Redtree Times

Winter Wonder Moons— At West End Gallery

When the moon shines very brilliantly, a solitude and stillness seem to proceed from her that influence even crowded places full of life.

–Charles Dickens, Bleak House (1853)

If one moon can do that, can you imagine the effect of seven moons?

Maybe we need seven moons now more than ever?

This painting is titled Winter Wonder Moons and is 8″ by 10″ on canvas. It is included in my solo show, Guiding Light, which hangs at the West End Gallery until November 13.

And mark your calendars for next Saturday, November 1 when I will be giving a Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery, beginning at 11 AM. I am in the process of choosing a painting that will begiven away to someone in attendance at the end of the talk. It could be you! I will be announcing the prize painting in the next few days so keep an eye out here.

Human history can be viewed as a slowly dawning awareness that we are members of a larger group.

–Carl Sagan, Cosmos

Maybe the way we view ourselves as being part of a group is the dividing line that separates us these days.

Some of us adhere to Carl Sagan’s view that throughout our history we have moved away from seeing ourselves as part of a single small group based on race, religion, occupation, wealth, or any number of other factors that are used to define us. It focuses on the commonalities that we share with others, both here on Earth and beyond.

This is an expansive and inclusive viewpoint.

On the other hand, there are those who deny this view of history and our humanity. They desire to become even more singular and narrow in their definitions.

It is exclusionary and limiting in its scope.

Those are seemingly pretty big differences to overcome. It can be frustrating, even depressing, to contemplate this division. But history shows that we do continue to progress forward. Perhaps slower than we would like and periodically with setbacks to this progress that will take time and effort to repair.

History also shows that the exclusionary factions may have their day in the sun but eventually succumb to the sheer numbers that make up the march of progress. 

I am still feeling poorly and wasn’t going to write anything this morning. However, I thought I might feel a bit better if I were to remind myself that history will usually self-correct, that darkness cannot last forever. I thought this painting, Witness to the Dawn, sort of summed up what I was thinking.

Hopeful and forward looking.  

This new painting is 10″ by20″ on canvas on canvas and is included in my solo exhibit, Guiding Light, now hanging at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. The exhibit end Thursday, November 13.

Plus, on Saturday, November 1, there is also a GALLERY TALK taking place, beginning at 11 AM. Watch this space in the coming days for further details.

Here’s a song from Pearl Jam that also sums up a bit of what I am pulling from this painting. It’s called Just Breathe. I am also throwing in Willie Nelson’s take in the song from a number of years back, assisted by his son, Lukas.

Fiddler’s Moon— Now at West End Gallery

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

—Leonard Cohen, Dance Me to the End of Love

Still a bit under the weather this morning. However, the force of habit of having done this nearly every morning for over seventeen years compelled me to post something this morning. I am featuring a painting, Fiddler’s Moon, from my current West End Gallery show along with a favorite song (of many) from Leonard Cohen, Dance Me to the End of Love.

I was torn between using the lyrics from the song as the opening for the blog or the poem, A Sign, from Walter de la Mare. I decided it was easier to simply use both, a snippet of the song lyrics at the top and the entire poem below, since there seems to be a common thread running through them about things coming to an end, all as the fiddler plays.

Fiddler’s Moon deserves more words than I am able to provide this morning. But then again, maybe saying less is more in this case. It speaks pretty well without any confusion I might add. It hangs at the West End Gallery as part of my annual solo show, this year titled Guiding Light. The show ends November 13, 2025, so try to get in to see it before things come to an end.

Also, there is a Gallery Talk accompanying the show which takes place on Saturday, November 1. It begins at 11 AM and will once again feature a drawing for one of my paintings. And perhaps some other stuff. I have an old electric can opener and a pair of slightly worn Reeboks, both from the 1990’s, that I might give away.

Well, probably not those things. But maybe other stuff. You never know.

Got to go. Thanks for your attention to this matter.

A Sign
by Walter de la Mare

How shall I know when the end of things is coming?
The dark swifts flitting, the drone-bees humming;
The fly on the window-pane bedazedly strumming;
Ice on the waterbrooks their clear chimes dumbing —
How shall I know that the end of things is coming?

The stars in their stations will shine glamorous in the black:
Emptiness, as ever, haunt the great Star Sack;
And Venus, proud and beautiful, go down to meet the day,
Pale in phosphorescence of the green sea spray —
How shall I know that the end of things is coming?

Head asleep on pillow; the peewits at their crying;
A strange face in dreams to my rapt phantasma sighing;
Silence beyond words of anguished passion;
Or stammering an answer in the tongue’s cold fashion —
How shall I know that the end of things is coming?

Haply on strange roads I shall be, the moorland’s peace around me;
Or counting up a fortune to which Destiny hath bound me;
Or — Vanity of Vanities — the honey of the Fair;
Or a greybeard, lost to memory, on the cobbles in my chair —
How shall I know that the end of things is coming?

The drummers will be drumming; the fiddlers at their thrumming;
Nuns at their beads; the mummers at their mumming;
Heaven’s solemn Seraph stoopt weary o’er his summing;
The palsied fingers plucking, the way-worn feet numbing —
And the end of things coming.

Night Magic— Now at West End Gallery

The appearance of things changes according to the emotions; and thus we see magic and beauty in them, while the magic and beauty are really in ourselves.

–Kahlil Gibran, The Tempests (1920)

I had someone ask why some of my new paintings had several moons in the night sky. You would think I would have been prepared for that question, but since I honestly hadn’t given it a thought, the only answer I could muster was a simple one: Why not?

I’ve been thinking about that question a lot recently and still don’t have an answer that is any better than my first.

I just don’t know why they appear and why I find something in them that gratifies some part of me.

Maybe there really are multiple moons above us all the time that we cannot see?  Perhaps they are just a half dimension away and our scientific apparatus cannot yet detect them?

Maybe it is merely the magic of emotion and imagination. Perhaps it is a case where only those fully equipped with the finely tuned equipment of emotion and imagination set to the right frequency at just the right moment are treated to a night sky filled with several moons?

I don’t know.

I do know that those who see this as implausible or even crazy will never be fortunate enough to have the pleasure of seeing such a sight. They just don’t have the right equipment.

I was a bit under the weather last night and this morning and wasn’t on planning on writing anything. But the habit of doing this and the little bit of magic I see in this painting make me now feel a bit better. My equipment must be working okay even though my body is a little off. I find that reassuring.

Let me add one more little thing to this painting:

And that night the Council of Moons showed themselves in full and decreed to all that, by their power and that of the citizenry, every day and night thereafter shall be recognized as No Kings Day.

And peace and joy spread across the land…

To quote Yul Brynner in The Ten Commandments: So let it be written; so let it be done

Beguiled– Now at West End Gallery

I’ve seen the smiling of Fortune beguiling,
I’ve felt all its favours and found its decay;
Sweet was its blessing, kind its caressing,
But now it is fled, fled far, far away.

–Alison Cockburn, ‘The Flowers of the Forest’ (1765)

Just a short Thank You once more for the folks who came out in support of my show opening on Friday evening and to Jesse and Linda Gardner at the West End Gallery for all they have done for me over the past 30 years.

And thank you to every person who came out for yesterday’s No Kings rallies across the country. It is estimated that over 7 million concerned citizens hit the streets without any reports of arrests, violence, or major problems of any sort. This number doesn’t take into account those who participated in related protests around the world, most taking place around American embassies.

It was large and peaceful, and every single person did so for free, out of love and concern for their country. This reality stands in stark contrast to the ridiculous rhetoric from vacuous and vapid members of the GOP and the rightwing media that labeled the participants as either violent criminals and terrorists or paid partisans. 

With the desperation of these absurd claims, it is becoming crystal clear to more and more people that we are now in a race between an authoritarian regime on the verge of locking down control of this country and a growing and widening resistance seeking to prevent this.

Yesterday, was ample proof that resistance in the near future will be large and engaged.

Hope grows in such numbers.

Here’s this week’s Sunday Morning Music, from the one and only Ella Fitzgerald. This is her wonderful take on the Rodgers and Hart classic, Bewitched, Bothered, And Bewildered. It doesn’t get much better than this. It is paired with the new small piece at the top, Beguiled, from the West End Gallery show and a bit of verse from the Scottish poet/wit/hostess of the late 1700’s, Alison Cockburn.

Works for me…

There are two freedoms – the false, where a man is free to do what he likes; the true, where he is free to do what he ought.

–Charles Kingsley, Charles Kingsley: His Letters and Memories of His Life (1877)

On the morning after a show opening, I would normally simply thank everyone who came out the prior evening to see the new work and have an all too brief chat with me. I am doing that of course, for the folks who made it into the West End Gallery last night for the opening of Guiding Light.

I cannot be more appreciative for those folks, nor would I be anything less than effusive in my praise for them if I didn’t think that what is happening around the country today deserved attention here this morning.

Here and everywhere.

I am, of course, talking about the No Kings rallies that will be taking place all across the nation today. These peaceful gatherings of voices raised against the madness we are currently witnessing here in this country are vital shows of the strength and mass of opposing voices. It is important to show mass unity behind the rejection of those who seek to take away our freedoms and rights and who seek to exert control over our thoughts, words, and movements. To stand against those whose deepest desire is to make this country this a kingdom, dividing it into to baronies and duchies for their king’s wealthy enablers.

My own loosely formed credo has always been that I just want to be left alone and so long as others are not attacking or harming me or anyone else, I will leave them alone in return.

But when that pact is broken and others are attacked or harmed it is my duty, my obligation, and my responsibility to speak up. It is that simple– if I don’t stand for others, who will stand for me?

That is the price of freedom that must be paid.

If we can’t pay that price or are kept from doing so, we are no longer free.

As former Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas wrote in a dissenting opinion from 1952:

The right to be let alone is indeed the beginning of all freedom.

The millions that will be in the streets today are not terrorists nor are they partisans paid to be out there by nefarious organizations. Anyone with eyes and a handful of still operational brain cells understands that people will rise against tyranny on their own accord.

And fighting tyranny is truly on the table today. It is not opposition to the other party’s policies. It’s not about a matter of perspective or degree on any one issue.

It is black and white.

Decency versus indecency.

Compassion versus cruelty.

Unity versus division.

Justice versus the criminality of injustice.

Freedom versus subjugation.

Sorry to go on a rant this morning. However, it had to be said. I am sick of those who ignore or refuse to see what is clearly at hand.

If they aren’t willing to pay the price now, we will all pay dearly sooner rather than later.

Hit the streets, folks. Sing. Dance. Twerk in your frog costumes. Be strong but peaceful. Raise your voices on high.

That’s the cost of freedom.

Here’s song that you might want to keep in mind today from Crosby, Stills, and Nash.

It is not what we have, but what we enjoy that constitutes our abundance.

—Epicurus, Principal Doctrines (ca 280 BC)

This is another new painting, 30″ high by 15″ wide on canvas, that is part of my Guiding Light show that opens tomorrow at the West End Gallery. It is titled Land of Plenty.

When I while I was working on it, and afterwards as well, I felt that its meaning was in how its colors and compositional rhythms expressed the beauty and plenitude of the farm fields and the surrounding landscape.

A vast cornucopia that provides for all.

That might still be correct but this morning I am not so sure. Taking the words above from Epicurus to heart, I looked at this piece from a different perspective. The lines that section off and divide the fields seemed to now serve as barriers that separated us from the surrounding abundance.

It was land owned by others. It wasn’t for everyone. As if it was owned by someone greedily saying: The land is rich and giving but only for me, not for thee.

I was seeing it as being representative of how we often talk about nations being wealthy or poor. For example, we like to boast that we are the wealthiest nation in the world. And looking at the fields and factories, the many banks and McMansions, or the numbers on multiple spreadsheets, that might be objectively true.

But that doesn’t mean it translates equally tor the average person. 

Now, before you start yelling Commie, Commie at me, let me explain where that fits into my thinking.

What I am saying is that we may be indeed surrounded by wealth and abundance, but we are not defined individually by it. As Epicurus stated 2300 years or so ago, it is not what we have but what we enjoy that defines our true wealth.

In this painting, at least for this morning, I see the Red Tee as being amidst the gold of the fields that are not available to it. But what is free and open to the Red Tree is the rising sun on the horizon, the fresh air it takes in, the beauty of the mountains that call in the distance, and the open road that winds through it all.

The freedom to simply be.

All that it needs in the moment.

That’s a land of plenty.

Take this all with a grain of salt. I don’t know how this will hold up as a reading of this painting. Probably won’t last until this afternoon, let alone tomorrow or a week from now.

And that’s okay because it’s not for me to explain it now. What I saw in it this morning is just the perception of a tired, anxious person still sipping his first cup of coffee in the dark.

It speaks for itself now in its own voice. Eventually someone will hear that voice and whatever truth that is in it will be revealed to them alone. 

And that is as it should be.

My annual solo show, this year titled Guiding Light, opens tomorrow, Friday, October 17, 2025. The show is now hanging in the gallery and is available for previews and prebuys. There is an Opening Reception from 5-7:30 PM. Hope you can make it there!

There is also a GALLERY TALK taking place on Saturday, November 1, beginning at 11 AM. Watch this space for further details.

One Path Ends and Another Begins— At West End Gallery

Most of us are about as eager to be changed as we were to be born and go through our changes in a similar state of shock.

–James Baldwin, The Price of the Ticket (1985)

Change is inevitable. Nature, from the expanse of the universe to the smallest microbes, is a constant series of adjustments and adaptations.

Nothing remains static or unchanged.

The courses of mighty rivers are constantly shifting. The largest boulders succumb eventually to weather.

Being creatures of born of nature and inhabitants on this spinning ball called Earth, it holds equally true for us humans. The paths we individually follow in our lives seldom run straight or forever.

Things happen. Circumstances change, sometimes drastically. Sometimes these changes come as a conscious decision. That’s pretty rare. We tend to find a level of comfort on the path we are following and seldom opt to jump to a new and unknown one.

No, change often come without us requesting or desiring it. This change arrives totally by surprise and sometimes in a most shocking manner. It shoves us off our normal path and when we regain our footing, we discover that the path we found so comfortable and homey is no more.

But there is a different path ahead. It’s not the same and we might even resist having to get on it at first. But from where we are, it is the path we must follow and somehow make our own. Change our strides to match the contours of the path and attempt to adapt to the different landscape that we now pass through.

Most of you have experienced such one path ending and another beginning. If not, you will at some point.

It is the rule of life, after all.

One path ends and another begins.

The thing to remember is that though these changes often knock us off our boots and make us feel frail and susceptible, the challenges we face on this new path we are forced to follow often reveals new strengths and aspects of ourselves we didn’t realize we possessed.

It might be a hard path, but it might well get you to where you need to be if you can embrace what it has to offer.

One path ends and another begins.

The new painting at the top is titled, unsurprisingly, One Path Ends and Another Begins. It is 10″ by 15″ on canvas and is part of Guiding Light, the solo exhibit of my new work at the West End Gallery on beautiful Market Street in Corning, NY.

Show opens this coming Friday, October 17, 2025. There is an Opening Reception from 5-7:30 PM. The show is now hanging in the gallery and is available for previews and prebuys.

There is also a GALLERY TALK taking place on Saturday, November 1, beginning at 11 AM. Watch this space for further details.

Chasing the Elusive— Now at West End Gallery

What man actually needs is not a tensionless state but rather the striving and struggling for some goal worthy of him. What he needs is not the discharge of tension at any cost, but the call of a potential meaning waiting to be fulfilled by him.

–Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning (1946)

I spent too much time already this morning writing about the link between the image of the new painting above and the words of Viktor Frankl. It ended up feeling off the point and empty. I was trying too hard which, oddly enough, was the point I was trying to make.

We often try to force things into place in meaningless ways, hoping to chase down joy and avoid the pain, suffering, and heartbreak that life presents us as part of the deal of existing. Pursuing this sort of joy is like running after dandelion seeds in the wind. The nearer you come to them in your chase, the more the air movement from your legs and arms causes them to move further away. 

Sometimes we must be reminded that joy and meaning are often hiding in the duties we are obligated to fulfill as humans. The meaning that comes in giving of yourself in the service and care of others, for example.

The joy of the selfless rather than the selfish.

I don’t know that this new painting, Chasing the Elusive, fully captures what I am stumbling around with my words this morning. I see it as being about the effort we often make in chasing down dreams and meaning that are actually within us all the time, attainable if we recognize the purpose found in our duty and love for others.

I am struggling with expressing this, as you can see. I am going to take my own advice and stop chasing it. Just let it be.

Let the dandelion seeds settle. 

The painting, Chasing the Elusive, is 8″ by 16″ on canvas and is included in this year’s edition of my annual solo show at the West End Gallery, Guiding Light, which opens this coming Friday, October 17. The opening reception for the show runs from 5-7 PM. 

Hope you can make it. 

Here’s a favorite composition, Gnossiene No. 1 from Erik Satie. This is a little different take on it from a group called Decostruttori Postmodernisti. Not sure if Satie would have ever envisioned his piece being played by with a theremin and trombone. That’s the way the world goes round, right?