We got in last night just before 9 PM and I saw that the movie The Pink Panther had come on TCM at 8 PM. That meant that we were just in time for the song Meglio Stasera which appears in the film about an hour in. There are scenes from some movies that I always try to see even if I can’t watch the whole film, scenes that capture some deep emotion in the film or at least make me smile every time. This is one of those. Another is Dick Shawn as the hipster LSD in The Producers when he sings Love Power.
The funny thing about this scene is that it does nothing for the movies story line, doesn’t move the story ahead in any direction. It is simply a musical interlude meant to entertain. And it does that very well, at least for me.
Meglio Stasera, which translates as It Had Better Be Tonight, was written by Henry Mancini who wrote all of the music for the soundtrack including, of course, the hugely famous Pink Panther theme. The alluring Fran Jeffries performs the song in a European ski chalet setting with a cast of early 60’s euro-jet set types dancing along as the song progresses. I always watch for the end when she is joined by a lady in a golden boots, a shimmery jumpsuit and a stacked hairdo that makes her look like she could be David Bowie’s or at least Ziggy Stardust‘s mother.
Anyway, I thought this would be a good pick for some Sunday music. Hope you enjoy. Have a great Sunday!
Sunday morning and I think I’m much more decompressed than yesterday morning after the show. All back to normal, whatever that is. This show has made me think on a wide variety of subjects, about purpose and meaning beyond what I see in the work as well the potential for legacy in these paintings– would they endure into the future?
A good friend stopped in the studio yesterday and we talked for a moment about the subject of legacy. I pointed out that legacy is a big if for any artist and that I can only do what I do — where it ends up in the future is something that is far beyond my own control. It could be in enduring collections or it could be in garage sales and dumpsters– you never know what the vagaries and tastes of the future hold. I witness this all of the time when I go through the records from the auction houses and see painters who were celebrated in their time who are now basically unknown. Their work sells for a pittance, far below what one might expect from reading about their fame when alive.
As an artist, you can only hope that your work has a transcendent quality that allows it to live out of the time of its creator and be of the time in which it is viewed. I don’t know how you do that outside of maintaining consistency in your own vision and hoping that it is one that somehow speaks to those in the future. But there is always the question that if your work does move ahead, does maintain life and attracts future collectors, what would your legacy work be?
I know that this a fool’s game– no one has the ability to predict that future for their own work. You can’t be objective when you are so close to it, can’t discern your own personal feelings for it from how it reads to the outer world. But there are pieces that I see that nag at me, that have a weight that tells me that they may be vital pieces in a potential legacy. Pieces that I could see easily living in the future. There are a number in the current show, including the piece above, Observers.
These pieces have an intangible quality that I wish I could more fully understand so that I could better describe it. Or capture in a way so that it would be in all of my work. There is just something that seems beyond me, something that is beyond this time.
Could I be wrong? Of course. I have been wrong many times in the past and will no doubt be wrong in the future. But for my work I can hope that in this instance I am correct and that they hold on.
Actually, this was all just an elaborate lead in for a little Sunday morning music , some soul stirring from the Alabama Shakes and lead singer Brittany Howard. It is a song titled, of course, Hold On.
This coming February marks 20 years that I will have been showing my work at the West End Gallery. It has been my pleasure over these two decades to be able to exhibit my work in my home area, to be able to share what I do with those folks who live in close proximity to me.
You would think this would make for an easy-going time when it comes to mounting a show each year, as I have done for the last twelve years. After all, many of these people know me, have watched the evolution and growth of the paintings through this time and have supported me in so many ways that I will never be able to fully express my gratitude.
Maybe it’s that last point that makes this such a nerve-wracking show for me. They have done so much for me that I don’t want to disappoint. Like any performer or athlete, you always want to do well in front of a home crowd.
I feel very good about this show, feel that it will the space with deep glow of saturated colors., feel that it really is a full expression of myself in my work. Hopefully, this will prove true.
Below is a short video that gives a preview of all of the work from my upcoming show, Layers, which opens this coming Friday, July 25th, at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. The music is a guitar interpretation of Gymnopedie #1 from composer Erik Satie. The painting at the top is from the show. CalledIn the Pocket of Time, it’s a 24″ by 30″ canvas that was one of the first inspirations for the show’s title.
There are certain songs that immediately take you back to specific moments when you hear them, songs that are imprinted in you as a sort of timestamp. Whenever I hear Grazing in the Grass I am instantly sent back to the summers of my youth. Impressions of bright yellow sunlight seen through closed eyelids, dried and brown cut grass on bare feet and the endless search for something to fill your summer days. We lived relatively isolated in the country and it was a time without instant connection to the outer world– no computers, video games, DVDs, around the clock satellite television or even FM radio– so there was always a pervading sense of boredom.
But, in retrospect, this boredom was a gift and a wonderful thing. It made me create my own entertainment and trained me to bide my time within myself. It gave me time to experiment and explore, to read and to look at the world around me. It seems that I am eternally busy now and I find myself missing that boredom, of wondering what to do next. Or not.
I think boredom has gotten a bad rap with so many parents feeling that they need to fill each moment of their child’s life, depriving the kids of developing self-reliance and a certain creative ability. I know that for me boredom seemed like a curse when I was a kid but was sorely missed once it was gone.
And that all comes to me with this song. And it can be either version, the original Hugh Masekala instrumental #1 hit from 1968 or the Friends of Distinction‘s vocal hit from the following year, which I personally prefer, if only for the chance to sing along with the chorus that ends with Can you dig it, Baby?! I’ve included both versions below for comparison.
So enjoy your Sunday. I hope you find a little time to be bored.
Yet another Sunday morning finds me in the studio working. My show, Traveler, at the Principle Gallery ends this week and my next show, Layers at the West End Gallery, opens in a few weeks on July 25th so there hasn’t been much of a break. But that’s okay, I like the busyness and purposefulness of it. It forces me to keep my head down and concentrate. To forge ahead instead of being distracted by shiny things, something to which I , like many others, am prone.
Not that distraction is a bad thing. You find interesting things when you allow your eyes and mind to wander and that, too, eventually finds its way into your work. But that is for another time when there is a deadline involved.
So, its back to work.
But it is Sunday and I have made a habit of having some music on this day’s posts. This week I am featuring one of my favorites, Neko Case, who I have featured many times over the years. This is Night Still Comes from her most recent CD, The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You–which is quite a mouthful. I chose the painting above to go along with it. Its title is Confessor Blue and its one of the remaining paintings at the Principle Gallery show.
It’s the last Sunday of June and I sit in my studio early this morning surrounded by new work in varied states of completion that is headed to the West End Gallery for my show there at the end of July. There are paintings on easels and on chairs, some propped against the walls, on ledges above the fireplace as well as leaning against the hearth– everywhere I turn they’re facing me.
I take a moment and just sit back and take them all in, just letting them meld together as a collective group. For a moment, there’s a disconcerting feeling like looking at mirror that is shattered but still in place, a hundred different angles of myself staring back at me. But there is a quick adjustment, like my eyes coming into focus, and they’re no longer images of myself. Oh, I’m in there and I am part of what they are but they are more like a group of friends surrounding me, each with their own life but still maintaining a close relationship with me. I know them well, know their secrets, know what they mean to me. And they know me, hold my secrets and share a past with me.
In that moment, there’s a feeling like I am in a room full of friends and it is warmly reassuring. I’m not sure I can do justice with my description here. It makes me think of a favorite song of mine, Feeling Good Again, from Robert Earl Keen. Whenever I hear this song I am reminded of time in my youth spent with my father.
On many Saturdays we ended up at the horse track and before heading out would stop at a beer joint in town. It would only be about 9 or 10 in the morning but the place would be busy with some guys drinking their morning coffee and some their first of many beers. When we walked in, there would be shouted greetings from around the bar. Everyone knew each other and there was a terrific sense of friendship and camaraderie in their banter. Looking back, I can see how that place was a safe haven for a lot of tough lives and how those friendships, though maybe not deep, were reassuring, something on which to hang. Feeling good again.
So when I hear this song, I am transformed again to that thirteen year old kid drinking a coke while my old man joked around with his buddies and looked over the Racing Form with his cup of coffee. Have a great Sunday.
I am back in the studio this morning after returning from Friday night’s opening of Traveler at the Principle Gallery. There is a sense of relief in the aftermath, a deep exhalation at having mostly completed my obligations for the show. But there is often a letdown as well, a combination of having passed the endpoint you’ve been working towards for months and natural self-doubts about things you might have done differently in this show. Fortunately, this show left me with only the mildest of letdowns. I am already focused on my next projects and as far as doubts, while there may be just a few minor ones, I am sure that I have done all that was in my power for this show and the work in it.
We had a lovely few days in Alexandria, blessed with the best weather we’ve seen in all the years that we have been visiting in early June. In the past, we have often endured 100° temperatures, torrential rains and excruciating humidity on this weekend. But this year it was as perfect as the weather could possibly offer with temps in the high 70’s, blue cloudless skies and low humidity . I am available for other regional weather reports, as well! In short, perfect conditions to wander around the area a bit before the show.
We attended the ceremony at the World War II Memorial honoring the living veterans on the 70th anniversary of the D-Day Invasion. It was a beautiful setting there on the Mall, often moving, and I felt very honored to be able to spend a short time in the near presence of those vets who survived that day of days. We also were able to see the Andrew Wyeth show at the National Gallery that I wrote of earlier in the week. It was wonderful to see so much of his work together, to be able to see the constancy and consistency of his personal vision as well as his ability to capture deep emotion within his scenes.
All in all, it was a great stay. But the highlight was being to see many of the folks that I have met over the years who opted to spend some time at the gallery instead of out in that perfect weather. I know that if I were in their shoes, it would have taken a lot to get me there. But for the many who did turn out and to Michele and her great staff– Clint, Jessica, Pamela and Chris along with guest bartender, Fernando Ascencio– I extend a simple and grateful Thank You. I wouldn’t be here right now writing this if not for you all. And that I will always remember.
Okay, it is Sunday morning and we need to music. I was thinking something calming while I decompress. Here’s a classic Vince Guaraldi composition, Cast Your Fate to the Wind. It has some of those same elements that you might recognize from his iconic work with the Peanuts gang.
The painting shown here on the right is a24″ by 36″ on canvas and is part of my solo exhibit which opens Friday at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria. It’s title is Find Your Way which fits neatly in with the show’s title,Traveler. As concepts, both this painting and this show have to do with moving forward and discovering new territories within, becoming more than you were when the journey began. Continuous seeking, sometimes plodding along, all to find that internal sense of comfort and belonging that some might refer to as home. That place where your external reality one day matches your internal reality.
I’m not sure that was my goal when I began painting just a little over twenty years ago. I knew that I needed to travel from that place inside where I had been dwelling and color and form became a vehicle for me, one that would carry me emotionally to new horizons and vistas, closer to that place where I might feel comfortably at home, inside and out.
And it has.
I am closer to home but it’s a journey that will most likely not end until my final day. And that’s okay because I have come to appreciate the lessons of the trek and the sight of the new horizon coming into view, knowing that I am further along than I was it all began.
A big part of my journey has been my affiliation with a few galleries, all with which I have had long relationships, who have allowed me to continually keep searching for that place that I don’t even know. I began with the Principle Gallery in early 1997 and had my first solo show there in 2000. It is where the Red Tree was born and this year marks fifteen years that they have allowed me to chronicle my internal travels in a show there each year. It has been my great pleasure to have stumbled into such a wonderful place with such warm and real people, a place that makes me feel closer to home during this journey.
There’s a full preview of the show below that I quickly put together. I hope it gives you that sense of the continuity of effort and purpose from image to image that I see.
Well, the work for my fifteenth show, Traveler, at the Principle Gallery has been delivered and now there is some time to exhale a bit before the opening this coming Friday, June 6. It was a good trip yesterday with no complications during the drive , stunning weather and a really nice time at the gallery– such a warm and upbeat group of people there. While there, a friend popped in for a good visit and I also met a few other interesting folks, including one who also had a family connection to the early logging trade in the Adirondacks. There is a good possibility that our great-grandfathers knew one another in those days of the late 19th century when that part of the mountains was abuzz with lumbermen. But that is a story for another time.
Delivering the show brought the usual feeling of relief that comes with completing a task but without the anxiety that often accompanies it as I wait to see if the show will be successful. I suppose I have enough experience with this scenario to know that things always work out if I have put in the effort. And I have. This show was very satisfying, during the process when I was the creator and in the aftermath when I became an observer. There were pieces that came from hard fought struggles and some that seemed to fall from the hand with no effort, each ultimately achieving that life of their own to which I often refer. In the end, it all seemed to come together very well. I will be eager to see how it hangs in the space. I hope that if you are in the area, you can stop in and see the show.
It’s a Sunday morning , which means it’s time for a little music and I thought today I would feature something from Leonard Cohen. I chose the song Anthem simply because of the chorus that goes Ring the bells that still can ring/ Forget your perfect offering/There is a crack, a crack in everything/ That’s how the light gets in. That has long been a theme in my work. My second show at the Principle Gallery was titled Seeking Imperfection because I felt it was the imperfection in the work that made it brought it to life, that gave evidence of the imperfect person behind it. To me, perfection was cold and sterile concept, far from the human experience. I wanted the blood and heat of humanity in my work. Maybe that’s why red has been such a vital color in my visual vocabulary. Perhaps the piece shown at the top is a good example of this. Purifying Light, a 20″ by 60″ canvas, is part of the show.
Anyway, here is Anthem from Leonard Cohen. Have a great Sunday!
Blow up your TV , throw away your paper Go to the country, build you a home Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches Try and find Jesus on your own
–John Prine, Spanish Pipedream
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This is a small new painting that is about 6″ by 11″ on paper. I call itPipedream after the old John Prine song, Spanish Pipedream. I say old but it ‘s one of those songs that never feels old to me despite the fact that it came out back in 1971, forty three years ago. It is old. One hint of its age is at the beginning of the song when he says he was a soldier on the way to Montreal, referring to fleeing north to avoid the war and the draft. But it’s still such an infectious chorus with a message that so hits the point that I still find myself humming this song quite often.
I guess this painting’s simplicity and cheery feel made me think of this song. There is something very idyllic and charmingly essential in this little guy. It does look a bit like a pipedream, which is one of those words that we often use while not thinking about its origin or meaning. This word, pipedream, is from Victorian era Britain and refers to an improbable fantasy dreamt of while smoking opium. Maybe this is an improbable fantasy? It does have a fantasy feel about it but lets hope it is not so improbable.
This is, of course, one opf the pieces from my show, Traveler, opening next Friday at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria. Now here’s the song from one of my favorites, John Prine.
We got in last night just before 9 PM and I saw that the movie The Pink Panther had come on TCM at 8 PM. That meant that we were just in time for the song Meglio Stasera which appears in the film about an hour in. There are scenes from some movies that I always try to see even if I can’t watch the whole film, scenes that capture some deep emotion in the film or at least make me smile every time. This is one of those. Another is Dick Shawn as the hipster LSD in The Producers when he sings Love Power.
Redtree Times 