Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Art’

Wondering Why

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , on February 5, 2026| Leave a Comment »

Blue Moon Rising– At West End Gallery

I have no doubts that our thinking goes on for the most part without use of signs (words) and beyond that to a considerable degree unconsciously. For how, otherwise, should it happen that sometimes we “wonder” quite spontaneously about some experience? This “wondering” seems to occur when an experience comes into conflict with a world of concepts which is already sufficiently fixed in us. Whenever such a conflict is experienced hard and intensively it reacts back upon our thought world in a decisive way. The development of this thought world is in a certain sense a continuous flight from “wonder.”

A wonder of such nature I experienced as a child of 4 or 5 years, when my father showed me a compass. That this needle behaved in such a determined way did not at all fit into the nature of events, which could find a place in the unconscious world of concepts (effect connected with direct “touch”). I can still remember—or at least believe I can remember—that this experience made a deep and lasting impression upon me. Something deeply hidden had to be behind things. What man sees before him from infancy causes no reaction of this kind; he is not surprised over the falling of bodies, concerning wind and rain, nor concerning the moon or about the fact that the moon does not fall down, nor concerning the differences between living and non-living matter.

–Albert Einstein, Autobiographical Notes (1949)

This passage from Albert Einstein seemed to fit well with what I see in this new painting, Blue Moon Rising, as well as an observation that has been on my mind for some time. It is about our sense of wonder. Or should I say, our sometimes lack of wonder.

Einstein writes about some events in his early life that upset his view of the world in some way, that went against what he felt he knew and believed at that point. Instead of simply accepting this new view, it instead awakened a sense of wonder in him. He goes on to say that without this sense of wonder, we begin to accept whatever appears before our eyes without thought or question.

It’s the equivalent of sleepwalking through life. The great wonder of this world and our place in it is simply taken for granted and largely ignored. Unseeing and unquestioning, we become inured to both the beauty and ugliness of this world. We lose the ability to be emotionally connected to the world around us, to feel, to love, to care for others.

It is our sense of wonder that is the basis for all compassion and grace. And it is a lack of this that creates all ignorance and cruelty.

Asking a question out of wonderment often has a unifying effect for us to whatever or whoever the question is directed. It sometimes feels that we have become a society based on statements of belief that are devoid of that sense of wonder. It feels like we don’t ask many questions of others nowadays. We say what we think we need to say and just accept what others say or present to us. No sense of wonder about the other person is ever created and, as a result, our connection to them is tenuous at best.

I see this scenario in this painting, Blue Moon Rising. I see it as the Red Tree observing the unusual Blue Moon rising. It alone questions the why of it all while its neighbors in the houses around it remain locked away. Unseeing and unquestioning. The colors in the Blue Moon and the Red Tree, for me, symbolize the connection created by the Red Tree’s observation and wonderment. The very questioning of why the rising moon is blue creates a connection to it.

Of course, that is only how I see it. Like all art, you will see it in your own way, with all that you bring to it.

Hopefully, you will bring your own sense of wonder.

Here’s a song from the Red Clay Strays that is kind of about this sense of wondering, except in a very specific way. Called Wondering Why, it’s about wondering why someone loves us in the way they do. Given all our faults, that’s a good question.

 Blue Moon Rising (6″by 12″ on canvas) is included in the Little Gems show at the West End Gallery that has an Opening Reception tomorrow, Friday, February 6, running from 5-7 PM.

Read Full Post »

Odd Bodkins Blue Sky…

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on February 3, 2026| 2 Comments »

Odd Bodkins Blue Sky– At West End Gallery

And where are the dreams I dreamed
In the days of my youth?
They took me to illusion when they
Promised me the truth
And what do sleepers need to make them listen,
Why do they need more proof?
This is a strange, this is a strange affair

—Richard Thompson, Strange Affair (1978)

This is another of the small early paintings that I have released from their captivity. This one carries a memorable title, Odd Bodkins Blue Sky. which in itself indicates that it is a favorite of mine. It was painted in August of 1994 and it is being shown at the West End Gallery as part of the annual Little Gems show that opens on Friday.

It’s a piece that has always elicits an approving reaction those many times I’ve looked at it over the years. It makes me both happy and slightly regretful. I get a lot of joy from the painting itself but there’s just something in it that makes me wonder what might have been if I had followed the path that it promised me.

And it seemed to promise a lot.

It has a sort of organic abstraction that gives only hints of a narrative. It gives no answers but instead raises many questions. What is that red patch in the upper foreground? Are those clumps of grass? Is this even a landscape or something else altogether? What is the significance of the blocks of blue and violet making up the sky?

I, of course, can’t answer these questions for anyone but myself. And I am not sure I can fully answer them for myself. This enigmatic quality think that is part of this piece’s appeals for me.

Another part of that I am particularly drawn to is the organic feel of its forms and lines. It has the feel of a living thing, if that makes any sense. One part of it that gives me great pleasure comes in the line between the two green forms that make up the foreground. You might not be able to see this unless you zoom in to the image, but there are little flecks of white from the underlying paper. I don’t know why they give me such joy but they do. It’s a tiny aspect of this painting but for me, it makes the whole piece resonate.

It’s a strange little piece in many ways. And that is also part of its appeal.

A special child whose oddness is its gift to the world.

Odd bodkins, by the way, is an old English exclamation that comes from the Middle Ages. It was a way of swearing without actually blaspheming. If you yell Gosh darn it! after you hit your thumb with a hammer now, you might have yelled Odd bodkins! if you did the same thing in England a thousand years ago. How this applies to this painting, I have not a clue except that it kind of points out its strangeness.

Speaking of strange things, here’s a favorite song that, much to my surprise, I discover that I haven’t shared since early 2016. This is the great Richard Thompson song, Strange Affair, performed beautifully by June Tabor, accompanied by another of my favorites, Martin Simpson, on guitar. Tabor’s smoky voice makes this a memorable interpretation.

 

A quick note: The Opening Reception for the Little Gems show at the West End Gallery is this Friday, February 6, from 5-7 PM.

Read Full Post »

A Look Back: Into the Valley

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , on February 2, 2026| 1 Comment »

 

 

Into the Valley (1995) – At West End Gallery

There was a long hard time when I kept far from me the remembrance of what I had thrown away when I was quite ignorant of its worth.

–Charles Dickens, David Copperfield (1850)

 The painting at the top is another early piece that is going to be included in the Little Gems exhibit opening at the West End Gallery this coming Friday, February 6. This painting, Into the Valley, has a direct connection to the Little Gems show of 1995, which was the first such exhibit for the gallery as well as the first public showing of my work.

Painted on February 4, 1995, this was the first work produced after I had attended the opening of the show the night before, on February 3. In the painting diary I kept at the time there was no mention of the night before. I was a bit surprised that there was no mention of the opening since it had an immediate effect on me. But after looking at the diary a little more, I wasn’t so surprised. It included mainly simple direct information about each piece such as the date, title, the type of paper used (I was working solely on paper at that point), and some notes on the piece. These notes sometimes pertained to the paints I was using as well as my first impressions of the painting.

Here’s the entry for this painting what will be from 31 years ago in just two days:

Lovely piece, good greens, interesting sky and eye-intriguing shape. I like it, at this moment. Fabriano is exquisite.

It’s a short entry but it gives me a world of pertinent info. Mainly, it tells me that my first impression of it was very positive, but I wasn’t totally confident in my own opinion of it. Some things never change. It was this hesitation in my judgment that probably kept this painting in a box for the past three decades.

My first impression of Into the Valley as I wrote then was right on the money. It is a lovely piece. It does have good greens and its sky is interesting and its shapes are eye-intriguing. And the Fabriano paper that I was just working with for the first time around then was and is exquisite.

Looking at it now, I realize that I made a mistake in not freeing this little guy long ago. I hope that it gets to have a long life of the appreciation it due.

A little side note. I stopped using this painting diary at the end of 1995. My entries for the time after that are regrettably even less informational. But I am thrilled in having these notes for the earliest works. Reading recently, I noticed that I seldom went beyond this terse format in my painting diary.  One interesting except was an entry a few weeks before I painted Into the Valley.

It came on January 17, 1995. I don’t remember much about the painting from this entry except that it was renamed Teasdale which I remember did find a new home later in the year. I don’t think I even have an image of that painting or, if I do, it is lost in a jumble of poorly shot slides from that time.

But the painting is not the interesting thing here for me.

More importantly, this short entry came from the day I took my work stuffed willy nilly into man old blue milk carton out to the West End Gallery. That was the day when all kinds of new horizons opened for me that I hadn’t even dared to imagine before that day. Here’s what I wrote after that meeting with Tom and Linda Gardner at the West End:

A good day… I floated all day. It now seems like such a restrained understatement for what I was feeling on that day and for what it came to mean for my future.

This probably gives you an idea why I have such deep appreciation and fond feelings about the Little Gems show. It is an integral part of my career, the point of departure for my artistic path. Without that day in January back in 1995 and that first opening a few weeks later, I have no idea where I might be now. The only thing I can say for certain is that I could not be any more content wherever I might have ended up.

When I see new artists, especially the younger ones, show for the first time at the West End, or any gallery for that matter, I look at them closely, knowing how excited and hopeful they must be. I can only hope they use the opportunity to find a path forward that is as satisfying for themselves as mine has been for me.

I’ve said it before, but I owe so much to Tom and Linda Gardner for that opportunity, that good day back in January of 1995.  Thank you, Linda. Thank you, Tom. Thanks to you both, I still find myself floating.

The 32nd annual Little Gems opens Friday, February 6, 2026, with an Opening Reception that runs from 5-7:30 PM.  Hope to see you there.

 

Read Full Post »

The Juncture

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on January 30, 2026| 4 Comments »

The Juncture— At West End Gallery

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing which stands in the way… As a man is, so he sees.

–William Blake (1757–1827), 1799 letter to Dr. John Trusler

Ot it could be a red thing, right?

I would like to think that Blake would be okay with red trees. He was someone who definitely marched to his own drum in his time, never compromising his artistic vision to suit anyone other than himself. He willingly paid the price for choosing to maintain the integrity of his work, dying a pauper.

Such choices are not the sole province of artists. We all face similar choices in our lives about love, family, friends, work, and so on. Our lives are built on the decisions we make when faced with such choices. Some of our choices have huge and obvious consequences but even the smallest decision has some bearing on where we eventually end up and who we become.

To me, this new small painting, The Juncture, represents such a choice.  The path brings us to a fork in the road. We can see a bit ahead where one path will lead us. It seems safer and even bends back towards us. The other veers off and over the mound, giving away few hints to where it might take us. One is safe and one entails the risk of the unknown.

There is no telling if it will end up being a big or small choice. You often don’t know at the time you decide. Choices can sometimes hide or mask their eventual importance and, as a result, we end up taking them too lightly I think that’s why we make so many decisions.

Some may see the Red Tree here as just something to rush by, much like those who according to Blake see trees as something merely standing in the way. In my mind, the Red Tree here is advocating for taking that risk, for pushing ahead to the new unknown. I see it as a knowing guide, letting you know that it can see further ahead than you and that it can be okay– if you commit fully to that path.

That unknown path is not for the squeamish or those require absolute comfort and security. The unknown path has other rewards.

William Blake understood this.

This is a simply constructed painting but its colors the relationship of its forms make it seem bigger and more complex. It makes it feel like makes a statement even though it is smaller and spare in detail.

Well, that’s how I see it but, of course, I am more than a little biased.

This piece, 6″ by 8″ on canvas, is included in the Little Gems exhibit at the West End Gallery, opening one week from today, on Friday February 6.

Here’s a song from Ray LaMontaigne that may or may not mesh with the other part so this post. Actually, it just came up on my playlist as I finished that last paragraph. It’s a song that I have liked for a while and it felt right in the moment. Even its title feels right– Highway to the Sun. And its chorus below could easily be applied to this painting, representing why one might decide to take that unknown path.

I just wanna wake upUnderneath that open skyJust wanna feel something realBefore I die

Read Full Post »

A Look Back: Summerfield

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on January 12, 2026| 2 Comments »

But above all, in order to be, never try to seem.

― Albert Camus, Notebooks, 1935-1951

I am going to try to share an older piece every Monday. I say try because I may simply forget to continue the series at some point or it might run out of steam. It’s happened with me before. Like the old line from Robert Burns: The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

But for now, I will try to keep it going.

This small painting, Summerfield, from 1994 has been a favorite in recent years for me. To be fair, I liked it when it was painted. However, I was just finding my voice at around the same time, transitioning to a more personalized style and process that would better speak for me.

This piece represented that period in my development where I was still trying to make work that was comparable to others. It’s a period most artists go through, when the work of others serves as gauge against which they can compare and gauge their progress. It’s helpful and sometimes satisfying as you approach what you consider an acceptable level of ability. You begin to feel as though you’re part of the club.

But for some there comes a point where you sense that this is not the path for you. You realize that you don’t really want to be in the club, however prestigious that club might be. You don’t want to be compared to the others in the club, don’t want to be limited by the constraints of the rules of the club, some of which felt arbitrary.

If I felt that the sky should be red or the fields purple, why should I not paint them in those colors?

This piece was one of the last pieces where I was still thinking about joining the club. Maybe the last one actually. I never signed it, nor do I believe I have ever shown it publicly even though the progress and quality it showed pleased me greatly.

It just didn’t seem to fit into where I saw my work going at the time.

But over the years it has become a favorite, always bringing a warm feeling when I come across it. Its sense of place and time resonates with me. Perhaps more now than when I painted in over 30 years ago.

I no longer see it as an echo of someone else. I view it as a helpful stop along the way where I was deciding which way to go.

More than that, I simply appreciate it now for what it is in front of me.

Much like Camus’ words at the top, it doesn’t seem to be trying to be what it is not.

It has its own sense of being. It just is what it is.

And though it took time to come to this recognition, I like what it is.

Here’s a song that came on while I was writing this. Its tone seemed so perfect for the feeling I was getting from Summerfield that I can’t resist sharing it. This is Blue Skies from Tom Waits. It’s a stark contrast to his The Earth Died Screaming that I included in a post a few days back.

This is one of his earlier songs so maybe this is his Summerfield?

Who knows?

Doesn’t matter. It just is what it is. And that is all I need to know.

Read Full Post »

The Choir Disbands Thursday

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on November 11, 2025| 3 Comments »

The Passing Parade— At the West End Gallery

One never finishes learning about art. There are always new things to discover. Great works of art seem to look different every time one stands before them. They seem to be as inexhaustible and unpredictable as real human beings.

–Ernst Gombrich, The Story of Art (1978)

I think the passage above from art historian Ernst Gombrich (1909-2001) is an apt flourish to this reminder that my solo exhibit, Guiding Light, at the West End Gallery comes to its conclusion at the end of the day this Thursday, November 13. There are three days to arrange to see the show.

I believe Gombrich’s statement applies here because as he says, art looks different every time one stands before it. And I think when a show is hung it creates a unique atmosphere created by the dynamics of the individual pieces in relation to one another, the space, and the viewer. It makes viewing any painting in an exhibit, as well as the exhibit as a whole, a unique experience for the viewer.

Maybe I am out of place in saying this, but I felt that this show at the West End Gallery was one of those unique experiences with its own atmosphere. Each piece stands out in their individuality but is reinforced by the work surrounding it.

Like strong individual voices gathered in a choir.

Hope you get a chance to catch the show before the choir disbands and the singers go solo.

Here’s a favorite song from the Talking Heads and David Byrne performed during his American Utopia tour of 2018. This is This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody).

The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground, head in the sky
It’s okay, I know nothing’s wrong, nothing

Read Full Post »

Art’s Revelation

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on October 30, 2025| 2 Comments »

First Peace— At West End Gallery

The great quality of true art is that it rediscovers, grasps and reveals to us that reality far from where we live, from which we get farther and farther away as the conventional knowledge we substitute for it becomes thicker and more impermeable.

–Marcel Proust, The Maxims of Marcel Proust (ed. 1948)

Proust certainly knew what he was talking about when it comes to the reality of one’s inner landscape. In his case, it is a place populated with layers of memory. The memories described in his monumental seven-volume Remembrance of Things Past are both voluntary and involuntary, those triggered and animated in his inner world by a sensory prompt– a taste, smell, sight, or sound– occurring in the outer real world.

His maxim above clearly states what I have been trying to say with my work for years now. And that is that art reveals realities that we often fail to observe. As he points out, it is a reality that has been barricaded from us by the common perceptions of what makes up reality that have been built up over the years. We have become so entrenched in only dwelling in that reality that we have lost the ability to sense and appreciate the other, that being one’s inner reality and its connection to an even greater outer reality.

My hope as an artist is that my work serves as a device or a prompt for the viewer to find their way to their own inner world, to see things from a viewpoint inside themselves rather than from their usual position in the outer world. And maybe that is what true art is, a device or tool that exists beyond its surface.

Proust mentioned this in the final volume of Remembrance of Things Past, writing how the reader (or in my case, the viewer) uses the work as instrument in which they can better see themselves.:

In reality every reader is, while he is reading, the reader of his own self. The writer’s work is merely a kind of optical instrument which he offers to the reader to enable him to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have perceived in himself.

In that way, a piece of art becomes something more than mere wall coverings or ear or mind candy. It becomes a portal to another reality, another dimension, in which we are inhabitants whether we know it or not. It’s kind of miraculous to see this in action, to see someone engage with a piece of art that instantly reveals something of themselves of which they were either unaware or were blindly seeking.

I’ve been fortunate to witness this several times over the years and it may well be the primary motivator for my work now. 

Well, that was not expected when I started this post this morning. Hope it makes sense in an hour or a day from now. Maybe we will talk about this on Saturday at the Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery.

Maybe not. Who knows which way the wind will blow on Saturday?

The Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery begins at 11 AM and lasts about an hour, ending with the drawing for the painting, Dare to Know, shown at the bottom of this page. The Gallery Talk and the drawing for the painting are free and open to all. You must be in attendance to win prize. Seating is limited so I would suggest you arrive early to claim your seat and settle in. We can chat or you can take in the exhibit. Doors Open at 10:30 AM.

Here’s a favorite song, Killing the Blues. It is best known as performed by John Prine which to me is the gold standard. I hesitated in playing this version that I like very much from Alison Krauss and Robert Plant since I have played it here before. I thought it was recently but, after checking, discovered that I had shared it last in 2011. I guess a 14-year gap between plays is acceptable.

Read Full Post »

Dare to Win Dare to Know

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on October 26, 2025| 2 Comments »

Dare to Know— The Prize at Next Saturday’s Gallery Talk

Enlightenment is man’s release from his self-incurred tutelage. Tutelage is man’s inability to make use of his understanding without direction from another. Self-incurred is this tutelage when its cause lies not in lack of reason but in lack of resolution and courage to use it without direction from another. Sapere Aude!- ‘Have courage to use your own reason!’- that is the motto of enlightenment.

― Immanuel Kant, What Is Enlightenment?

I have written in the past about the difficulty and pain that comes in choosing the paintings that are sometimes given away at my Gallery Talks. I have often said that it must be a painting that creates pain for me in giving it away. 

Well, I’ve made my choice for next Saturday’s Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery and, boy, does it hurt.

The painting is shown above and is titled Dare to Know. It is 11″ by 15″ on paper and is framed and matted at 16″ by 20″. It’s a piece that attached itself to me immediately, both visually and in its personal meaning which strongly adhered to the words of Kant above. To put it simply, it has always been a very special piece for me.

Here is an essay on this painting that has ran a couple of times here in the past:

 

Sapere Aude!

From the Latin, meaning Dare to Know.

I came across the passage above from the 18th century philosopher Immanuel Kant and felt immediately that it was a great match for this new painting. In fact, I am calling this piece, 11′ by 15″ on paper, Dare to Know (Sapere Aude!).

The Red Tree here is removed away from the influence and shading of the other trees and houses in the foreground, out of darkness and into the light. There is a light about the Red Tree and a sense of freedom in the openness of the space around it. It is free to examine the world, free to seek the knowledge it craves, and free to simply think for itself.

The concept of self-enlightenment is truly a great idea and one that we definitely could use today. Too many of us construct our own base of knowledge by relying on the thoughts and opinions of others, often without giving much consideration as to their truthfulness, motives, or origins. Or we shade our base of knowledge with our own desires for how reality should appear, holding onto false beliefs that suit us even when they obviously contradict reality.

In short, there is no enlightenment based on falsehoods, no way to spin darkness into light. There is no way to make a right based on wrongs.

  Enlightenment comes in stepping away from the darkness of lies and deceptions to see the world as it is, with clarity. It means stripping away our own self defenses and admitting our own shortcomings, prejudices, and predispositions. 

To have the courage to know and face truths.

It may not always be the desired outcome one hoped for, but it is an honest reality. And maybe that is enlightenment, the willingness to face all truths with honesty.

To dare to know.

Sapere Aude!

Dare to Know will be given away at my Gallery Talk this coming Saturday, November 1 at the West End Gallery, beginning at 11 AM. Seating is limited so I suggest getting there as close to 10:30 AM when the gallery doors will be opened. That will give you time to register for the drawing, claim your seat, and maybe chat for a few minutes beforehand.

The Gallery Talk and the drawing for the painting(s?) is free and open to everyone. Yeah, even you. So, what have you got to lose? Get yourself into the West End on Saturday and maybe take home a favorite painting of mine.

But be forewarned that this is an interactive event. Its success or failure– it can happen!— depends on your participation. So, you better have a good question or two in mind when you enter the gallery. If you leave me hanging up there all alone, there will be hell to pay! 

Okay, that’s that. This week’s Sunday Morning Music is kind of last second choice. I had another song in mind but when I went to get its link this song was a suggestion. It was an immediate hit thematically and also favorite Beatles song. As if that could be a thing out of so many! This is Think For Yourself from their 1965 Rubber Soul album.

Read Full Post »

Self-Portrait

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on October 13, 2025| 2 Comments »

Idyllica-At West End Gallery

Each for himself, we all sustain
The durance of our ghostly pain;
Then to Elysium we repair,
The few, and breathe this blissful air.

–Virgil, Aeneid (29–19 BC)

This year’s edition of my annual solo show at the West End Gallery, Guiding Light, opens this coming Friday, October 17. The painting above, Idyllica, is one of the larger pieces from the show, coming in at 30″ by 48″ on canvas.

I might call this a signature piece, if I were to put a label on it. By that, I mean it might be a painting that I feel neatly sums up what my work means for me. A painting that symbolizes who I am and how I see the world and my existence.

Kind of like a self-portrait that portrays the artist in their best light as they see it.

I have had this feeling a number of times about paintings, feeling that they represent a totality of what I hope I am. Mybe it is really more that they represent all the things I aspire to but knowingly lack personally.

Grace, balance, and harmony, for example. You can also add boldness, confidence, and courage. Maybe throw in Inner peace and strength, as well.

Maybe I am not seeing this so much as a self-portrait, a picture of who I am now, but rather as a laundry list of everything I have yet to find fully in myself. An image of what I desire to be.

Perhaps that is what I see in this– a clear statement of my hopes for myself as a human.

Maybe in some way it can serve as a template or roadmap to the attainment of these qualities?

I don’t know. Maybe.

But for the time being I find myself basking placidly in this piece. And in these days now filled with uncertainty, lies, malevolence, and moral cowardice, it is refreshing to rest for a moment in something that aspires to the better parts of our humanity.

It’s what I need right now…

Here’s a song that haunts me for days every time I hear it. It plays, in a way, into what I am saying this morning. It’s from Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, best known for their performances and music from the film Once, performing as The Swell Season. I am a big fan of their work, especially Hansard’s solo work. This is their version of Don’t Want to Know from a tribute album to the late British singer/songwriter John Martyn that came out soon after his death in 2009 at the age of 60. I don’t have time to go into his life right now, but Martyn was an interesting and enigmatic character, a mass of contradictions and conflicts and talents. The 1973 album that this song is from, Solid Air, is considered a gem that is little known here.

Here’s Don’t Want to Know from The Swell Season.

Read Full Post »

This Beautiful World

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on October 10, 2025| Leave a Comment »

This Beautiful World— At West End Gallery

To romanticize the world is to make us aware of the magic, mystery and wonder of the world; it is to educate the senses to see the ordinary as extraordinary, the familiar as strange, the mundane as sacred, the finite as infinite.

— Novalis 

I don’t plan on saying much today. Just going to let the spirit of the words, painting, and song do their thing. With a quick glance at these three, you can see that the theme for today is a recognition of the beauty of our world. Or as Novalis put it: the magic, mystery and wonder of the world.

Or maybe it is about how we often don’t fully recognize those things? I can’t decide.

The words are from the 18th century German poet/philosopher Novalis (Georg Philipp Friedrich Freiherr von Hardenberg 1772-1801) who was amazingly productive with work that has had lasting influence in the many generations since his death in 1801, at the youthful age of 28. He is thought to have died from tuberculosis or cystic fibrosis.

His words coincide with the hopes of many artists in wanting others to see in their work the potential for the extraordinary in the ordinary. To see that beauty is at hand at all times.

The painting above, This Beautiful World, is 10″ by 15″ on canvas and is from my West End Gallery show that opens next Friday, October 17. The exhibit is being hung today so you can see it early for a preview, if you so desire. I think this piece falls nicely in line with the words of Novalis as a symbol of the sacred mundane.

The song is the title track from the great Mavis Staples’ new album, Sad and Beautiful World. It’s her cover of a 1995 song from indie rock band Sparklehorse. It is a simple song with spare lyrics but it beautifully lays out the depth of the sadness that often comes with beauty as part of the deal.

We need the contrast of sadness to allow us to fully see how beautiful this world can be and how fortunate we are to experience its love, beauty, and wonder. And how fortunate we are to be able to feel deep emotion or to cry in both suffering and joy. To know life and death.

To be human…

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »