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Archive for the ‘Recent Paintings’ Category

This is a new painting called Path to Clarity, that made its way to the Principle Gallery in Alexandria yesterday.  It’s a 6″ square piece on paper and has a clarity in its color and tone that evoked the title for me.  I was looking at this piece and thought of an item that I came across lately, a test of the flexibility of the mind.  I’m sure this has been around for quite some time, probably for years in circles that cover areas of  psychological/cognitive testing.  When I first saw iit I thought it was just a foul-up in the code for the page I was reading , a seemingly random series of numbers and letters.  But seeing below that I was supposed to read it, I focused a bit and it came very easily.

Here’s the message:

7H15 M3554G3 53RV35 7O PR0V3 H0W 0UR M1ND5 C4N D0 4M4Z1NG 7H1NG5! 1MPR3551V3 7H1NG5! 1N 7H3 B3G1NN1NG 17 WA5 H4RD BU7 N0W, 0N 7H15 LIN3 Y0UR M1ND 1S R34D1NG 17 4U70M471C4LLY W17H 0U7 3V3N 7H1NK1NG 4B0U7 17, B3 PROUD! 0NLY C3R741N P30PL3 C4N R3AD 7H15. PL3453 F0RW4RD 1F U C4N R34D 7H15.

Translated:

This message serves to prove how our minds can do amazing things! Impressive things! In the beginning it was hard but now, on this line your mind is reading automatically without even thinking about it. Be proud! Only certain people can read this. Please forward if you can read this.

I don’t know if there is anything to be gained from this exercise for the general public,but  it made me think about painting and art and how it communicates in very much the same way as this exercise, giving bits of data and filling the blanks with new information that translates in the mind of the viewer.  I looked at this painting and it very much made sense in this context.  I’m sure most people can look at this piece and immediately know what it represents.  Their mind takes in the info and it makes sense and translates very easily.  Their mind probably doesn’t question the white emptiness of the path, the blues of the hills or the orange and reds of the field.  Their mind reads it as one might read the passage above.

What does this mean?  That I really can’t tell except that it only serves as a form of validation of this work’s power as form of communication  rather than something created for mere aesthetics.  Not that aesthetics don’t come into play.   Harmony of color and form play a large part in making the message more palatable.

Anyway, just thought it was interesting.  I guess that’s good enough.

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I recently finished this new painting, an 18″ by 26″ piece on paper, that is the newest addition to my Archaeology series.  Titled Archaeology: Rainbow’s End,  this painting features the subterranean debris field that marks this series including some of the recurring icons that show up in most,  or at least many, of the pieces in this series.  There’s a shoe, a peace symbol, a red chair, a self-referential painting and a mask, amon many other little bits and pieces.

I don’t know if there’s something in my psychology that is at risk here , some flaw that I’ve managed to hide from the world that might be exposed in this field of trash.  If so, I guess that’s risk I’m willing to make.  I really like the feel of this group and the way it creates a rhtymic pattern in the underground that feels like faded wallpaper in an old house, which is pretty fitting.  There’s a sense of the nostalgic here perhaps enhanced by the warmth of the sky above, aglow in reds and gold.

The Rainbow’s End part of the title comes from the colors of the strata above the artifacts.  Whenver I loooked at this piece that immediately struck me and I began to think of this as the rainbow painting over the long time that I worked on this piece.  I worked on this in bits and pieces for several months, never quite wanting to finish this particular painting.  Even now, after it is done and headed out to what will certainly be a new home, I have regrets about finishing it, as though it represents a personal piece.  Maybe there is something in that trash heap that I haven’t recognized yet.  I don’t know.

Maybe this hesitation to let a piece like this go is the reason I do so few of the Archaeology paintings lately.  As well as the longer time it takes to finsih these paintings, there also does seem to be a different type of mental investment in these pieces.  Like pouring out all the detritus that has accumulated in my mind over time for all the world to see.  There is less control in this than in the painting of a landscape, at least in how the pieces are read by the viewer. 

Maybe that’s it.  Again, I don’t know.  I never do.  So, I keep painting in the hope that I will find something that finally does let me know.  Maybe there’s something in this debris that I’ve missed.  I better look again…

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Azilum

This is a new painting that is about 8″ high by 26″ wide on paper.  I call this piece Azilum,  using the French form of asylum or place of refuge.  There is a place not too far from here in Northern Pennsylvania that is called French Azilum, which was formed around the time of the French Revolution as a place where the aristocracy forced to flee the guillotine could find refuge.  While the French Revolution was based very much on our American Revolutionary principles, many members of the aristocracy had helped our cause in many ways, including fighting alongside us,  and when the tide turned at home against them, we offered them a place to which they could escape.

French Azilum was built on 1600 acres of land along the Susquehanna River in Bradford County and was a relatively short lived experiment, pretty much ending when Napoleon offered repatriation for these exiles.  The place was pretty much gone by 1803 as the population disbanded, having left for France and other locations here in the states.  The dream of the French Court regrouping in the Pennsylvania wilderness never really came about.

I don’t know that this piece has any direct connection with French Azilum but the dream of safe haven that it embodies certainly does fit the bill here.  The warmth and intensity of the colors make it very inviting and there is a tangible sense of calm around the central Red Tree.  A very meditative quality, far removed from the dangers and influence of the outside world.  Something that I think was probably hoped for by those exiled Frenchmen in their shangri-la on the Susquehanna back in the day.

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This is  a very small painting, just a  3″ by 5″ canvas, that I call In the Blood.   The title may in some way relate to the subject of yesterday’s post where I discussed why someone stays in their hometown even though its flaws and inadequacies become more and more evident, more glaring in the light of other seemingly better places. 

I wrote about having an attachment to this area through my family’s history, even though it is still relatively new to me.  By that I mean that it was never a part of my early life, never really known in any detail by my father’s generation and was only uncovered through the access afforded by the availability of  the many records and data online.  There I discovered the history of my family here that had always eluded me and left me feeling as though I was unconnected to any place.  I discovered relatives and names that were new to me, most interwoven with the history of this region of the country.

This past week, I went to our local historical society, the Chemung Valley History Museum, looking for a piece of furniture that a friend of my sister had seen there , made around 1860 by a man with our family name.  Our family is not one for artifacts handed down through generations.  I envy people who can hold something tangible in their hands that was part of their ancestor’s lives, can literally feel that connection to their past.  I can’t think of any such thing that exists in our family so the idea of an object made by an ancestor intrigued me.

Going into the recent exhibit of items made in this county, the first piece that caught my eye was a chest of drawers with nice dimensions and a lovely reddish golden tone in its finish.  I looked at the placard on it and sure enough, it was made by a man named George Myers.  This was the connecting artifact I sought. He was my great- grand uncle a man who came with his brother ( my great-gr-grandfather) and his parents from Eastern Pennsylvania in the 1830’s and settled here.  He was a furniture finisher who worked at a local furniture company, Hubbell’s,  for nearly 50 years.  His first son had fought in the Civil War, an event that was  recalled in the 1940’s in an obituary of a younger son who told of remembering his older brother marching down Water Street in his Union Army uniform, heading out of town in a parade to the battles in the South.

I was pleased to see this artifact, pleased to see it in a place where it would be cared for and kept.  I was also pleased that it was a nice piece of work.  It reminded me of the things I want in my own work.  It was solid in construction, simple in design yet graceful. 

I sought out someone who might be able to tell me more and found the archivist, Rachel Dworkin.  She didn’t have a lot of history on the chest but informed me that it was signed.  She delicately took out the top drawer and on the back side there was a bold signature and date, 1861,  in pencil, looking as fresh as though it had been written that very morning.

  But the thing that excited me was that after the signature he had drawn a face, a simple drawing of the side of what looked to be a young woman’s face.  The lines, like the chest, were simple but confident and strong,  drawn very much in the way I would draw a face, even now, and this thrilled me.  I laughed out loud and tried to explain to Ms. Dworkin but I don’t think I could really fully explain what that little drawing meant to me, how it gave me a deeper connection to this place and person and made me feel as though he had that same need for expression that I feel.

Maybe it was in the blood, after all.

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A Shift

Sometimes my own view of a piece will shift over time.  Sometimes I might see something in the work that was not the focus of my attention when I was painting, something that gives me deeper appreciation of the piece.  Or it might work in the reverse, where I lose sight of that thing in the work that once was my focus in it and the work seems to resonate less with me.  I suppose this little painting, only about 5″ by 8″ on paper,  shown here falls in that first category.

This piece seemed to be a struggle from the outset.  The colors never fully went where I thought they should and the whole thing just never seemed to sing for me throughout the process.  The sky took on a murky shade and I worked at scrubbing away as much as I could but it was one of those situation where the atmospheric conditions and the gesso underneath  made the paint grip tighter in the creases and folds . 

 It just seemed blah.  I did this piece earlier in the year back in June and set it aside, next to a group of pieces that still need work or are in the same category as this painting.  I would look at it every so often and feel dismayed because it should work for me but it just didn’t have that crisp color with the depth that I try to find in most of my work.

 But over time, a shift in how I viewed this piece began.  Maybe the distance in time from the struggle of creating it  had allowed me to just look at it as a piece without the  memory of the process affecting my reaction.  I began to see the rubbed out sky not as failure of paint but as an interesting texture, kind of like a rough woodcut underneath the paint.  Each time I picked it, I did so with more and more affection, seeing it for what it was rather than what I hoped it might have been once in my mind.  It was a different version of my normal melody, my normal song.  Instead of being tainted by other versions, I now let this piece sing in its own voice. 

And I liked it.  The shift was complete.

It makes me wonder how many other things we view with a perspective tainted by our expectations and never allow that which we view to show itself for what it really is.  I know that I have often failed to go beyond my own biases and expectations and have probably missed the true nature of many things.  Therein lies the lesson…

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I have a lot going on this morning so I’ll quickly show you this new piece that I call Blue Moon (You Saw Me Standing Alone) , taken from the lyrics of the old song.  There is something both restful and dreamily melancholic in these blue nocturnes.  There is also a wonderful sense of harmony created by the different blue tones in it coming together.  It may be a small piece, only about 4″ by 8″, but it has visual oomph, particularly in the way the blues hug the texture of the sky.  The color thins near the top of each ridge then pools darker in the depressions creating a nice rhythm in the blue night sky around the white eye of the moon.

Speaking of things  dreamily melancholic, here is a video of the Cowboy Junkies’ take on the old standard.  This version is from 1988 but the song has had many interpreters since being written in 1934.  Most probably remember the Elvis version but I have always  liked the exaggerated depressive quality in this version.  Plus, the person responsible for this video did a great job in putting together some nice mmon footage.

Have a great day!

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Just a small piece on paper that I recently finished that I call Impassionata for what I think are obvious reasons.  It seems a bit darker on my computer screen at the moment than it does on the easel where I photograph so  it may require a new shot but for the present time this image will have to do.

This is a simple painting, one that is typical of my work.  There’s a nice combination of elements in this painting that make it feel deeper than its composition including a sense of depth into the picture even though there is nothing in the background to give perspective.  Perhaps it’s the gradation of the colors in the sky or the contrast between the deep red of the foreground and the bright yellow edge of the lit horizon.  To tell you the truth, I don’t really know myself.  The same composition with just a tweak here and there in color and texture would feel much different.

It’s a funny thing how a piece whose subject is so similar to many other pieces in  my body of work can still excite me.  I’ve often said that the subject matter really isn’t the focus of my work, that the passion for me comes from the color, form and texture.  The subject is merely a hand  extended outward to others to invite them in.   Many people may only focus on the subject before they realize they are really responding to these other elements that I mention. 

Well, at least that’s one theory.  It may change before the morning ends.  I reserve the right to contradict myself.  As Whitman wrote:  Do I contradict myself?  Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.

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Last year on this blog, I talked about a piece that I was commissioned to paint translating the Greek myth of Baucis and Philemon, the couple that were spared by the Zeus because of the deep love they shared and the humility and generosity they displayed.  They lived on in eternity as a pair of trees growing from the same trunk.  I did not translate the piece literally but used my visual vocabulary to convey the qualities that I think make up the couple.  All in all, I think it was a very successful piece.

I was recently asked to paint another version based on this same myth after the person requesting it had seen my first take on it.  The result is shown here.  It has a more celebratory feel than the first version and has a real sense of optimism in its color and composition.  I think it has a very different overall feel than the first but really hits the mark. 

It’s not always easy when I am asked to produce a painting based on another painting of mine.  There are so many little variables that make a painting successful, sometimes things that I have no control over or an action of mine of which I might not even be aware. Sometimes even the time of the year makes a difference.  For instance, right now , it is cooler in the studio than earlier in the year.  As a result, the surfaces dry at different rates and sometimes there is a subtle difference in the way certain colors dry and adhere.  So a color painted in July may not turn out absolutely the same in October.  Fortunately, for this request the colors and format were different so it was not a matter of replicating the first version. 

I hope this painting serves its new owners well and well represents their own time together.  It’s been my pleasure to have folks like this use my work as a symbol for a part of their lives.

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Invisible Gifts

There is a destiny that makes us brothers: none goes his way alone,

All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own.

–Edwin Markham

*************

This is a smaller piece that I recently finished.  This was a little different in that I started it with the intent of communicating a specific message and feel.  I wanted to get across the idea that we all are connected to the world in ways that seem very invisible at times.  We reach out and touch people in ways we may never know and are touched in ways that sometimes mystify ourselves.  We often feel alone in our journey but our lives overlap multitudes that we often fail to see or acknowledge.  Our words and actions, even the smallest and least thought out, make their way into the fabric of the universe and bind us to it. 

As much as we may dispute it, we are not alone in this world.  We are part of its mesh and are always in contact, even in the darkest of times. 

Maybe it can be called karma or something akin to it.  I don’t know.

My words fail me here, as is often the case especially when trying to describe things already shrouded in mystery.  Just thinking…

 

 

 

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This is a newer painting titled Raw Grace that recently went to the Principle Gallery.  It’s an 18″ by 26″ image on  paper that has been heavily textured with multiple layers of gesso.  The gesso is applied in several ways here– by brush, trowel and from a squeeze bottle that leaves the ropey strands that swirl through the piece.  When I was finally done the sheet weighed several pounds and had a definite sculptural feel, like a bas relief piece.

This was a case where I was so enamored of the prepared sheet that I hesitated for a very long time before starting on the painting itself.  I wanted to make sure that I was positive of my commitment to the piece before I jumped in.  Anything less than that could ruin all the prep that took place.

I knew that I desired that  the composition of the painting to be uncomplicated , even simple.  I wanted the chaotic feel of the texture underneath to be able to shine through and carry the weight of the piece’s message.  But, at the same time, the overpainting needed to be strong enough to not be overwhelmed by the underneath.  I felt that the  blowing red tree offered that strength as well as a reactive counterpoint to the fury of the sky.  It was painted as a dark silhouette to move it further to the front and create space behind, space that carries the emotional feel of this piece.

 I think the title captures what I see in this painting well.  There is definitely a rawness in the texture and the way the paint, especially the edges, covers the ridges and valleys.  Even the graceful flow of the tree in the wind has a sharp, raw edge that hints at its strength.  It all comes together well in this piece for me and I feel that I haven’t squandered the opportunity that I saw in those first layers of gesso.

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