever there be of progress in life comes not through adaptation but through daring, through obeying the blind urge.

–Henry Miller, The Wisdom of the Heart (1947)

I am on the road this morning, heading down to Alexandria, VA to deliver the work for my Principle Gallery show, Entanglement, which opens this coming Friday. The new painting above, Urge For Going, is included in this group of work.

It’s 18″ by 24″ on canvas and deserves much more time to discuss than I can give this morning. As you might have guessed, it is titled after a favorite Joni Mitchell song. I would like to think that it somewhat captures the feel, rhythm, and poetry of that song. The first stanza is a great example:

I awoke today and found the frost perched on the town
It hovered in a frozen sky, then it gobbled summer down
When the sun turns traitor cold
And all trees are shivering in a naked row
I get the urge for going but I never seem to go
I get the urge for going
When the meadow grass is turning brown

Of course, mine is not a literal translation of her words. Again, more of a feel thing. I like the paradox in this painting from the opposition of joyous color to the wistful feel of the tree that seems to want to move, wants to follow its urges to move on but remains rooted. Only a few leaves given to the wind.

As I said, it’s a painting that deserves more time and words, but I am short on that today. Here is the Joni Mitchell song that was first released in 1966, almost 60 years ago.

My 26th annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery, Entanglement, opens this coming Friday, June 13. The work for the show will be at the gallery today and will be available for previews.

I will be attending the Opening Reception for the show that runs from 6-8:30 PM. I will be glad to talk more about this painting or anything else you might want to talk about.

And the following day, next Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts.

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NightFlare

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on June 7, 2025| Leave a Comment »

NIghtFlare– At Principle Gallery

If we cherish the virtues and the principles of our fathers, Heaven will assist us to carry on the work of human liberty and human happiness. Auspicious omens cheer us. Great examples are before us. Our own firmament now shines brightly upon our path.

–Daniel Webster, Eulogy for John Adams and Thomaas Jefferson, 1826

All the work for my solo show at the Principle Gallery, Entanglement, is complete. Well, the painting and preparation part of it. Today, I pack it all up for delivery tomorrow down in Alexandria. This means a final few moments with each piece before they become whatever it is they are destined to become for someone other than me.

Most of the paintings have taken on distinct meanings for me, personal readings of the paintings that elicit certain emotional responses in me. Once it sets itself in my mind in a certain way that is how I normally continue to see that painting forever.

They define themselves to me.

But sometimes there are pieces that remain an enigma. They raise emotional responses but in a way that makes whatever meaning they hold feel like a mystery. I often find them deeply appealing but can’t quite figure out what they are saying to me.

This new painting from the show, NightFlare, is such a painting. If you asked me what it is saying I would most likely turn the question around on you. Your answer would be as valid as my own.

Even so, I am deeply attracted to this painting with its calmness and warmth.  It feels soothing but in a mysterious way, as though that moon with its strange corona bears an omen for us– represented by the Red Tree and the house that stands like sentinel–but with an assurance that the future will work itself out, that things will be okay in the end.

Maybe that’s wishful thinking for the times we’re enduring. Maybe it is one of the auspicious omens sent to cheer us on, as Daniel Webster alluded to in the passage above from his 1826 eulogy for Adams and Jefferson. As you might recall, both died on July 4th of that year, on the 50th anniversary of our Independence Day. 

Auspicious omens cheering us on?

I would like to think so but really don’t know about that or the true meaning of this painting. It remains a mystery, an enigma. All I know of this piece is how it makes me feel.

And that is enough for me. For now. Forever.

NightFlare is 36″ by 12″ on canvas. It is included in my 26th annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery, Entanglement, that opens this coming Friday, June 13. I will be attending the Opening Reception for the show that runs from 6-8:30 PM. 

And one week from today, next Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts.

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The Call of Wonder

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on June 6, 2025| Leave a Comment »

The Call of Wonder– At Principle Gallery One Week from Today!

That conflict between the reach for the divine and the lure of earthly things was to be the central problem of the Middle Ages.

–Barbara W. Tuchman, A Distant Mirror (1978)

Historian Barbara Tuchman wrote in A Distant Mirror about the late Middle Ages of 14th century Europe when the western world was in upheaval with wars, the Black Death, a Papal Schism, and all sorts of misery in every direction. She found many parallels in the 20th century that matched the chaos of what she called the Calamitous 14th Century, as she subtitled her book. Tuchman died in 1989, but I am relatively certain she would find even more parallels to calamity in the 21st century thus far.

I am not going to go into that here. Instead, I am focusing on the single line above from her book about the conflict between our desires for the spiritual and the material. She cites it as the central problem in the Middle Ages. Has it ever went away?

It is this conflict that I see in this new painting, The Call of Wonder, which will be in my solo show, Entanglement, that opens a week from today at the Principle Gallery. We are often lured to find answers to nagging questions we might have about our place and purpose in the universe while, at the same time, the need to find earthly sustenance– food, a roof over our heads, safety, bodily health, etc.– remains a necessity.

It is a narrow path that runs between deep desire and earthly responsibility, one I have been walking most of my life, especially the last 30 years as an artist. There is always the desire to delve deeper with my work but the need to meet the necessities of life has sometimes tempered my wanderings. I have sometimes felt as though I have held back a little in reserve. Stayed close to home, as this painting might imply.

I think this show is a step further up the path toward that desire to know and express more.

And that is the appeal I am finding in this painting right now. Oh, there’s a lot more to its appeal beyond that personal revelation.  The colors in it jump out at me with their depth and saturation, as do the forms of the field and the sky. It has a strong visual impact in its color and composition, at least to my eye.

Just taking it in with quick glance, I am reminded of a close up of a flower with the path being a bending stem emerging from the Red Roofed house which serves as a flowerpot upward toward the moon which acts as its flower.

Or maybe the moon is the head on the dancing stick figure that the path makes.

Who knows?

It’s one of those pieces that holds many interpretations, many stories. And I like that.

The Call of Wonder is 16″ by 20″ on canvas and is included in my solo exhibit, Entanglement, that opens one week from today, Friday, June 13, at the Principle Gallery. I will at the Opening Reception for the show from 6-8:30 PM. 

Next Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts.

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Harmony in Blue and Green

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on June 5, 2025| 2 Comments »

Harmony in Blue and Green— Soon at Principle Gallery

Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance and order and rhythm and harmony.

–Thomas Merton, No Man is an Island (1955)

This passage above from the late mystic monk/theologian Thomas Merton remains a favorite for me. It sums up everything I hope for in my work– balance and order and rhythm and harmony. These elements do indeed create a pathway to happiness, as I see it.

Maybe happiness is not the right word here.  Maybe a term like joyful awareness or even the word contentment better suits the product of these elements. Because that is what happiness is– the product of many contributing factors, not a quality unto itself. It only exists if we create an environment in which it can exist. Inevitably, happiness exists when we recognize that, in the moment, our lives have balance and order and rhythm and harmony.

And as Merton asserts, it is not a matter of intensity. It need not be a peak experience that comes complete with fist-pumping celebration, crowds cheering, and brass bands playing.

No, often these moments come to us quietly and unexpectedly.

That’s what I am seeing in this new painting, Harmony in Blue and Green. There is an exuberance in it for me, but it is of the quieter, more introspective variety. It definitely creates an atmosphere and environment in which I might find happiness of some type.  It’s one of the few paintings I have done featuring a tree that is not the Red Tree. Just this moment, I wondered if perhaps this tree was once a Red Tree and has begun to unite and harmonize with its surroundings, allowing itself to reflect the common bonds it shares with all things. Just a thought.

Harmony in Blue and Green is 12″ by 24″ on canvas and is included in my solo exhibit Entanglement that begins one week from tomorrow, on Friday, June 13, at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception running from 6-8:30 PM. This painting and the other work for this show will be delivered to the gallery on Sunday and will be available for previews, though the show will not be hung until later in the week.

The day after the show’s opening, on Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts. 

Here’s a favorite composition that contributed to the title of this painting. It is Blue in Green and is best known from Miles Davis’ 1959 classic jazz album Kind of Blue. This morning, I am featuring the version from pianist Bill Evans, who co-wrote this composition with Davis. Fine example of balance and order and rhythm and harmony. Good stuff for an early morning.

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Song of the Heliotropes

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on June 4, 2025| Leave a Comment »

Song of the Heliotropes– At Principle Gallery, June 13

In the world of the dreamer there was solitude: all the exaltations and joys came in the moment of preparation for living. They took place in solitude. But with action came anxiety, and the sense of insuperable effort made to match the dream, and with it came weariness, discouragement, and the flight into solitude again. And then in solitude, in the opium den of remembrance, the possibility of pleasure again.

–Anaïs Nin, Children of the Albatross (1947)

I was searching for something to begin this post and came across the passage above from Anaïs Nin. It gave me pause for a moment as it so well described the cycle that I seem to repeat time and time again in preparing for my shows, such as my Entanglement exhibit that opens next week at the Principle Gallery.

The work is created from dreams and solitude, as she points out. As the works gather and come together there is a building excitement and joy within me as I ponder sharing the work with the world outside my den of solitude. But, as Nin observes, this building excitement brings with it an increased sense of anxiety, one built on a fear of failure or of having become irrelevant as an artist. This, along with the grinding effort that takes place in finishing all the tasks required to make the work presentable, produces a deep weariness. It is both a physical and mental exhaustion. 

Then the show opens and inevitably there comes afterward, with even the most successful shows, a great letdown–the discouragement that Nin mentions. I find myself second-guessing my choices for the show, completely overlooking the successes and high points, instead focusing on things that I could have or should have done. There is seldom, if ever, a period of what you might call basking in any sort of glory.

But as miserable as that sounds, I am soon back to my dreams and solitude– my opium den of remembrance– high on the possibility that comes with a new show.

It’s a cycle that’s been repeated for well over 25 years and around 70 shows. Outside of my marriage and the knowledge that the sun will rise and fall each day, it’s the most dependable thing in my life. 

I am at the bone-weary state right now but the excitement from the work and its creation remains. Take the painting at the top, Song of the Heliotropes, for example. It’s a piece that feels like music to me, one that brings me a lot of joy. It’s the kind of joy that makes the harder aspects of the cycle tolerable.

The Red Trees remind me of flowers being pulled upward by the energy and light of the sun and sky. For my botanical friends out there, I do realize they are not actually the flowers called Heliotropes. I am instead referring to heliotropism, the act of growing toward the sun that takes place in many plants and flowers. I tend to think we all experience heliotropism of some sort, always moving towards some sort of light.

Perhaps in a way we are all Heliotropes. For this painting, I am saying that is the case. 

There’s more that I could say about Song of the Heliotropes, an 18″ by 24″ painting on canvas, but if you want to hear it, you’ll have to ask me about it at the Opening Reception on Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery which runs from 6-8:30 PM. This painting and all the other work for this show will be delivered to the gallery on Sunday and will be available for previews, though the show will not be hung until later in the week.

The day after the show’s opening, on Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts.

Here’s a well-known classical piece that immediately comes to mind when I look at this piece. It’s from composer Léo Delibes from his 1883 tragic opera, Lakmé. This is the Flower Duet. This performance is from soprano Sabine Devieilhe  and mezzo-soprano Marianne Crebassa. Most of you will recognize this about a minute or so into this video. That is certainly the part of the song that comes to mind with this painting. Just lovely.

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The Passing Parade

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on June 3, 2025| 5 Comments »

The Passing Parade— Included in Entanglement at the Principle Gallery

Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away… and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast…. be happy about your growth, in which of course you can’t take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don’t torment them with your doubts and don’t frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn’t be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn’t necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust…. and don’t expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.

― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

There is something in this new painting, The Passing Parade, from my upcoming Principle Gallery exhibit that just fills me up. It would be easy to simply say that there’s a joyfulness in it and let it stand at that. It does have an unmistakable sense of joyous verve, after all.

But that feels more on the surface, almost like it is the painting’s mask. No, there’s something more beneath that, something deeper and more internalized. Not joyful but not sad nor remorseful.  

A feeling of apartness.

Don’t take that to mean loneliness. It’s an altogether different animal. 

I went looking for a something that might better describe it than my impoverished words and came across the passage at the top from Rilke, one that I shared here a number of years back. It seemed to capture exactly what I was feeling in this piece, about how we change internally and how we express these changes to the outer world.

Some become more solitary and, in their solitude, grow away from people in general. I count myself among this group. But as Rilke advised, I try to not display that outwardly when dealing with people, understanding that not everyone will understand or desire this apartness. Or care, for that matter.

You might think that since I write about my work and perhaps too much more here on a daily basis, that I would easily talk about the doubts, uncertainties, and beliefs I possess and write about. That’s not the case at all. I will answer questions honestly and openly but still try to keep my apartness somewhat hid.

And that’s what I see in this piece– an inward-looking solitude that outwardly watches the passing parade of life from a distance.

I understand that to some that might seem sad. Of course, I don’t see it that way since I know that my apartness is often filled with the joy and love that you see on the surface of this painting. It is not sad at all except when sadness is present, as it sometimes is in every life.

It is hard to explain in words. Maybe that’s why I paint. A painted image transmits and translates itself to others in ways that they alone understand.

Much better than my words. In this case, I hope my meager words haven’t garbled your translation of this painting.

Now, leave me alone and get back into the parade. As Garbo said– I vant to be alone. Actually, I need to be alone. Still lots of work to be done for the show and I can’t get anything done if you’re still hanging around…

The Passing Parade is 12″ by 24″ on panel and is part of my annual solo exhibit — this year marks my 26th show at the Principle– of new paintings, Entanglement, that opens on Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. The work for this show will be delivered to the gallery on Sunday and will be available for previews, though the show will not be hung until later in the week.

The day after the show’s opening, on Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts.

 

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Quiet Revelation

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on June 2, 2025| 1 Comment »

Quiet Revelation– At Principle Gallery June 13, 2025

When the brain is completely quiet, it is empty. It is only through emptiness that anything can be perceived. You need space, you need emptiness to observe. To observe you, I must have space between you and me, and then there is seeing. So, a mind that is crippled with sorrow, with problems, with its vanities, with its urge to fulfill, and frustrated, caught in nationalism – you know, all the petty, little things of life – such a brain has no space. It is not empty, and therefore it is utterly incapable of observing. And when a mind that is being petty and shallow says, ‘I must explore,’ it has no meaning. It must explore itself, not whether there is something beyond itself. So when the brain is completely quiet, empty – and that demands astonishing awareness, attention – that is the beginning of meditation. Then it can see, listen, observe. Then it will find out if there is something beyond the measure that man has made to discover reality.

–Jiddu Krishnamurti (1895-1986), From Public Talk 10 in Saanen, Switzerland July 1963 

Quiet the brain. Empty the brain.

Such a difficult task that feels like it should be easy, given how much space is actually occupied up there. Don’t be offended– I was talking about my brain. Not yours. Well, maybe a little about your brain.

I don’t know.

A big part of my work has to do with finding this sort of quietness, of stilling a mind reeling from the ceaseless bombardment of stimulus that this modern world serves up. My search is often futile with only short interludes of true quietude. Perhaps, as the philosopher Krishnamurti points out, by consciously searching– a product of a brain filled with the petty and trivial– I was actually preventing myself from actually observing the quiet that is always present.

I’ve been somewhat aware of this, often saying that my work is at its best when the brain is taken out of the equation, when I just let things happen on an instinctual or organic level. Getting there is much like the quieting or the emptying of the brain that Krishnamurti describes. A difficult task.

This new painting, Quiet Revelation, reminds me of the appearance of one of these rare moments of quietude. For me, the Red Tree here seems to have been able to block out the clang and furious rumble of this world, elevating to a point where it can observe the reality and harmony of the animating force that is just beyond our measure.

This energy source of which everything is comprised is the theme for my upcoming show, Entanglement, at the Principle Gallery. I see this piece with its quiet harmony, as a fine example of coming across that meditative stillness which is being sought, a feeling I experienced for a time while painting this piece.

And that’s always a gift. All I could ask for in my work.

Quiet Revelation is a larger painting, at 36″ by 36″ on canvas. It is part of my annual solo exhibit — this year marks my 26th show at the Principle– of new paintings, 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.

The day after the show’s opening, on Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts. Hope you can make it either or both events.

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Into the Blue Tangle

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , on June 1, 2025| Leave a Comment »

Into the Blue Tangle– At Principle Gallery June 13, 2025

O time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.

— William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

This is another new painting, Into the Blue Tangle, from my upcoming solo show at the Principle Gallery. This year’s exhibit, my 26th at the Alexandria gallery, is titled Entanglement and this piece very much captures the meaning and spirit behind that title.

I’ve written here that my work, at its core, represents my belief system. I think that can be said of the work of almost any artist. The work from this show is an even more direct display of my belief system, putting its certainties and uncertainties out there for all to see. If you’ve read this blog for any amount of time you know that uncertainty plays as big a part in this belief system as any certainty I might hold.

Maybe the bigger part, actually.

That uncertainty is a big part of this painting for me. In it, the Red Tree stands alone on its tiny outcropping, feeling certain that there is something beyond what it senses, something that binds it to everything everywhere. Yet, it is unsure in its own ability to recognize or understand the meaning of this entanglement if it were to unravel before its eyes.

How can one understand the answer when one doesn’t know the question?

So, it senses the wonder of that great tangle of energy that swirls around unseen and undetected with the certainty that it is part of it yet uncertain as to how or why. It all remains a mystery, bound together in tight interweaving knots that give glimpses of beginnings and endings without ever truly revealing either.

Perhaps time will reveal an answer. Or a question. Or not. Maybe we’re not meant to know much here in our time here. Maybe what we think we know here clouds what we inherently know from our bonds to that tangle above?

Hmm. Now, I don’t know even more than before.

That wasn’t supposed to happen, so I better stop and just share a song for this Sunday Morning Music. I am going with the obvious, Tangled Up in Blue, the classic from Bob Dylan. On its surface it doesn’t have a lot to do with this painting but then again anything and everything has to do with this painting.

At least, that’s how I see it.

Into the Blue Tangle, a new 14″ by 14″ painting 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.

The day after the show’s opening, on Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts. Hope you can make it either or both events.

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