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Semi-Finished Demo Painting- Principle Gallery 2025

Thought I would share a recap of this past weekend at the Principle Gallery in the aftermath of my opening there on Friday evening.

The opening itself was a bit more subdued than in previous years but that was something that was anticipated by the gallery and me.  With the high temps (94° on the highway during the drive into town) and humidity along with the threat of severe thunderstorms, we knew that the crowd might be smaller. You can add to that the scheduling of the political circus/parade that was centerstage in DC this weekend, tying up traffic and both driving many people out of the area and keeping others away. And there was also my scheduled painting the following day which no doubt would keep those who wished to attend that making the decision to skip the opening. Thus, we lowered expectations accordingly. 

But the turnout was fairly good, for all of that. I was engaged in many conversations for the entire time and before I knew it, it was time to close up. Time flew by. Many thanks once more to those who made it out to the gallery on Friday. 

Then came the painting demonstration late the next morning. Due to the uncertainty of the weather, we held in the gallery as opposed to being out on the closed-off street as originally planned. The turnout was exceptional for this event with about as many people as we could comfortably fit in the space. And they were exceptional in other ways as well. 

Up to the minute it started I was unsure what I was going to do with the demo. I opted at the last second to make it a little more interactive– and a little riskier. I asked if anyone would like to make the first mark on the 20″ by 20″ canvas I had prepared first with multiple layers of gesso then a final layer of black paint. I explained that I would then work off that first mark, that it would dictate my reaction the next steps in the painting. Everything after that first mark would be an unplanned reaction.

A familiar and friendly face to me, Jesse (hope that is spelled correctly!), volunteered to make the first mark. I loaded a brush with the red oxide paint I use to compose the underpainting and handed it to her. She hesitated a bit then made a swooping and bending downward moving line. 

Now, allowing someone to make that first mark can be a risky proposition. It’s a bit like a circus highwire performer working without a net. The difference is that the circus performer rehearses their act over and over and there is only one way to go once you’re on the wire.

I immediately saw Jesse’s swooping line as a path. That was the good news. The bad news was that the mark began in the upper left quarter of the painting. I quickly realized that this first mark put some limits on where I could go compositionally. Kind of like my tightwire suddenly came apart and I was left with several narrower but shakier paths ahead. None were the optimal, easiest wire to walk.

On the other hand, being put in a tighter, more awkward spot allowed me to better show how decisions pop up during the process of painting that are often unforeseen but have to be quickly made in order to make progress.  In this case, I decided to keep the mark as a path and build a sloping hill around it, one that allowed more space for a sky to the right of it. What that sky would be was another question, another decision to be made, along with many others.

I am not going to go into every decision made or every twist and turn that the painting took here. As I told the folks there on Saturday, I was painting much faster than I would in the studio, making those decisions much quicker and putting on paint a bit sloppier and at a much faster pace. I was sometimes making instantaneous decisions.

As we got near the end of the demonstration, the piece had taken on a somewhat complete appearance and most folks there felt it was complete. The image at the top is the painting at that point. All it could very well be complete. But there were things that I can see– then and even more so back in the studio when I looked it over yesterday–that still need to be addressed along with a few changes that I would like to make but am not sure are even possible. These were mainly the result of decisions that I made before taking every possibility into consideration. Kind of like real life, right?

Overall, I was pleased to get to that point of completion while working so quickly. It still has work to be done which I will be doing in the coming days. I think you will be surprised at the transformation– if I can pull it off. Either way, I will share the change.

Time being such a precious commodity in this lifetime, the group that spent those several hours with me on Saturday were exceedingly generous with not only their time but with the good humor and kindness they offered me. In return, I hope they got a better glimpse of the thought process behind the making of a painting, at least in the way I work.

As is often the case, I believe I got more from them than they from me. Thank you to the many who were there on Saturday. I am as appreciative as can be.

Here’s a short video slideshow that shows the process. Many thanks to my friend Larry Robertson who I met along with lovely wife, Kai, many years ago at the gallery, for the photos from the demonstration.



 

GC Myers/ Principle Gallery Demo June 2025

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The Regeneration— At Principle Gallery, June 13, 2025



There can be only one permanent revolution — a moral one; the regeneration of the inner man.
How is this revolution to take place? Nobody knows how it will take place in humanity, but every man feels it clearly in himself. And yet in our world everybody thinks of changing humanity, and nobody thinks of changing himself.

Leo Tolstoy, Three Methods of Reform, 1900 Pamphlet



The regeneration of the inner man…

It’s a similar sentiment to one shared here the other day from the Dalai Lama, one that stated that change in this world begins with the individual. An act of change much like a pebble thrown into a pond whose ripples continue to move outward from itself.

Change the world? Change yourself.

Why would the world change when you will not? The world is waiting for each of us to shape it, to be that pebble thrown into the pond.

A blank canvas waiting for us to pick up a brush and make that first mark.

That is a rough interpretation of this new painting from my show that opens tomorrow at the Principle Gallery. I have titled it, The Regeneration, and it is 24″ by 30″ on canvas. In short, I see it as being about the world as that blank canvas, a surface filled with all possibility. Everything we need is at hand. We simply have to put things in place in a way that satisfies our needs and desires.

Of course, with a painting like this, that is only part of its message. Regeneration also refers to the Earth’s ability to repair and recreate itself in the wake of human action. We muddy the canvas and it immediately begins to paint it over so that it appears once again as a blank canvas, waiting for that next first mark from its next inhabitants. Maybe a more apt analogy would be that of a landlord painting the walls of an apartment between tenants?

This piece also plays strongly to the Entanglement theme with its bands of color and light harmonizing in its sky. One perception of it that sticks with me was that this represents a time of absolute harmony, a time when humans have finally moved on. Perhaps it represents a time when we have evolved enough that we are released from the cycle that had us leading constantly reincarnated lives that continuously repeated the same mistakes life after life. Perhaps it is a time when we have finally learned the lessons of time and harmony and rejoined the greater energy bands that make up everything.

Maybe. Maybe not.  I think it’s a boldly strong piece however you or I may interpret it. It generates its own life. It certainly draws and holds my attention. And that’s a good thing, in my opinion.



The Regeneration is now on the wall at the Principle Gallery, for my 26th annual solo show, this year called Entanglement, which opens tomorrow, Friday, June 13. The paintings for the show are now in the gallery and are available for previews, in the gallery or online with a Virtual Walkthrough that you can access by going to my Artist Page at the Principle Gallery website (where all my work for the exhibit is also shown) or by simply clicking here. The Virtual Walkthrough is a great tool, allowing you to move through the exhibit and view the work both up-close and from different angles. 

I will be attending the Opening Reception for the show that runs tomorrow evening, Friday from 6-8:30 PM. I look forward to chatting with you.

And the following day, next Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the galleryThe demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts.

Hope you can make it.



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It makes no difference how deeply seated may be the trouble, how hopeless the outlook how muddled the tangle, how great the mistake. A sufficient realization of love will dissolve it all.

-Emmet Fox, The Sermon on the Mount (1938)



I was a little hesitant in using the quote above from Emmet Fox. I didn’t know much about him. You never want to quote someone then have them turn out to be some hideous creature. Been there, done that. Learned my lesson.

But I decided to go ahead after seeing on Wikipedia that Fox was: an Irish New Thought spiritual leader of the early 20th century, primarily through the years of the Great Depression until his death in 1951. Fox’s large Divine Science church services were held in New York City. He is today considered a spiritual godparent of Alcoholics Anonymous.”

I don’t know anything about the New Thought movement outside it being one of those fringe spiritual/semi-religious movements that took hold in the late 19th/early 20th century when people were scrambling for answers to troubled times in which they lived. You know– the Gilded Age. That time of  the abrupt change from a relatively independent agrarian society to an industrial society that spawned Robber Barons and the exploitation of the working class, that glorious time that so many regular folks seem to now think were the Good Old Days.

That commentary aside, I figured the Fox quote was safe to use since this show itself represents a belief system outside that of religion, at least in the organized sense. Trying to make sense of the world or universe and our place in it is not the province of any one person or group and what may seem crazy to me may very well make sense to you. We may even hold the same beliefs but with a different vocabulary and symbology. 

And that’s what I see in this quote from Emmet Fox– the idea that love and our recognition that it connects us to the greater forces of the universe is the balm for so much of what ails us. I think, to a great extent, that is the true theme of this show. We belong. We are drawn from the beginning of all time and will be part of it until its end. Love, compassion, and empathy creates the harmony that binds us in these entangled bands of energy.

Is that so crazy a thing to believe? 

I don’t know. To some, I am sure it is.

Like art, there is no absolute consensus of right or wrong. In fact, our whole existence dwells in a plane that exists between certainty and uncertainty. 

Okay. That’s the end of today’s sermon, truncated (or confusing) as it may seem here at the end. All I really planned to do this morning was introduce a short video preview of some of the paintings from my Entanglement show that opens Friday at the Principle Gallery. All the pertinent info is in the image at the top, outside of the fact that I will also be giving a painting demonstration the following day, Saturday, June 14, beginning at 11 AM.

Here’s that promised preview of some of the work from this year’s show. Please note that this does not show all the paintings. I will be posting a link to a virtual walk-through of the show either tomorrow or Friday that will allow you to see all the work as it is on the gallery walls. Bet they didn’t have that back in the Good Old Days!



 

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Pax Omnis– At Principle Gallery


The creation of a more peaceful and happier society has to begin from the level of the individual, and from there it can expand to one’s family, to one’s neighborhood, to one’s community and so on.

Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama, The Art of Happiness in a Troubled World (2004)



The name of this new painting is Pax Omnis which translates roughly as Peace for All or Peace Everywhere. I consider this painting to be one of the anchors for my Entanglement exhibit that opens Friday at the Principle Gallery. With the richness of its surface and message, it felt that way for me from the minute it was completed.

Much of the work from the Entanglement show has to do with how we, comprised as we are of bands of energy, are interwoven with all other things. Many of the paintings depict the interaction of the individual, often represented by the Red Tree, with the bands of energy that surround us.

That holds true in this painting but extends the interweaving to the earth and its inhabitants beyond the Red Tree. I see it as reflecting the sentiment expressed at the top from the Dalai Lama which basically says that the world we inhabit here is created by the attitude and actions of each of us.

We shape our world. A peaceful world is created by peaceful people. Tranquility begets tranquility.

The hatred, dishonesty, and greed of people creates a world filled with the same.

I submit the world as it currently stands into evidence.

This painting represents a best-case scenario, of course. The idea that we can eradicate hatred, greed, or any of the other darker parts of ourselves is pretty much a pipedream. But we need to keep such scenarios in our mind if only to remind us of the world we hope to create–a place of peace and harmony that makes us wish to linger here a bit longer before moving on to reunite with the entanglement of forever. 

I think this piece serves that function well. It has a very centered feel for me, if that makes sense to you. I wish it were here right now so that I might dwell in it for just a bit longer before looking at this morning’s news of the outer world’s disharmony and dysfunction.

At least I have the image of it to remind me of where I want to be and that I have a responsibility, as does everyone else, in doing my part to create that place of peace.

Amen.



I am sharing a song to go along with this post. Yesterday, the great Sly Stone (born Sylvester Stewart) passed away at the age of 82. His music was built with the strength and unity of all people in mind. I have written here in the past that the world would be a far better place if his songs were played out in the streets around the clock. Below is his classic song, Everyday People. The first line in the song– Sometimes I’m right and I can be wrong/ My own beliefs are in my song— fits in well with the theme of my show. A later line–I am no better and neither are you/ We are the same, whatever we do– reinforces that theme

Welcome back to the entanglement, Mr. Stone. Pax Omnis…



Pax Omnis is 16″ by 40″ on canvas and is now at the Principle Gallery, for my 26th annual solo show, this year called Entanglement, which opens this coming Friday, June 13. The paintings for the show are now in the gallery and are available for previews. The show will be up on the walls of the gallery by tomorrow, Wednesday.

I will be attending the Opening Reception for the show that runs on Friday from 6-8:30 PM. I look forward to chatting with you.

And the following day, next Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the galleryThe demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts. Hope you can make it.



Hulu documentary on Sly

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The Floating World— Now at Principle Gallery



Living only for the moment, turning our full attention to the pleasures of the moon, the snow, the cherry blossoms and the maples, singing songs, drinking wine and diverting ourselves in just floating, floating; caring not a whit for the poverty staring us in the face, refusing to be disheartened, like a gourd floating along with the river current: this is what we call ukiyo.

–Asai Ryōi, Tales of the Floating World (1661)



Back in the studio this morning. The paintings for my new show, Entanglement, have been safely delivered to the Principle Gallery and will soon to be on its walls in time for Friday’s opening. All that’s left for my part with the show is to write several blogposts this week before making my way back down to Alexandria on Friday. And figure out how to proceed with the Painting Demonstration that follows on Saturday.

A relatively easy week. Well, if I could just shake the anticipatory anxiety that comes with such shows as I wait to see if my hard work will create sparks within others or if what I see in it is but an illusion only visible to myself.

But it’s out of my hands now and I will just do what I can. Maybe I should adhere to the words above from the novelist Asai Ryōi who wrote in the early Edo Period of Japan (1660’s) about the ukiyo or Floating World.

You may have seen the term ukiyo-e in reference to the beautiful Japanese woodblock prints, of which I am a big fan and have shared many on this blog over the years. These prints were first produced at a time when there was a strict class system in Japan with the merchants being low on that particular totem pole. In a time of prosperity, these merchants attained great wealth but were unable to move beyond their low rank in the class system, so they began to show off their wealth through lavish lifestyles and conspicuous consumption, including attaining what little art was available to them, which is where these prints found their way into their culture. 

This lifestyle of earthly pleasures– brothels and excesses in food and drink were all part of it— was described by the word ukiyo which meant for them this transient world in which one should live for the moment, taking in all that this world has to offer. Grab for the gusto, in other words.

Their use of the word derived from the same word in the Buddhist religion which meant the Floating World, which referred to the earthly plane of death and rebirth from which Buddhists sought release. The Buddhist use of the word encouraged using the time spent in this earthly plane in ways that would be of use when one is finally released from it into the ethereal and eternal planes of being. Living the ukiyo lifestyle as it was seen in Edo Period of Japan might actually hinder one from release from this plane of existence.

Though I love the Japanese ukiyo-e prints depicting scenes of the earthly pleasures of that era, it’s this Buddhist definition that I feel better suits the new painting shown at the top, The Floating World. That thought was not in mind when I painted it but it soon became evident that, for me, those small islands represented our tenuous and temporary existence here. The basketlike weave or entanglement of the sky represents our ultimate destination, a return to our place in the harmony and rhythm of that universal energy. 

Our true home, if you will. 

Our time here is short and fleeting. Ultimately, we are but tourists, visitors, and sightseers in this world. It is what we take home with us when our visit here is done that matters.

That’s my reading for this painting. Actually, when I look at this painting, I find myself barely noticing the islands, instead losing myself in the entanglement. I find it very calming and reassuring.

It does exactly what I need it to do for me. For you? I can’t say.



The Floating World is 20″ by 20″ on canvas and is now at the Principle Gallery, for my annual solo show, this year called Entanglement, opens this coming Friday, June 13. As I wrote, the work for the show is now in the gallery and is available for previews.

I will be attending the Opening Reception for the show that runs on Friday from 6-8:30 PM. I look forward to chatting with you.

And the following day, next Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the galleryThe demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts. Hope you can make it.

 

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NIghtFlare– At Principle Gallery


If we cherish the virtues and the principles of our fathers, Heaven will assist us to carry on the work of human liberty and human happiness. Auspicious omens cheer us. Great examples are before us. Our own firmament now shines brightly upon our path.

–Daniel Webster, Eulogy for John Adams and Thomaas Jefferson, 1826



All the work for my solo show at the Principle Gallery, Entanglement, is complete. Well, the painting and preparation part of it. Today, I pack it all up for delivery tomorrow down in Alexandria. This means a final few moments with each piece before they become whatever it is they are destined to become for someone other than me.

Most of the paintings have taken on distinct meanings for me, personal readings of the paintings that elicit certain emotional responses in me. Once it sets itself in my mind in a certain way that is how I normally continue to see that painting forever.

They define themselves to me.

But sometimes there are pieces that remain an enigma. They raise emotional responses but in a way that makes whatever meaning they hold feel like a mystery. I often find them deeply appealing but can’t quite figure out what they are saying to me.

This new painting from the show, NightFlare, is such a painting. If you asked me what it is saying I would most likely turn the question around on you. Your answer would be as valid as my own.

Even so, I am deeply attracted to this painting with its calmness and warmth.  It feels soothing but in a mysterious way, as though that moon with its strange corona bears an omen for us– represented by the Red Tree and the house that stands like sentinel–but with an assurance that the future will work itself out, that things will be okay in the end.

Maybe that’s wishful thinking for the times we’re enduring. Maybe it is one of the auspicious omens sent to cheer us on, as Daniel Webster alluded to in the passage above from his 1826 eulogy for Adams and Jefferson. As you might recall, both died on July 4th of that year, on the 50th anniversary of our Independence Day. 

Auspicious omens cheering us on?

I would like to think so but really don’t know about that or the true meaning of this painting. It remains a mystery, an enigma. All I know of this piece is how it makes me feel.

And that is enough for me. For now. Forever.



NightFlare is 36″ by 12″ on canvas. It is included in my 26th annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery, Entanglement, that opens this coming Friday, June 13. I will be attending the Opening Reception for the show that runs from 6-8:30 PM. 

And one week from today, next Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the galleryThe demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts.

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The Call of Wonder– At Principle Gallery One Week from Today!



That conflict between the reach for the divine and the lure of earthly things was to be the central problem of the Middle Ages.

–Barbara W. Tuchman, A Distant Mirror (1978)



Historian Barbara Tuchman wrote in A Distant Mirror about the late Middle Ages of 14th century Europe when the western world was in upheaval with wars, the Black Death, a Papal Schism, and all sorts of misery in every direction. She found many parallels in the 20th century that matched the chaos of what she called the Calamitous 14th Century, as she subtitled her book. Tuchman died in 1989, but I am relatively certain she would find even more parallels to calamity in the 21st century thus far.

I am not going to go into that here. Instead, I am focusing on the single line above from her book about the conflict between our desires for the spiritual and the material. She cites it as the central problem in the Middle Ages. Has it ever went away?

It is this conflict that I see in this new painting, The Call of Wonder, which will be in my solo show, Entanglement, that opens a week from today at the Principle Gallery. We are often lured to find answers to nagging questions we might have about our place and purpose in the universe while, at the same time, the need to find earthly sustenance– food, a roof over our heads, safety, bodily health, etc.– remains a necessity.

It is a narrow path that runs between deep desire and earthly responsibility, one I have been walking most of my life, especially the last 30 years as an artist. There is always the desire to delve deeper with my work but the need to meet the necessities of life has sometimes tempered my wanderings. I have sometimes felt as though I have held back a little in reserve. Stayed close to home, as this painting might imply.

I think this show is a step further up the path toward that desire to know and express more.

And that is the appeal I am finding in this painting right now. Oh, there’s a lot more to its appeal beyond that personal revelation.  The colors in it jump out at me with their depth and saturation, as do the forms of the field and the sky. It has a strong visual impact in its color and composition, at least to my eye.

Just taking it in with quick glance, I am reminded of a close up of a flower with the path being a bending stem emerging from the Red Roofed house which serves as a flowerpot upward toward the moon which acts as its flower.

Or maybe the moon is the head on the dancing stick figure that the path makes.

Who knows?

It’s one of those pieces that holds many interpretations, many stories. And I like that.

The Call of Wonder is 16″ by 20″ on canvas and is included in my solo exhibit, Entanglement, that opens one week from today, Friday, June 13, at the Principle Gallery. I will at the Opening Reception for the show from 6-8:30 PM. 

Next Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts.

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Harmony in Blue and Green— Soon at Principle Gallery



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

–Thomas Merton, No Man is an Island (1955)



This passage above from the late mystic monk/theologian Thomas Merton remains a favorite for me. It sums up everything I hope for in my work– balance and order and rhythm and harmony. These elements do indeed create a pathway to happiness, as I see it.

Maybe happiness is not the right word here.  Maybe a term like joyful awareness or even the word contentment better suits the product of these elements. Because that is what happiness is– the product of many contributing factors, not a quality unto itself. It only exists if we create an environment in which it can exist. Inevitably, happiness exists when we recognize that, in the moment, our lives have balance and order and rhythm and harmony.

And as Merton asserts, it is not a matter of intensity. It need not be a peak experience that comes complete with fist-pumping celebration, crowds cheering, and brass bands playing.

No, often these moments come to us quietly and unexpectedly.

That’s what I am seeing in this new painting, Harmony in Blue and Green. There is an exuberance in it for me, but it is of the quieter, more introspective variety. It definitely creates an atmosphere and environment in which I might find happiness of some type.  It’s one of the few paintings I have done featuring a tree that is not the Red Tree. Just this moment, I wondered if perhaps this tree was once a Red Tree and has begun to unite and harmonize with its surroundings, allowing itself to reflect the common bonds it shares with all things. Just a thought.

Harmony in Blue and Green is 12″ by 24″ on canvas and is included in my solo exhibit Entanglement that begins one week from tomorrow, on Friday, June 13, at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception running from 6-8:30 PM. This painting and the other work for this show will be delivered to the gallery on Sunday and will be available for previews, though the show will not be hung until later in the week.

The day after the show’s opening, on Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts

Here’s a favorite composition that contributed to the title of this painting. It is Blue in Green and is best known from Miles Davis’ 1959 classic jazz album Kind of Blue. This morning, I am featuring the version from pianist Bill Evans, who co-wrote this composition with Davis. Fine example of balance and order and rhythm and harmony. Good stuff for an early morning.



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Song of the Heliotropes– At Principle Gallery, June 13



In the world of the dreamer there was solitude: all the exaltations and joys came in the moment of preparation for living. They took place in solitude. But with action came anxiety, and the sense of insuperable effort made to match the dream, and with it came weariness, discouragement, and the flight into solitude again. And then in solitude, in the opium den of remembrance, the possibility of pleasure again.

–Anaïs Nin, Children of the Albatross (1947)



I was searching for something to begin this post and came across the passage above from Anaïs Nin. It gave me pause for a moment as it so well described the cycle that I seem to repeat time and time again in preparing for my shows, such as my Entanglement exhibit that opens next week at the Principle Gallery.

The work is created from dreams and solitude, as she points out. As the works gather and come together there is a building excitement and joy within me as I ponder sharing the work with the world outside my den of solitude. But, as Nin observes, this building excitement brings with it an increased sense of anxiety, one built on a fear of failure or of having become irrelevant as an artist. This, along with the grinding effort that takes place in finishing all the tasks required to make the work presentable, produces a deep weariness. It is both a physical and mental exhaustion. 

Then the show opens and inevitably there comes afterward, with even the most successful shows, a great letdown–the discouragement that Nin mentions. I find myself second-guessing my choices for the show, completely overlooking the successes and high points, instead focusing on things that I could have or should have done. There is seldom, if ever, a period of what you might call basking in any sort of glory.

But as miserable as that sounds, I am soon back to my dreams and solitude– my opium den of remembrance– high on the possibility that comes with a new show.

It’s a cycle that’s been repeated for well over 25 years and around 70 shows. Outside of my marriage and the knowledge that the sun will rise and fall each day, it’s the most dependable thing in my life. 

I am at the bone-weary state right now but the excitement from the work and its creation remains. Take the painting at the top, Song of the Heliotropes, for example. It’s a piece that feels like music to me, one that brings me a lot of joy. It’s the kind of joy that makes the harder aspects of the cycle tolerable.

The Red Trees remind me of flowers being pulled upward by the energy and light of the sun and sky. For my botanical friends out there, I do realize they are not actually the flowers called Heliotropes. I am instead referring to heliotropism, the act of growing toward the sun that takes place in many plants and flowers. I tend to think we all experience heliotropism of some sort, always moving towards some sort of light.

Perhaps in a way we are all Heliotropes. For this painting, I am saying that is the case. 

There’s more that I could say about Song of the Heliotropes, an 18″ by 24″ painting on canvas, but if you want to hear it, you’ll have to ask me about it at the Opening Reception on Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery which runs from 6-8:30 PM. This painting and all the other work for this show will be delivered to the gallery on Sunday and will be available for previews, though the show will not be hung until later in the week.

The day after the show’s opening, on Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts.

Here’s a well-known classical piece that immediately comes to mind when I look at this piece. It’s from composer Léo Delibes from his 1883 tragic opera, Lakmé. This is the Flower Duet. This performance is from soprano Sabine Devieilhe  and mezzo-soprano Marianne Crebassa. Most of you will recognize this about a minute or so into this video. That is certainly the part of the song that comes to mind with this painting. Just lovely.



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The Passing Parade— Included in Entanglement at the Principle Gallery



Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away… and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast…. be happy about your growth, in which of course you can’t take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don’t torment them with your doubts and don’t frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn’t be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn’t necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust…. and don’t expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.

― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet



There is something in this new painting, The Passing Parade, from my upcoming Principle Gallery exhibit that just fills me up. It would be easy to simply say that there’s a joyfulness in it and let it stand at that. It does have an unmistakable sense of joyous verve, after all.

But that feels more on the surface, almost like it is the painting’s mask. No, there’s something more beneath that, something deeper and more internalized. Not joyful but not sad nor remorseful.  

A feeling of apartness.

Don’t take that to mean loneliness. It’s an altogether different animal. 

I went looking for a something that might better describe it than my impoverished words and came across the passage at the top from Rilke, one that I shared here a number of years back. It seemed to capture exactly what I was feeling in this piece, about how we change internally and how we express these changes to the outer world.

Some become more solitary and, in their solitude, grow away from people in general. I count myself among this group. But as Rilke advised, I try to not display that outwardly when dealing with people, understanding that not everyone will understand or desire this apartness. Or care, for that matter.

You might think that since I write about my work and perhaps too much more here on a daily basis, that I would easily talk about the doubts, uncertainties, and beliefs I possess and write about. That’s not the case at all. I will answer questions honestly and openly but still try to keep my apartness somewhat hid.

And that’s what I see in this piece– an inward-looking solitude that outwardly watches the passing parade of life from a distance.

I understand that to some that might seem sad. Of course, I don’t see it that way since I know that my apartness is often filled with the joy and love that you see on the surface of this painting. It is not sad at all except when sadness is present, as it sometimes is in every life.

It is hard to explain in words. Maybe that’s why I paint. A painted image transmits and translates itself to others in ways that they alone understand.

Much better than my words. In this case, I hope my meager words haven’t garbled your translation of this painting.

Now, leave me alone and get back into the parade. As Garbo said– I vant to be alone. Actually, I need to be alone. Still lots of work to be done for the show and I can’t get anything done if you’re still hanging around…



The Passing Parade is 12″ by 24″ on panel and is part of my annual solo exhibit — this year marks my 26th show at the Principle– of new paintings, Entanglement, that opens on Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. The work for this show will be delivered to the gallery on Sunday and will be available for previews, though the show will not be hung until later in the week.

The day after the show’s opening, on Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts.



 

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