Redtree Times

All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.

–Blaise Pascal, Pensées 

A Time to Listen– At Principle Gallery

I was looking for something to attach to this new painting, A Time to Listen, that is included in my current Principle Gallery show, when I came across this post from about nine years back. The idea of sitting alone in silence in a room or listening silently in the great wide open seemed to be cut from the same cloth. Humans are often uncomfortable in silence or in listening to anything other than the sound of their own voices. I thought this quote from Pascal spoke for my painting. This is what I wrote in that original blog post:

This oft-quoted line from French mathematician/philosopher Blaise Pascal from back around 1660 shows us that even in that 1600’s world without smartphones and the constant crackle of 24/7 electronic and social media the idea of sitting in silence made most people anxious.

It’s an interesting thing to ponder. As I sit here, a little before 7 AM in my quiet studio, I can hear the thump of a bass from someone’s car stereo probably almost a mile away as it goes down the road. That is someone who obviously isn’t ready to embrace silence and believes that they are doing everyone else a favor by breaking it up so we won’t be bothered by it.

Hard as it is to admit, I was that guy at one point in my life. Noise was a way of making my presence, my existence, known.

The literal lion’s roar or barbaric yawp.

It was all an existential scream that tried to break through the ever-growing wall of sound from the outside world that threatened to obscure everything, melding all the noises into a huge suffocating drone of anonymity.

But my noise made no difference. No single sound, no one angst-filled scream could break through and show that I was indeed alive, that I mattered.

No, proof of existence was found sitting quietly in a room alone.

It wasn’t always easy. In the silence there is nowhere to hide from every random thought, every fear, every diminishment of yourself. But silence provides the gift of acceptance after a time and every relived thought and moment, good or bad, becomes equally part of the make-up of yourself. You come to realize that proof of your existence is in this acceptance and not in that barbarous scream that you once thought would leave a scar on the world as that proof.

It sounds too simple, I know. But simplicity is sometimes very difficult and I still find myself struggling to stay in the silence, to not revert to screaming out.

But most days I find that it is worth the effort.

Deep Right Field– Now at Principle Gallery 

“If somebody came up and hit .450, stole 100 bases, and performed a miracle in the field every day, I’d still look you right in the eye and tell you that Willie was better. He could do the five things you have to do to be a superstar: hit, hit with power, run, throw and field. And he had the other magic ingredient that turns a superstar into a super-superstar. Charisma.”

-Leo Durocher

Willie Mays, the Say-Hey Kid, died yesterday at the age of 93. Growing up in the 60’s as a baseball fan, Willie was the gold standard at a time filled with legendary players. Like Durocher said above, he could do everything, often winning games without getting a hit. Such were his tools.

And more than that, he made it look effortless. Everything he did had a sense of inevitability. Sure, you knew he was going to make that crazy catch in the field. or that he was going to hit that home run. Or that he was going to steal that base or score from second on a sacrifice flyball. 

He made the game look so easy, making the extraordinary ordinary. People came to expect it.

I think Clete Boyer, who played against Willie, put it best:

“I hit the ball and said to myself, ‘What’s the condition of the outfield? By that, I was measuring how far it would roll when it hit and whether I’d get a double out of it or a triple. And then, running toward first base, i said ‘ Oh hell, He’s out there’. And without even looking, I slowed down. And when I looked up, he was lobbing the ball back to the infield after the catch. And none of those San Francisco fans even gave him a cheer, outside of what you’d normally hear for any put-out. i guess they expected it same way I did.”

Just grateful to have seen him play. Thank, Willie, for inhabiting the imaginations of so many kids like me. The Say-Hey Kid was one-of-a-kind.

Here’s a song from The Treniers that celebrates the greatness of the young Willie in 1954.

Shoot the Moon— At Principle Gallery

So blind is the curiosity by which mortals are possessed, that they often conduct their minds along unexplored routes, having no reason to hope for success, but merely being willing to risk the experiment of finding whether the truth they seek lies there.

–René Descartes, Rules for the Direction of the Mind (1628)

Don’t have much to say this morning. Little time to waste after Friday’s opening of Continuum at the Principle Gallery as I am already neck deep in work for my next show.

To be honest, it feels good to be back at work, especially with a deadline looming overhead. It clears the mind. Once the brush hits the paint and the paint hits the canvas, doubts and worries are momentarily pushed aside.

The mind’s fog breaks and it’s clear sailing as I try to find my own little slice of the truth I seek.

Or a reasonable facsimile.

You can never tell what is real these days.

Here’s song to carry with you while on your own search. It’s a live performance of The Great Gig in the Sky from Pink Floyd and their classic Dark Side of the Moon album. I think it pairs well with the piece at the top from the Continuum show, Shoot the Moon. The song, like the painting, is wordless. But it is filled with great waves of emotion, that rise and fall. It is a song that always makes me stop to listen.

All you can ask of art of any type.

Back in the studio again this morning after the opening of Continuum: The Red Tree at 25, at the Principle Gallery on Friday evening. The work looked just as I had hoped on the gallery walls and a very good crowd showed up. That was not something to be taken for granted given the extreme heat, in the mid 90’s, in the area that day. It was good to see familiar faces and new ones, as well.

Thank you for everyone who made it to the show. I so appreciate you taking the time to spend a little time with me at the gallery. And special thanks and affection to Michele, Clint, Taylor, Owen and Sierra for their friendship and all the hard work they put in to for a show like this. It has been and honor and a great pleasure to have been able to have this show every year for the past twenty-five years.

A quarter of a century.

I know that this means little to anyone but me and I’m okay with that. It’s just that at a certain age you sometimes look back to see where your journey has taken you and hhen I look back now, I see these 25 shows at the Principle Gallery as part of my path now. It has meaning for me in the work that has been shown in them and the many wonderful people who I have met there through the years.

It’s become an ingrained part of my life.

Thanks for being part of it.

Okay, moving on. Here’s this week’s Sunday Morning Music selection. Thought Steely Dan and their Reelin’ in the Years from 1972 would be appropriate.

Come the Brightening— At Principle Gallery

The sun rose on the flawless brimming sea into a sky all brazen-all one brightening for gods immortal and for mortal men on plowlands kind with grain.

—Homer, The Odyssey

Show day!

Tonight is the opening for Continuum: The Red Tree at 25 at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. There is an opening reception that runs from 6-8:30 PM. I will be there to talk with anyone who cares to chat about the work on the walls. Or anything at all. Your choice.

There is a link below to a virtual walkthrough of the show. It gives you a better idea of the sizes and presentation of the work. Believe it or not, the colors of the paintings and the frames are somewhat deeper than shown in the walkthrough as they wash out a bit with the lighting required to create it. So, if you like it here, you’ll like it even more in the gallery.

As noted here and in the show’s title, this marks my 25th consecutive solo exhibit with the Principle Gallery, starting with the Red Tree show in June of 2000. It was my first real gallery show and at that point I had no idea if there would be a second, let alone a third, fifth, tenth, or twentieth. I sure as hell was not anticipating heading out for a 25th show in Alexandria.

But somehow it has come to be. Most of it is the result from the support and encouragement from gallery owner Michele Marceau and her belief in the work. I can’t fully express my gratitude and appreciation for the many things she has added to my career and life. She has encouraged and allowed me to experiment and expand over these 25 years, never trying to dictate the direction or scope of the work.

Over the past 25 years, some things appeared for only a short time and others became the heart and soul of my work.

The Red Tree, for example. 25 years later and it still somehow resonates and feels new with each incarnation.

Like the Dude in The Big Lebowski, the Red Tree abides.

All I can ask.

Hope you can make it to the Principle Gallery tonight. If you do, look for me–I’ll be the sweaty, uncomfortable and confused looking guy hovering about.

Here’s the link to the virtual walkthrough:

https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=AmSFWLvk1zC

One Way or Another– At Principle Gallery

Talent is insignificant. I know a lot of talented ruins. Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck, but, most of all, endurance.

–James Baldwin, Conversations with James Baldwin (1989)

James Baldwin was asked in a 1984 Paris Review interview about what advice he would offer to aspiring writers. He said that there wasn’t much that he could offer except to write and find a way to keep alive. Put in the time and effort. Do the work.

He then uttered the lines above. They really struck home with me when I first read them a few years back. They come to mind again as I reflect on how I have had the great fortune to be getting ready for the opening of my 25th solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery.

This 25-year run certainly has been built on a combination of all the elements that he mentioned– a little talent, discipline, love, luck and, most of all, endurance. I believe I have made the most of what little talent I possess by simply doing the work and sticking to it through thick and thin. As a result, my dogged sticktoitiveness has made room for luck and serendipity to come along for the ride, opening doors of opportunity for me, including my long relationship with the Principle Gallery, that I may not have encountered otherwise.

I am grateful for it all. Maybe that’s while enduring the past 25 years has felt like it has passed in a flash.

It has given me the only life I am qualified to lead. I said something like that recently to a group of high school friends at the memorial service for my friend Brian. I hadn’t seen some of them for 40 years or more and most were highly successful in their fields. I was kind of embarrassed when they congratulated me on my success and I replied that it was the only thing I was qualified to do. I think they thought I was being modest or self-deprecating.

But I meant what I said. 

For me, this is the only life that allows me to work alone in a manner that suits my needs. The only life that gives me the time and space to thrive in solitude with avenues in which I can express myself and continually experience small forms of catharsis on a daily basis. It allows for all my emotions to freely range without the need of wearing a public mask. It gives me autonomy and purpose without trying to be something I am not.

It’s not always easy. In fact, sometimes it is very difficult in many ways. But that is just life, isn’t it? This way of life fits me in a way like no other way can. I seriously believe– no, I know— that I could not survive doing anything else for long.

You can say a lot about me, but I endure. In life. In my work. 

I’ve been shooting for this 25th show for a couple of years. Setting reachable goals is one way I have endured. I am trying to figure out my next goal. Getting in 25 more years of painting is one but I don’t know if that is a reachable goal, given my age.

I will figure it out. That’s a big part of endurance– just figuring it out.

That I can do– one way or another.

One Way or Another is also the title of the painting at the top. It’s one of the smaller pieces, 12″ by 12″ on canvas, from Continuum: The Red Tree at 25, opening this Friday, June 14 at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. There is an opening reception from 6-8:30PM on Friday. Please stop in and take a look around. Maybe chat for a bit.

The Enlightening— Now at Principle Gallery, Alexandria

All creative art is magic, is evocation of the unseen in forms persuasive, enlightening, familiar and surprising, for the edification of mankind, pinned down by the conditions of its existence to the earnest consideration of the most insignificant tides of reality.

—Joseph Conrad, letter to North American Review 

Well, the work for Continuum: The Red Tree at 25 has been delivered safely and will be soon showing itself on the walls of the Principle Gallery. The exhibit opens Friday, June 14, with a reception that runs from 6:30 until 8 PM and is open to all.

It was good to see the paintings in the space. I can get an inkling here in the studio but it’s not the same as in the actual space and volume of the gallery. Plus, seeing them laid out in a single space allows me to see how they play off one another, connecting and reinforcing the thread that runs through them. The group looked good, even leaning against the walls of the rear gallery, achieving the impact I was shooting for while putting this show together. It eased a lot of the anxieties I have been experiencing and am really looking forward to seeing how they occupy the main gallery space for the show.

The painting above, The Enlightening, is one of two 36″ by 36″ canvasses in the show. It has been a favorite of mine here in the studio for many months now. With its size and the multiple fractal patterns that create movement while still maintaining a sense of stillness, it serves up visual feast.

 I seem to find something new or surprising in it all the time. Just the other day while looking at it, I realized how much the tile-like blocks of the water remind me of the clouds in the Georgia O’Keeffe painting, Sky Above Clouds, a painting I have used in a post here in the past. 

And just yesterday at the Principle Gallery, I discovered how this painting really pops off the canvas when viewed with Chromadepth 3D glasses. The Red Tree jumps way into the foreground, appearing as though you can put your hands behind its crown. All the while, the landforms seem to hover above the tiled water which has taken on real visible depth. It’s a pretty wild effect.

As striking as it is to see it through those glasses, I think this piece is every bit as potent without doing so. I believe it has a lot more to reveal in itself. And maybe in us, as well.

I see it as being about the hidden forces behind the ordinary. Understanding that the ordinary can be extraordinary is what gives art meaning and is the basis for all enlightenment.

Well, that’s what I think.

Hope you can make it into the Principle Gallery and make your own determination.

Follow the River— At Principle Gallery Today!

Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.

—Herodotus, The Histories

Up early and on the road this morning en route to Alexandria , Virginia to deliver the paintings for my show, Continuum: The Red Tree at 25, that opens this coming Friday, June 14.

Don’t have time to say much today but wanted to share my normal selection of Sunday Morning Music. I find it hard to believe that I have never shared this song, On the Road, from Canned Heat here on the blog but it’s true. It’s a song that often comes to mind when I begin a trip to deliver work.

The painting here on the right is Follow the River, a 30″ high by 15″ wide canvas that is included in the exhibit. We will be following the Susquehanna then the Potomac for part of the trip but this doesn’t really reflect that.

A different river and journey altogether.

Give a listen and if you’re in Alexandria today, stop into the Principle Gallery and say hello. Maybe check out the show before it hits the walls.