Even though this post only ran last August, I thought it was worth replaying, if only to remind us to maintain some semblance of civility and sanity in this bitter election season. I was reminded of this post because the painting featured in it, Raised Up, went with me to the Principle Gallery for my talk there this past Saturday. It’s a piece that I like very much as is the song at the end from John Prine. Hope you’ll enjoy them as well…

Practice kindness all day to everybody and you will realize you’re already in heaven now.
—Jack Kerouac
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I am not sure what to do with these words from Jack Kerouac but I do like them and think they deserve to be passed along. I am a firm believer of kindness in all forms and believe that it is a pathway to a better life here in this world.
When I was waiting tables I found that my own attitude and demeanor often dictated how others responded to me. If I smiled and acted congenially, more often than not the person I was dealing with responded in the same manner. We are reactionary creatures and we instinctively respond according to the tone we encounter– rudeness with rudeness and anger with anger.
And kindness with kindness.
It’s our choice. If we can fight against our reactionary nature and choose to act and react with kindness, we can shape our world and then perhaps realize that a form of heaven might be within our grasp.
I have never had the faith or certainty of those who believe that there is an actual heaven waiting beyond this world. I would like to but I just don’t have it within me. So, for me, if there is to be a heaven it is something to be sought in the here and now. By that, I mean creating an environment that is honest, kind and gentle. A life that is peaceful and quiet–that would be heaven to me.
So, when you’re out there today and face rudeness and anger, make the choice to react in a gentler manner and be kind. Your world might be one small step closer to heaven.
This quote reminded me of a song from one of my favorites, John Prine. The title pretty much sums it up: He Was In Heaven Before He Died.
Many, many thanks to everyone who came out to the Gallery Talk at the Principle Gallery on Saturday. While I wasn’t as sharp as I would have liked, everything (including the giveaways at the talk’s end!) went off really well and it was great to speak with so many folks that I only get to see once in a great while.






This coming Saturday, September 17, is my annual Gallery Talk at the Principle Gallery in Old Town Alexandria, VA. This is my 14th Gallery Talk at the Principle and it’s been a lot of fun through the years. There’s generally a lot of give and take between the audience and myself in the form of questions and comments and something new and unexpected often comes to light. I almost always find myself saying something I didn’t expect to say or learning something new about my own work from the comments from someone at the talk.
I’m sitting in my studio looking at an empty canvas. Not too long ago it was not empty. No, I spent the better part of the afternoon yesterday working on this canvas, a 36″ square that was prepped beforehand with gesso and a first layer of black paint. Several hours spent and not a minute of it felt smooth or in rhythm. The paint didn’t come off the brush in the way that I expected or desired. The composition seemed to just go nowhere ,leaving bland and lifeless bits of nothing littered all over the canvas. I never felt a flow, which is that quality I have described before where one mark leads to the next as though you are reading the lines and strokes on the canvas like they were revelatory tea leaves.
August has been vanquished, mercifully.
I’ve been looking at my Exiles series quite a bit lately. From the mid 1990’s, it’s a highly personal series of faces and figures that kind of act as a landing spot for me to place my rawest emotions during trying times. The piece shown here is titled Martyr and remains an enigma to me, mainly because I have never had thoughts of martyrdom for myself. But I have been looking at this quite a bit because of a recent request that I revisit this painting at some point in the future.






All day I think about it, then at night I say it.