Redtree Times

Navigating Chaos– Now at the Principle Gallery

Where the blue of the sea meets the sky
And the big yellow sun leads me home
I’m everywhere now
The way is a vow
To the wind of each breath by and by
The water sustains me without even trying
The water can’t drown me, I’m done
With my dying

-Johnny Flynn, The Water

Not going to say much today. Just going to show a painting from my current solo show that hangs at the Principle Gallery, thank a few people and share a song that I thought might fit this particular painting.

First, the painting is Navigating Chaos, which is 24″ by 24″ on canvas. Finding balance amidst chaos might be the central theme of this show and this piece might best exemplify that idea. The sky is built from chaotic marks and the small boat heaves among sharp slashing waves. The sailor struggles to keep balance, to cut through it all.

Perhaps a metaphor for these strange times.

This was a piece that I spent a lot of time with, here in the studio. After it was done, I placed it at point where it was in my sightline whenever looked up from my easel. Maybe it was a reminder to maintain my own balance, to focus on things beyond the chaos.

I don’t know for sure. But it served some purpose at the time and does the same even now.

Secondly, let me thank Michele and her great staff– Clint, Taylor and Owen— at the Principle Gallery for their constant support over the past quarter century of our relationship. Their professional attitudes, their attention to detail, and the kindness and warmth of their friendship have meant the world to me, both artistically and personally. I can’t say enough here.

Finally, here’s a song for this Sunday morning that I think matches up well with the painting. It’s titled The Water and it’s from British actor/musician Johnny Flynn. I first became aware of him when he portrayed Albert Einstein in the Genius series, not aware that he was a popular musical performer as well. This is a duet with the wonderful singer/songwriter Laura Marling.

Enjoy.

You can take a virtual tour of the exhibit by clicking here.

Garden of Delight– At the Principle Gallery Show

The artist is always beginning. Any work of art which is not a beginning, an invention, a discovery is of little worth.

― Ezra Pound

This year’s Principle Gallery show has opened and hangs until July 3. As it is with every show, there is a sense of finality in delivering the work to the gallery.

An ending, if you will.

Of course, that is just the ending of its creation, the end of my time, thought and effort spent in bringing it to bear. I have put all I can into each piece and my time with them soon comes to a close.

But in that time with them, I have pulled discoveries, lessons, and emotional connections from this work. Their leaving creates new beginnings for me, new avenues to explore.

But it is not an ending at all for the work itself. Their entry into the world through the gallery is a new beginning with whoever becomes their custodian. A new conversation will begin between the work and that person. It is the beginning of what I, as an artist, hope is a long and meaningful relationship between the two. 

You never fully know why a person chooses a piece of your work. It may be a mere decorative choice or to set a tone in a certain space. But your deepest hope is that it has personal meaning and connection with that person, that it transcends just being something neat or pleasant on the wall. You want it to be a portal to thought and feeling.

I know that’s my thought as I begin a new piece, as I am about to do in just a few minutes. I want my ending with the work to become a new beginning for someone else.

You can take a virtual tour of my show by clicking here.

The Forever Bond— At the Principle Gallery

I kept looking for something to kick this post off, some quote or blurb that would set the tone, but I couldn’t find anything that captures the mix of feelings of accomplishment, pride, fear, and anxious smallness that comes with the opening of any show I have ever done. Oh, I can find words to describe any of those things separately but that weird mix of conflicting and opposite emotions isn’t easy to find.

Well, let’s just start by saying that my annual solo exhibit of new work opens today at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. This exhibit, Depths and Light, is my 23rd consecutive show in this fabulous gallery, going back to the first show, Redtree, in 2000.

There is an opening reception from 6-8:30 PM which marks the formal opening of the show. Unfortunately, I am unable to attend this year. Next year, come hell or high water. I promise.

I have strong feelings about this show. This is where the feeling of accomplishment and pride I mentioned earlier comes into play. In the months leading up to this day, I lived with the work for many hours each day in the studio and the totality of it together always brought me a great sense of fulfillment. It all felt full and complete.

I sensed this during the process of painting the works for this show. Each piece seemed to demand additional depth and layers that went beyond what I had employed in the past. As a result, each piece took much longer than in the past, requiring much more effort and often left me feeling debilitated at the end of each.

This actually felt good, as though I were investing even more of myself in the work, if that were possible. It felt like I was using all my built-up experience and ability to its fullest potential. That’s all you can ask for as an artist, so the exertion turned into a form of exhilaration. I believe this shows itself in the work.

I hope so.

I am not going to go into the smallness and fears that I mentioned in the first paragraph. There’s plenty of time to discuss those things in the future. Today, I want to focus on the better part of the day, that the work gets to show itself apart from me and that it gets to take on a life of its own.

All I can hope for as an artist.

I hope you can get into the gallery to see the show. For those of you who aren’t able to visit the gallery, you can take a virtual walk-through the exhibit by clicking here. It’s easily navigated and you can get the titles and info for each painting by putting your cursor on the blue and white circle next to each painting. It gives you a great sense of the space and the work.

A little tidbit on the space: The building, Gilpin House, is a historic site that was originally the residence of George Gilpin who was a relative, friend and business partner to George Washington. So, there’s a good chance that old George might have walked these same floor boards or warmed his hands in front of that very fireplace. There probably wasn’t a Red Tree hanging over it then.

Again, you can take a virtual walk-through by clicking here.

Or you can browse the exhibit catalog by clicking here.

Reinforced – Part of the Principle Gallery Exhibit

The Long View- At the Principle Gallery

Say Hallelujah– At the Principle Gallery Show, June 2022

Who is rich? He that rejoices in his portion.

— Benjamin Franklin

Say Hallelujah is a new 18″ by 24″ painting on aluminum panel that is included in my annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery that opens tomorrow, Friday, June 3. There is an opening reception that runs from 6-8:30 PM which, unfortunately, I will not be able to attend. But this year’s exhibit is well worth seeing in person without me being there as I feel it’s one of my strongest shows yet.

It was a group of work which excited and engaged me fully here in the studio. I hated to see it leave this space.

Say Hallelujah is a good example from this show with its deep colors, bright blossoming sky and the relationship between the Red Tree and the sun rising on the distant horizon. It a piece with strength and conviction that, as a painting, stands boldly on its own yet links seamlessly to the other work in the show.

It’s a piece that expresses the simple gratitude in just existing as one is, set apart from greed or envy and rejoicing in the beauty of the world around us.

That’s message that definitely fills a need these days. Makes me want to say “hallelujah.”

In the High Country– At the Principle Gallery Exhibit

—And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear,—both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.

–Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, William Wordsworth

This painting is called In the High Country and is 24″ by 18″ on aluminum panel. It is part of my annual show at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria which opens Friday, June 3.

I have special affection for this piece. I suppose that’s because it reminds me somewhat of the hilltop plateau where I spent some of my teen years. Though I only spent perhaps five or six years there before leaving home, it deeply affected me.

It was a place that forever made me think of myself as a hill person, someone at home pushed up closer to the sky, high among the trees and fields. Someone who finds themself out of sorts in places where hills and mountains are nowhere to be seen and is instantly soothed with the first sight of a hillside in the distance.

My hilltop was forever windy and you could look across the tops of the shorter chains of hills that ran parallel to it, gathering a view that probably extended for thirty or forty miles.

It was an elemental place, one of silence and distance. It served as a teacher, a sort of hilltop yogi that whose wisdom was gained by merely being still and silent in its presence. It was the kind of place that still makes me stir when I read the words of Wordsworth in the excerpt from his poem above:

The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being

It felt more like a person than a place, if that makes any sense. I guess that shouldn’t be a big surprise since I have often seen the landscape around me in human rather than geological terms. I often see human forms in hilltops and trees and rock formations. It’s a big part of my work, actually.

But this observation about my early hilltop home came to me when I was recently looking at this painting and suddenly saw it as a portrait. Actually, for some strange reason, it reminded me of two specific paintings, one being Diego Velazquez‘ 1650 portrait of Pope Innocent X and Francis Bacon‘s 1953 distorted take on it.

But that observation aside, this made me think how this location was more human than place in my mind, one that felt like a personal relationship with private conversations and kept secrets.

I suppose that is not unusual for any place that one holds deeply as home. But that’s what I see in this piece and why it speaks a little deeper to me.

The show is now hung at the Principle Gallery, ready for viewing ahead of its opening on Friday, June 3. The exhibit catalog is now available online by clicking here.

Lakesong— At the Principle Gallery Show, Opening This Friday

There is a lake that one day refused to flow away and threw up a dam at the place where it had before flowed out and since then this lake has always risen higher and higher. Perhaps the very act of renunciation provides us with the strength to bear it; perhaps man will rise ever higher and higher when he no longer flows out into a God.

― Friedrich Nietzsche

Nietzsche, of course, was famed for uttering the words God is dead. I am not here to dispute or defend his theory on the existence of God and Heaven.

That’s not my job and I am not interested in swaying anyone from whatever they might believe unless, of course, those beliefs prove harmful to or denigrate others.

Other than that, believe what you wish. More power to you.

But I do like Nietzsche’s lake metaphor in the excerpt above from his book The Gay Science, which was also where he first wrote the words God is dead.

The idea that we should live for the life we have before us rather than a hoped for afterlife makes sense to me. It’s something I have often brought up here in many posts including some very recent ones. I often think that we have immediate access to both heaven and hell here and now on this earth. It simply depends on how much we are willing to work towards one or other.

That’s a pretty rudimentary thought, one that I don’t really want to go into further here today. But it does serve as the premise for what I see in the painting shown above, Lakesong. It’s a 30″ by 15″ canvas that is part of my show of new work that opens Friday at the Principle Gallery.

It contains symbolic elements that I often employ. The field segments and rows symbolize work and the orchardlike trees the bounty of nature, for example.

There is steeple in the structures in the midground representing belief. But, as in the metaphor of Nietzsche, the lake and the Red Tree, symbolizing man here, has risen above it and seems to be living fully in the moment, in a type of tranquil communion between the Red Tree, the lake and hills before it and the sun above. It creates a very peaceful feeling for me, one that makes me take pause and try to see whatever bits of heaven might be around me at the moment.

And there are plenty.

That, of course, is just my take on it. You might not see it that way or want to dispute my reading. That’s okay. I would be disappointed if everybody saw or reacted to it in the same way.

Let’s end this today with a nice piece of music from contemporary pianist and composer Greg Maroney. The title is Lakesong and, unsurprisingly, blends very well with this painting of the same title.

The Steadying Light– Included in the Principle Gallery Show

Men’s lives are short.
The hard man and his cruelties will be
Cursed behind his back and mocked in death.
But one whose heart and ways are kind – of him
strangers will bear report to the whole wide world,
and distant men will praise him.

– Penelope in The Odyssey, Homer

Didn’t want to do my normal Memorial Day kind of post. No talk of patriotism, bravery, or self-sacrifice. No flag waving or glorification of war.

I guess that’s because as much as Memorial Day is about remembering our war dead, it is also about those folks who lost those soldiers– the parents, wives and husbands, children and friends of the fallen.

Those who remember. Those who memorialize. Those who had to go on with the hole left by the loss in their lives.

Some don’t even move on with their lives, remaining caught up in that moment of loss. The Penelopes of the world, waiting eternally for their Ulysses to return. However, in the case Penelope, her mythic hero ultimately returned. Most others were not so fortunate.

That aspect, the idea of the waiting Penelope, has often shown up in my work. I often think of my Red Tree, especially those perched on a mound on the shore beside an endless watery horizon, patiently witnessing the recurring dusks and dawns of many days as they wait for some sort of release from their vigil of loss.

Each new light of dawn renews their hope and each fading dusk dashes it.

Great loss has that effect. I know that when I visit the national cemetery where my parents and grandparents are buried and walk among the stones memorializing the many dead soldiers, I find myself thinking as much about the people who these soldiers left behind, those who hold their memory dear and feel the loss in their passing.

The people who carry memory forward. May they find some steadying light.

The Steadying Light is a 12″ by 24″ canvas that is part of my 23rd annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. The work is now in the gallery and the show opens Friday, June 3, 2022.

Paradisium– At the Principle Gallery Show, Opening Friday

Only add
Deeds to thy knowledge answerable; add faith;
Add virtue, patience, temperance; add love,
By name to come called charity, the soul
Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loath
To leave this Paradise; but shalt possess
A paradise within thee, happier far.

― John Milton, Paradise Lost

I had a lot of choices when I went looking for a blurb to start this post. Lots of words written about paradise over many past centuries. However, I thought the lines from Milton and his Paradise Lost were the most appropriate, however. I like the idea of Paradise being a potentiality within each of us and not some actual physical destination that we have to seek and gain acceptance from external authorities.

My definition is certainly not the stereotypical Heaven of organized religions with clouds and winged angels with harps and an all-knowing robed god on a throne. A place here you have to wait to die before gaining entry, if you are a member of the club.

No, I prefer to believe that Paradise is always within our grasp, that we determine our own definition and mind’s perception of it. As Milton also wrote in Paradise Lost:

The mind is its own place, and in it self
Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n.

I think Milton is on to something. In our minds, I think we all live within a stone’s throw of both heaven and hell. We can go either way at any time.

And, unsurprisingly, the route to either aligns pretty much with how we embrace traditional virtues. As Miton points out, we can reach Paradise here and now with good deeds, virtue, patience, love, charity and faith. I might be a little sketchy on the faith part here, but I do have faith in the belief that adhering to these other virtues calms the mind and creates an environment in which one’s personal Paradise can flourish.

Maybe that’s faith enough.

On the flipside, I believe that shunning virtues and embracing selfishness, greed, hatred, lying, or any of a host of other negative traits, can create a personal hell within us.

Been there, done that. Both sides of the coin.

And let me tell you, while I may not be fully in Paradise, I much prefer the journey and the scenery that leads that way.

The new painting at the top is titled Paradisium. It might well be a hope and vision for my own personal Paradise. It certainly calms my mind, makes me think better thoughts. Perhaps it represents that journey and scenery along the way to whatever Paradise is within me.

Not sure but I feel better for it.

Paradisum is a large painting on canvas, coming in at 36″ by 36″ in size. It is one of the centerpieces of my annual solo show that opens Friday, June 3, at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria.

Now, let’s follow up with a selection for this week’s Sunday Morning Music that goes hand and hand with this blog and painting. It’s a longtime favorite song, close to 50 years, from the late John Prine titled Paradise, of course. I looked it up and found, much to my surprise, that I last played it on this blog way back in 2009. It’s one of those songs that is so ingrained from years of both listening and singing that it feels like I must have shared it just yesterday.

This is a wonderful version from a variety of musicians, some who are among my favorites, who came together to record this song for The Hello In There Foundation which was started by John Prine’s family with a mission to identify and collaborate with individuals and communities to offer support for people who are marginalized, discriminated against or, for any reason, are otherwise forgotten.

Sounds like a path to Paradise to me.

Transcending Words— At the Principle Gallery Show 2022

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.

― Rumi, 13th Century Persian Poet

Words. All the words that have filled the air in recent times.

Words used as tools and not as forms of expression.

Words used to incite. Words used to place blame and evade responsibility. Words used to deceive, used to cloak ill intent and moral failings.

So many words.

There comes a time when words fail us. A time when we need to set aside all words and observe the world around and inside us. To gaze with open seeing eyes.

A time to simply absorb silence.

For me, this morning seems that time. Even these few words seem like a burden when all I want to do is look deep into the green foliage of the forest surrounding me.

Or into the distance at a rising sun, like the Red Tree in the painting above. Austere and unencumbered by the meanings and weight of words.

Just as it is.

Maybe that should be the title of this painting. However, the words I chose are instead Transcending Words.

As Rumi also wrote:

In Silence there is eloquence. Stop weaving and see how the pattern improves.

I am ready to stop my weaving for a bit, ready to see the pattern improve.

The painting above, Transcending Words, is 18″ by 36″ on canvas and is part of my 23rd annual solo effort at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. The work is in the gallery and the show opens Friday, June 3, 2022.

The Long View– Part of the Principle Gallery Show, June 2022

Do you see how an act is not, as young men think, like a rock that one picks up and throws, and it hits or misses, and that’s the end of it. When that rock is lifted, the earth is lighter; the hand that bears it heavier. When it is thrown, the circuits of the stars respond, and where it strikes or falls, the universe is changed. On every act the balance of the whole depends. The winds and seas, the powers of water and earth and light, all that these do, and all that the beasts and green things do, is well done, and rightly done. All these act within the Equilibrium. From the hurricane and the great whale’s sounding to the fall of a dry leaf and the gnat’s flight, all they do is done within the balance of the whole.

But we, insofar as we have power over the world and over one another, we must learn to do what the leaf and the whale and the wind do of their own nature. We must learn to keep the balance. Having intelligence, we must not act in ignorance. Having choice, we must not act without responsibility.

― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Farthest Shore

The painting at the top, The Long View, is included in my annual solo show at the Principle Gallery that opens a week from today. It’s a piece that checks a lot of boxes on the list of things that I look for in my own work.

In short, it makes me happy. Maybe happy isn’t the right word. Maybe I should say that it makes me feel contented. Or balanced. Not really sure but who cares about a word to describe it when you have the actual wordless feeling at hand?

I guess I should try to explain, however.

One of the things that greatly attract me to this painting is the geometry of it. It feels totally balanced to me from a compositional standpoint. That’s all fine and good, something I look for in all my work. But this piece achieves it with many geometric shapes formed by the various elements within it. I see all sorts of triangles and quadrilaterals in it. And I’m not talking about the field with actual quadrilaterals in the bottom right quarter of the painting.

Instead of trying to explain, I did a quick image of the painting with lines showing some of the shapes I am describing. A picture worth’s a thousand words, as they say.

Now, to be honest, I don’t know what this proves. Maybe I just like drawing lines on things, I don’t know. I think, however, that the geometric relationships between various elements create rhythms and harmonies that our minds pick up on and synchronize to on a subconscious level. And that is what I see in this piece.

Hey, that sounds pretty good. And here I am, thinking it was just blather.

The bottom line is that, for whatever reason, this painting speaks to some deeper part of me. 

All I can hope for in my work.

The Long View is 24″ by 24″ on aluminum panel, and is now at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA as part of my annual solo show which kicks off with an opening reception next Friday, June 3, 2022.

Unfortunately, I will not be attending the opening. It took a lot of time and agonizing to come to that decision. I truly want to get back to speaking freely with folks about my work at openings and gallery talks, but I am still hesitant and more than a little uncomfortable in doing so.

That might seem unreasonable or unwarranted. Maybe so. The isolation brought on by the pandemic has certainly brought the reclusive part of me to the front burner. It was there before but that built-in urge towards solitariness has really blossomed in the past few years. Just going beyond the end our driveway for whatever reason, even running to get gas for the mower, has become a momentous event.  

Maybe that’s crazy. Could be. There are a lot of other reasons for my not being able to attend the opening but I will spare you the details. Maybe later in the year or next year, who knows?

I do know that I will certainly miss a lot of the folks I’ve come to know over the years down there. And I would dearly love to see this show on the wall. I think it’s a certifiably strong show, perhaps my best in many years. It’s filled with deep, rich pieces that I think will hang beautifully in that wonderful space at the Principle Gallery.

I am hoping you will make it there. You can let me know if I was right.