Redtree Times

In the Rhythm of the World– At West End Gallery

An artist must possess Nature. He must identify himself with her rhythms, by effort that will prepare the mastery which will later enable him to express himself in his own language.

–Henri Matisse, in a letter dated February 14, 1948

I like this thought from Henri Matisse very much. Nature is not static in any way. It is active, ever-changing and continually adjusting. We, as humans, thrive best when we align our life rhythms with those of the world. Very much as the monk/theologian Thomas Merton stated in his book No Man is an Island:

Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance and order and rhythm and harmony.

It seems to me that art is about recognizing and aligning with the rhythms produced by nature and expressing it in a unique and personal manner. I think you can see this demonstrated in any effective work of art.

This is the unifying idea behind my solo West End Gallery exhibit, Persistent Rhythm, and the primary belief behind the painting shown at the top. It is titled In the Rhythm of the World and is 12″ by 16″ on canvas.

This painting employs a format that I have used a number of times over the last several years, giving its composition an almost formal feel. I do this because the structure has a recognizable and easily accessible rhythm that I can easily slide into. Like painting anything in a series, this eliminates part of the thought process.

I then don’t have to think about what I am painting and can focus solely on how it will be painted. This makes for greater depth of expression and a subtlety that creates a unique feel and harmony for each piece in the series.

I believe this painting is a good example of that. It feels to me as though it captures a natural rhythm. I feel this is important because the rhythm of nature is not of one time. It is always contemporary, always in the present.

And that is what any artist hopes for in their own work. I know that I do.

Hope you can make it to the West End Gallery and see for yourself. The exhibit runs until the end of this month, on August 29th.

There will also be a Gallery Talk that will take place at the gallery on Saturday, August 10, beginning at 11 AM. It is normally a pretty good time with some art talk, plenty of Q&A, some light schtick, a few gifts, and maybe– just maybe– a painting given away.

Oh, who am I kidding? There will be a painting given away.

And maybe a brand new Maytag washer and dryer!! Maytag– leader in home appliances since 1936…

Well, maybe not that. But stay tuned. More details to come.

Flame of Life— At West End Gallery

But the worst enemy you can meet will always be yourself; you lie in wait for yourself in caverns and forests. Lonely one, you are going the way to yourself! And your way goes past yourself, and past your seven devils! You will be a heretic to yourself and witch and soothsayer and fool and doubter and unholy one and villain. You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame: how could you become new, if you had not first become ashes?

— Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra

This is Flame of Life, a 10″ by 10″ painting on canvas. It is included in my Persistent Rhythm show which is now hanging at the West End Gallery. The show ends August 29. There is also a Gallery Talk on Saturday, August 10, that begins at 11 AM.

I see the Red Tree in this painting as representing the Flame of Life, whatever force it is that energizes and animates us as humans. But I also like the idea of it representing those of us who have reinvented themselves at some point in their life, burning one’s prior self to ashes in order to build a new and better self.

I say better because hopefully at that point we would have experienced and transcended (survived) our own seven devils, as Nietzsche called them, those inner self-destructive aspects that bedevil many of us.

Maybe all of us. I can’t say for sure as many of these devils may be well hidden, only known to us alone. Maybe this act of keeping these devils under wraps is in itself something that should be set ablaze and reduced to ashes?

Again, I don’t know.

For myself, when it was time to set fire to my devils, I did try to burn that particular one as well. I wanted to be like the Red Tree here, aflame for all to see.

Nothing to hide.

But, of course, that might be a lie. To you and to myself.

Some devils from that prior incarnation might have escaped the fire and still lurk around me. You never know until they show their ugly faces.

But you can hope and try to live as though they have been turned to ash.

And let your flame burn bright…

Releasing the Fire— Included in Persistent Rhythm at West End Gallery

Every time we expand democracy, it seems we get complacent, thinking it’s a done deal. We forget that democracy is a process and that it’s never finished.

And when we get complacent, people who want power use our system to take over the government. They get control of the Senate, the White House, and the Supreme Court, and they begin to undermine the principle that we should be treated equally before the law and to chip away at the idea that we have a right to a say in our government. And it starts to seem like we have lost our democracy.

But all the while, there are people who keep the faith. Lawmakers, of course, but also teachers and journalists and the musicians who push back against the fear by reminding us of love and family and community. And in those communities, people begin to organize—the marginalized people who are the first to feel the bite of reaction, and grassroots groups. They keep the embers of democracy alive.

And then something fans them into flame.

–Heather Cox Richardson, Letters from an American, July 28, 2024

I had saw somewhere recently the phrase: Change may come fast, but progress comes slowly.

I kind of knew what was meant, that while circumstances often shift radically, the change doesn’t immediately have the intended results. It takes a while to adapt to the change, to discard the what was for the what is. I could identify times in my life where progress came much slower than the change that put it into motion.

But today’s essay from historian Heather Cox Richardson in her daily Letters from an American series put it all beautifully into perspective for me. She begins describing how certain things– she uses bankruptcy, fascism and democracy– happen slowly and gradually, almost undetected, at first then finish with a burst, all at once. She cites examples of how the big turning points in our history follow a similar pattern, beginning slowly with events that kindle a smoldering fire that all at once bursts into the full flame of revolutionary change. 

We’ve been smoldering for eight years now. With the Obama presidency, we became complacent, thinking that the fight for equality for done and in the past. But we now see how wrong we were.

There was a backlash that came with the Obama election, as the forces of big money, white supremacy, and an entrenched patriarchy took advantage of our complacency. Rights have been slowly eroded for women, people of color, and the working class. Many of us barely paid attention to the veiled  (and not so veiled) machinations from those who wanted it all for themselves.

With the Dobbs decision concerning a woman’s right to choose, it all came into focus. It was the spark that set the fire fully ablaze, too big and hot for anyone to ignore. It’s up to us now to keep that fire burning, to make the change that becomes real progress. The choice is between a democracy of expanding progress or a fascist government that exerts more and more control over its citizens. Take a look at what is taking place into Venezuela right now if you want to see what our future might hold if we fail.

It’s a brillant essay from Ms. Richardson, as is usually the case. She deftly uses a passage from John Dos Passos’ trilogy, U.S.A., a book that fully exposes the manner in which controlling powers have continually repeated a pattern of behavior that has gnawed at the fabric of this country for much of our nation’s existence. I urge you to read Ms. Richardson’s post from today and to also subscribe to her daily newsletter. It is free or you can opt to pay in order to show support for her work.

The man who goes up in a balloon does not feel as if he were ascending; he only sees the earth sinking deeper below him.

–Arthur Schopenhauer

The 2024 Olympic Games in Paris kicked off Friday with opening ceremonies that took place in an unusual setting, using the Seine and the beauty of the city itself as their backdrop rather than taking place in a stadium as has traditionally been the case with other openings ceremonies in the past. 

The ceremonies themselves were equally out of the ordinary. They were a rambling kaleidoscope of imagery and sound that was at times bewildering, beautiful, comical, and powerful. It was a very French mix of high culture and earthiness. But it was always interesting as the performers dealt with a driving rain that persisted throughout the day. 

One of the images that stuck out for me was the light of the Olympic cauldron that is on display and burns for the duration of the games. The lighting and placement of the cauldron has always been a highlight of the Olympics. There have been some stunning lighting ceremonies and the Paris organizers lived up to their predecessors’ efforts. 

The cauldron was lit then lifted into the Paris night via a hot air balloon. It was their tribute to the Montgolfier Brothers who developed the hot air balloon and piloted the first human ascent of one in 1783. The sight of the balloon hovering over Paris with the burning cauldron beneath it was a striking image, to say the least.

The symbol of the balloon is a fitting one for the Olympics as athletes attempt to lift their talents above those of their competitors. And for someone who regularly employs a hovering ball sun/moon in their work, one that hits home for me.

On this first Sunday of the Olympics this year let’s have an old favorite from The 5th Dimension for this week’s Sunday Morning Music that fits right in. Here’s Up, Up and Away.

The place to improve the world is first in one’s own heart and head and hands, and then work outward from there. Other people can talk about how to expand the destiny of mankind. I just want to talk about how to fix a motorcycle. I think that what I have to say has more lasting value.

—Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (1974)

Just a reminder that in two weeks from today, Saturday, August 10, I will be giving a Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. It begins at 11 AM or pretty close to it. If the past is any indication, we expect a pretty good crowd so if you want to grab a seat, I suggest getting there as close as possible to 10:45 when the doors open. I will be posting more details on the Gallery Talk in the coming weeks.

As to what the Talk will be about, I will probably adhere to the advice above from Robert Pirsig and talk about painting. As he points out, talking about those things you most deeply know and love is the best way to improve the world.

I know that some of you would prefer that I kept to that mantra in this blog and steer clear of current events and politics. Stay in my lane. I get it.

Unfortunately, politics reaches into every lane, affecting nearly aspect of our lives in some way. The income we earn, the retirement benefits and healthcare on which many of us depend, the taxes we pay, and the rights and freedoms which we often take for granted are all affected by politics.

To not stake your claim on the political landscape means that someone else will make those decisions on the issues that affect your life for you, without your input at all. And often without any concern for how it affects you. Maybe even against your own beliefs and desires.

Art is much like politics in that it also reaches into lanes outside its own. It is, after all, an expression of the artist in and of their time and place. influenced by everything that comes into their world. It is often– and at its best– a clear expression of who and what the artist is and believes.

So, I will occasionally venture into the political realm here. You may not like it or might not always agree with my viewpoint on things. As it is with art, that is just as it should be. That means you are listening and hopefully thinking on your own, not deferring your rights and beliefs to others.

Understand that I venture into this political landscape not to change your mind on anything. It would be great, especially for me, if it were that simple to make everyone see things just as I do. But, again like art, that is not the way things work. I talk and write about things political more as a protective measure for myself, to assure myself that I have tried to speak out in some small way, to have my voice heard.

Again, much like why I began painting.

It also serves as protection against becoming numb to the barrage of hatred and lies to which we are continually subjected. If I didn’t have a release of this sort, I fear I would become too much like the howling banshees of social media who spout certainties without any factual basis so long as it lines up with their prejudices.

I think an anecdote about the Dutch-born American clergyman and political activist A.J. Muste (1885-1967) sums up best why I write on such things here. It is said that he protested against the war in Vietnam by standing alone outside the White House every night with a lit candle, even in the worst weather.

A reporter asked him at the time, “Do you really think you are going to change the policies of this country by standing out here alone at night in front of the White House with a candle?”

Muste replied, “Oh I don’t do this to change the country. I do this so the country won’t change me.”

If writing a little about how I view the world politically is what it takes to keep me from becoming as bitter and filled with hate like so many others who have given in to that lure, so be it.

It reminds me of who I am and who I refuse to be.

I won’t bring this up at the Gallery Talk, if you won’t. We’ll just talk art if that is what you want.

Either way, it will be fun.

So, mark your calendars for the talk and, in the meantime, try to get into the West End Gallery to see my show. Here’s a song from The Music Machine from 1966 that deals with the idea of talk. Well. kind of. I’ve heard this song many, many times over the years but never really heard the lyrics until I watch this video with the lyrics. It made me chuckle. Good garage band rock does that sometimes, especially with lyrics like: My social life’s a dud/My name is really mud.

Anyway, here’s Talk Talk.

Joy in the Dance— At West End Gallery

With coarse rice to eat, with water to drink, and my bended arm for a pillow—I have still joy in the midst of these things. Riches and honors acquired by unrighteousness are to me as a floating cloud.

–Confucius, Analects

This has been perhaps the longest week in recent history. It’s hard to believe but it was a mere five days ago that the world seemed on a dark and downward trajectory for many people, me included. There were only glimmers of visible hope.

I know that I was dour and surly this past weekend. Downcast and lifeless. I am often like that after an opening as I have noted here before in the past. But coupled with the political energy it seemed almost interminable.

But late Sunday afternoon, President Biden withdrew from the race for president and within hours it felt as though there had been a seismic shift in this country. And in me, as well. The energy levels that have gathered behind and carried Vice-President Kamala Harris in these last four days — my god, it’s only been four days! — have been astounding.

A friend who well remembers JFK’s campaign in 1960 felt that the Harris emergence had that same sort of youthful excitement and energy, fueled by optimism and inclusion rather than the fear and division offered by the other side.

I couldn’t agree more. Her candidacy offers a stark contrast to her opponent in almost every aspect– forward looking versus going backwards, freedom versus control/autocracy, unity versus chaos, youthful diversity and change versus the same gaggle of rich old white men, etc.

Light versus darkness.

I definitely feel lighter after these endless few days, almost giddy at times, in so many ways, as though the floating clouds of unrighteousness Confucius mentions have been blown away. I am using the painting above, Joy in the Dance, to illustrate this post because of the joyful giddiness I sense in the trees, And I also like the analogy of the river in it serving as a river of righteousness versus clouds representing unrighteousness.

Clouds come and go, blocking out the sun and sometimes bringing terrible storms, but the river is always there.

And so long as the river is there, so are we.

Here’s a song I have played a few times over the years. It was written and originally performed by Steve Van Zandt (Miami Steve in the E Street Band, Little Steven as the leader of the Disciples of Soul, Silvio Dante on the Sopranos, and one of the prime movers of the popular movement that helped end apartheid in South Africa) and has been a staple for decades for both Eddie Vedder and Jackson Browne, both of whom regularly perform it. This is an acoustic version from Eddie Vedder from back in 2000. It speaks to the usurping of patriotic symbols and language by those on the right at times when they have been offering policies and legislation that seem antithetical to the idea of America that many of us hold as our North Star. The song also uses the river of righteousness as its primary symbol. Seems about right.

Let that river keep running…

The painting shown, Joy in the Dance, 24″ by 8′ on canvas, is part of Persistent Rhythm, my solo show now hanging at the West End Gallery.

The Natural— At West End Gallery

“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery – celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from – it’s where you take them to.”

― Jim Jarmusch, MovieMaker Magazine, 2004

Awhile back, I knew a musician who used to claim that he tried to avoid listening to other people’s music so that anything he produced would be totally original. Even then, when I wasn’t yet a working artist, it sounded dubious and a little stupid to me.

Decades later, I am now positive that it was both.

Every artist in any medium would like to believe they are totally original but there are a precious few that can be defined as such. Those are the geniuses whose work redefines their fields and the way we perceive it. And even with such cases, their genius is in the way they synthesize their influences in creating something that appears original, new, and revolutionary.

Even the seemingly most original work that might be a groundbreaking, radical departure from everything that came before it has influences, something prior to it on which it was built.

Something never comes from nothing. As filmmaker Jim Jarmusch states above: Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent.

I know that my own work is not totally original. It can’t be, as much as I might want to claim that it is. I have borrowed (or stolen) things from every possible corner of my experience as a human, much like the items that Jarmusch lists above. My list ranges from impressions of the natural world around me to literature and music and movies to the work of other artists in every genre and age to a random smile from a stranger. It is a long and deep list.

I have can often see many of these specific influences after finishing a painting. Sometimes they seem obvious to me and sometimes they surprise me. I have previously mentioned, here and in gallery talks, an old Coke commercial from the 1980’s that really stuck in my mind. I saw it long before I had ever thought of being a painter but the colors in it had such richness and depth that I sometimes wonder if they didn’t pull me towards being an artist just so that I might seek that color. Sometimes I will finish a painting and the color in the Red Tree will trigger a memory of the reds in that ad. I am sure you would never recognize it as such.

I have synthesized it along with thousands of other large and small influences into something that, while it might not be totally original, is authentically my own.

I am showing the painting above, The Natural, as an example of how I am sometimes baffled by the way I see my influences in a piece. I don’t know why but the movie of the same name, The Natural, the Robert Redford baseball film based on the Bernard Malamud novel, immediately came to mind as I looked at this piece. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why this painting reminds me of that film. Maybe the Red Tree is Roy Hobbs? Or maybe it’s destined to be Wonderboy, the bat that Roy Hobbs carved out a tree that was struck by lightning? Or maybe it is the twilight feel from the moon as it rises?

As I said, I just don’t know. Probably never will. But I do know that I took something that film that sparked something in this painting. And that’s part of the authenticity that comes from synthesizing a diverse and wide range of influences.

And that’s the best I can do…

Okay, got to run. If you’re in Corning soon, please visit the West End Gallery and see The Natural. This 24″ by 12″ painting on canvas is included in Persistent Rhythm, my annual solo show now hanging there.

Poster for the Antifascist Olympics1936

The important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win, but to take part; the important thing in Life is not triumph, but the struggle; the essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well. To spread these principles is to build up a strong and more valiant and, above all, more scrupulous and more generous humanity.

–Pierre de Coubertin

I have been a huge fan of the Olympic Games for well over 50 years, with vivid memories going back to the more limited coverage at the time of the 1968 games in Mexico City. When the Olympics roll around, you will most likely find me glued to a TV screen at any time of the day. As a result, I have a pretty decent grasp of modern Olympic history and, I would like to think, of history in general but recently came across an event of which I was unaware, the Olimpiada Popular of 1936.

It seems that in the 1931 competition to determine the host city for the 1936 Olympic games it came down to two cities– Barcelona, Spain and the Berlin of pre-Nazi Germany. Berlin, as we all know, won that competition.

When Hitler rose to power in 1933 and his fascist and racist aims became ever more apparent, it very much tainted the games, going against the spirit of the Olympics as envisioned by Pierre de Coubertin, the Frenchman who in 1894 revived the ancient games and formed the International Olympic Committee. In reaction to Hitler’s attempt to use the games to sugarcoat his evil intent and showcase his idea of Aryan supremacy, the Catalan government proposed a counter-Olympics, the Olimpiada Popular, that would run at the same time as the games in Berlin. The Olimpiada Popular was advertised as being anti-racist and anti-fascist. They began recruiting like-minded athletes and setting a schedule. They also resumed construction on the Olympic stadium they had begun when still in the running for the true games.

Everything was set to go in the weeks before the beginning of the Olimpiada Popular which was slated to begin July 22, 1936. But just three days before the opening, on July 19, a military coup took place in Barcelona, setting off the Spanish Civil War and whisking the Olimpiada Popular into the wastebasket of history. However, many of the athletes slated to compete stayed and fought alongside the anti-fascist forces. Many of those who did not stay to fight went back to their homelands and were active in fundraising and campaigning against the Spanish fascist regime.

My knowledge of the Spanish Civil War is spotty at best, but I wonder if the timing of the coup in July of 1936, just days before the opening of these games that were meant to highlight Hitler’s fascist and racist views, is mere coincidence.

I am going to have to go back to the books for that answer, I guess. But the idea of a movement that saw the imminent danger of fascism while the rest of the world ignored or normalized it seems very relevant today, in this time and place.

Just thought this was an interesting tidbit to share in the days before the Olympics begin in Paris on Friday.

Persistent Rhythm now open at West End Gallery

The writer must be four people:

1. The nut, the obsédé
2. The moron
3. The stylist
4. The critic

1 supplies the material; 2 lets it come out; 3 is taste; 4 is intelligence.

A great writer has all 4—but you can still be a good writer with only 1 and 2; they’re most important.

–Susan Sontag, from Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963

I often come across words of advice for writers and those in other creative fields that I can easily apply to artists such as myself. I saw this bit above from writer Susan Sontag and it immediately hit for me as an artist.

I certainly have been the nut or the obsédé — the obsessed— with my work. For decades now it has preoccupied my thoughts and shaped my world. When I’m not painting, I am thinking about painting, often to the detriment of my interactions with others.

I have definitely been the moron. I let the work come out as it is and for some reason believe others will find some of the same things in it that I see. Then I willingly put it out into the world to be judged by people I seldom know with the hope they will allow me to make a living.

Just writing that makes me wonder how I have survived doing this for this many years. I must be nuts or stupid.

Or both.

Put a checkmark on those first two points from Sontag’s list.

Now as to the third and fourth points– the stylist and the critic– I am unsure. I believe my work is somewhat unique stylistically but I can’t say whether that translates as taste as Sontag might see it. I don’t know that an artist can talk about their own work objectively on something like that.

The same goes for the intelligence that Sontag attaches to the critic on her list. I don’t know that an artist can objectively judge their own work or know how others will see it or what they will think of it. I used to believe that I could but that serves as testimony to validate the second point.

I have already testified to being a moron so how would I know if I have the required intelligence to qualify in even the lowest levels of being a great painter?

But I do believe that by Sontag’s reckoning I at least qualify as a good painter. I hope to somehow qualify on those last two points but I can’t say and may never know for sure.

And I guess that will have to be okay so long as I get to keep doing what I do.

On that front, my current show, Persistent Rhythm, is now hanging at the West End Gallery. until August 29th. I hope you can come out and see it. I think it’s a very good show. I would like to say it’s a great one but that’s not for me to say. Besides, who would believe someone that might be both a nutjob and a moron?

And if you like the work, please make plans to attend the Gallery Talk on Saturday, August 10, beginning at 11 AM. I guarantee that you will be convinced that I fill out at least two of the points on Ms. Sontag’s list. It’ll be fun, too, and there is something for everyone. Maybe you leave with a painting that might be given away there? Or a headache– who knows?

New Day Rising– Now at West End Gallery

In private places, among sordid objects, an act of truth or heroism seems at once to draw to itself the sky as its temple, the sun as its cradle. Nature stretches out her arms to embrace man, only let his thoughts be of equal greatness.

–Ralph Waldo Emerson, Beauty

I was going to write about the new painting above, New Day Rising, this morning and still am, in a way, but in the historic context of what has taken place in the past 24 hours. I thought this painting was well summed up by the words of Emerson above with the sky as the temple and the sun as the cradle with the Red Tree representing truth and heroism. The landscape seems to be rising up around the Red Tree as if embracing it and providing validation that its purpose is just and right.

That’s what I see in this painting and I can easily transpose that same feeling to what we have witnessed in President Biden’s decision yesterday to step aside in the presidential race. I think anyone with any inkling of history will recognize what a historic and heroic moment we were experiencing. The understanding and willingness to set aside ego and power is a rare thing in any human under any circumstance and even more so when it takes place at the level of the President of the United States, arguably the most powerful position in the world. And even more so when that President had so many times, throughout his life and in his time as President, been underestimated and counted out only to eventually prevail. 

Though he felt he was still the best person to fight against the darkness of the moment and had a list of accomplishments perhaps unmatched in presidential history, the President came to recognize that he was no longer the best chance to move this country forward and defeat the threat of authoritarianism from the other side. 

Make no mistake about it, to step aside in this moment was a historic act of heroism.

But only if we finish the job and stem the tide of impending autocracy. Only if we act with the same level of purpose, empathy, and devotion that are embodied in President Biden.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t worship at the altar of Biden. He certainly is not perfect. Nobody is, despite what the nutjobs in the cult that now makes up so much of the GOP think of their criminal, immoral, self-serving candidate. 

At the end of the day, President Biden is a decent and caring human being who has always been willing to step up for others.

And sometimes that’s all you need to perform great acts of heroism.

Now it is up to us to do the same. Starting now…

Here’s one of my all-time favorite songs that I have shared here several times. It’s Heroes from David Bowie. This semi-acoustic performance is from the 1996 concert to benefit the Bridge School.

We can be heroes just for one day…