Redtree Times

Forms and Chaos– Now at the West End Gallery

So I wish you first a
Sense of theatre; only
Those who love illusion
And know it will go far:
Otherwise we spend our
Lives in a confusion
Of what we say and do with
Who we really are.

― W.H. Auden

The new painting above, Forms and Chaos, is one of those pieces that I would consider for myself more than anyone else. It’s one of those paintings about which I have little concern how it is perceived by others, have no expectations for its acceptance or appreciation or the possibility of it finding a new home.

It may have meaning to it that words might point out but I don’t need them and don’t want to do anything–explain it, interpret it, defend it– beyond simply showing it.

It has no illusion. It just is what it is and that is all I need to know.

Maybe the shedding of illusion is how one persists through chaos.

I don’t really know.

And this morning, I am just going to let it be as it is.

Here’s a favorite song that I haven’t played here in a long time. I was reminded by its use in the TV ads for the new sci fi/horror film Nope. The version they use is not the 1970 original from The Temptations. The film instead uses 1971 remake from The Undisputed Truth, which was a group that was formed and managed by songwriter/producer Norman Whitfield.

You probably don’t know the name but Whitfield wrote or co-wrote many of the greatest hits of the Temptations and others, including “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg”, “(I Know) I’m Losing You”, “I Heard It Through the Grapevine”, “Cloud Nine”, “I Can’t Get Next to You”, “War”, “Ball of Confusion (That’s What the World Is Today)”, “Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me)”, “Smiling Faces Sometimes”, and “Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone”. 

There are many more but that, by itself, is quite a playlist.

The Undisputed Truth was formed by Whitfield as an effort to branch out into what he termed Psychedlic Soul. which employed different production techniques, effects, and instrumentation than the Motown Sound of which Whitfield was one of the original creators. His group covered many of the songs he had written for the Temptations and enjoyed moderate success though never truly to the level of the originals.

Though I prefer the Temptations original, the version below from The Undisputed Truth is still really strong. How can you not love a song that says:

Oh, great googa-looga, can’t you hear me talking to you
Just a ball of confusion
Oh yeah, that’s what the world is today

End O’ Day — At the West End Gallery

In normal life we hardly realize how much more we receive than we give, and life cannot be rich without such gratitude. It is so easy to overestimate the importance of our own achievements compared with what we owe to the help of others.

― Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison

Many thanks to all who came out last night for the opening of Chaos & Light at the West End Gallery. It was good to get to see a number of new folks, some others whose names I knew but have never met and a host of familiar faces. 

I am so grateful for those who chose to attend. It was good to talk again about art and, for a brief few minutes, it felt like a small return of normalcy in the strange new place in which we find ourselves.

I still felt awkward but not quite so much as I had feared.

And I guess that’s a good thing, a small victory, of sorts. That, at least, gives me something I can work with going forward.

Another thing for which I can be grateful.

I must also extend my heartfelt thanks to Jesse, Lin and John at the West End Gallery. Their constant support and encouragement along with the hard work and attention to detail they put into every show always knocks me out. I can’t fully express how appreciative I am of all they do and have done for me over the past 27+ years that I have been affiliated with the gallery.

Now, if I can only squeeze in another 27. I might be asking too much in that, but it is something to shoot for, a goal to put out in front of me.

We all need that, don’t we?

The excerpt on gratitude at the top of the page is one that I have used on this blog several times over the year. It’s author, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, is also the subject of one of my most popular blog entries, one from a number of years back that still gets a number of visits every day. That post, On Stupidity, is one worth reading if you are not familiar with Bonhoeffer’s life during the rise of Nazism in Germany before and during WW II. You may well see parallels with those perilous times in what has been occurring here in the present.

Lake Life — Included at Chaos & Light at the West End Gallery

How can it be that I’ve never seen that lofty sky before? Oh, how happy I am to have found it at last. Yes! It’s all vanity, it’s all an illusion, everything except that infinite sky. There is nothing, nothing – that’s all there is. But there isn’t even that. There’s nothing but stillness and peace. Thank God for that!

― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

I came across the excerpt above from Tolstoy’s War and Peace and it really rang a bell for me. It seemed to capture the feeling I have often had when faced with big skies before, above and around me.

It feels as so much nothing and yet, so much everything. As though stillness and peace become an entity in the space of the sky, one with its own consciousness and being. That might be the reason I seldom feel alone in such spaces.

That’s the thought behind the new painting shown at the top, Lake Life. It is 30″ by 48″ on canvas and is included in Chaos & Light, my solo show that opens tonight at the West End Gallery with an Opening Reception that runs from 5-7 PM.

Ah, another show opening. I’ve taken part in about 60 of these in the past twenty-five or so years so it should be old hat. But because of the pandemic, this is only my second since 2019 where I will be in attendance.

I have to admit that I am nervous. There is always a level of anxiety and worry about meeting expectations, turnout, and how the work is received. That’s built in by now.

But more than that, I have become pretty hermitized over the past few years and the idea of spending any time out of the comfort zone of home and studio feels like a traumatic episode. Since I can’t drive because of the broken foot, I have only left my place only a few times, for doctor appointments and to deliver the show. As soon as we are heading down the road, I am already envisioning and savoring the return home.

Another part of my nervousness is that I’m a little out of practice in talking to people, in general and about my work. You’d be surprised how little I speak about my work to the very few people I do talk with on a regular basis.

It occurs to me as I write this, that this lack of discussion may be why it has become more and more difficult to write about the work here. So, maybe this will be a good thing.

We shall see tonight.

As I have pointed out in recent posts, I will be wearing a mask since I anticipate speaking with a number of folks in close proximity. But we are not requiring masks for anyone and will leave that choice to you based on your own level of comfort and concern.

We are still considering doing a Gallery Talk of some sort. We are trying to work out the logistics required to make it work in a way so that all who might want to attend –myself included– would feel both safe and comfortable. At my last in-person Gallery Talk at the West End in 2019, there were about 90 people jammed into that space. It was a fun talk for me and while I would like to do that again, that kind of crowding is out of the question at this point.

We are considering doing a talk with a smaller group with limited reserved seating. Of course, we don’t want anyone to feel left out. To that end, we might be open to a series of such talks with different groups of people, and maybe even different topics, for each. Maybe even a series over a couple of days. Just thinking out loud here.

Nothing has been determined but we do need some feedback. If you are interested in attending one of these talks with limited reserved seating, please contact the West End Gallery and let them know. 

West End Gallery email: info@westendgallery.net

West End Gallery phone: 607-936-2011

Entwined in Time— At the West End Gallery

Then only in the empty spaces,
Death, walking very silently,
Shall fear the glory of our faces
Through all the dark infinity.

So, clothed about with perfect love,
The eternal end shall find us one,
Alone above the Night, above
The dust of the dead gods, alone.

—Rupert Brooke, The Call

The new painting at the top is another in the Baucis & Philemon series that I have documented here many times over the years. They feature intertwined trees that represent the poor elderly couple from Greek mythology that won the favor of Zeus. In return for their warmth and hospitality when he had been spurned by all their fellow townspeople, Zeus granted their wish that they should be together through eternity by transforming them at their deaths into two trees on a hillside that would forever be as one.

This particular interpretation of this theme is called Entwined in Time. I chose to pair it with the last two stanzas of a poem from Rupert Brooke titled The Call. Brooke was a young British poet who died, at age 27, in World War I.

As a result, though he only wrote a handful of poems having to do with the war, Brooke has always been considered one of the British War Poets. Even in the video below for The Call, which was written long before the war in the years between 1905 and 1908, it is depicted as being about a solider at war. There is another video version of this poem that is totally based on war imagery.

But I read the poem as being solely about the attraction– the call– of another that leads to a form of enduring love. Perhaps even an eternal one that lasts beyond the time of man and gods.

You may see this painting in a different light. Again, that is as it should be. I don’t expect that people will see the same things in my work or interpret them in the same way. Actually, I am often heartened when hearing a different take on a piece because that means that it struck a deep enough chord that this other person took time to ponder over their reaction.

And as an artist, that is all I can ask.

Entwined in Time is a 20″by 10″ painting on aluminum panel that is included in this year’s edition of my annual solo exhibit, Chaos & Light at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. The show opens tomorrow, Friday, July 22, and there is an opening reception that runs from 5-7 PM. Harpist Meredith Bocek will be performing in the Upstairs Gallery.

I will be in attendance and will be wearing my mask since I am cautious and also anticipate speaking with quite a few folks. However, the gallery is not requiring that you wear a mask. That is left to your own determination based on your personal preference, comfort, and risk levels.

Hope to see you there.

Between Order and Chaos– At the West End Gallery

In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order.

–Carl Jung

There is a philosophical concept called Unus Mundus— Latin for One World. Its premise is basically that behind the evident chaos of this world and the universe there is a unifying realm of absolute knowledge on which all existence is based.

It has been around for ages, going back in some form to the ancient Greeks. In the last century, Carl Jung became the biggest advocate of this theory, using it to explain the similarity in the content and construct of the myths and stories of the cultures and their belief systems. Each represents the discovery of some small bit of the order or pattern contained in chaos surrounding this world and becomes a recurring symbol, forming what Jung termed as an archetype. 

I describe an archetype as being how there are universal reactions and interpretations to certain images. One of the main reasons I use the Red Tree and the Red Roof, the Red Chair, and the ball in the sky that serves as the sun/moon is that each translates seamlessly across cultures. You don’t need specific cultural knowledge to understand the reality they symbolize. Each carries universal meaning.

This theory, the Unus Mundus, is what I see as the force behind the new painting at the top, Between Order and Chaos. It’s about how we struggle to create order in the face of constant chaos (represented in the sky’s slashing marks) with the orderliness of the flower beds representing this attempt.

The round flower bed caught in the curve of the path echoes the sun above. I see it somewhat as a symbol of synchronicity, another term coined by Jung. He uses it to explain some coincidences that seem to have some sort of meaning though there is no explanation for this feeling.

A coincidence might be just that or it might be that we have unwittingly come in contact with a strand of the Unus Mundus.

I sometimes feel as I have had fleeting moments of synchronicity but I can’t be sure of that.

How does one really know such a thing?

And I can’t say that we will ever learn more about or understand the Unus Mundus or the meaning of synchronicity, even though it might be for the betterment of us all as a species.

Perhaps we have become too comfortable living in this slice of the universe between order and chaos?

I don’t know. But for now, it’s all we have.

Between Order and Chaos is a 16″ by 20″ painting on aluminum panel that is included in this year’s edition of my annual solo exhibit, Chaos & Light at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. The show opens Friday, July 22, and there is an opening reception that runs from 5-7 PM. Harpist Meredith Bocek will be performing in the Upstairs Gallery.

I will be in attendance and will be wearing my mask since I am cautious and also anticipate speaking with quite a few folks. However, the gallery is not requiring that you wear a mask. That is left to your own determination based on your personal preference, comfort, and risk levels.

Hope to see you there.

The Allure— Now at the West End Gallery

Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.

― Rumi

A lot of paintings have bodies of water in them. Most likely, this is a result of living in the Finger Lakes region of New York state. I don’t take advantage of this proximity to the water very often but just having it nearby has an effect.

There’s always a thrill in coming over a ridge and having the lake roll out below you. At such times I sometimes feel like I’ve stumbled on a scene from a snowglobe with the lake at its bottom and a huge dome of cool, clear air over it.

That thrill of seeing the water and air and land merging together creates a pull of its own. This attraction is common to all people. From the folks around the lakes to those at the edges of the great oceans and seas to those who live alongside the rivers of this world. I built a pond here years ago just so water was never far out of sight.

The allure of water is certainly powerful.

And that is part of what I see in this new painting, The Allure, which is from my upcoming West End Gallery show. The title refers to allure of water as well as other forms of attraction– the pull of the sun, the open road, the far horizon, or the security of home.

We are all drawn by those things– people, places, tastes, art, etc.– that we cannot always explain or deny. And maybe we shouldn’t attempt to do so. Perhaps we should just trust our mysterious instincts and allow ourselves to be drawn by those things we love.

Hopefully, as Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, wrote above, it will not lead us astray.

This year’s edition of my annual solo exhibit, Chaos & Light, opens Friday, July 22, at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. There is an opening reception that runs from 5-7 PM. Harpist Meredith Bocek will be performing in the Upstairs Gallery.

I will be in attendance and will be wearing my mask since I am cautious and also anticipate speaking with quite a few folks. However, the gallery is not requiring that you wear a mask. That is left to your own determination based on your personal comfort and risk levels.

Hope to see you there.

“Big Time”

Homefield – At Principle Gallery”

If you don’t think too good, don’t think too much.

― Ted Williams

The words above may or may not have much to do with baseball– or art– but the fact that they were spoken by Ted Williams, long considered perhaps the greatest pure hitter in baseball history and the holder of one of my favorite nicknames, the Splendid Splinter, made it worthy of inclusion here today. That and the fact that it’s good advice for anyone– baseball players, fans, artists, or anyone else.

I thought since Major League Baseball is on break for its annual All-Star festivities, I would take this opportunity to show off a couple of new baseball paintings that are part of my exhibit of new work that opens Friday at the West End Gallery.

The two pieces shown at the top are Big Time and Homefield. Both are 12″ by 16″ on aluminum panel.

I enjoy painting these baseball pieces. Part of it undoubtedly comes from some innate attraction to the geometry of the baseball diamond, something I’ve felt since I was a small child. Another part is just the simple process of composing these particular paintings. They always start with the diamond at some point on the surface and then the rest of the composition spreads out organically.

Painting that spreading part is a constant process of problem solving, weighing and balancing each element while trying to predict what one mark on the surface will dictate for the next. These pieces, while enjoyable to paint, are also very taxing. They require long periods of tight concentration with little time to let the mind wander or go into a state of stillness.

I generally feel a little wiped out after working on these pieces. Maybe that can be attributed to the advice from Ted Williams. Perhaps too much thinking for my limited capacity.

But so long as the result pleases me, I can deal with that. And the baseball pieces generally please me very much. I can’t put a finger on any one aspect that triggers this reaction. They simply please some inner part of me. Sometimes it feels like I have an unspecified personal need to paint these pieces and these two have fulfilled that need.

Here’s a little Baseball Boogie from Mabel Scott to kick off the All Star break. Now, play ball!

Of Good Cheer– Now at the West End Gallery

Be of good cheer. Do not think of today’s failures, but of the success that may come tomorrow. You have set yourselves a difficult task, but you will succeed if you persevere; and you will find a joy in overcoming obstacles. Remember, no effort that we make to attain something beautiful is ever lost.

― Helen Keller

The new painting above, included at my West End Gallery show opening this coming Friday, never fails in filling me with a sense of possibility. Its surface has a brightness of tone that completely overwhelms its underlying darkness.

Oh, the darkness of the original black-painted surface is still present, still managing to serve as a counterweight to any pretense of cock-eyed optimism. Even so, there is a potent sense of joy and a real bring-on-the-day energy in this piece.

I can’t say for sure, but it might be the most cheerful painting I have ever painted. That’s saying a lot.

The title for this 15″ by 30″ painting is Of Good Cheer. It is mainly derived from the words at the top from Helen Keller though many will recognize the phrase from Jesus’ advice to his Apostles in his final days when he told them of the persecution and hardships they would be facing. I am sure it has also made its way into a Christmas carol or some other similar song.

Whatever the case, the idea of finding some joy in the face of hardship is good advice for anybody anywhere.

Of Good Cheer is, as I pointed out, at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY for my annual exhibit there that opens this Friday, July 22.

I hope you get a chance to see this particular piece in person. I feel that most of my work looks much better in person but that is especially true for this piece. I had a horrible time photographing it, in properly adjusting and matching the multiple blue and green tones in it. The image above is a fair representation but the original is far superior.

For this week’s Sunday Morning Music, let’s hear some good cheer from the Staple Singers from back around 1970. It’s a song that I think really lines up well with this painting. This is I’ll Take You There.

Terminus— Now at the West End Gallery

The strangeness of Time. Not in its passing, which can seem infinite, like a tunnel whose end you can’t see, whose beginning you’ve forgotten, but in the sudden realization that something finite, has passed, and is irretrievable.

― Joyce Carol Oates, Foxfire: Confessions of a Girl Gang

The end of the road.

The end of land as it meets water and sky.

The end of light as it is overtaken by dark.

The end of yesterday as it becomes today and of today as it shifts to tomorrow.

The idea of the endings of things is the theme I see in this new painting, Terrminus. It’s a new piece included in my annual solo show at the West End Gallery that opens this coming Friday, July 22.

It’s often said that life is a series of beginnings and endings and I suppose that’s true. But so many beginnings are soon forgotten or never even recognized in their nascent state. Who knows what something will ultimately be when it first begins?

Endings have a more memorable quality, often having long trails that lead to them. An ending is a form of evidence of something having been.

I like this piece a lot. Its elements calm me. But more than that, it makes me want to think. The trees between me and the scene make it feel as though I am approaching something as yet unseen and that makes me think about ideas like the endings of things.

Or as Joyce Carol Oates put it above, the strangeness of Time.

I think I will think about that for a while now.

The Homecoming– At the West End Gallery

Wild nights – Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the winds –
To a Heart in port –
Done with the Compass –
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah – the Sea!
Might I but moor – tonight –
In thee!

–-Emily Dickinson, Wild Nights

Well, the work for Chaos & Light has been delivered and is ready for hanging at the West End Gallery in advance of next Friday’s show opening. Always a relief in getting that out of the way, to experience the sense of satisfaction that comes with completing a relatively big task.

Of course, the flip side is that this is accompanied by a bit of sorrow in the emptiness of the studio now. I get used to having the new work around me, to being able to constantly take it in and relish those parts of it that really speak to me.  As the show nears, the accumulated closes in on me and I begin to think of it as a warm security blanket.

To have it suddenly gone creates a void, gives the studio a feeling of cool emptiness.

I know it’s temporary and only in my mind but it’s still creates a noticeable tone of sadness. I miss being able to see many of the pieces from the show since each has a lot of personal connection for me. I go through a lot of different feelings in the process of painting almost every piece, running the gamut from despair to elation.

The painting of each is its own form of catharsis.

Maybe that’s the attraction that painting has for me.

The painting at the top, The Homecoming, is a good example of this. It was one of the final pieces competed for this show and the feelings I experienced while painting it are still fresh in mind. So many times, I felt like giving up on it, wanting to put it aside or cover it with a fresh layer of black paint. But the addition of a spot of color here and there and my mood would elevate.

Then crash a short time later.

It was very much an up-and-down, love/hate relationship between me and the surface of this painting almost to the very end. Ultimately, perseverance triumphs. I would like to say I am elated at that point but the feeling is different. It’s not really satisfaction or pride though it does have elements of that.

I think I would have to go back to a word I used earlier: catharsis.

Each painting changes me in some small imperceptible way as I go through a wide range of emotions in the process.

I very much felt this with The Homecoming. Even though the piece has an implied narrative– of Odysseus returning to his home island of Ithaka— for me, all I see is the range of emotion experienced in painting it.

Maybe that’s why it is often so difficult to judge one’s own work objectively. It’s hard to ignore those personal emotions and revelations that are deeply engrained and often not obvious in the work.

There’s a lot more I could write about this piece, about the colors and shading and composition, all the things that make it what it is. But for me, it’s all about that feeling of catharsis I see in it.

And I suppose that is all I can ask of it.