Redtree Times

Color and Glide— At West End Gallery

I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the
hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you
with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.

—Jorge Luis Borges, Two English Poems, Verse II, 1934

This has been a long and arduous week. There have been a few high points and more than enough low points. Let just say for this morning that there are a lot of moving parts right now that I will explain in greater depth in the near future.

I am resharing a post this morning from two years back that has easily been my most popular post since it first appeared. I thought it was an appropriate piece to share as my show at the West End Gallery comes to an end this coming Thursday, November 13. I think the whole of the show now hanging very much reflects the thought behind this post, that art is indeed a love offering from the artist to the viewer.

A gift of the self.

And since it is Sunday, there’s a song at the bottom for the weekly Sunday Morning Music segment of our little show. It’s Bob Dylan and It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry from his landmark 1965 album Highway 61 Revisited.

[From 2023]

What can I hold you with?
I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the
moon of the jagged suburbs.
I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked
long and long at the lonely moon.
I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts
that living men have honoured in bronze.
I offer you whatever insight my books may hold,
whatever manliness or humour my life.
I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never
been loyal.
I offer you that kernel of myself that I have saved,
somehow-the central heart that deals not
in words, traffics not with dreams, and is
untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.
I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at
sunset, years before you were born.
I offer you explanations of yourself, theories about
yourself, authentic and surprising news of
yourself.
I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the
hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you
with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.

—Jorge Luis Borges, Two English Poems, Verse II, 1934

Wasn’t going to write anything this morning, again. So, I didn’t write this morning. Haven’t felt much like writing lately. Just a little worn down, I guess.

But later in the morning, I came across a draft of a blog entry that I had never shared containing the second verse of a Jorge Luis Borges poem, Two English Poems. It sent me thinking and writing. It is basically about finding and losing love in the first verse, followed in the second verse with the narrator weighing out what he has to offer in order to regain or hold on to his beloved.

I focused on the second verse of the poem. Its first line– What can I hold you with? — is a thought that often goes through my mind when I stand before a blank canvas. In my conversation with some unidentifiable and indistinct viewer that I imagine being present in the studio, it is often phrased in a slightly different way– What part of myself can I give to you?

The meaning is much the same though. When I paint, I am making an offer of myself to the viewer.

But what has the greatest impact for me was the final part of the second verse, highlighted in red above. It reminds me of the thoughts I sometimes have when trying to describe what I hope others see in my work, those things I have to offer with the hope that it will entrance and hold the viewer.

The artist hopes that what they have to offer, while being their own memories and feelings, opens up new avenues of perception for the viewer of themselves. As Borges put it:

I offer you explanations of yourself, theories about
yourself, authentic and surprising news of
yourself.

I have struggled to say just that for a long time. It is just what I want from my work.

And that final line just crushed me:

I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the
hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you
with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.

I felt like it was describing much of what I have to offer in my work. You hope that your work represents the totality of you, all the many facets that make up your humanity, with the hope that others see their own similar feelings in it. That includes the deepest of feelings, those rising from loss and disappointment. These are sometimes a bit darker and more somber than feelings of joy and happiness, but they are as much a part of who we are as the brightest of our feelings.

As I said, Borges’ poem is very much a poem about what one has to offer in order to gain one’s love. In a way, sharing one’s art is often very much the same thing– a love offering of the deepest and most intimate parts of yourself. It may not be real or romantic love. But when you connect with art in a deep way, you often feel as though you are connected with the artist and know and understand them.

I don’t know that I can fully explain what I mean here. It may even sound a bit off the wall to you. That’s okay. I am used to that. Just felt like I wanted to share this poem today.

Here’s a reading from Tom O’Bedlam of the whole poem from Borges.

Read Full Post »

Nothing is old, nothing is new, save the light of grace underneath which beats a human heart. The way of feeling, of understanding, of loving; the way of seeing the country, the faces that your father saw, that your mother knew. The rest is chimerical…

–Georges Rouault, Soliloques (1944)

I try not to employ quotes from other artists unless I am also sharing their work, especially when the words are from artists whose work I greatly admire, such as Georges Rouault. I have featured his work here a number of times over the years and readily cite him as an influence on my early work.

But this morning, I felt that Rouault’s words fit perfectly with what I was seeing and feeling in this painting, A Prayer For Understanding. 

My feeling from this piece is that we often get so consumed with small and ephemeral things that we lose sight of those things that truly have meaning for us. These are those things that bind us to our family, our land, and the universe beyond. Things that create our understanding of our existence, both in our time here in the ephemeral world and in our unknowable life that comes both before and after our time here. 

It is an understanding that comes not from words or action. It is formed in stillness and observation.

It doesn’t live in the regrets or glories of the past nor in the hope or fears of the future. 

Its existence is only in that silent, watchful moment when the rhythms of all things converge and time dissolves in light like sugar in water. As Rouault put it: Nothing is old, nothing is new, save the light of grace underneath which beats a human heart.

That is where understanding dwells, always nearby yet always so far away in the grace of the human heart.

The painting shown here is A Prayer For Understanding. It is 30″ by 15″ on canvas and is included in my current solo show at the West End Gallery, Guiding Light. The exhibit closes next Thursday, November 13. Hope you can get in to see it.

Here’s one of my favorite compositions from composer Philip Glass. It’s a piece originally from a soundtrack of the 1985 film Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters. The full title of this particular selection is String Quartet #3 Movement VI (also called Mishima Closing) and is performed by the Catalyst Quartet. I have shared this piece a couple of times over the years from other artists. This performance seems to fit well with the painting as I see it.

Read Full Post »

Gaining Understanding–At the West End Gallery

By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest.

–Confucius

I’ve tried all three methods, and I am not certain I’ve yet gained any wisdom.

Does one ever know?

I guess the point is to keep trying and, maybe after a while, it will show up unannounced and without any fuss.

That seems about right. But then again, what do I know?

Actually, I just wanted to point out that my current solo exhibit at the West End Gallery, Guiding Light, ends a week from today, on Thursday November 13. The gallery is closed today but reopens tomorrow so if you have a chance, I hope you can get in to see the show.

Here’s a song from John Prine that might well apply to the words above from Confucius. It certainly is about reflection and experience. It’s I Remember Everything which was the last song he recorded before his death in 2020.

Read Full Post »

By persisting in your path, though you forfeit the little, you gain the great.

— Ralph Waldo Emerson, Friendship (1841)

Democracy in this nation seems to have been just barely hanging on in recent times, under constant threat from those hoarders of money and power who seek total control over our lives. Democracy was much like the old man in the scene above from Monty Python and the Holy Grail who is being hauled to the death cart while still protesting that he is not dead yet.

But while the cartman ultimately made sure the old man was dead, yesterday came as a reprieve democracy.

It is not dead yet.

Oh, there is still grave peril in the form of a waiting cartman milling about, willing to put an end to it with a sharp blow.

But the elections yesterday all across the nation were a pointed rebuke of Trumpism’s quest for domination. In the headline races for Mayor of NYC and the governorships of New Jersey and Virginia, the Trump-endorsed candidates were easily and soundly thumped.

In California, Prop 50, which calls for redistricting of the state in response the partisan gerrymandering currently underway in Texas, passed by a huge and non-competitive 2-1 margin.

But beyond these headlines, other Democratic victories were equally astounding. Trump also endorsed 53 down ballot candidates in New Jersey and Virginia. All 53 were defeated.

In Georgia, Democrats hadn’t won a statewide race for a federal office since 2006. Last night, they won two, defeating GOP incumbents by nearly 2-1 margins.

And in Mississippi— yes, Mississippi– Democrats flipped two seats in the state senate, breaking the GOP’s supermajority there.

And in Pennsylvania, the retention votes for three Democrat members of the state’s Supreme Court were not close. All three Justices were retained by huge margins.

[Late additions: Colorado voters approved a ballot measure that would raise state income taxes on higher-earning households to fund free meals for all public-school students. And in Connecticut, a huge number of towns flipped to Democratic control. And the Dems flip NY’s Onondaga & Dutchess counties, a first in decades, and PA’s Luzerne County, a county which is hardly a bastion of liberalism. Also in PA, Erie County voted out the GOP county executive in favor of the Dem challenger.]

I am sure there are more that I just haven’t got to yet. It was a needed shot of adrenaline for a democracy that has been too close to the death cart for a while now.

No, we are not dead yet.

But there’s still a dangerous and demented old man with a club waiting to end it all if we let down our guard for even a second.

After such a humiliating and stunning rebuke, he is going to be even more anxious and panicky, seeking some way to take attention from the beatdowns suffered in his name. Look for distractions of all shapes and sizes. I wouldn’t be surprised if he escalates his vendetta against Venezuela and starts a conflict there of some sort or tries to baselessly invoke the Insurrection Act here, moving troops to even more American cities.

He is going to do anything he can– and I mean anything–to prevent a repeat of last night’s result in next year’s midterm elections. The only things he will not do are change his course, compromise, negotiate, or work to serve all the people of this nation.

Cruelty and leveraged domination are the only tools in his pathetic toolbelt. They are that club in his hand. He will without a doubt use that club freely.

Yes, it was a great night for democracy. We have been spared being heaved on the cart. But it cannot end here. Celebrate now but gird your loins. This was just the preliminary bout. We must have a winning streak that results in victories in the marquee matchups in 2026 and 2028.

If not, we could end up in the heap. Let’s work even harder to keep that winning streak alive.

To paraphrase Emerson: Persistence gains the greater reward.

Here’s a song in that vein from Glen Hansard.

Read Full Post »

These words from Adolph Gottlieb, the late Abstract Expressionist painter, ring true for me. I believe that art should acknowledge the presence of powerful forces that guide our lives, good or bad. As he points out, it is this awareness that fueled the myths and symbology that have lived with us since time immemorial.

For me, it is displayed in the underlying darkness of much of my work which is evident in even my most optimistic works. This darkness gives the work, at least to my way of seeing it, a sense of tension, a counterbalance that keeps the work centered. The most optimistic work still has a wariness in this darkness that acknowledges the dangers ahead and the hardships endured in the past.

Triumph of any sort is seen as a transient emotion, one that is to be savored in the moment and recalled in the future but short-lived in the present. The darkness is always hovering nearby, presenting a potential threat or a challenge or even a dramatic change that comes with both the possibility of utter defeat or a new triumph. It is this mystery that makes the darkness so appealing and necessary.

The paragraphs above were written and posted here in 2018.

I was going to take a break today from writing but came across this post which, in turn, reminded me of a passage that I had recently encountered from author John Steinbeck. In a letter to his friend and publisher Pascal Covici on New Year’s Day in 1941. The war in Europe was widening and threatening to become a World War as the US vacillated on entering the fray. It was time fraught with peril and darkness.

Steinbeck writes:

“And speaking of the happy new year, I wonder if any year ever had less chance of being happy. It’s as though the whole race were indulging in a kind of species introversion — as though we looked inward on our neuroses. And the thing we see isn’t very pretty.

(…)

So we go into this happy new year, knowing that our species has learned nothing, can, as a race, learn nothing — that the experience of ten thousand years has made no impression on the instincts of the million years that proceeded. Maybe you can find some vague theology that will give you hope. Not that I have lost any hope. All the goodness and the heroisms will rise up again, then be cut down again and rise up. It isn’t that the evil thing wins — it never will — but that it doesn’t die. I don’t know why we should expect it to. It seems fairly obvious that two sides of a mirror are required before one has a mirror, that two forces are necessary in man before he is man. I asked Paul de Kruif [microbiologist and writer] once if he would like to cure all disease and he said yes. Then I suggested that the man he loved and wanted to cure was a product of all his filth and disease and meanness, his hunger and cruelty. Cure those and you would have not man but an entirely new species you wouldn’t recognize and probably wouldn’t like.”

Steinbeck was basically saying that that our humanity consists of two opposing sides– good and evil– and that both are intertwined with the other in the character. One cannot look in a mirror and not see the other. Two sides of a mirror, as he put it.

As a result, neither good nor evil can ever fully triumph forever. Neither a utopian nor a dystopian society has an indefinite shelf life.

There is a balance which exists where the two side of the mirror meet.

And as much as I would love to see good triumph and for evil to be forever eradicated, I find hope, like Steinbeck, in simply knowing that evil can only be temporarily victorious. It has always been that way and always will.

Shadows need the light in order to exist.

I mention this because we talked a bit about this at the Gallery Talk the other day, how art depends on that balance of light and darkness. I feel my best work emerges when I am fully aware of the darker side of our character still hovering nearby even in those better times when I am expressing feelings of optimism and hope in my work.

In good times, the presence of darkness serves as reminder of the temporary nature of all feelings as well as our existence.

And in darker times, it acts as call to arms for those who live by the light. A call to rise up and drive back darkness to the isolated and underlying shadows where it belongs.

Back to its own side of the mirror…

Read Full Post »

RedTree: Continuum— At West End Gallery

Generosity is nothing else than a craze to possess. All which I abandon, all which I give, I enjoy in a higher manner through the fact that I give it away. To give is to enjoy possessively the object which one gives.

― Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness (1943)

Well, the Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery took place yesterday. From my point of view, I thought it went pretty well, all things considered. There were some laughs, plenty of questions, gifts given, and I think most folks had a pretty good time.

I know that I did.

My critique? There were a lot of things I wish I had been able to state in a clearer manner and some that I just didn’t get to. There were some answers that I left incomplete before moving on as well as things said that might have better off left unsaid and things unsaid that probably should have been said. It was a littler scattershot and awkward at times but that is just a fairly accurate reflection of myself.

Self-criticism aside, I thoroughly enjoyed the hour or so I was able to spend with such a wonderful group of folks. I can offer no criticism of yesterday’s group, only praise. They were fun and attentive. Fully engaged and willing to jump in to hold me up when I seemed to be sinking.

My appreciation for those folks who were willing to spend a little time with me at the gallery yesterday is boundless. The boost and inspiration they provide for me in the aftermath of these events is incalculable.

The life of an artist is often a solitary venture Mine certainly is. There are times in this solitariness when one can suffer immense self-doubts about the validity and relevancy of one’s work. Interacting with the group yesterday was like a balm for such ailments.

I tried to explain yesterday about how, even though there are paintings and things given away during these talks, I am the one who really receives the most from the giving that takes place. I don’t know that I did a good job in doing so yesterday. I may never be able to fully explain this, but it remains a fact. I receive so much; their warmth, their kindness, and the inspiration that lingers long after the talk is over.

The joy and the comfort they provide.

And in these days, those are precious commodities.

They may not realize it, but the folks there were the real givers yesterday.

Thank you one and all. I am humbled by your generosity.

And thank you Jesse and Linda Gardner for the ridiculous amount of work you put into these events to make them seem easy and effortless. I can’t thank you enough.

Here’s this week’s Sunday Morning Music. It’s fittingly titled Who Will Comfort Me from jazz singer Melody Gardot.  After suffering traumatic injuries after being hit by an SUV while riding her bike at age 19, Gardot used music as the driving force for her long recovery and is an advocate for music therapy.

Read Full Post »

Come on, come on and surry down to a stoned soul picnic
Surry down to a stoned soul picnic (Can you surry, can you picnic?)
There’ll be lots of time and wine
Red yellow honey, sassafras and moonshine
Red yellow honey, sassafras and moonshine
Stoned soul, stoned soul, whoa

— Laura Nyro, Stoned Soul Picnic

Just a reminder this morning and a song. The two are connected in a loose kind of way.

The reminder is that my annual GALLERY TALK takes place at the WEST END GALLERY TODAY, Saturday, November 1. The talk BEGINS at 11 AM. Seating is limited so it is suggested that you arrive a little early to grab a seat and to register for the DRAWING for the PAINTING, Dare to Know, shown below.

And maybe some other stuff. Who knows?

The Gallery Talk is, as always, free and open to everyone.

The song is Stoned Soul Picnic from the late, great Laura Nyro. Written in 1968 it became a hit for the 5th Dimension in that same year. The loose connection between this song and the Gallery Talk is in what I hope will be the vibe of the talk today– easy going, relaxed, and flowing.

FYI, when asked what was the meaning of the word surry, used throughout the song and a source of consternation for some folks, Laura Nyro replied, “Oh, it’s just a nice word.” I like that though I tend to lean towards it being a contraction of Let’s Hurry.

Either way, Surry Down to the West End Gallery this morning. And yes, there will be red yellow honey, sassafras and moonshine…

Read Full Post »

The Devil holds the strings which move us!
In repugnant things we discover charms;
Every day we descend a step further toward Hell,
Without horror, through gloom that stinks.

— Charles Baudelaire, To the Reader in Les Fleurs du Mal (The Flowers of Evil) (1861)

Is today Halloween? It’s hard to tell these days since every day sees our streets filled with masked goblins swooping in and whisking kids away. It sometimes feels like every day is Halloween now, only darker and much more dangerous.

But still wanting to recognize the holiday as it once was, I went looking for something a bit Halloween-ish. I dipped into French author Charles Baudelaire‘s controversial 1861 book of poetry The Flowers of Evil and found something of interest on the first page.

The verse both struck my fancy and was topical, as well. It basically describes how the Devil tempts us with things ugly and loathsome, pulling us deeper and deeper into the depths of Hell and all the while we barely notice though the sight and stench of death and horror is all around us.

In our glee for the awful we begin to normalize the aberrant and indecent while at the same time demonize that which was once the accepted normal. 

Sounds familiar, right? 

It might not be totally in the spirit of today’s holiday that we recognize, but it is scary. I guess every day in Hell is Halloween, only with the emphasis on the trick part rather than the treat.

Could that be right? You tell me.

In my research I came across a post from several years back that featured these photographic oddities. I thought they would be fitting companions for Baudelaire’s words. These images are intended for the stereoscope which was invented in Paris in 1850 and became a worldwide sensation over the next decade with its three-dimensional imagery. In 1861, a series of 72 of these stereoscopic photos were printed anonymously in Paris that consisted of macabre scenes of Satan and various aspects of Hell.  Called Les Diableries, these plates were a drastic turn away from the often-mundane photos seen in early stereoscopes and were quite the hit in 1860’s Paris.

The photos remained anonymous in that time because they were viewed as politically satiric of the French government of the time, the Second Empire under Napoleon III. To openly chide the emperor at that time could bring swift retribution (this also sounds familiar, huh?) but the images circulated freely, nonetheless. I think they are a remarkable set of images from that time, and I can imagine how they must have resonated in the minds of people who weren’t exposed to the mind-boggling array of imagery that we often experience in a single day in our time on social media.

When I look at them closely, I can recognize satiric parallels to our current time. Unfortunately, it doesn’t feel as humorous as I had thought it might. Not a lot of laughs in Hell, I guess.

Keeping in the theme of a devilish Halloween, here’s a song from Chris McDermott called Even the Devil Gets Right Someday. Let’s hope the song is correct. 

Hoping you have a good and Hell-free Halloween.

Finally, here’s a reminder that I will be giving my annual Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery tomorrow, Saturday, November 1. The talk begins at 11 AM and lasts about an hour, ending with the drawing for the painting, Dare to Know, shown at the bottom of this page. The Gallery Talk and the drawing for the painting are free and open to all. You must be in attendance to win prize. Seating is limited so I would suggest you arrive early to claim your seat and settle in. We can chat or you can take in the exhibit. Doors Open at 10:30 AM.

Read Full Post »