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Archive for the ‘Painting’ Category

GC Myers- EvolutionProgress has not followed a straight ascending line, but a spiral
with rhythms of progress and retrogression, of evolution and dissolution.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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I was going through some older posts and came across this quote from Goethe.  I immediately looked over at this new painting, a 12″ by 12″ canvas, that I had been working on yesterday.  Something in it spoke to me from this quote, something that made me look at this piece differently.

It’s one of those pieces that don’t emerge smoothly from the hand or head.  Everything about bringing some of these pieces to life seems tortured and messy.  Pure struggle with nothing coming easy.  The paint doesn’t seem right and the message seems unclear.  Every move is tentative and probing, hoping that one stroke will send it down an easier path to completion.

Sometimes that happens.  A touch here and there and suddenly it takes to flight like a young bird discovering what its wings can do for the first time. Pure joy in the newly found grace and rhythm.

But sometimes it doesn’t happen and that same bird that you think should fly flutters to the ground, unsteady and unsure.  Not ready yet to take off.

At the end of the day, I felt as though this bird was somewhere in between.

But seeing these words changed my view of it.  To me, its struggle was its narrative, its story.  It is a representation of its own evolution, its own struggle to find its own form.  The sky has that rhythm of progress and retrogression and the relationship between the chair and the bare tree is a representation of an evolution of a kind.

I am still taking it in, still looking at it but am no longer focusing on the struggle of its creation.  It now has a meaning that moved past that.

I think I will call it Evolution.

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GC Myers- Door to BlissFollow your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls.
Joseph Campbell

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I call this new painting, which is 24″high  by 8″ wide on canvas, Door to Bliss.  The title refers to the well worn quote from the late mythologist Joseph Campbell, shown above, that advises us that if we work at that thing that we truly love, it will find a way to provide for us.

It will find the door that moves you forward and will open it once you have fully worked your way to it.

And from personal experience, I can attest to the truth behind the words.

I was going to write a whole spiel about setting goals and allowing and trusting your subconscious mind to make the decisions that will ultimately lead you to those doors.  But I think that simple quote and the painting itself say enough without me muddying the waters.

I often use tree trunks in the foreground of either side of my paintings to act as a sort of stage curtain which further highlights the central figure.  These trees also can be viewed as door frame through which the viewer is invited to pass.  That’s how I saw these two trunks in this piece– as points that must be worked to and passed by before entering that desired location, that place of bliss.

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GC Myers- No MailI was looking at this painting in the studio yesterday.  It’s another orphan, one of those pieces that went out into the world and came back without being able to find a home.  I normally try to figure out if there is an apparent flaw in these orphans  and often there is something that is just not right.  But sometimes I notice that these pieces are often pieces that I see as being more personal, more connected with my own life’s narrative.  This painting, called No Mail, falls into this category.  It evokes a certain time and feeling so vivid in my memory that it immediately emerges for me when I look at this painting.

I went back in the archives for the blog and found what I had written about this piece several years back.  I’d like to share it just to show the connections that some paintings make even though they may not reach out to everyone.

This is a piece that’s been bouncing around my studio for a month or so, one that I call No Mail. It’s a smallish painting on paper, measuring about 8″ by 14″. I haven’t decided whether I will show this one or simply hold on to it. It’s a matter of whether I believe others will see anything in it rather than me wanting to keep it for myself. Maybe it’s that I see a very personal meaning in the piece that is reflected in the title and I can’t decide if it will translate to others.

For me, this painting reminds me of my childhood and the house I consider my childhood home, an old farmhouse that sat by itself with no neighbors in sight. Specifically, this painting reminds me of exact memories I have of trudging to the mailbox as an 8 or 9 year-old in the hot summer sun. There’s a certain dry dustiness from the driveway and the heat is just building in the late morning. It was a lazy time for a child in the country. Late July and many weeks to go before school resumes. The excitement of school ending has faded and the child finds himself spending his days trying to find ways to not be bored into submission.

The trip to the mail box is always a highlight of the day, filled with the possibility that there might be something in it for me. Something that is addressed only to and for me, a validation that I exist in the outside world and am not stranded on this dry summer island. Usually, the tinge of excitement fades quickly as I open the old metal mailbox and find nothing there for me. But occasionally there is something different, so much so that I recognize it without even seeing the name on the label or envelope.

It’s mine, for me, directed to me. Perhaps it’s my Boy’s Life or the Summer Weekly Reader. I would spend the day then reading them from front to back , reading the stories and checking out the ads in Boy’s Life for new Schwinn bikes. Oh, those days were so good. The smell of the newly printed pages mingling with the heat and dust of the day to create a cocktail whose aroma I can still recall.

But most days, it was nothing. Just the normal family things– bills, advertisements and magazines. Or nothing at all. The short walk back to the house seemed duller and hotter on those days.

That’s what I see in this piece, even though it doesn’t depict everything I’ve described in any detail. There’s a mood in it that vividly recalls those feelings from an 8 or 9 year-old, one of eager anticipation and one of disappointment.

Childhood days with no mail.

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GC Myers- EmanationWe are not separated from spirit, we are in it.

Plotinus

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I call this new painting, a 20″ by 16″ canvas,  Light Emanation.   Emanation is a word that is defined in one sense as an abstract but perceptible thing that issues or originates from a source.  It’s a term that the 3rd century philosopher Plotinus used to describe the manner in which all matter is descended from the One, the transcendent and formless force that has always been and will always be.  We see its emanation– its reflection– in things we associate with terms such as Good and Beauty.

I can’t fully explain the concept of Plotinus’ philosophy here.  I honestly don’t fully understand it myself.

But  the idea that we are all somehow comprised and descended from light has long been an idea that has lived within me.  We react to light and the colors that come from it in ways that go beyond this world, in ways that somehow link us to something we feel is greater than ourselves.  Perhaps the One to which Plotinus alludes.

As it is with so many things, I don’t know for sure.  I only know that those rare moments in my life that have felt transcendent have always been associated with a mysterious quality of light, one that  satisfies and comforts me in a way in which I didn’t even realize I was in need.

I see that feeling of oneness with the light  in this painting.  It has a mysterious comfort in it that reminds me of my own moments.

And that is all I ask of it…

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GC Myers- The EnigmaThis is another new painting, an 18″ by 18″ canvas piece that was an immediate enigma to me even as it was barely half-finished on the easel.  I was drawn strongly to it but couldn’t put my finger on what it was that I was seeing.

It has a different feel from the other work in this semi-series of paintings that I’ve been working on as of late.  The sky has a paler, almost desaturated, feel than most of the other pieces which pops against the darker  silhouette-like forms of the landscape.  This combination of color and the twists of the swirling rays create, for me, a mesmerizing effect and I find myself mentally clawing towards the whiteness of the sun/moon.

This newer work lends itself to thoughts of great mysteries, of greater forces that move beyond our comprehension, and this piece is perhaps one of the most telling examples so far.  That sky seems oblivious to the life that exists in the pale light it casts to it.  The tree– I chose to go with a darker green instead of my normal red to maintain the silhouette effect– seems desirous of joining itself to those forces, of unlocking those mysteries held above it.    But despite climbing to the highest points it remains anchored to its terrestrial existence.

But it feels the pale light and still reaches for it without knowing why.  There’s something there, something that both calms and excites action, but the character of the tree just can’t quite touch upon what that thing is.

Just like the appeal I feel for this painting…

The title for this piece is, of course, The Enigma.

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GC Myers- Deep Focus  Reading about Carmen Herrera, the artist I featured here yesterday who was “found” at age 89 and is still actively painting at 100, brought some thoughts about the idea of retiring to mind.  While it’s not something that I dwell on, I am at that age when one begins to think about such things.  In the last year or so,  at different times I have been asked by a couple of friends who are not artists, one who is my age and is retired, if I was thinking about retiring.

The question kind of surprised me each time I was asked.  I mean, I know that it’s a possibility and I do the things that one should do when planning for retirement in a financial sense.  But being asked about it caught me off guard.

But giving it some thought made me realize that retirement was not the end point I was shooting for in my life.  In fact, I can’t imagine ever retiring from what I do.  How could I put aside that thing that has given me purpose, that thing that connects me to this world and gives me expression?  Why would I stop searching for answers to  questions I haven’t even asked yet?

The whole idea of retiring seems like a foreign concept to me and my life as it has come to be.

In fact, as I’ve gotten older, I find myself looking for more and more time in which I can continue my work.  Time has become a more and more precious commodity.  Any time spent ill or in pain is time taken from this work so I have began actively working harder at being fit and healthy.  I hate giving up time for working out or walking.  I would much rather be working but knowing that it is required for continuing my work longer into this life makes this a valuable investment.

Seeing Carmen Herrera at work at  100 years old, even  in her wheelchair, and the many other artists who worked into their 80’s and 90’s gives me hope for this idea of never retiring.  Looking around the studio, I realize that there is so much more work to be done.  Work that I feel I must do.  Each day seems to uncover more and more facets to be probed, more questions to answer.  There is just not enough time in this life and I am not going to give up until that sun on the horizon leaves and fails to rise the next morning.

So hopefully, if I am lucky enough, you’ll see me several decades down the line, still at work.  And happy for it…

 

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GC Myers- String TheoryThis painting is an orphan, one of those few pieces that ended up back with me here in the studio after making the rounds of the galleries.  I don’t mind that it came back as it has always held a special place in my heart– orphans have that effect on me.  I like the roughness of its surface, the deepness of the colors in the sky (which are so hard to capture with my photography) and the contrast of the scene’s quietness against the turbulence of the sky’s energy.

It now hangs in a seldom used hallway here in the studio so I don’t see it as often as I would like.  But when I do wander down that hall I often stop and take it in and it inevitably makes me both smile and think.   It has a very tactile nature with a strong texture that makes me run my hands over it, almost as though I am trying to reach into that swirling mass of energy to connect with some hidden dimension.

Here’s what I wrote about this painting several years back.  It a redux of a redux, in a way, as it references yet another earlier post, one back in 2009:

I call this new painting String Theory. It’s a 20″ by 40″ canvas that is simple in design but has great depth of color and a strong underlying texture that gives it added dimensions. It’s a striking piece in the studio, especially given its larger size, with its saturated tones and the thick spiral bands that run through it catching glints of light at different angles.

The Red Tree’s crown is painted as a monolithic form and seems to glow with life amid the contrasting darkness of the sky. I chose a deep red for the color of the fields in the foreground because I wanted it to represent the earth as a physical dimension, the red symbolizing the blood of the living. The swirling blues and greens of the sky, to me, represent a different dimension, one less tangible and more ethereal.

As for the title and the thought behind it, I described this in a blogpost from July of 2009. I think I will let the words from that post describe what I see here as well:

The title of this painting comes from the way the sky is formed from many patches of color and the way the light is formed therein. It reminded me of one of the supposed byproducts of the string theory which is a very speculative area of quantum physics. Without going into the scientific basis for the theory ( which I really couldn’t do very well anyway), string theory basically creates a platform where extra dimensions could and may exist alongside the dimensions that we know and dwell within, without our knowledge of their existence. A simplified example of how this might work is the way we are surrounded by radio signals all the time without our knowledge but with the proper receptor, a radio, they become apparent. With string theory, perhaps there are also parallel dimensions around us without our knowledge, dimensions that contain others forms of energy, other forms of existence.

People have used this as theoretical basis for many things such as time travel, the existence of UFOs, and things supernatural such as ghosts and other spectral occurrences. The string theory has been a very fertile field for science fiction writers to work.

Perhaps it also provides a place where the soul, the source of energy that animates the body, ultimately dwells. Perhaps there is the energy of souls all around us in these alternative dimensions. Maybe the photons we see are also the part, a facet, of something unseen. That’s how I see the sky in this painting, as masses of disparate energies that we only see partially in the dimensions we can detect.

Okay, remember that it is early in the morning when I’m writing this. I’m not smart enough to really discuss quantum physics. I am not familiar with all the New Age-y spiritualism. I’m just saying there is some form of energy out there in the light we see. What it is, I surely don’t know. In this painting I like to see it as light and energy of souls.

And that makes me feel good…

It made me feel good then and does now as well.

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GC Myers- First FlameLight thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.

Terry Pratchett

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Last week, I featured a painting called Early Riser and spoke a bit about being just that– an early riser.  This is another new piece in that same vein, a 30″ by 30″ canvas that deals with the Red Tree greeting the first light of morning as it sweeps away the darkness of night.  I call this painting First Flame.

I’ve been thinking about this relationship with light, about the need to not waste the light of the day.  It reminds me of the rarity of light in this universe and how much darkness there is throughout its vastness, punctuated by the light of distant stars.

Light means life in this universe, so far as we know.  Everything we depend on for our continued survival is itself dependent on light and perhaps we ourselves are comprised of  and animated by light.

We are beings of light.

And perhaps there is a type reverence shown here in this painting with that knowledge at hand.

Looking now at this painting after writing these words, I can see many things in it which confirm this interpretation.  The cemetery in the shadow of the church, for example– an implication of death being devoid of light.  The orchard at the bottom right that waits for the feeding light of the sunlight. And the fruit stands that are dark and closed.

So long as the sun rises each morning, life goes on– for us as a group and for personally for myself.

To use my all-time favorite Kurt Vonnegut-ism: So it goes

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Paul Henry - The Fairy ThornI thought since this was St. Patrick’s Day that  I would feature an Irish painter.  There are a couple of obvious choices– Francis Bacon and Jack Butler Yeats, for example– but I chose Paul Henry, who spent his life painting his native Ireland from 1877 until 1958.  He was perhaps the best known painter in Ireland through the first half of the 20th century though many of us here in the States may not recognize the name.

You will however recognize the familiarity of his landscapes, most set in the west of Ireland in the Connemara district, an area described by Oscar Wilde as “ a savage beauty.”   For many, Henry’s landscapes represent the idealized image of the Irish countryside with simple white cottages set among stark, barren hills and rolling green fields.  But his greens are not that bright Kelly green so often used in depicting Ireland.  No, Henry often chose blue and brown tints in his work.  He used a very distinct and deceptively cool palette in his painting which enhances the coolness and solitary nature of the landscapes.

So, even if you haven’t an ounce of Irish blood, I hope you will enjoy these images of Eire.  Have a good St. Paddy’s Day.

Paul Henry Paul Henry The Fishing Fleet Galway

(c) Queen's University, Belfast; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

Paul Henry Killary Bay Paul Henry A Farm in County Down Paul Henry A Connemara Village 1933-34 Paul Henry - Connemara Landscape

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GC Myers- The Veil and the HeartToday we are searching for things in nature that are hidden behind the veil of appearance… We look for and paint this inner, spiritual side of nature.
-Franz Marc

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This is a new painting, a 36″ by 12″ canvas piece that I am calling The Veil and the Heart.  It is a continuation of the patterned sky series that has been occupying me as of late, a group which will no doubt play a large part in my annual June show at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria.

I see the red sun here as a symbol for the type of truth that can’t be veiled, can’t be covered.  While there are forces and powers beyond our perception, as I have written about concerning the thought behind this series of patterns and veils, there are also certainties and truths that cannot be obscured in any way.

It may be our own truth, who we really are as a person and how that forms the way in which we maintain a relationship with the world in which we exist.  It may be how we come to accept our place as a tiny piece in the puzzle of a universe that seems vast and largely unaware of us.

Maybe that red sun represents the universe, for a brief  moment, being aware of us.

I don’t really know.

I’ve said those words so many times over the years, especially in regard to my work.  You would think after all this time that I would be able to say definitively what is contained in my work.  But I can’t.  Just about every piece has a mystery in it, a veiled thought or meaning that shows just enough of itself to let me know it is there but remains elusive.  Even this painting has a meaning that seems easily within my grasp one moment and has another in the next.

 Like that red sun, you see it and understand it but you’re not sure why.  And maybe that is the way it should be, the way it is meant to be.

I don’t really know…

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