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Posts Tagged ‘Andre Gide’



In Eminence— At Principle Gallery

The sole art that suits me is that which, rising from unrest, tends toward serenity.

–André Gide, journal entry, November 23, 1940



The journal entry above from Nobel Prize-winning author André Gide very much speaks to me. Though it serves many purposes for me, I tend to view my work as a means of absorbing and acknowledging the anxieties and pressures that this world often presses upon us, dampening their effects, and then moving, to use Gide’s term, toward serenity.

The darker aspects of the world are still there, an underlying presence that creates a contrasting tension, a counterpoint that serves as a starting point from which serenity and other aspects of light can build.

I am talking about the emotional tone of the work here, but it also roughly describes my actual painting process. Much of my work starts with a dark surface on which light and brightness is built.

Even my work with transparent inks that is more watercolor-ish in nature employs a process where a darker layer of ink is first applied. almost as a dark puddle on a light– usually white and prepped with layers of gesso– surface. This layer, this puddle of ink, is then little by little removed, each deduction revealing more and more light from the underlying surface.

From darkness comes light…

Let’s have a tune this morning. The song is I See a Darkness. It’s one I have played a couple of times over the years, once by Will Oldham (aka Bonnie “Prince” Billy) who wrote and originally recorded it and the other as covered by Johnny Cash, from the American Recordings period late in his life. His work from this time, when his scarred voice carried his age and emotion so eloquently, is potent stuff.

Light coming from darkness…

 I think this part of its chorus fittingly applies to today’s post and to life in general:

Oh, no, I see a darkness.
Did you know how much I love you?
Is a hope that somehow you,
Can save me from this darkness.


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GC Myers- Too Many Moons

Too Many Moons— Coming to Principle Gallery

Nothing is more fatal to happiness than the remembrance of happiness.

André Gide, The Immoralist



I am still trying to figure out what I am seeing in this painting that contains what I perceive to be multiple moons. It feels playful on one hand but also feels like a representation of some sort of remembrance of the past.

I don’t think it represents a longing or nostalgia for the past. Like the words above from Gide, I tend to believe that nostalgia discounts and takes away from the wonders of the here and now or, at least, distracts us from fully appreciating and engaging with the present.

No, this feels less like nostalgia and more like a deep recollection of the past, where one is trying to determine the precise course that brought them to the present moment. All the twists and turns of life, the ups and downs. The right decisions and the wrong.

Everything meaningful that took place while going unnoticed or unappreciated at the time. All those moments that made us what we see ourselves as being today.

It’s an impossible task and maybe that’s what this represents– that there are too many moons to recollect. To appreciate the present moment and where you are.

Hmm. That’s not too bad for 6 AM. I might go with that. It works for this morning, at least.



This painting, Too Many Moons, 8″ by 16″ on canvas, is coming with me this Saturday, September 28, when I head down to the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. I will be giving my annual Gallery Talk there on that day, beginning at 1 PM. It is usually an hour of a little talk, many questions and a few answers, a free drawing for one of my paintings (see Saturday’s post!) and a few other surprises. Hope to see you there.

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GC Myers- Archaeology-Rainbows EndThe thing I am most aware of is my limits. And this is natural; for I never, or almost never, occupy the middle of my cage; my whole being surges toward the bars.

–Andre Gide

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I chose this week’s  quote from the late French author Andre Gide, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1947, because as an artist I find myself sometimes wondering about my limits, questioning whether I am pushing myself enough into new territory.  Gide uses a cage in his metaphor with his limitations being the bars that keep him from moving forward.  He is not content to simply accept these limits sitting contentedly in the center of his cage. No, he is always pushing and pulling at the bars, seeking to get past them.

In the past, I have expressed this same desire to press past my limits with a metaphor where the artist climbs ever upward until they come to a plateau where they are comfortable and safe.  It is a place where they could easily live out the remainder of their days with little worry, living an easy life by retelling stories that made up the journey up to this point.  Many might not even notice there is still a mountain hovering above them to climb, if they just dare leave the comfort of the easy plateau.

Gide’s cage is my plateau and while he is trying to break through his bars, I find myself still questioning if I have the nerve to start climbing.  Oh, there are first steps, tentative meanders up the path but only far enough that I am within sight and  can return easily to my safe haven on the plateau.

When does the real trek upward begin?  When does one begin to thrash at their bars?

Where are you in your own cage?

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I used a painting from several years,  Archaeology: Rainbow’s End, to illustrate this post.  For one thing, I just like this image.  But more importantly, looking at it seemed to remind me that one’s creative past is often buried and gone from sight.  Or at least, should be if one is going to continue growing.  Like the tree in the painting, you grow from that past existence  being nourished by it.  But you don’t live only in that past.  You must move upward like the Red Tree in this painting to find clear air.

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