Slow River Blues– Coming to the West End Gallery
People disagreeing on all just about everything, yep
Makes you stop and all wonder why
Why only yesterday I saw somebody on the street
Who just couldn’t help but cry
Oh, this ol’ river keeps on rollin’, though
No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow
And as long as it does, I’ll just sit here
And watch the river flow
–Bob Dylan, Watching the River Flow (1971)
Another day.
Yep.
Another day filled with staining and sanding frames. Varnishing paintings. Doing little diddly things that seem inconsequential but are absolutely necessary. Maybe even finally putting some paintings in their frames, which means I am making real progress towards completing preparations for my upcoming solo show at the West End Gallery, which opens in a little less than two weeks.
As I described yesterday, this year’s show has been a rough go. Even when I am at the top of my health and fitness, the prep work for my shows is a physical grind. Years ago, I thought about getting some help, maybe hiring a studio assistant who could take on much of the burden of this part of the process so that I could spend more time actually painting.
But as much as I savored the idea of someone here to help me out there was one catch: They would be here.
I knew I could never have someone here in my studio with me, even someone I liked very much. I am a solo act in many ways. Though I have been the recipient of much assistance in my life– for which I am truly grateful– I consider myself fiercely independent. I figure I built about 90% of our home by myself. If a job seemed to require two people, I often figured out how to do it by myself.
After the fall from the ladder which led me to painting, I had already scheduled the septic tank company to come set the tank. I was too busted up to do anything but supervise. A friend came and did the grunt work which killed me. I wanted my hands to be on anything that went into our home.
That same desire has also applied here in the studio. It might be even stronger. I have always turned down any offers of assistance. The idea of having someone here in my studio would drive me crazy. I am even tremendously uncomfortable when people simply come into the studio, even Cheri. She only comes over here once in a great while and only for a moment or so.
As irrational as it sounds– and it does– I need my space to be mine alone. And that applies doubly to my paintings. When they leave the studio, I need to know that I have done everything possible by myself in their creation.
Does that really matter? Probably not. I don’t think anyone outside of me gives a damn and it most likely doesn’t come into play in their assessment of my work.
It’s just something I need to do. I began painting seriously when I realized it was something that could be mine alone, for better or worse.
There are not a lot of things in this world where you can make such a claim.
This doesn’t seem to have much to do with the painting at the top, does it? You might think that, but you would be wrong. I chose this smaller painting, Slow River Blues, today because it represents the ideal situation for me. It is the quiet and calmness that will come after the work for this show is done and delivered to the West End Gallery next week. A relaxing of the mind that allows me to simply sit for a moment and silently watch the river flow by.
In my head, I am already watching the slow flow of that river.
Well, I don’t have a river outside my studio windows. But I do have a pond (that I dug myself) just beyond the trees and if I stand on my tiptoes I can just see its surface.
That will suffice.
Here is a song from Dylan that speaks to this post pretty well. Plus, it has a bluesy rhythm that I hope carries me through the day. This is Watching the River Flow.
A reminder: Slow River Blues is included in The Jubilee Dance, my 25th solo exhibit at the West End Gallery that opens Friday, October 16. There is an opening reception at the gallery on October 16 that runs from 5-7 PM. Hope to see you there.
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