Redtree Times

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To have all your life’s work and to have them along the wall, it’s like walking in with no clothes on. It’s terrible.

–Andrew Wyeth

I’ve employed the words above a number of times over the years on opening days for my shows. I am sure that is how I will feel at tonight’s opening of my show, Places of Peace, at Kada Gallery that kicks off with an opening reception that runs from 6-9PM.

After all, as Wyeth pointed out, your work is always personal and revealing in some way. Like family photos. So, to have it exposed to people who might not share your emotional investment or see its personal importance to you can be nerve-wracking. Even when you yourself judge that the work is everything you hope it to be, you worry that others won’t see it that way, that they won’t be able to discern the time, effort, and emotion invested.

You worry that your own judgement was wrong and that you will look like a silly, misguided fool.

It can feel like a pretty big monkey on your back on opening days. But as is the case with this show, you trust that work that moved you, that filled you with emotion, will somehow find souls who experience it in a similar way. 

It often does. And though I am filled with anxiety and uncertainty, that is my hope for tonight since I do feel strongly about the work in this show.

Here’s a bit from a post from a couple of weeks back that serves as a casual show statement:

I am coming into the final two weeks of preparation for my next exhibit. The solo show opens Friday, November 4, at the Kada Gallery in Erie, PA. I have been represented by Kada since 1996 and this will be my tenth solo show there, the last having taken place in 2017.

I am calling this show Places of Peace.

It’s a simple and straightforward title because, for the most part, that is the thing I am seeking in my work.

A place of peace, of quiet and harmony.

Much of my life has involved searching for something I couldn’t envision or describe. I was looking for something that would relieve an anxiety that seemed to come from both inside and outside myself.

I soon realized that they were not to be found in the outer world until they had first been found in the inner.

What I was seeking were Places of Peace— places anchored more in feeling and imagination than reality. Places that allowed me to find an inner balance and harmony while living in an outer world that I often did not understand.

I ultimately found these places in my painting.

These places of peace have provided much needed refuge for me over the past 25+ years and in that time, recurring symbols and icons– the Red Tree, the Red Roofed Houses, the Red Chair, the inward leading path, and the ever-present Sun/Moons— have formed the language with which I describe these places to others. Over the years, that language has evolved and grown, adding nuance with the use of deeper and more layered colors and textures.

This symbol language is all there, making up the better part of this show. That makes this a show that very much speaks to and for me. The paintings from this show, such as the one at the top, And Peace Arrives, have provided me with places in which I find that balance and harmony that I sought for so long.

My hope is that it does the same for others.

The reception tonight runs from 6-9 PM. Hope you can stop in and say hello.

Radiant Hearts– At Kada Gallery

Without strong affection, and humanity of heart, and gratitude to that Being whose code is mercy, and whose great attribute is benevolence to all things that breathe, true happiness can never be attained.

–Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

This new painting, Radiant Hearts, certainly falls in the Baucis & Philemon series of my work, with its intertwined trees representing the aged couple from Greek mythology were granted an eternal life together by Zeus in recognition of the goodwill they had extended to him when he appeared in their town disguised as a beggar. Though they were the poorest of the townspeople that Zeus had approached that day, they were the only ones who opened their home to the masked Zeus and offered to him all that they possessed.

Zeus swept away that town with a mighty flood that killed all. That is, all except Baucis & Philemon.

Moved by their benevolence and charity, as well as their obvious bonds of love, Zeus spared them. He then made them priests and guardians of a shining golden temple that arose from the now receding flood waters in the place where the town had once stood. And when they died simultaneously years later, he granted them their wish that they remain together for eternity by transforming them into two trees on a hillside that grew from one trunk.

This piece, Radiant Hearts, has a great warmth and sense of harmony. Much like the painting from yesterday’s post, A Rising Peace, this piece had an immediate calming effect for me. Whenever I stopped to take it in, I would lose myself in the glow of the colors and the rhythm of the forms of the landscape and the light of the sky.

In those times when I did so while feeling a bit disenchanted with mankind, it had a way of replacing my misanthropy with feelings that were more generous towards my fellow humans– and myself, as well. It would calm me and allow me to focus on the good of this world rather than on its darker aspects.

Maybe it is that same spirit of calmness that Zeus felt as he witnessed the love and generosity of Baucis & Philemon.

I can imagine that being the case.

Here’s a song rom the late Warren Zevon that feels right for this post. It’s Keep Me in Your Heart, a song that he wrote while in the throes of the terminal cancer that took his life. Zevon led an interesting, if sometimes crazy, life. His father, a Jewish Russian immigrant, was a bookie and close friend of mobster Mickey Cohen. When Warren was 13 he studied with Igor Stravinsky before quitting high school in the early 60’s to go to NYC to be a folksinger. He knocked around for years before finding success both as a songwriter and performer. This success came and went several times, often as result of his own self-destructive behavior. He died in 2003 at age 56. I’ve always thought it was shame that so many people only know him for Werewolves of London when he wrote so many other beautiful songs such as this.

Radiant Hearts is a 24″ by 12″ canvas that is included in Places of Peace, my new solo exhibit that opens tomorrow, Friday, November 4, at Kada Gallery in Erie, PA. There is an Opening Reception running from 6-9 PM. I will be in attendance, my first appearance at Kada since my 2017 show there. I hope you can find time to stop in to say hello and see this piece and the rest in the show.

A Rising Peace— Now at the Kada Gallery

He knew the depth of beauty, He was for ever surprised by its peace and its majesty; and He stood before the earth as the first man had stood before the first day.
We whose senses have been dulled, we gaze in full daylight and yet we do not see. We would cup our ears, but we do not hear; and stretch forth our hands, but we do not touch. And though all the incense of Arabia is burned, we go our way and do not smell.

–Kahlil Gibran, A Philosopher: On Wonder and Beauty (1928)

The painting at the top is titled A Rising Peace. It is 18″ by 36″ on canvas and is included in Places of Peace, my solo show at the Kada Gallery that opens this coming Friday., November 4th.

I pulled a lot of tranquility from this particular painting while it was in the studio with me. There are certain pieces that just emit that vibe, that have a cohesive wholeness and harmony to which you immediately react, even from a distance. For me, this is one of those pieces.

Wherever it was in the studio, my eye would always find it and rest on it for a few moments. Without fail, this short viewing always provided me with some sense of solitude and hope. Even on those days when my mind was racing and scattered, it had a centering effect for me, reminding me to take notice of the beauty in this world and not be distracted by the ugliness that sometimes seems to crowd our days.

What more could I ask of it?

Here’s a well-traveled song, One Day, from Matisyahu, who is an American musician who carries a lot of labels– reggae artist, rapper, alt rocker, and then some. Just a guy who makes music, I guess. His stage name is the Ashkenazi Hebrew pronunciation of the name from which the Anglicized name Matthew is derived.

The song fits well with what I see in this painting.

Sundown, yellow moon, I replay the past
I know every scene by heart, they all went by so fast

–Bob Dylan, If You See Her, Say Hello

The Moon Resonates– Now At Kada Gallery 

The paintings are at the Kada Gallery now, delivered yesterday. Out of my hands now and tentatively on their own while I sit here in a relatively empty studio. There’s always a coolness in the suddenly opened space created by the departure of a show’s works. IT sometimes make me shiver a bit.

I generally feel good about competing the task but also feel a small sense of loss in their absence. Some have shown themselves in the short time they dwelt with me to be good companions. Actually, more than that. Like family, I suppose, in that they are part of me. I guess you might say that they are that part of you that you address when speaking to yourself, either in inner dialogues or out loud.

When paintings like this head out the door, I always have a twinge of despair that they may not return, that they will head off into some new existence beyond me. Kind of like the memory of the last time you see a loved one before they pass on.

Pieces like the one shown here, The Moon Resonates, fall into that category. Maybe that feeling is because such pieces are ultimately derived from the kind of memories whose feelings they evoke.

Paintings are, after all, memorialized emotions and to see one leave means that another reminder of a memory might well be gone forever. That’s cause for a bit of reflection and a touch of despair.

Of course, the redeeming feature of this all is that there is the recognition that the work will somehow remind others of the emotions from their own memories, happy or otherwise.

Whatever memory they feel strongly enough to want to be reminded by a particular painting.

This piece spoke quietly to me, gave me a bit of reflective calm. A soother. It reminded me that though the night is often dark there is always a bit of light. The dark might blot out the details but there is light enough to see the essence of things, that sense of the whole which really matters.

I hope it finds a home that sees such things in it. If not and it comes back to me, I will no doubt be giddy with joy, like that joyous feeling of relief one has when a pet who has been missing for days somehow finds it way home.

The show, Places of Peace, opens Friday, November 4, at the Kada Gallery in Erie, PA. I will be in attendance at the opening reception which runs from 6-9 PM. If you can, please stop in and take in this painting and the others. We’ll talk, if you want. Your choice.

Here’s a Bob Dylan song, If You See Her, Say Hello, from his Blood on the Tracks album. The lyrics might well describe the feeling of a lost love that I sometimes attach to my works. That might sound a bit goofy to some, but if you have one of my paintings, say hello for me. They’ll know what I mean.

Monsters exist because they are part of the divine plan, and in the horrible features of those same monsters the power of the creator is revealed.

–Umberto Eco, Name of the Rose

I am on the road today, delivering the work for my show, Places of Peace, that opens Friday at the Kada Gallery in Erie.

I didn’t have time to write about new work from the show (that’ll come tomorrow) but wanted to at least post something about today being Halloween. I am not sure that this unholy trinity of words, image and song work together but, hey, I am really tight on time.

First you get an excerpt from Umberto Eco that says, more or less, that the monsters we face are part of who we are, part of our creation. As I age, that makes more and more sense. I am much more scared by what we are than some supernatural force or mythic beast.

Our ability to terrorize and abuse one another rivals any monster.

Then I throw in a poster from a legendary Lon Chaney silent film, London After Midnight. There are no remaining complete copies of the film, the last being destroyed ina 1965 studio fire.

I am a big fan of Chaney, the Man of a Thousand Faces. Even without his flair for stage makeup, Chaney’s face had the ability to perfectly portray the human monster and produce feelings of terror, all without the need for gore. The character from this film always gave me the chills, even in the stills from the film.

Plus, it’s a great poster.

And let’s wrap it up with the ever-Halloweeny Cramps and their psychobilly rant Mad Daddy.

Again, the human monster. Because on Halloween- or any other day, for that matter– nothing is more terrifying than that.

Time Passage— Coming to Kada Gallery, November 4

He that would live in peace and at ease must not speak all he knows or all he sees.

–Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanack

Been sitting here for way too long this morning, trying to figure out a way to properly express both my despair and anger at the rising tide of hatred we have experienced in recent days in the form of physical violence, intimidation, and multiple examples of public expressions of racism and antisemitism. The specter of fascism seems as near as and much scarier than Halloween.

But for today, I am going to be still and abide by the words of Poor Richard. Maybe gain a bit of peace for to call my own.

For this week’s Sunday musical selection, here’s a peace offering– literally. It is a song from the ultra-talented Rhiannon Giddens with her banjo called Peace Offering.

Force Natural– Soon at Kada Gallery, Erie, PA

This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.

–George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman, 1903

I came across the lines above from the George Bernard Shaw play, Man and Superman, while looking for something to accompany this new painting. It describes the feeling that the individual gets when they recognize their sense of purpose, when they understand what they are doing is what they are meant to be.

And that the thing that gives them this sense of purpose has meaning and importance of some sort.

It does give the feel of being a force of nature.

It fosters a sense of responsibility for one’s own place in this world as well as a sense of gratitude, both to the universe for allowing one to be in such a position and those who have helped them find this place.

There are no gnawing grievances, no complaints of things taken, or offenses suffered. It recognizes the sense of purpose in all others and embraces the differences that exist among all others.

The Force Natural stands upright as it is, flawed yet strong and just as it should be.

That last bit from Shaw– being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy — might well describe one side of the struggle which we are witnessing in our political and cultural life right now. It is a movement based on selfishness, spite, and grievance.

Its sense of purpose is not a force of nature, but an unnatural force.

What I see in this painting is the antithesis of that movement and way of thinking.

This new painting is 10″ by 20″ on panel and is titled Force Natural. It is included in my solo show, Places of Peace, that opens next Friday, November 4, at the Kada Gallery in Erie, PA.

The Uplifted Heart– Coming to the Kada Gallery

As I walked in the woods I felt what I often feel that nothing can befall me in life, no calamity, no disgrace (leaving me my eyes) to which Nature will not offer a sweet consolation. Standing on the bare ground with my head bathed by the blithe air, & uplifted into the infinite space, I become happy in my universal relations. The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign & accidental. I am the heir of uncontained beauty and power.

–Ralph Waldo Emerson, Journals

Since Thoreau has made a couple of appearances this week, I figured we’d keep going on the Transcendentalist Train and have a little Ralph Waldo Emerson this morning. After all, their reverence for nature, the individual, the conscience and intellectual reason make me believe that they match up well with the spirit of my work.

I certainly think this new painting, a 24″ by 24″ canvas titled The Uplifted Heart, meshes with that Transcendentalist spirit, especially as it pertains to the excerpt from Emerson above.

Standing on the bare ground with my head bathed by the blithe air, & uplifted into the infinite space, I become happy in my universal relations... I am the heir of uncontained beauty and power.

That’s some powerful feeling. I wouldn’t be disappointed if that were the only thing that a single person took away from one of my paintings. That transcendent feeling is, after all, what most artists, me included, seek through their work.

This piece comes close to that for me.

The Uplifted Heart is part of Places of Peace, my solo exhibit of works that opens next Friday, November 4 at the Kada Gallery in Erie, PA. There is an opening reception that runs from 6-9 PM. I will be there and look forward to talking with some folks I haven’t seen in quite some time. Hope you can make it.

Here’s a wonderful performance from David Byrne and the Brooklyn Youth Chorus of his song One Fine Day.Its tone and title fit this post well.

Haven of Spirit— Coming to the Kada Gallery, Erie

No man is an island.

Or so said John Donne. He was probably right. I guess the best you can hope for is to be at the very end of a long and skinny peninsula that is extremely difficult to reach by any means.

You can still be got. But, by gum, folks got to work to get to you.

Sounds pretty good right now. You can probably guess that I’m in a bit of a foul mood this AM. Tired and a little cranky with a lot on my plate as I prep for my Kada Gallery show that opens next Friday, November 4.

Makes me glad that I do what I do. I can sequester myself away at the end of my figurative peninsula and not have to put on a happy face for anyone. I used to have jobs where wearing that smiley face was a valuable asset, where the task was to make others comfortable. I was adept at masking emotions on those cranky, disjointed days. It might have been my only real talent.

Might still be.

But on mornings where I don’t feel like smiling or making nice, it’s a damn fine job that lets me set aside that mask and just scowl and mutter a little. Here’s a little song from Dan Reeder that sums it all up pretty well. It’s called Just Leave Me Alone Today. He records on John Prine’s Oh Boy label and is very much in a similar mode. I played him here a couple of years ago with his song Clean Elvis.

Of course, it you’re not cranky this morning and want something a little more upbeat, I’ve also included his Bomp Bomp. It made me smile this morning without reaching for my mask. 

And that’s a good thing on any day.

The Heartening Light– Soon at Kada Gallery, Erie

I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious effort.

–Henry David Thoreau, Where I Lived and What I Lived For, 1854

I guess it will be okay to share some Thoreau two days in a row. His words seem to have survived the test of time pretty well and still ring true.

I immediately saw a connection between this new painting, The Heartening Light, and the words from Thoreau above. The Red Tree here, in its position atop the fields, seems to be an end product of hard work.

Perhaps that conscious effort alluded to by Thoreau?

After all, we can choose what we want to be, and for the most part it is our effort that determines the outcome.

And sometimes, in the midst of our labors, we need a little encouragement, something that keeps us looking forward.

And that’s the aspect I am seeing in this painting– the light of encouragement that inspires growth.

Of course, there are limitations and setbacks along the way. But so long as there is even a flicker of encouragement there is possibility.

Here’s a favorite old Hank Williams song, I Saw the Light, to go along with this piece. This version is from the original studio acetate recordings that includes an interesting false start with comments.