Redtree Times

But above all, in order to be, never try to seem.

― Albert Camus, Notebooks, 1935-1951

I am going to try to share an older piece every Monday. I say try because I may simply forget to continue the series at some point or it might run out of steam. It’s happened with me before. Like the old line from Robert Burns: The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

But for now, I will try to keep it going.

This small painting, Summerfield, from 1994 has been a favorite in recent years for me. To be fair, I liked it when it was painted. However, I was just finding my voice at around the same time, transitioning to a more personalized style and process that would better speak for me.

This piece represented that period in my development where I was still trying to make work that was comparable to others. It’s a period most artists go through, when the work of others serves as gauge against which they can compare and gauge their progress. It’s helpful and sometimes satisfying as you approach what you consider an acceptable level of ability. You begin to feel as though you’re part of the club.

But for some there comes a point where you sense that this is not the path for you. You realize that you don’t really want to be in the club, however prestigious that club might be. You don’t want to be compared to the others in the club, don’t want to be limited by the constraints of the rules of the club, some of which felt arbitrary.

If I felt that the sky should be red or the fields purple, why should I not paint them in those colors?

This piece was one of the last pieces where I was still thinking about joining the club. Maybe the last one actually. I never signed it, nor do I believe I have ever shown it publicly even though the progress and quality it showed pleased me greatly.

It just didn’t seem to fit into where I saw my work going at the time.

But over the years it has become a favorite, always bringing a warm feeling when I come across it. Its sense of place and time resonates with me. Perhaps more now than when I painted in over 30 years ago.

I no longer see it as an echo of someone else. I view it as a helpful stop along the way where I was deciding which way to go.

More than that, I simply appreciate it now for what it is in front of me.

Much like Camus’ words at the top, it doesn’t seem to be trying to be what it is not.

It has its own sense of being. It just is what it is.

And though it took time to come to this recognition, I like what it is.

Here’s a song that came on while I was writing this. Its tone seemed so perfect for the feeling I was getting from Summerfield that I can’t resist sharing it. This is Blue Skies from Tom Waits. It’s a stark contrast to his The Earth Died Screaming that I included in a post a few days back.

This is one of his earlier songs so maybe this is his Summerfield?

Who knows?

Doesn’t matter. It just is what it is. And that is all I need to know.