There will be a rain dance Friday night, weather permitting.
—George Carlin
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This new painting, Raindance, is a 16″ by 20″ canvas at the West End Gallery as part of the Home+Land show now hanging there. As I finished this piece I was keenly aware of the drought taking place in California and other parts of the American west. It has resulted in dozens of wildfires throughout California, destroying homes and wildlife habitats as it furies along. Rain can’t come soon enough for that part of the country.
In this painting the Red Tree seemed to be in the midst of some sort of beseeching, twisting and extending its limbs upward. I saw it as a rain dance of sorts, begging the dark skies above to release the rain and feed the hills and valleys below. The skies here have an ominous warmth that gives the distant hills a pale yellow hue and the yellow semi-circle in the foreground that supports the Red Tree acts as a sun symbol.
Let’s hope that this rain dance achieves its desired effect…
In everything that can be called art there is a quality of redemption.
—Raymond Chandler, The Simple Art of Murder
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If you’re in the Corning area this afternoon, I will be giving a Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery beginning at 1 PM. My talks usually consist of some biographical background, a few stories about the paintings as well as some other things and honest answers to any questions asked of me. Oh, and it comes to an end with a drawing for the painting above, Destiny Bound.
I try to make it as entertaining and informative as possible, usually just speaking off the cuff. Sometimes there is a theme, other times there is not. I may have a theme for today and perhaps the quote from author Raymond Chandler points to what it might be. Or not. Maybe I just like and agree with this quote. Or maybe the talk will go ina completely different direction right from the start.
I won’t know until I’m standing there and open my mouth for the first time. These talks are kind of like my painting– sometimes I have an idea of where I want them to go and they go to a place I never saw coming. And sometimes those unexpected places are the most gratifying. So, we’ll see where we end up today.
All art is autobiographical; the pearl is the oyster’s autobiography.
—Federico Fellini
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I love this quote from legendary Italian filmmaker Federico Fellini and the image of us all having a pearl inside ourselves, just waiting to be revealed to the outer world. It’s a pearl that is formed from the experiences and observations that make up our lives.
It fits well with the theme for the Gallery Talk that takes place Saturday at the West End Gallery in Corning. I plan on talking about how art has transformed my life and how that transformation has made its way into my work. In short, how my own simple pearl was formed and brought to light.
An example of that might be in the painting at the top, a very new work that will be shown for the first time on Saturday called Transmitters which is 10″ by 20″ on canvas. I see it as being about the need to communicate, about how we seek and reach out to like-minded people throughout our lives. For me this has been one of the biggest needs that painting has fulfilled for me. It has provided a platform for me to express thoughts and emotions that I would struggle to express in any other way. In doing so it has created a path forward to reaching others who share similar thoughts and emotions.
So here the pearl is the Red Tree and it reaches across space to others who feel they have their own Red Tree within. Hopefully, knowing that allows them to open their own shells and share it with the world.
Well, that might be part of what I’ll be talking about on Saturday. Who knows what might come up?
This coming Saturday, August 1, I will be giving a Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery in support of my current show, Home+Land, that is hanging there. It starts at 1 PM and, as many of you who regularly read this blog will know, ends with a drawing where one person in attendance will take home a painting of mine.
It’s something I’ve done for several years now at my Gallery Talks and is something that really gives me great pleasure. I’ve always felt so fortunate to have found my current life as a painter that this allows me to express my gratitude in a tangible way. As a result, I try to carefully choose the works that I give away, not wanting to just go the far corner of the closet where I hide those early experiments that make me grimace to look at them now.
No, I want to give away paintings where I feel a pang of loss in giving them away, want them to have some sort of meaning for me so that this is not just an empty gesture. So, for this Saturday’s drawing, I have chosen the painting shown above. It’s called Destiny Boundand is a 16″ by 20″ canvas so it has the size to give it a real presence. It’s a painting that was only shown publicly once for a very short time before I brought it back to the studio. It is sort of an anomaly in my body of work in the way it is framed, using a gold-leafed plein air frame rather than my signature frame. I tried this frame style for a handful of pieces several years ago and decided that I wanted to stay solely with the continuity of my normal frames. This is the one painting that remains in a gold frame and I chose to keep it as I’ve just become used to seeing it that way.
So, even though it has a unique overall appearance for my work, the painting itself is what I consider a great example of what has been called my Dark Work, work that first appeared in the months after 9/11 but has evolved over the years. I am really attracted to overall presence of this painting and the deep colors and line work as well. And the expressiveness of the tree on the right. That tree has always felt like it pays tribute in some way to Thomas Hart Benton with its curves and lines. While it reminds me of some his figures or trees, off the top of my head I can’t cite a particular painting of his that might feature such a tree or figure.
But that connection and the way the tree seems animated jumps out at me whenever I look at this piece. I just plain like this painting. And I am giving it away on Saturday. So, stop in at the West End Gallery on Saturday for what I hope will be an entertaining talk and maybe you can take Destiny Bound home with you. The talk starts at 1 PM and generally lasts about an hour. Hope to see you there.
I think I’ve written here in the past about how the aftermath of a show is for me in the studio. In the week or so after a show opens there is generally a little letdown, the result of a sudden loss of the energy that accumulates from the adrenaline and anxiety in the build up to the opening. I usually mope in a way, floundering around for several days trying to refocus and regain my bearings, to find some point in which to direct my energy.
It’s often a frustrating time even while the show still hangs and does well. I sometimes get a little lost in those moments where the very act of painting becomes absolutely abstract and foreign in nature to me. The purpose that just a week ago seemed so apparent now has dissolved and I find myself questioning everything– my abilities, the purpose and direction of my work and so on. Those particular moments weigh heavily on me.
As I said, it’s a frustrating time. Fortunately, I know from times before that this was coming and will pass. It’s part of the process, part of who I am, If, as Shakespeare says, all the world’s a stage and we’re all merely players, then this is simply part of the makeup of the character I portray in this play. It’s maybe the only role for which I am truly suited by nature and ability.
And maybe that’s the thing I need to remember in these frustrating days; that this is the role that I best play, that this is the role that was written specifically for me.
That kind of ties in with the painting at the top, Center Stage, which is part of the Home+Land show at the West End Gallery. We are all the main characters in our own plays and we need to be be willing to play the part with conviction, to embrace the role that is written for us. When you are on that stage, let your light shine.
And that brings us, in a sneaky manner, to this week’s Sunday morning music. I’m going with one of my favorites, Neko Case, and her rousing version of the children’s gospel classic, This Little Light of Mine. Gets the day started with a kick and blows away those frustrations. So, enjoy, have a great day and let that light shine.
I recently came across the work of the artist Jan Toorop and really found myself attracted to his imagery. I hadn’t heard of him but at the first glimpse immediately wanted to see more. Toorop was another of those artists who have not garnered as much attention outside his home in the Netherlands as you might expect when you consider the work and the influence it had on other artists of the time. Toorop’s work largely influenced the work of Gustav Klimt and other Symbolist painters of Northern Europe. You can see this in the piece above, Fatalisme.
Jan Toorop was a Dutch-Indonesian artist born on Java in 1858 who moved to the Netherlands as boy. He worked in many styles in his early career, sometimes in pure Realism but often following the trends of the time. He produced work in a decidedly Pointillist style as well as work that was purely Impressionistic. But in the early 1890’s he began to develop the style that garnered the attention of many other artists. It was Symbolist imagery based on Javanese motifs carried by dense and curvilinear line work. Eventually, this led to him working in an Art Nouveau style later in his career.
Toorop died in 1928. There is a Jan Toorop Research Center that has a site that displays the wide range of his work in a chronological fashion. I like this way of showing the work as you can see the evolution in style over time. His daughter, Charley Toorop, was a celebrated painter as well who produced a series of wonderful self-portraits throughout her life and had another very accomplished painter for a son (and grandson of Jan), Edgar Fernhout. A very talented family, indeed.
Well, the opening for my Home+Land show at the West End Gallery was Friday evening and went very well– just a perfectly wonderful night with plenty of people and lots of conversation. It was a pretty large crowd, especially for a summer opening, but it still was one that met my criteria for a good show: most of the attention was focused on the work on the wall.
I have been to plenty of crowded openings where the work is sometimes an afterthought and all the people there are facing inward in private conversations. For me, a good show is one that is outward focused, one where the eyes oriented to the wall. And even though there was a good number of people, it seemed to me that most were there for the work.
And that really satisfies me in some deep way and for that I would like to thank all of you who took time from your summer schedule to spend a little time to take a look at the work. I could not be more appreciative. And thanks to Linda and Jesse once again for hanging the show in a way that seems to bring it all together in the gallery. Again, I could not be more appreciative.
That said, it’s time for a Sunday morning music and this week I felt like something older and mellow and, for me, the voice of the late and great Sam Cooke can often fill that bill. This is a song he wrote that has been covered by many artists but his version always seems the real thing for me. It’s from 1962 and has very recognizable backing vocals from Lou Rawls. Here’s Bring It on Home to Me.
PS: The painting at the top is from the show and is 12″ by 24″ canvas piece titled Back to the Land.
The deeper the blue becomes, the more strongly it calls man towards the infinite, awakening in him a desire for the pure and, finally, for the supernatural… The brighter it becomes, the more it loses its sound, until it turns into silent stillness and becomes white.
–Wassily Kandinsky
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Certain colors always raise a strong visceral response from me. I think my use of reds and yellows is evidence of this as is my affinity for the color blue, which I’ve discussed here. Maybe Kandinsky hits the mark with his words: it calls man towards the infinite, awakening in him a desire for the pure and, finally, for the supernatural.
I know for myself those are feelings that often are driven forward when I work with the color blue. There is often a contemplative feeling, one that wonders at the unknown, that infinite, that we seek, that comes with the color. I see it in the painting at the top.
Called Blue Awakening, this 18″ by 24″ painting on panel has a simplified and almost naive appearance at first glance. But the blue of the sky set against the pale whiteness of the moon changes the piece from a folksy vignette to one of meditative wonderment. The Red Tree here takes on a glow that speaks of a new understanding or acceptance of its place and purpose in the universe. It represents a true awakening of the spirit for me.
The interesting thing for me is that there is not a tremendous amount of blue in the painting. There are a few tones throughout the lower landscaped half of the painting and much of the sky are tones that move away from blue. But the blue that is there commands the space, creating the overall feeling of the piece. Such is the power of blue.
This painting is, of course, part of my solo show, Home+Land, which is now hanging at the West End Gallery and opens with a reception tomorrow evening from 5-7:30. The show runs from July 17 until September 4, 2015 and there is a Gallery Talk on Saturday, August 1. More info on that in the next couple of weeks.
Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.
–Omar Khayyam
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This is another painting from the Home+Land show that opens this coming Friday, July 17, at the West End Gallery. Titled Melding to the Moment, it is a 24″ by 36″ canvas that, for me, pretty much holds the same message as the words above from Omar Khayyam. I see it as about being totally in the moment, in a sort of harmony with all things.
Using This moment is your life… as a rule, it is in finding those moments of contentment and happiness that can define your view of your life. To be able to stop and block out regrets of the past or worries for the future allows one to enjoy the pleasures of the present, that slice of life immediately before you– that small wonder that might be lost when we are immersed in thoughts of what we have done or what we will do.
The song of a bird. The smell of the grass. The way the light comes from behind a cloud or the feel of a warm breeze on your skin. All small things, small moments. But all moments that create the textures of life if we allow ourselves to simply pause and meld to the moment.
At least that’s how I see this piece. It was one that was a long time coming, growing in small fits and starts. I would work on it for a while and would see it going in a direction that didn’t quite suit me in that moment so I would put it aside. Several weeks, perhaps even a couple of months, passed and I would pull it back out and do a bit more and where I thought it was headed was not at all where it was going.
So I waited a bit longer. Finally, a few weeks back I went back and it transformed into the painting that you now see. It is nothing like I originally envisioned it in its earliest stages. It went beyond where I thought it would be and that is always a pleasant surprise.
I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do. I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do.
—Robert A. Heinlein
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Freedom is a word that gets thrown around a lot by politicians and pundits. It is the basis for untold numbers of credos, adages, maxims and bumper stickers. But for all its use, I don’t think many of us give even a single thought to what the word means for ourselves.
I’m not here to try to define the word. I think it has personal meaning for each of us that can’t be easily contained in one single definition. My idea of freedom may not match yours and your freedom may not seem like freedom at all to me. And maybe that’s the main thing in freedom– we are free to define our freedom as we wish.
The only constant is the moral responsibility that we take for our actions, as famed sci-fi author Robert Heinlein lays out so well in the quote above. We can never be free from the responsibility we must take for our actions nor from the repercussions from others in response to our actions. That is one freedom to which we will never be entitled.
The painting at the top is a new painting, a 24″ by 24″ canvas, that is part of my Home+land show that opens this Friday at the West End Gallery. Titled In the Air of Freedom, it represents for me the freedom that I have found in the last twenty years of painting. Painting has given me a means of free expression, a voice to send out into the world, a contentment and purpose that I struggled and failed to find to find in the years before I came to it. It has come to define my own freedom. I see the Red Tree representing that free expression and the fields behind it representing for me the labor and responsibility that accompany it.
As I said, freedom seems like it should be something we can easily put into words but it it turns out to be a much more complex creature. Take a minute and really think about it. How do you define your own freedom? What makes you feel free?
There will be a rain dance Friday night, weather permitting.
Redtree Times 