When the breath of twilight blows to flame the misty skies, All its vaporous sapphire, violet glow, and silver gleam, With their magic flood me through the gateway of the eyes; I am one with the twilight’s dream.
–George William Russell, The Nuts of Knowledge (1903)
Many, many thanks to everyone who made their way to the West End Gallery for yesterday’s Gallery Talk. I think most everyone had a good time. If they didn’t, they certainly fooled me– not that that is saying much.
As for myself, I very much enjoyed my time with this group of folks. They made it easy for me with their openness and warmth. Hopefully, they felt that I reciprocated. Being open and welcoming is always a goal for one of these talks, along with trying not to say something stupid or insulting. I think I did okay on those counts, but you never know.
Again, much appreciation for those choosing to spend some time with me yesterday. Looking forward to the next one.
And an extra big thank you to Jesse, Linda, and John Gardner at the West End Gallery for making it all possible. I could go on and on about my debt to them for so many things, but I am going to leave you now with a song for this week’s Sunday Morning Music. It’s Seems Like a Long Time from the 1971 album Every Picture Tells a Story from Rod Stewart. It feels appropriate because there are times when it feels like I have been doing this art gig so long that everything before it seems like it happened a lifetime ago.
Should not the giver be thankful that the receiver received? Is not giving a need? Is not receiving, mercy?
–Friedrich Nietzsche
One more day until tomorrow’s Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery. It begins at 11 AM or thereabouts and lasts about 14 hours so you might want to bring a cushion for your seat. That, of course, is a lie. It lasts about an hour and maybe a tiny bit more. So you won’t need a cushion.
Unless you really want to bring one. Your call on that.
I am pretty much ready though I still am undecided on how to start and what we’ll talk about initially. The beginning is always the most difficult part as it sets the tone and rhythm for the talk. I always figure that if I can get past the first ten minutes without my brain seizing up or flop sweat drenching my shirt or my head simply exploding, we’ll be okay. Usually after the start of the talk, the folks that are there take over and set the rhythm with their questions and observations. That allows me to react. I am much better at that than standing up there pontificating and droning on.
Of course, the highlight comes near the end when a drawing is held for the painting that I am giving away. For this talk, it is the piece shown at the top, on the bottom left. It is a pretty good-sized painting, 24″ by 20″ on canvas, that is titled Far Above It All. I wrote earlier this week about gratitude being my rationale for giving away such a relatively expensive painting. I could attach Nietzsche’s words above, that giving is a need, to that as well. And there are also the words of Kahlil Gibran:
All you have shall some day be given. Therefore, give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors.
Someday, I won’t be around anymore and not knowing when that may be, it is my pleasure to give it to someone who might show me the mercy of accepting it now. I get to see and enjoy this moment rather than wondering what my remaining works fate will be after I am gone.
So, if you’re willing to accept a gift such as this, please feel free to come to the Gallery Talk tomorrow. It is free and open to all. I have said there is something in it for everyone and that is my promise.
As a bonus and in the spirit of the Olympic Games and of my grandfather, Shank Myers, who was champion pro wrestler in the early days of the 20th century, I will also wrestle one member of the audience.
If they can pin me, everyone in attendance gets a painting! Everyone!
DISCLAIMER: That, of course, is untrue. I am known to be an occasional liar. Please, for the love of god, don’t believe everything I say.
That being said, hope to see you at the West End Gallery tomrrow.
The drum of the realization of the promise is beating, we are sweeping the road to the sky. Your joy is here today, what remains for tomorrow? The armies of the day have chased the army of the night, Heaven and earth are filled with purity and light. Oh! joy for he who has escaped from this world of perfumes and color! For beyond these colors and these perfumes, these are other colors in the heart and the soul. Oh! joy for this soul and this heart who have escaped the earth of water and clay, Although this water and this clay contain the hearth of the philosophical stone.
— The Drum of the Realization, Rumi
I hear words like joy and optimism more and more in social media and on the news in recent weeks. It’s a huge and welcome change from the doom and gloom that has plagued us for the past eight years or so. It creates a light that washes away much of the darkness and illuminates a more positive path into the future.
And that, in my opinion, is a good thing.
I never intend to inject a meaning into a painting at its onset. I prefer to simply let the painting come together in its own way then determine what I am seeing in it after it is done. This feels more organic than trying to force an interpretation into paint.
In the painting at the top, the word joy immediately came to mind as I finished it. Maybe it was in the light and brightness of the sky. Or maybe the triumphant stance of the Red Tree as it stands above the crowded congestion of the Red Roofs. Maybe it was simply in the geometry of its elements.
It’s hard to tell exactly why it seemed to exude joy for me. But it does. As a result, I titled it Breaking Joy.
And in light of the events of the past couple of weeks, I find even more symbolism in it. I see more clearly the two paths running to the future, one to the right and one to the left. The path to the left runs directly for the sun and the light. I can’t tell exactly where the path to the right leads but there is more darkness in the right side of the sky here.
In the lower part of the painting, where the path breaks into left and right, the group of Red Roofed buildings seems to point to the left, as though it was offering a subliminal suggestion that this was the path to follow.
Now that’s my reading. You might not see it that way at all and call my reading here hogwash. That’s okay. You’re entitled to your opinion. As I am to mine. And whatever anyone else see in it, this piece makes me feel a bit of joy and hope.
And that is always a good thing…
Reminder:
Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery in two days!!
Saturday, August 10, beginning at 11 AM.
The talk is free and open to all. There is a painting to be given away and something for everyone so try to get there on Saturday. In honor of the Olympics currently taking place in Paris, I will be giving the talk while performing a routine on the Pommel Horse.
Most people have forgotten nowadays what a home can mean, though some of us have come to realize it as never before. It is a kingdom of its own in the midst of the world, a stronghold amid life’s storms and stresses, a refuge, even a sanctuary.
—Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison, Wedding Sermon
I am busy getting ready this morning for the Gallery Talk that takes place this Saturday at the West End Gallery. Actually, I am just trying to figure out what I am going to say. Or not say. That is sometimes an important distinction. If you plan on being there and there’s something you want me to go over, let me know here or keep it in mind to ask at the talk. I can use all the help I can get.
As I try to do that, here’s a prior post for you to read about the theme of one of the smaller paintings in the show, an 8′ by 16″ piece titled Haven of Spirit.
Might as well have a theme today. Let’s go with home. I use the idea of finding and recognizing home in a lot of my work. I like how Bonhoeffer describes the idea of home in the last sentence above: a kingdom of its own in the midst of the world, a stronghold amid life’s storms and stresses, a refuge, even a sanctuary.
A safe haven.
Hopefully, most of us recognize some place or person that affords us that sense of the safety of home. It’s easy to look around and see too many people all around the world who struggle to hold onto that sense of home in the face of war and hatred. A simple place to call home along with the idea of not wanting to mess with others and to have yourself not be messed with does not seem like it should be a wild dream. But for all the usual reasons– envy, prejudice, greed, etc.– it is much too hard to realize for far too many.
I wish I had an answer. I guess the most obvious is to be kind to allothers and treat all others as you yourself wish to be treated.
That’s the Golden Rule, right? Seems so simple. Should be easy.
Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to accomplish. Nobody wants to believe that such a simple sentiment can wield such power. We want something more complicated, something that allows the existence of our own prejudices and biases.
We’ll practice the Golden Rule so long as it’s to the right kind of people…
Sigh. Keep trying, folks. It doesn’t work if it’s not an all or nothing proposition.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer might sound familiar to regular readers. I featured him in a post several years ago, On Stupidity, that has been popular, consistently getting a number of views each week. He was the German pastor who spoke out against the Nazi regime throughout the 1930’s, later being sent to a concentration camp before being sent to his death on the gallows in the last days of the war. On Stupidity described the sort of blatant ignorance that led to the rise of the Nazis and seems to exist here today in forms. Bonhoeffer also coined the term Cheap Grace which describes those who claim the high ground of religion, believing that being “saved” wipes away all past transgressions and grants forgiveness– even permission– for all future sins. It is something that seems abundant these days among the evangelical set and the political right. It’s a post that is worth another look.
Okay, let’s wrap up this package. Here’s the song, Home, from Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros. Seems to be right in line with today’s theme. Plus, it has whistling. Love a good whistling song, don’t you?
Far Above It All– The Prize to be awarded at the West End Gallery Talk on Saturday.
In case you’re just stopping in here for the first time, I am giving a Gallery Talk this Saturday, August 10, at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. The Talk starts at 11 AM. One of the traditional highlights of these talks is the awarding of a piece of my work to one lucky attendee. I give a lot of thought in choosing the painting to given away. I want it to be one that has meaning for me, not a failed experiment or one that just never fully came to life.
The painting I have chosen for Saturday’s Gallery Talk meets that standard pretty easily. Shown above, it is 24″ by 20″ on canvas and titled Far Above It All. It checks off a lot of the boxes for my work with its Red Trees with intertwined trunks, the Red Roofs, inward path, rolling hillocks, and orange sun/moon.
Yesterday, I said that this choice was a dilly. This morning, I am changing that to it being a real pip. I might even go so far as to call it a doozy. Whatever the case, I think it is a great choice for someone in attendance to take home with them on Saturday.
Below is what I wrote about this painting years ago:
I felt from the time this painting was complete that with its intertwining tree set apart from the village below that it was about some form of love. But what sort of love and how to describe it in words?
It seemed like a form of eternal love, one bound together through time, much like that in the myth of Baucis and Philemon that I have described hereon several occasions. But I thought I would look to the words of someone else to perhaps give a new perspective on what I was seeing in this.
That brought me to the poems of Rupert Brooke, the British poet who was just in his ascension as a major poetic voice when he died at the age of 27 in 1915. He was in the British naval forces of WW I on the way to Gallipoli when he developed sepsis from an infected mosquito bite. He died soon after and was buried in an olive grove on the Greek island of Skyros.
An odd casualty of the war but still a casualty that deprived the world of what might have come from his hand.
The poem of Brooke’s that hit me the most fitting for this piece was one titled The Call, written when he was only about 20 years old. It has the intensity of youthful love, like a flaming torch held high. And that’s what I see in this painting. So, if you can tolerate poetry–and I know some can’t– give a read to the verses below from Rupert Brooke. It’s powerful and straightforward. And fitting, or so I think.
[2024] I have added a spoken word version below. The video’s creator used WW I imagery but this poem was written well before the war.
The Call
Out of the nothingness of sleep,
The slow dreams of Eternity,
There was a thunder on the deep:
I came, because you called to me.
I broke the Night’s primeval bars,
I dared the old abysmal curse,
And flashed through ranks of frightened stars
Suddenly on the universe!
The eternal silences were broken;
Hell became Heaven as I passed. —
What shall I give you as a token,
A sign that we have met, at last?
I’ll break and forge the stars anew,
Shatter the heavens with a song;
Immortal in my love for you,
Because I love you, very strong.
Your mouth shall mock the old and wise,
Your laugh shall fill the world with flame,
I’ll write upon the shrinking skies
The scarlet splendour of your name,
Till Heaven cracks, and Hell thereunder
Dies in her ultimate mad fire,
And darkness falls, with scornful thunder,
On dreams of men and men’s desire.
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.
There is no better excess in the world than the excess of gratitude.
–Jean de La Bruyère
I strongly agree with the sentiment above from the 17th century French philosopher Jean de La Bruyère. There is never enough gratitude in the world. Gratitude is, after all, as Cicero pointed out over 2000 years ago, the parent of all virtues. From it springs generosity and humility, patience and integrity, justice and tolerance. Serenity and peace.
And so much more.
It is expansive.
Gratitude creates space in the world– and in the hearts of those who embrace it– for greater appreciation and understanding.
I am mentioning this today to go along with the new painting at the top from my current West End Gallery exhibit. It is appropriately titled Serene Gratitude and is 36″ by 36″ on canvas. I see peace and serenity in the Red Tree here, as though it is grateful to see the new sunrise and the bounty of the landscape around it. I get a wonderful sense of tranquility and hopefulness from it.
I am talking about gratitude to let you know that I will announce the painting that I will be giving away at this coming Saturday’s Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery in tomorrow’s blog. It’s a dilly (can’t remember the last time I used the word dilly) so make sure to come back tomorrow.
I have been asked a number of times over the years, especially by other artists, about why I sometimes give away my paintings. It doesn’t make sense to many people.
My rationale has long been that I am owed nothing in this world from anybody. Everything I have has been given to me. I realize that everything– my livelihood and anything achieved by my work– has come about because of the actions of others.
Oh, I create the work. Sure. But if others haven’t responded to it and collected it, hadn’t given their time to come to openings and talks or read this blog, I most likely would not be in this same place right now.
I don’t know that I would even still be in this world.
Everything I have in this world is owed to others. Some I know and love. Some I call friends. And some I barely know or have never met.
I possess an immense amount of gratitude. It might well be my most valuable possession.
So, expressing that gratitude by making a gift of one of my paintings every now and then seems like a small thing indeed. In fact, I feel that I often get more from doing this than the recipients of these paintings have received. I get to see their joy in that moment and that a big thing to me. To make someone else happy is as gratifying a feeling as any I know.
And in that moment, I feel as bit lighter, as though in some way what I owe to others has been paid.
I am debt-free for that single moment. It feels like a moment of grace.
We don’t get many of those in this life.
Believe me when I say that it’s well worth a painting or two.
Tune in tomorrow to find out what painting will be the prize at this year’s Gallery Talk.
The Gallery Talk takes place at the West End Gallery this coming Saturday, August 10, beginning at 11 AM.
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
I am the heir of uncontained beauty and power…
Love this passage from Emerson. It doesn’t get much better. If only everyone could experience that feeling. Maybe we would be less cruel, less petty, less judgmental, less close-minded.
More helpful than hurtful.
That’s all I am going to say this morning. Just share my normal triad of word, image and song. Along with Emerson’s words there is the painting at the top, The Uplifted Heart. At 24″ by 24″ on canvas, it very much echoes Emerson’s thought for me. It’s included in my show, Persistent Rhythm, now hanging at the West End Gallery.
To finish the triad, here’s a song that I played a couple of times over the years. It’s a longtime favorite from Lou Reed. This is Perfect Day. It feels right alongside this painting and Emerson’s words.
And finally, a reminder that I will be giving a Gallery Talk this coming Saturday, August 10, at the West End Gallery. It begins at 11 AM and there will the normal shenanigans, if you know what I mean. There will be more details here in the next day or two.
Hey, my annual Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery is just a week away! It takes place next Saturday, August 10, beginning at 11 AM. It is around an hour or so long and we try to fill the time with lots of good stuff.
For this year, we’re going all out. There’s a Bouncy House! Go Karts! A Parade of Clowns! Petting Zoo! Karaoke! Demolition Derby! Fried Dough! Beer Tent!
Oh, wait a second– that’s the county fair. I get these things mixed up sometimes.
So, just to be clear for my humor-challenged readers, there will not be a Bouncy House, Go Karts, Clowns, Petting Zoo, Karaoke, Demolition Derby, Fried Dough or a Beer Tent.
Even so, it is usually a good time. We all get to talk a little bit, listen a little bit, ask and answer questions, make some bad jokes (that’s usually my job at these things but feel free to take a turn), look at some paintings and then I give away some stuff.
Yes, there are things to be given away. I am not going into it any further at the moment but for those of you who have attended in the past, you know what I’m talking about.
So, if this sounds like something that interests you, get ready for next Saturday’s Gallery Talk. I suggest getting at the West End Gallery when the doors open at 10:45 if you want to grab a seat.
To get you going, here’s Rare Earth from 1970 singing their take on the Temptations’ classic Get Ready. This is one of those rare songs where it’s difficult to choose between the original version and the cover. Both are dynamite. And there will be no dynamite nor any other explosives at the Gallery Talk, in case that was concern for you.
All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.
–William Shakespeare, As You Like It
The tree trunks in the forefront of this new painting remind me of the curtains of a theatre. I get the feeling that in this particular painting the curtains are opening, revealing the Red Tree standing centerstage in the starring role.
But then again, the curtains could be closing and the Red Tree’s time in the limelight may be coming to an end.
I guess it depends on one’s perspective and where they are in relation to either the opening or closing of the curtains of their own stage. I am closer now to the curtains closing so that likely shades my perspective a bit. But I like to think that the curtains will stay open a bit longer and that I will still have a part to play and lines to deliver before I exit the stage as the curtains come together.
I believe the message in this is that we are given little time in the spotlight so, whatever the size of your role, stand tall and belt out your lines so that they can be heard in every corner of the theatre.
Make your performance memorable.
Here’s song in this vein. It’s from about 50 years ago from Three Dog Night. This is The Show Must Go On. It’s more circus than theater but there is no doubt a role to be played for us all, whatever the venue.
All the World’s a Stage is 12″ by 36″ on canvas and is included in Persistent Rhythm, this year’s edition of my annual solo show, now hanging at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. The show is up until August 29. As noted yesterday, will also be a Gallery Talk that will take place at the gallery on Saturday, August 10, beginning at 11 AM. I will be sharing details on the talk in the coming days.
Redtree Times 