We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.
–Buddha
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It’s an idea that we all too often forget, that our thoughts can form who we are. I know for myself, the thought that I was an artist was the most crucial step I made in becoming one. Once I had made that decision that, yes, I was an artist, every decision after that that contributed to me being an artist came much easier. This was the road I was going to follow and any action that occurred would take place based on that fact.
But it took a long time to reach that point where I determined that I was indeed an artist. In fact, for quite some time i was embarrassed to say it when someone would ask what I did. It just sounded too presumptuous to state it aloud even though in my mind it had become fact. So I would say I was painter. It sounded safer.
But inevitably, the person asking the question would determine that what I meant by painter was that I was a house painter and ask what it would cost to get their living room painted. I guess I looked more Sherwin Williams than Salvador Dali. So I decided that I better just say that I was an artist. Just less confusion and besides, that is what my mind had already patterned itself in the shape of that word.
And, like Buddha said, joy followed. Hopefully, it will stay with me like that shadow.
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The painting at the top is titled Shadowsong. It’s a new piece, 6″ by 8″ on paper, that is headed to Erie for my November show, Alchemy, at the Kada Gallery. Usually when I have an image of a musician, I will follow on the blog with a video. So, in keeping with habit, here is The Train From Kansas City by Neko Case, a favorite of mine. Plus , it has lots of film of trains. have a great day.
After reading a recent Op-Ed piece in the NY Times from psychologist Daniel Goleman provocatively titled Rich People Just Care Less, which puts forward a theory that some of the problems caused by the growing inequality between the upper and lower classes may be the result of a lack of empathy by those in power, I was going to write once again about the the apparent empathy deficit in this world. But this as far as I can go with it today. It seems obvious to me that no amount of logic or evidence or words of shame can sway the actions of those lacking in empathy. Need we look any further for evidence than the current stalemate in Washington or the case now before the Supreme Court that will effectively take off all limits on campaign donations, further squelching the voice of the least powerful and most vulnerable?
No, I am not in the mood to go on with this today. I throw up my hands and say “So what!”
Let’s listen to some music that fits the title. Here’s one of my favorites, the great Chet Baker from 1964 with his version of the Miles Davis classic, So What. Good music to chill to.
The rational part of my brain always wants to shrug off coincidence as mere matters of probability but I still am excited in a way when I experience it, even when the coincidences are seemingly mundane, not appearing as some sort of cosmic omen or example of the universe’s synchronicity.
Take this past weekend. I had one of those weird moments when I was singing a song to myself and just a short time later it pops up on the car radio. Now, that doesn’t seem like too much of a coincidence. I mean, I’m sure most of us have had this experience, especially when a song is popular and regularly played on our favorite station. I know this used to happen to me all the time as a kid, when I would be humming a song and would flip on the radio and there it was, almost synchronized in its timing. But this recent time was with a song from 1967 that was not a classic song but a novelty hit, Judy in Disguise (With Glasses), from what was considered a bubblegum band of the time, John Fred and the Playboys.
I shrugged it off with a smile. It is an infectious song, after all. Besides, who wants to think that their destiny is somehow entwined with this song?
Then on Sunday evening, we were watching the Martin Scorsese produced Boardwalk Empireon HBO. A few days before this, I had written a post for this blog that was titled Acres of Diamonds, about the famed inspirational speech from Temple University founder Russell Conwell. The episode this night was also titled Acres of Diamonds and briefly played a recording of the speech performed by Conwell.
This coincidence gave me more of a pause than Judy in Disguise. It just struck me as odd that I had chosen to write about this story on just the weekend that it was also referenced on the TV show. It was a somewhat famous speech in its time but is pretty obscure today.
Coincidence or omen , a symbol of deeper meaning? Some view coincidence as evidence of a universal consciousness or of God’s directing hand at work. I don’t know that we can ever know with any certainty of such things. I know that I would like to believe that these pop culture coincidences somehow demonstrate that I am closer to the center of the labyrinth that is life, but, as I said, the rational part of me tells me to take it easy– if it’s a symbol, it will reveal itself in due time. If not, it’s just a fun coincidence.
What do you think this is trying to tell me? Maybe the message was a warning about buying those pants. Message received…
There are some pieces in my studio that will always be with me , some because they are very personal pieces, virtual parts of my memory. Others because they are somewhat lacking and I wouldn’t want them out in the world. Then there are some that stay simply because I want them here. This piece is one of those.
It is painted on a piece of our old upright piano , the lid that opened on its top. It’s about 8″ tall by 62″ long. You might think that this painting is about the heavy clusters of Red Roofs but for me this is a piece of escape. That cool blue ribbon of water that cuts through this painting, shown only in snips, is freedom to me, a rushing current to carry me away from the noise and chaos of the gathered village. Or better yet, I could become the river and move easily and forever– hopefully– through the land, joined with the other waters of the world.
I find myself thinking a lot when I look at this piece, which I do most everyday as it is mounted above the large window in my studio. It gives me pause and makes me think about being quiet internally, stilling the spinning wheels. But most of all, it makes me wish I was that river.
I call this piece Wish I Was a River, sort of after the Joni Mitchell song, River. However, her chorus goes “ I wish I had a river…” Maybe I’m being greedy here but I want to be the river. Maybe I’d let her skate away on me. I don’t know.
Sometimes songs get stuck in my head for a long time and I find myself humming or singing them without thinking for many weeks. Sometimes it can be irritating when the song is one that begins to grate on my nerves but stays on because of a catchy melody or verse. But lately, there have been two songs that keep popping up quite unexpectedly, both early 70’s soul classics with positive messages that I find myself glad in having them stick around.
The first is Be Thankful for What You Got from William DeVaughn, who I guess would fall into the category of one-hit wonder. While it may seem to celebrate the gangsta lifestyle of Cadillacs and street-cruising, it’s message is that you don’t need material possessions to hold your head high if you can simply be thankful for what you got. A very simple message but one that holds true and strengthens through the infectious beat and chorus plus its Curtis Mayfield-like vocal stylings. This is an extended version with some great cool vibraphone work and a video of striking imagery.
The second is Ooh Child from the Five Stairsteps, a family band from Chicago that preceded the Jackson Five and was for a while the first family of soul. This song was a huge hit and has been covered by a number of artists. Another simple message that really resonates.
Have a great Sunday and be thankful for what you got…
I am in Alexandria today for my Gallery Talk at the Principle Gallery and to drop off some new work there. That includes the piece shown here, Iconic Moment, a 12″ by 24″ piece with copper leaf on masonite. I thought I’d have a little road music here today. It’s a great version of Bob Dylan‘s Everything is Broken by bluesman RL Burnside. Great rhythm for the road.
Have a great Saturday and if you’re in the Alexandria area stop in and say hello.
I usually take a small group of new work with me for the Gallery Talk I give each September at the Principle Gallery, which takes place this Saturday at the Alexandria gallery. It’s nice to have a few new pieces to illustrate some of the points I am trying to make during the talk. This is one of the new paintings that will be going with me, The New Revelator, a 16″ by 34″ piece on paper.
I’ve been finishing this piece over the last few days and it has underwent a dramatic transformation during the last stages, one that took it from a piece that was struggling to find its identity to one that has what I feel is a powerful presence. When I look at it I see the bands in the field that run towards the center as being not only a crop but as a representation of some sort of communal knowledge or power that runs through our world, unseen. The Red Tree stands at the center, joining this gathering knowledge with the greater power of the universe that I see represented here by the open horizon behind it. There is an ethereal quality in the descending hills, one that gives a feeling of movement through time especially when coupled with the breaking sky. The Red Tree is the new revelator here, exposing the hidden powers of the universe to those who want to see.
That might seem a bit of a stretch for some, as far as what they see in this painting. Again, I remind you that this is only what I see here, what this painting holds for me in an emotional sense. You might see it as simply a landscape with interesting forms and colors. That is good enough. Or you may not like it all which, too, is okay. Whatever the case, the painting stands as it now, hopefully revealing something for you.
The New Revelator will be at the Principle Gallery this Saturday. My Gallery Talk there starts at 1 PM and I will be in the gallery before and after if you would like to stop in and say hello.
For now, here’s an interesting version of the great old Blind Willie Johnson song, John the Revelator, from Nick Cave, who always seems to have a unique take on most things.
Yesterday I checked my blog with a search to see if I had ever written here before about that day’s subject, Long John Baldry. I found that I had only mentioned him once in a post from back in 2009. I read the older blog and it made me chuckle. It was titled You Can’t Judge a Book… from a song that Baldry had once covered and had to do with how our preconceptions are often wrong about people. It immediately brought to mind something that had happened over the weekend here at the studio.
My niece, Sarah, brought a friend and her husband to visit the studio from their NYC home. Sarah didn’t share much about her friend outside of saying that they danced together and that she was a filmmaker for one of the large big-name auction houses. I had no idea about what her husband did. That was the extent of my knowledge outside of knowing they had been married the year before in New Orleans. But they arrived and we had a wonderful visit. Both were charming and inquisitive, asking real questions and relating their own experiences in response to my answers. They made me feel comfortable in describing my work and process, not something that a lot of people can do easily. We visited for a couple of hours and they headed back to the city.
During our visit we learned a bit about the friend’s husband. I won’t use their names out of respect for their privacy. He was in the music business in some fashion. He was DJ and had spent a lot of time touring here and abroad. He also was working on soundtracking films. When I asked what sort of music he worked in, he said, in an almost apologetic way, that it was mainly rap and hip-hop. It struck me in a curious way. He went on to explain that it was the music of when and where he grew up, in the neighborhoods of NYC. Again, this was said in an apologetic manner.
I didn’t think much about until after they left and I decided to see if I could find out more about his music. He had a prodigious reputation in the rap genre, with over twenty years in the business as a DJ and producer for a pretty big name rapper. He ran his own newer record company and has released an album of his work only weeks before our meeting. I watched a couple of videos of his work and listened to several songs. I am not an authority on rap in any form but it was powerful stuff.
I was really impressed and thought back to his apologetic description of his work. I understood it then. He didn’t want to be judged and was trying to make it easy for me to not judge him. I mean, here I was, a middle-aged white guy with gray hair out in the country— not exactly a prime candidate for a hip-hop connoisseur. He had surely heard the venom directed toward his musical genre before from people who looked like me.
So, he judged me before I could judge him. I understood that. It’s what I would have done had I been in his place. My only regret is that it robbed me of an opportunity to ask the many questions that I formed in looking up his work after they had left the studio. It would have been fascinating to compare our creative processes, to see how he synthesized his influences. I got the impression from our talk that, though we worked in vastly different environments with disparate influences, we both working on a similar creative rhythm, expressing emotion within the framework of our own personal environments.
Well, the next time we will both know and won’t worry about judging one another. Here’s the original post from back in 2009:
I’ve just put the final details on a couple of paintings that will be part of my solo show at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. The show opens June 12th and I’m scheduled to deliver the work to the gallery a week before so I’m in the final stages of preparation. This is my tenth one-man show at the gallery and before that I did two shows as part of a group of painters from the Corning , NY area that was dubbed the Finger Lakes School.
I particularly remember one moment from the first show with that group. There was a pretty good crowd and several of us from the group mingled, answering questions and such. I had a small break in the conversation and I heard a female voice from behind ask her companion where we were from. Her friend answered that we were from the Finger Lakes region in New York. He said it was a pretty rural area with a lot of wineries and farms.
“Well, you know, they do look like farmers,” she replied.
I think I did a spit take. Over the years I often think back to that lady’s comment and sometimes laugh. Maybe we shouldn’t have all worn our overalls and straw hats that night. It just reminds me how people judge others by that initial glimpse and how often they end up being wrong. Actually, I’ve come to the conclusion that, in the end, I would prefer being mistaken for a farmer than an artist anyhow. Offhand, I can think of more positive attributes for the farmer. So, if you can make it to the opening look for the guy who looks like a farmer…
That brings me to a song, You Can’t Judge a Book, that was originally written by blues great Willie Dixon and made popular by Bo Diddley. My favorite version was from Long John Baldry, one of the pioneers of the British blues/rock movement in the early 60’s and a guy who had real panache, but I couldn’t find a version online. But while searching I came across an interesting jazzy version of the song from Ben Sidran. Give a listen and enjoy…
I love to watch the hands of guitarists or pianists when they are playing. Maybe it’s just a desirous envy for a talent and dexterity that I will never attain or maybe it’s just the particular rhythm of the two hands working to create this sound that has a harmony and life of its own. I don’t really know but whenever I see films of piano or guitar players I am mesmerized.
I saw Stevie Ray Vaughan at a show in Utica, NY back in 1986, I believe. It was a great show although the quality of the sound was not great, poorly mixed with a lot of distortion. From what I understand, this wasn’t uncommon for SRV shows. I just wish we had better seats to better see his playing hands.
I came across this video on YouTube of Stevie Ray Vaughan playing acoustically for a French interview from 1982. It’s shot in just the way I like, with the hands highlighted in a way that shows their syncopated dance. Just wish it were longer.
PS–The image at the top is an older oddity, an experiment from the mid-90’s, painted in watercolor and a Sharpie marker. The figure was a simplified and stylized representation of the way in which the figures from my early Exilesseries were painted, composed from blocks of color. It was never meant to be seen outside my studio but I like this for some reason …
I have been listening to my young friend Michael Mattice‘s debut CD, Comin’ Home, quite a bit lately. It’s been really well received, putting him regularly near the top of the “hot releases” in acoustic blues list from Amazon. The mp3 album has been as high as #18 on their top 100 and currently sits at #84 in acoustic blues. A really prodigious start for a self-produced album with no real promotion outside of the word of mouth created by Mike’s shows. Like I said here before, based not on sheer talent (of which he has loads) but on his devotion and drive, I see big things for him.
But the point of this is that listening to Mike brought me back to one of my first musical loves, the late blues great John Lee Hooker. Oh, I had favorite bands and songs but it was John Lee who I felt first spoke to me directly. I remember coming across an old beaten up copy of one of his albums from the 50’s when i was in my teens. It was a revelation, a sonic slap in the face with distorted electric wails coming from his guitar, all in a mesmerizing rhythm.
I didn’t know anything about the man at the time, didn’t know that he couldn’t read or his place in the history of the blues. Didn’t even know of his rebirth a few years before my finding his album as a result of the British Invasion of the 1960’s, when youngs Brits discovered and brought the music of the great bluesmen to the world’s attention, giving them new and greater fame than they had had in their primes.
None of that mattered. It was just the groove on that album that counted.
I found and listened to more of John Lee’s music over the years. I was intrigued by the constancy of much of it, the driving rhythm that is his signature which pervades most of his work. Some might call it repetition. I didn’t see it that way. It was all about nuance and subtle explorations within the form and performance. You know a John Lee Hooker song immediately but each is different and carries its own weight and emotion.
I carried that thought with me when I began painting and hoped that my work would operate in that same way. I wanted to have that repetitive quality so that the work would be easily identified as mine but to have the differentiation occur in the individual performance of the act of painting. By limiting what I painted I was able to go deeper into an exploration of the subtle aspects of the composition. They sometime looked similar but were often widely different in tone and emotion.
When it works I feel like John Lee Hooker must have when he was in his groove. One of my favorite lines from one of his albums, I believe it was a live set from Soledad Prison, was- “If you can’t dig this, you got a hole in your soul… and that ain’t good”
Here’s a video from the 60’s when he was in midst of being found by the youth around the world. It’s one of his trademark songs, Boom Boom.
Late addition: Here’s the song from Soledad Prison– Boogie Everywhere I Go. Be careful– it’s a deep groove.
We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.
Redtree Times 