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Archive for the ‘Painting’ Category

Choose!

Posted in Painting, Quote, Recent Paintings, tagged , , , , , on May 25, 2026| 3 Comments »

The Choice (2017)- Coming to Principle Gallery

I won’t tell you that the world matters nothing, or the world’s voice, or the voice of society. They matter a good deal. They matter far too much. But there are moments when one has to choose between living one’s own life, fully, entirely, completely—or dragging out some false, shallow, degrading existence that the world in its hypocrisy demands. You have that moment now. Choose!

― Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s Fan (1892)

I am including the painting at the top in my upcoming solo exhibit, Flow, at the Principle Gallery. As I have pointed out here, this year’s show, my 27th at the Principle, will be a hybrid retrospective, mixing both new and older work. This painting is titled The Choice and is 18″ by 24″ on canvas. It was painted in 2017 and has long been a favorite of mine. This painting always hit hard with me, both in its visual pop, which it has in spades, and the meaning I take from it.

That meaning, which always jumps out at me when I stand before this piece, is that we all choose the path we take in this life. For some it is an unconscious choice but for others it is a deliberate decision.

We all too often walk through life on a path guided by the expectations and demands of others.  Maybe it is family, friends, society– the whole world. We seldom if ever stray from that path, following their rules of the road and accepting their definitions of who and what we are.

And so it goes.  We shuffle down the path and play the part. We don’t make waves, don’t step out of line, keep our heads down, and take what we’re given. And there is considerable pressure from others to do so. It is a heavy burden trying to live up to the expectations and opinions of others.

When we are young, most of us wants to be pointed out or be considered the odd one who is out of place. So, while we have the desire to break away, we often keep in place in the safe security of the crowded path.

We all want to be included, to be part of the club. We want to please others and not disappoint them by not living up to their expectations.

For some of us, this path continues throughout our lives and for many that is enough. And there is nothing wrong with that. How can anyone decry someone choosing to be safe and secure?

But for some, that is not nearly enough. The words at the top from Oscar Wilde‘s play, Lady Windermere’s Fan, perfectly capture this feeling.

For those folks there is a nagging thought, a strong desire to veer off that path and break free from the bonds of society and its imposed expectations. You want to stand apart, to live in the world in your own way, and be that person that you see yourself to be. To set aside the labels imposed on you so that you can begin defining yourself.

To be that person you know you are.

It sounds simple, even easy. Of course, it’s not. The pressure of pleasing the desires and expectations of others is replaced by other stresses created by the lack of the safety net that that one has when staying on the main road. But that is mostly overcome by the knowledge that you are on your own path, with as much freedom available as your dare to grab.

It can be hard going, not for the squeamish. But it is there for those of us who never felt at home in the crowd on that main road.

It is an always available choice.

Choose…

Here’s a tune whose chorus has lived rent-free in my head for nearly 50 years. Here’s David Bromberg from How Late’ll You Play Til?, his 1976 album.  This is Get Up and Go. Here’s that chorus:

You’ve got a mind of your own
Why don’t you use it?
You know your way home or did you lose it?
Well, you knew right where you were going
When you walked up to that door
And anytime you wanna leave
Get up to go

Fine words to bear in mind if you’re at that spot on your path and have to choose which to follow. Whichever you choose, get up and go.

You heard me– git!

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Flow

Posted in Early Paintings, Event, Painting, Poetry, tagged , , , on May 11, 2026| 4 Comments »

 

Flow– Coming to Principle Gallery, June

Quiet friend who has come so far,

feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.

In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.

— Rainer Maria Rilke, Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower (1922)

My annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery opens in a little over a month, on Friday, June 12th. I have been in getting things together for the show in recent weeks, as I normally would though at a much slower pace. Still battling fatigue which requires that there be an almost equal amount of rest for any real effort made. This was to be expected after my recent radiation treatments so early in the year, the Principle Gallery and I decided that this year’s show would be a hybrid retrospective exhibit, a mix of new work and older work, covering the nearly thirty years my work has been showing there, as well as some representing my earliest work.

 I would prefer a show of only new work for this show, my 27th at the Principle. There’s something exciting about unveiling a group of new work. Sometimes it’s exciting like opening a wrapped Christmas present and sometimes it’s more like being handed the gun during a game of Russian Roulette. You never know.

But things being as they are, I am happy to put together this hybrid show. It’s been really interesting going through my older work and reexamining them with a newly critical eye. Fortunately, it’s gone pretty easily thus far.  The hard part is not in trying to determine which pieces fit into this show as I see it but rather which pieces I cannot include.

I believe that is because the title and theme for this year’s show is Flow. I wanted this show to show how the work has changed over the last thirty years but also how it has maintained a throughline in its identity and feeling.

A continuum.

A flow.

Like drops of water in a stream that moves forward and merges with and grows as it runs toward its place in the great waters of the earth.

I cross a small footbridge every morning while walking to the studio. It’s a runoff creek that dries up in the summer, much more often now than it did thirty years ago. But on those days when the creek is running, the thought that this humble trickle of water is destined to someday move through the Chesapeake Bay and merge with the Atlantic brings to mind the unity that makes up this world.

It seems small but contains greatness.

That’s how I would like to have this work come across, as part of the flow that sees small drops merging into a greater body.

I think the final lines from the poem at the top, Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower, sums it up beautifully:

And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.

These were, fittingly, the final lines of the final poem in his 1922 book, Sonnets to Orpheus. These lines spoke to me because when I began painting, I felt unheard in the world. Small and insignificant.  Each painting was a small droplet put out into the stream. Over the years, these droplets moved from stream to river, bay, and ocean, continually gaining momentum, proclaiming in its voice that comes from its humble origins in a tiny creek running through the wood: I flow, I am.

I flow, I am…

 

 

 

 

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Too Many Moons

Posted in Painting, Uncategorized, tagged , , , on September 24, 2024| Leave a Comment »

GC Myers- Too Many Moons

Too Many Moons— Coming to Principle Gallery

Nothing is more fatal to happiness than the remembrance of happiness.

—André Gide, The Immoralist

I am still trying to figure out what I am seeing in this painting that contains what I perceive to be multiple moons. It feels playful on one hand but also feels like a representation of some sort of remembrance of the past.

I don’t think it represents a longing or nostalgia for the past. Like the words above from Gide, I tend to believe that nostalgia discounts and takes away from the wonders of the here and now or, at least, distracts us from fully appreciating and engaging with the present.

No, this feels less like nostalgia and more like a deep recollection of the past, where one is trying to determine the precise course that brought them to the present moment. All the twists and turns of life, the ups and downs. The right decisions and the wrong.

Everything meaningful that took place while going unnoticed or unappreciated at the time. All those moments that made us what we see ourselves as being today.

It’s an impossible task and maybe that’s what this represents– that there are too many moons to recollect. To appreciate the present moment and where you are.

Hmm. That’s not too bad for 6 AM. I might go with that. It works for this morning, at least.

This painting, Too Many Moons, 8″ by 16″ on canvas, is coming with me this Saturday, September 28, when I head down to the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. I will be giving my annual Gallery Talk there on that day, beginning at 1 PM. It is usually an hour of a little talk, many questions and a few answers, a free drawing for one of my paintings (see Saturday’s post!) and a few other surprises. Hope to see you there.

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Dan Boone’s Elbow Room

Posted in Painting, Poetry, tagged , , on August 24, 2021| 2 Comments »

GC Myers- Elbow Room sm

“Elbow Room“- Currently at the West End Gallery

Alone he trod the shadowed trails;
But he was lord of a thousand vales
As he roved Kentucky, far and near,
Hunting the buffalo, elk, and deer.
What joy to see, what joy to win
So fair a land for his kith and kin,
Of streams unstained and woods unhewn!
” Elbow room! ” laughed Daniel Boone.

–Arthur Guiterman, Daniel Boone

“Elbow room!” cried Daniel Boone. 

This phrase always comes to my mind whenever the name of Daniel Boone or the phrase elbow room comes up.

This doesn’t come about often but it happens.

I think I must have read or heard the poem from Arthur Guiterman, whose verse is shown above, as kid. Guiterman (1871-1943) was an American poet who wrote mainly humorous verse that often dealt with those things that are lost in the rush of modern progress.

Things like elbow room.

For example, here’s his On the Vanity of Earthly Greatness:

The tusks that clashed in mighty brawls
Of mastodons, are billiard balls.

The sword of Charlemagne the Just
Is ferric oxide, known as rust.

The grizzly bear whose potent hug
Was feared by all, is now a rug.

Great Caesar’s bust is on my shelf,
And I don’t feel so well myself.

I think knowing the Daniel Boone poem from an early age ingrained the idea of elbow room in me, that desire for wide open spaces or forests free from the encroachment of people. It certainly shows up in my work, even in the title of piece at the top. I know when I was considering a title for this painting after it was completed, that line “Elbow room!” cried Daniel Boone immediately entered my thoughts.

I don’t want to get into the reality or the myth of Daniel Boone this morning. I don’t know or care if he killed a b’ar (that’s bear, for those of you who didn’t know the old TV series and song) when he was just three though I kind of think that this particular claim might be bordering on myth. I just bring him up for his place in this poem and the idea of elbow room.

He and I share an affinity for that.

I will end with the last lines of the final verse of Guiterman’s poem on the man. In the afterlife, this poem has him frolicking among the heavens in what feels like a weird sci-fi scenario, one that made me laugh out loud when I read this poem again for the first time in probably 50 years:

He makes his camp on heights untrod,
The steps of the shrine, alone with God.
Through the woods of the vast, on the plains of space
He hunts the pride of the mammoth race
And the dinosaur of the triple horn,
The manticore and the unicorn,
As once by the broad Missouri’s flow
He followed the elk and the buffalo.
East of the sun and west of the moon,
” Elbow room! ” laughs Daniel Boone.

Old Dan Boone out hunting unicorn on the plains of outer space.

Strange and a little politically incorrect? Yeah. But that’s what you get when you mix together myth, reality and a little elbow room.

” Elbow room! ” laughs Daniel Boone.

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In Cool Air/ No Road

Posted in Painting, Poetry, tagged , , , , on July 29, 2021| Leave a Comment »

GC Myers- In Cool Air rev sm

“In Cool Air“– Now at the West End Gallery

Drafting a world where no such road will run
From you to me;
To watch that world come up like a cold sun,
Rewarding others, is my liberty.
Not to prevent it is my will’s fulfillment.
Willing it, my ailment.

— No Road, Philip Larkin

There’s a lot to do this morning plus my computer is a little glitchy this morning so I won’t say much. I thought I’d pair the small piece above from my current West End Gallery show, In Cool Air, with a reading by Tom O’Bedlam of No Road from poet Philip Larkin. Not sure that they fully mesh in terms of tone and message but I am a sucker for Larkin’s verse with its sometimes cynical and slightly misanthropic viewpoint.

I especially like the final stanza shown above. There’s something to it that I can somewhat equate with what I do.

Or not. Who knows, really?

All I know that on a busy morning, these lines and this small painting felt like a small respite.

Good enough for me.

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Pax Terram

Posted in Biographical, In the Studio, Music, Painting, Poetry, tagged , , , , , on July 26, 2021| Leave a Comment »

GC Myers- Pax Terram 2021

“Pax Terram“– Now at the West End Gallery

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

― Wendell Berry, The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry

The painting at the top here is a new, late addition to my solo show currently hanging at the West End Gallery. It’s 12″ by 16″ on aluminum panel and is titled Pax Terram which loosely translates as Land of Peace.

It’s one of those pieces that are important for me as a means to alleviating my anxiety. The process of creating a harmony in the painting requires a deep focus which stabilizes me. It makes me take a breath and step back from the concerns that sometimes plague me. It’s much like stepping back from the easel while painting to see how things look from a distance.

A benefit of using this process to do such a thing is that when I am done, its calmness inducing effects don’t end. The painting itself continues the work. Looking at Pax Terram affects me in much the same way as the actual process of painting.

It reminds me very much of a favorite Wendell Berry poem, one of this better known works that I have shared here before, titled The Peace of Wild Things. Reading it feels like the stepping back I mentioned above.

A pause and a breath.

This poem has been translated into a choral work that also has placid charms. It’s from composer Jake Runestad and the performance below is from the choral group Conspirare.

Seems like a good way to kick off what looks to be a hectic week.

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Hejira

Posted in Literature/ Books, Music, Painting, tagged , , , , on July 25, 2021| 2 Comments »

He was different; innocent of heart, and full of good will, which nobody wanted, this castaway, that, like a man transplanted into another planet, was separated by an immense space from his past and by an immense ignorance from his future.

― Joseph Conrad, Amy Foster

GC Myers-To Other Worlds

“To Other Worlds“- At the West End Gallery

Wow. That’s quite a passage from Joseph Conrad‘s short story, Amy Foster, which was about a shipwrecked emigrant landing in Britain, unable to speak the language. He learns a bit of English and weds a kind local servant girl, Amy Foster, but remains always the outcast, unable to fully express his past or his dreams for the future to anyone around him. His native language is looked upon with suspicion and derision. He dies asking for water in his native language, nobody understanding his request.

I don’t see this new painting, To Other Worlds, in the same tragic light as Conrad’s story but it has that sense of  being in a world that feels completely strange and alien. Maybe it is a world where your language and forms of expression seem odd and untranslatable to those you come across. Your past is, like that described in the Conrad passage, is separated from you by an immense space, forever unknown to those in your present. Your future seems hazy at best as you are unable to plan in world in which you can’t communicate effectively and that you don’t fully understand.

It’s very much the feeling I felt from my early Exiles series. I was still learning to harness the communicative aspects of art and often felt alien in this world. I certainly never felt like I fully understood this place or its people.

I guess that part hasn’t changed significantly. But I have somewhat reconciled my past, present and future with my work. Just being able to communicate with an expression of some sort of inner feeling has made this world seem less strange.

But that feeling of being in a world where one feels out of place in nearly every aspect still sometimes shows up in my work. I think it’s important o hold onto that feeling so that you can recognize it in others and attempt to let them know you see them and understand the landscape they are trying to find their way through.

Okay? Okay.

Here’s this week’s Sunday morning music. It’s Hejira from Joni Mitchell. It fits here in that hejira is a word for a migration, a flight from danger which often places those who flee in the role of the exile, the stranger in a strange land. Joni’s lyrics for this piece, like most of her songs, are wonderful. Certainly feels right for this stranger in this strange land on a gray wet Sunday morning.

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Exultation

Posted in Event, Literature/ Books, Painting, tagged , , , , , on July 15, 2021| Leave a Comment »

GC Myers- Exultation 2021

“Exultation“- Hanging Now at the West End Gallery

Say you could view a time-lapse film of our planet: what would you see? Transparent images moving through light, “an infinite storm of beauty.”

The beginning is swaddled in mists, blasted by random blinding flashes. Lava pours and cools; seas boil and flood. Clouds materialize and shift; now you can see the earth’s face through only random patches of clarity. The land shudders and splits, like pack ice rent by a widening lead. Mountains burst up, jutting and dull and soften before your eyes, clothed in forests like felt. The ice rolls up, grinding green land under water forever; the ice rolls back. Forests erupt and disappear like fairy rings. The ice rolls up-mountains are mowed into lakes, land rises wet from the sea like a surfacing whale- the ice rolls back.

A blue-green streaks the highest ridges, a yellow-green spreads from the south like a wave up a strand. A red dye seems to leak from the north down the ridges and into the valleys, seeping south; a white follows the red, then yellow-green washes north, then red spreads again, then white, over and over, making patterns of color too swift and intricate to follow. Slow the film. You see dust storms, locusts, floods, in dizzying flash frames.

Zero in on a well-watered shore and see smoke from fires drifting. Stone cities rise, spread, and then crumble, like patches of alpine blossoms that flourish for a day an inch above the permafrost, that iced earth no root can suck, and wither in a hour. New cities appear, and rivers sift silt onto their rooftops; more cities emerge and spread in lobes like lichen on rock. The great human figures of history, those intricate, spirited tissues that roamed the earth’s surface, are a wavering blur whose split second in the light was too brief an exposure to yield any images. The great herds of caribou pour into the valleys and trickle back, and pour, a brown fluid.

Slow it down more, come closer still. A dot appears, like a flesh-flake. It swells like a balloon; it moves, circles, slows, and vanishes. This is your life.

― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

I’ve been wanting to share this passage from Annie Dillard for some time. When looking for something to partner with the new painting at the top, Exultation, it came to mind.

I see this painting as being about the appreciation for the wonder of the moment in this place. Our whole existence as a species has been a miracle of sorts, taking eons and ages for the conditions of this planet to adjust to a point where we might survive and even thrive.

It is a precious and precarious existence.

As Annie Dillard makes clear, the mark made by humans is but a blip in the time-lapse film of this planet’s history. And each of us, from the greatest figures in history to the most humble among us, is no more than a fleck of dust whirling as background noise.

Our time was always going to be limited in the grand scheme of things. It took, as I say, a miraculous concoction of conditions to create the delicate environment required to sustain us. But that environment is equally as fragile. We may well be shortening our own screen time in that film of this planet’s lifetime.

But in our best of times, as few as they may have been or will be, it has been place of great beauty and abundance. A place that allows us at those moments to sense a seeming harmony between the earth, sea, sky, and all that is beyond this world.

Perhaps our tenuous existence on this planet’s timeline makes those rare days even more precious. Times to exult.

Exultation is a 24″ by 36″ painting on canvas now hanging at the West End Gallery. It is included in my solo show there, Through the Trees, which opens tomorrow, Friday, July 16. There is an opening reception from 4-7 PM Friday at the gallery.

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New World Passage

Posted in Event, Painting, Process, Quote, Recent Paintings, Technique/History, tagged , , , on July 14, 2021| Leave a Comment »

"New World Passage"-- At the West End Gallery

We don’t receive wisdom we must discover it for ourselves.

― Marcel Proust

This painting, New World Passage, was one of those paintings that started as an idea quite some time ago. Late last autumn, in fact.

It was started with forest trees and dark rolls of land that dominate the foreground, creating almost a fence through which one would look forward. I loved the first efforts on it with the rich blues and magenta having a gemlike feel. The process at that point was all about painting the negative space, trying to balance colors and forms in the narrow slots between the trees to create something more than mere background.

It was at this stage that I ran out of steam. Actually, it was more fear than fatigue. I felt this was a deserving piece, one that was filled with some great unknown and still unseen potential at that point. I just didn’t feel up to moving forward on it out of the fear that my desire to see it finished would cause me to be hasty in my decisions which could easily drain it of all possibility.

It could sink dully back to earth instead of following the life arc I imagined for it. My thinking was that by not trying to finish it, its potential would always be there. Unfulfilled, of course. But there.

So, it sat for months and months. I kept telling myself that I would just finish it one of these days  and would count it among the pieces allotted for my annual show at the Principle Gallery. I missed that deadline, putting it off and saying that it was okay, I would just move it to the West End show. But as the months passed and the West End Gallery show came into form, this painting still sat unfinished in the studio. Its presence was almost aggravating because it served as a reminder of my cowardice and uncertainty.

It taunted me up until the final day that I had allotted for painting before moving on to final touches and framing for this show. I felt time constrained and anxious but made the decision that on that day, this painting would either live or die. I still wasn’t sure where it was going behind that fence line of trees but I dove in.

At first, the small amount of sky was going to be pale to let the deep tones shine off of the lighter background. But after doing a bit, I hated the look. It actually felt like it was sapping away the vibrance of the trees’ colors. I amped up the color, going to the Indian Yellow with hints of red and orange through it that has been my friend and companion for decades now. 

It felt right. It pushed the blues and purples and magentas up further. I added the house as destination, an end point to which the path headed.

Then I added the sun.

I wanted it there as compositional balance but the pale light one that I began with did nothing for the painting. It made the whole thing, even with the vibrant colors, feel bland. I wanted something that made it feel like this was path leading to something unknown, a trail to a strange new place.

Thus, the red sun.

It felt right immediately. No warming up to its presence was needed. It made everything come together. It felt like passing through the common known– just a few trees, fields and hills– to suddenly find yourself in a world you don’t completely recognize or understand. It looks familiar but it feels different., like you are sensing things at a higher level of awareness or comprehension.

I liked it. I liked it a lot. It has the life I had felt it might possess. I was glad that I waited because I don’t think this end point was yet there when I first thought about finishing it. It– and I– wasn’t ready to move on to a new world yet.

New World Passage is an 18″ by 24″ painting on panel that is part of Through the Trees, my new solo exhibit at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. The show opens this Friday, July 16, with an opening reception from 4-7 PM but you can see it beforehand. 

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Nocte Bleu

Posted in Favorite Things, Music, Painting, tagged , , , , , , , on July 11, 2021| Leave a Comment »

GC Myers- Nocte Bleu sm

“Nocte Bleu” – At the West End Gallery

Almost without exception, blue refers to the domain of abstraction and immateriality.

–Wassily Kandinsky

Though the Red Tree and the color red play a large part in my body of work, I am a confessed addict of the color blue. I have written in the past about instances of painting with blue where I almost feel an intoxication after hours of having my face inches from it for several hours at a time. I often have to consciously refrain from using the color at times for fear I will fall into an uncontrollable spiral where all my work is nothing but blue.

That might not be so bad, now that I think about it.

But I do let my addiction off the leash periodically, especially for my shows where there is generally at least a handful of what I would call blue pieces. The piece shown here, Nocte Bleu, is an example. It’s a new 10″ by 20″ painting on aluminum panel that is included in Through the Trees, my annual solo show at the West End Gallery that opens this coming Friday.

I almost felt guilty painting this piece, it gave me such pleasure. And it continued even after the process was done. It was one of those pieces that kept me peeking at it while it was in the studio. Just something in it that satisfied a need within me.

I understand that this doesn’t describe the painting or process or help you understand it in any way. But that’s the way it is with us addicts. Sometimes you just got to have the good stuff, the real blue.

For this Sunday morning music I am going to a favorite piece, a sort of obscure song from jazz horn player Richard Boulger and his 2008 LP Blues Twilight. Blues– see? He knows. The song is Miss Sarah, one that I have played here awhile back. I think it’s a great song to kick off a Sunday morning. Try it on for size.

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