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Tuesday morning and now that I’ve started on the big canvas I showed in yesterday’s post  I find myself obsessed with getting at it.  It’s moving slower than I want but the size makes every decision have more variables to weigh and more angles to inspect.  I’m at the part of the process where I am roughing in the structure of the painting in red oxide paint and even though I am about a quarter of the way through this segment, I can see it starting to take shape and can now see several steps ahead.  Although I don’t yet know where it will finally come to rest, I now have at least an inkling. 

 As I said yesterday, the difficulty is in not trying to hurry the process,  letting it grow slowly and not rushing for my own instant gratification.  And as we all know, that can be a difficult thing to rein in.  But so far, so good and I’m liking what I’m seeing on the canvas and in the forward looking part of my mind.

That being said, I’m going to work now.  I think I need some music today and I think I’ll listen to some Gillian Welch, one of my favorites.  This is a beautiful song with a Neil Young feel called Throw Me a Rope that she’s performing with her husband, David Rawlings.  Oh, and the painting at the top is called Audience, which I will now become.

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I’ve always been a fan of the short story.  I grew up reading the classic short stories of  Guy DeMaupassant, O. Henry and Edgar Allan Poe, all beautifully crafted and plotted.   There are short stories by other authore that are lodged deeply in the fabric of my memory, which helped shape how I view the  world.  The will to live of the man struggling against nature in Jack London’s To Start a Fire or the way that love and art changed the lonely characters in Who Am I This Time? from Kurt Vonnegut are two varied examples.

A short story is very much like a painting to me.  They are often complete views of an event or a moment but there is still a lot of room for the reader to fill in the spaces with their own imagination, to allow their own emotional understandings to become part of the tale.  They can be taken in quickly yet often, as I have noted above, the memory lingers on.  Again, like the glance of a painting that stays with you in a haunting way.

I was pleased to come across such a piece of short fiction recently from writer David Terrenoire, a friend I met several years ago through my work.  It’s called After the War and is the story of two lonely souls who momentarily find one another in the area of the steel mills around Pittsburgh of 1948.  I would call the story a poetic tragedy. The writing is spare and direct, giving the piece the feeling of the fable that it is. 

Just a damn fine piece of writing that will stay with you for days after.  And maybe longer.

After the War is available  from Amazon for e-readers.

 

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On my way to deliver some new work to the Kada Gallery in Erie, I was driving across the empty part of western New York yesterday, a couple of hundred miles of very sparse traffic which leaves you lots of time to let thoughts just randomly weave in and out of your mind.  It’s funny, the things that settle at these times.  People you haven’t thought of for many years.  Things that you haven’t done since you were a kid.  Sometimes people and things that have little meaning for you.  Plans and things you want to do in the future.

Yesterday, I was thinking about the circus for some unknown reason.  Maybe it was a thought of one of the circus paintings from Pablo Picasso. like the one shown here, or the ones from Seurat that I wrote about here in the past.  There’s something very visually interesting in the circus, with it’s costuming and showmanship.

But more than that it made me think of how I have viewed the circus over the years.  Growing up, the circus and circus style acts were big staple of television in the early 60’s and, I’m sure, the 50’s.  Aerialists, jugglers, clowns of every shape and size, lion tamers and a variety of other animal acts were often part of many variety shows.  I can’t quite remember all the details, but there was even a show that was devoted to circus acts. 

 As a kid, I was enthralled by these acts and performers.  Even my first date with my wife involved going to a circus that was appearing in our local minor league ballpark.  It was one of those things that was sort of engrained in my young psyche.  But over time, the gloss faded from the illusion of the circus for me.  I no longer found the idea of performing animals charming in any way.  In fact,  it bothered me deeply.  It also  became apparent that the  lives of many of the human performers were not easy either.  Their moments in the spotlight in their shiny outfits were short and masked the hours spent in second rate motels and restaurant while crisscrossing the  backroads of this country. 

The illusion was gone for me.

But  still, the idea and ideal of the circus in the mind brings forth strong imagery.  The tension of a daring performance and the anticipation of the crowd.  The aura of the spotlight and how all eyes were focused hard on whatever was going on in that center ring.  It was a great illusion and was part of my childhood memories. 

That was part of my drive yesterday.  Don’t know exactly why.  Maybe someting will appear in my own work.  We’ll see.

Here’s one of my favorite Bruce Springsteen songs, one that fits this post to a tee.  It’s a 1973 performance of his image filled Wild Billy’s Circus Story

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I was recently contacted by someone who had found my work online and had been following it for a while now.  They commented that they liked the honesty in my work and noted that I seemed like an earnest person and painter.  I was kind of taken aback by the word earnest.  I mean, I thought I knew what it meant but I had never been called earnest and was not sure if it was indeed the compliment intended.  But upon checking an online dictionary and discovering that there was no hidden meaning, nothing derisive, I decided that it was indeed a compliment. 

I should be proud to be called earnest.

But this also made me think about how we are perceived by others.  I somewhat know how my work is perceived, online and in the galleries. At least, I think I do.   But personally, do I truly know how I am perceived as an individual?  Do we ever know?  We may know what people feel comfortable in saying about  us to our faces but do we ever get the full view, especially from those who might not see us in a favorable light?

Is the person in the mirror that we see the same person that the outer world sees?

I suppose the answer should be that it doesn’t matter, that we should simply live in a way where we can look in the mirror without guilt or remorse for our actions.  If we can do that, what the outer thinks is moot.

So, I proudly carry the word earnest with me now, as a doctor might wear his PhD. 

Signed– GC Myers, Earnest Painter.

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To the End of Time

This is a new painting, 12″ by 18″ on paper, that I’m calling To the End of Time.  It’s another take on the Baucis and Philemon theme that I have used and talked about here before, from the Greek myth from the poor couple who were favored by the Gods for their generosity of spirit and were rewarded by being allowed to be united for eternity in the form of two trees that sprouted from the same trunk. 

This piece has a wonderful simplicity of form and composition, letting the depth in the colors and the the movement created in the texture of the sky and in the foliage of the trees carry the narrative and emotional load.  I think this painting is very much enhanced by its spareness of detail, making the central figures seem as they exist in some otherworldly plane, free from the drone of the everyday.

The sky here takes on a character of its own with the swirling bands of gesso that dance across it. There is also a nice intensity in the color and contrast of it.  This is one of those pieces that I like to use as an example of how much can be said with little, how each bit of the painting, every square inch, has visual interest.  This was a premise I started painting with many years ago and when my work is at its best, this is very evident. 

Well, at least to me.

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Beauty translates across all cultural boundaries. 

We visited the Fenimore Art Museum in Cooperstown this past Thursday, to tour the facility and get a better view of the space where my work will be hung in an exhibition that opens in August of 2012.  I will write more about that in the upcoming days but I feel compelled to expand first on my opening sentence above in relation to this visit. 

 We finished our visit by heading into the spectacular addition to the museum that houses the Eugene and Clare Thaw Collection of American Indian Art,  considered to be one of the finest collection of Native American art in this country.  It’s pretty amazing that this group was only assembled since 1988.  The Thaws were committed to finding work that best represented the artistry in Native American objects based on their philosophy that the aesthetic power of American Indian art is equivalent to that from any culture.  This has resulted in a collection that is not home to  a few masterpieces set among some other lovely but typical pieces. 

 No, it is a collection of masterpieces. 

To give you an idea of the strength of this collection, there is a traveling exhibition from the collection that has been wowing museum goers in Cleveland, Milwaukee and Dallas museums and is set to open in Indianapolis on December 2.  It has 111 pieces from the collection and has earned rave reviews from critics for the sublime nature of the collected pieces.  Yet, you would never know anything was gone when you go through the collection on display at the Fenimore.  We went from display to display, our mouths open with wonder, the superlatives coming from us seeming so insufficient after a while.

Perhaps the highlight of their collection is the basket shown above, the famed Beacon Lights basket made by Washoe basketmaker Louisa Keyser, Dat So La Lee in her native language.  It is considered a treasure of American Indian art, called for the many years the most famous basket in the world.  It took Keyser 14 months to weave this masterwork and when it was first sold in 1915 it brought a price of around $1500, a small fortune in that day and a sum that drew headlines for the basket.  It is constructed of willow strips that run in horizontal bands around the basket held together with tiny willow strings that are woven vertically.  The threadwork is extraordinarily fine.  Most of the finest baskets of this sort have 27 strands per inch, or so I am told.  This basket has 30.  But beyond the sheer craft, it is the form that takes your breath away.  It is as pure and graceful a form as you will ever witness. Anywhere, in any culture. 

Perfection.

There are so many examples beyond this spectacular basket that I cannot even begin to start detailing them.  If you’re in Indy, take the time to examine that slice of this collected masterpieces.  Even better, take a trip to the beautiful village of Cooperstown and be prepared to have your breath taken away.  I know that I left the museum with the thought that started this blogpost ringing in my head.  Beauty translates.  Seeing this collection made me appreciate so much more the opportunity I have in communicating with my own work, this chance to create a visual language that goes beyond my own limited spoken and written range, beyond the confines of ones own culture. 

The opportunity to speak to the universal nature of the human spirit.  The work in the Thaw Collection certainly does that.

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Attaboy

I thought today would be a good day for a little music and a chance to express my admiration for Yo Yo Ma.  There’s not much to dislike about Yo Yo Ma.  His virtuosity on the cello is evident.  His affability and down to earth nature shines through in interviews, as does his humor.  His ability to move easily in many forms of music, not just the sometimes remote world of classical music,  speaks to his creative inquisitiveness.  He has collaborated a number of times on projects with other world class musicians to create beautiful new music that is beyond the dead composers, though great they may be.

In short, he can do little wrong in my eyes.

He has a new collaboration out recently.  Called the Goat Rodeo Sessions, it combines his cello with the fiddling of Stuart Duncan, the upright bass of Edgar Meyer and the incredible mandolin playing of Chris Thile.  It’s a great fusion of these acoustic elements into a unique blend of Americana.  Just damn good stuff.

Here’s Attaboy.  There’s also a video of the bluegrass inspired Here and Heaven available. 

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New Look

Now that it’s officially November, it’s that time of the year that time of the year when I reevaluate what I’m doing with my work, both from a creative aspect as well as from as the promotional end of things.  Part of that is how I represent my work here and in my website.  Even though I understand the importance of having an up to date and informative website,  I have to admit that I have not always been completely on top of mine. 

I’ve decided that I must get on the stick with my website.  To that end, I’ve started changing it.  I’ve changed the way it functions, added an acoustic guitar backing loop and am adding portfolios that present a fuller retrospective of my work.  For instance, I’ve added portfolios (with slideshows) that show fuller my Red Roof and Archaeology series.  Before, you could only see current works and shows.  I plan on adding more portfolios in the future to make this a much more informative and complete site.  There are still other tweaks such as reformatting the resume and statements as the new site reads them differently but bear with me as I slowly make these changes.

This promotional end of this business is never a lot of fun and I think a lot of artists let it slide in favor of  doing anything else.  I know I have many times before.  But artists are ultimately small business owners and have to take every aspect of their business seriously.  I know that I am probably as cognizant of this as any artist but sometimes I lose sight of my personal responsibility for my own career.  It takes these built in stops in the year to let me step back and measure  and critique my performance from this end of the business.  From there I can take steps to make necessary changes, such as the  new look on the website.  It probably won’t be the last change.

Time to get to it.  Have a great day.

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The official dedication of the Martin Luther King Jr. National Memorial is set for today in Washington, DC.  When thinking about King, the thing that always comes to mind for me is a sense of a grand dignity that demnded respect even from those who stood in direct opposition to the things for which he stood.  It manifested itself in a steadfast and calm manner that really evoked the righteousness of his cause.  At least, that’s what comes to my mind.  Qualities that we all should aspire to, especially those who choose public service as a career.

I came across this wonderful version of the gospel song, Lord Don’t Move the Mountain, by the great Mahalia Jackson that really seemed to fit the day and the occasion.  I was not raised with religion or faith as large parts of my life but I am moved by the faith that is evident in the power of Mahalia Jackson’s singing on this song and several others.  Like I wrote of King above, there is a grand dignity to it.

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Refocus

Haven’t been doing the blog for the last few days due to some distractions that have been necessary.  Plus, I’ve been at a point where I honestly just didn’t feel as though I had anything meaningful to say at the moment.  There are times every now and then when the mind is distracted and slightly unfocused on those things that I normally keep in front of me, leaving me a little out of sorts and with little to say.  And I believe, even though I haven’t always practiced what I preach, that if you don’t have anything to say you should just keep quiet.  Empty words add nothing to the world.

Besides that, I’ve been doing this for over three years and almost 1100 posts and have resorted to repeating myself.  It’s sort of like being married for a long time, as I am,  and finding yourself telling and hearing the same stories over and over.  Part of you knows that this is the case even as you speak.  It can seem maddening at times but there is a comfort level in this and a reassurance that the other person must really love  you if they are willing to hear the same old dog-eared tales that have been rolled out a thousand times before. 

So, every so often, you try to say something new and different in place of those same old stories.  There’s a certain magic in seeing the other person’s eyes when you can see their recognition of the newness of the words, the thoughts.  You hope it’s enough to forgive the constant retelling of tales.

And that’s kind of where I am here at the moment.  I’m hesitant to tell the same old story to the readers, especially when I’m feeling off-center. So, I try to refocus.  I try to ignore distractions and keep my internal priorities close at hand and give them consideration and time.  Try to bring myself back to center, where the stories don’t feel quite so stale and where I can find different aspects of them that allow me to tell them without feeling self-conscious.

I don’t know if this makes any sense to anyone.  All I know is that I’ve got some homework to do here.  We’ll see how it turns out.

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