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Posts Tagged ‘Art’



Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

–Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, 1855



GC Myers- Niche  2024

Niche— At Principle Gallery, Alexandria

I use the word favorite quite a bit on this blog. I list many songs, movies, poems, quotes, people, etc. as being favorites of mine. There are probably a thousand songs or more that I could list as favorites, songs that always jump out at me. These are songs that raise very distinct feelings on hearing them. It might not be the same feeling for any of them. In fact, it certainly is not. Just something unique in each that excites me in a very specific way.

It’s that way with my work, as well. I am almost always asked at shows which painting is my favorite. It’s a question I can never answer as nearly every piece has something unique in it that speaks to me. Each affects me in its own way.

Some make me happy. Some make me think on darker things. Some make me look back and some forward.

Some make me feel large and powerful while others make me feel small and insignificant. I number many of both of these among my favorites.

Some make me cry. The painting shown here is one such painting. Even now, seeing it only on the screen, makes me emotional. As I wrote in an earlier post about this painting, Niche, they are not sad nor are they happy tears. They are tears of recognition and acknowledgment of the human condition. Tears of catharsis on clearly recognizing a large part of myself in it.

How could I not see this as a favorite?

It might seem improbable that one should have so many favorites but that’s the way it is. How could I place one above another? And why would I want to?

They say life is a banquet. Or maybe they should say life is an endless buffet of favorite things.

Anway, here’s a favorite song from a favorite artist. This is Favorite from Neko Case. How could this not be a favorite of mine?



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Lotte Laserstein- Evening Over Potsdam (Abend Uber Potsdam) 1930

Lotte Laserstein- Evening Over Potsdam (Abend Uber Potsdam) 1930



I steer my bark with hope in the head, leaving fear astern. My hopes indeed sometimes fail, but not oftener than the forebodings of the gloomy.

–Thomas Jefferson, Letter to John Adams, 8 April 1816



With two weeks to go until the election, I am bouncing between hope and fear. The consequences for this election seem to have a magnitude far beyond any past presidential race and there are days when I feel as though there is a bit of hope and light that the American people will not roll willingly into an autocracy that will forever change our nation’s future and character.

But there are also darker days when we seem destined to that path, that too many of us don’t recognize the peril or think it won’t affect their lives in any way. They are like sleepwalkers trudging in the dark.

Jefferson’s words give me a tiny bit of comfort. Hopefully, that feeling of black foreboding that sometimes fills me these days will drift away behind us as we sail into the bright light of the future, never to bother us again.

These feelings reminded me of a German painting from the 1930’s. I wrote about it here back in 2014 and it feels like a fit for today. It is slightly edited from that earlier post.



While looking up some the artwork that was branded as being entarete kunst, or degenerate art, by the Nazis in 1930’s Germany, I came across a number of amazing works, many by well-known artists but some from artists who were unknown to me. Many of these were Germans who were well on their way to establishing big careers as important artists before the war and its buildup but never really regained their momentum after the war. That is, if they even survived.

Lotte Laserstein at work on "Evening Over Potsdam"

Lotte Laserstein at work on “Evening Over Potsdam”

The painting shown above, Abend Über Potsdam, or Evening Over Potsdam, by German-born artist Lotte Laserstein , stopped me in my tracks when I stumbled across it. It is a large painting that speaks volumes with just a glance. At first, all I could see was a sort of classic Last Supper type arrangement as if it had been painted by Norman Rockwell while he was in the deepest depths of despair.

It was big and brilliant, over 43 inches high by 80 inches wide. The facial expressions and the body language evoke a mood that is beautiful and tragic at once, perhaps filled with the foreboding of what was to come for these people and that city and that nation.

Perhaps the dog, a sleeping German Shepherd, is symbolic of the German people being unaware of what is ahead, an omen of what might be lost when the shepherd is not vigilant.

This was painted in 1930, just as the Nazis were beginning to make their fateful move to take over the German government. I can only that imagine someone with the keen perceptive powers of an artist such as Laserstein could easily imagine what might be coming for the German people in those dark clouds massing over that German city.

Lotte Laserstein- In Gasthaus ( In the Restaurant)Laserstein grew up in Prussia and was trained as an artist in the creative whirlwind that was post- WW I Berlin. Art in all forms was flourishing, fueled by the desperation and fatalism of living in a post-war world. There was change in the air. Women were becoming bolder and more empowered, and modernity was pushing away the conventions of the past. Laserstein embraced this life, typifying the image of the single, self-sufficient New Woman. The painting shown to the right, her Im Gasthaus (In the Restaurant), is a great example of that time, showing a single woman with bobbed hair and fashionable clothes sitting alone in a restaurant. The hands are strong and the expression is pensive, thoughtful. It’s a great piece and a wonderful document of the time.

Laserstein was gaining stature at this point but in 1933 was marked as being Jewish and her career began to stall in Germany. In 1937, the same year as the famous Entarete Kunst exhibit put on by the Nazis where they displayed and mocked artwork labeled as being degenerate then destroyed much of it (a story worthy of another post), Laserstein was invited to have a show in Sweden. She traveled there for the exhibit and stayed until her death in 1993.

After the war she basically fell off the radar, although she was active until the end of her life. However, her work after the beginning of World War II lacked the fire of her earlier Berlin work. It was good work but it was less full, less expressive. No doubt the war had sapped away a great part of her. Her earlier work was rediscovered in her late 80’s and had a retrospective at a London gallery and in 2003, ten years after her death, she returned to Berlin, in the form of her paintings, with a large retrospective.

There were many victims of that horrible time.  Lotte Laserstein survived and did produce work for half a century but was a victim, nonetheless.  As with many surviving victims, there was something, some part of themselves, lost. We will never know fully where her work might have taken her without the war. As it is, she has left us some wonderful work to appreciate.

And in Evening Over Potsdam, to serve as a warning to stay forever vigilant.

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He [Cézanne] reproduced himself with so much humble objectivity, with the unquestioning, matter of fact interest of a dog who sees himself in a mirror and thinks: there’s another dog.

–Rainer Maria Rilke, Letter to his wife, from Rilke’s Letters on Cézanne



After Paul Cezanne died in 1906, during the next year there was a retrospective exhibit of his work at a Paris gallery. Throughout the autumn of 1907, the poet Rainer Maria Rilke went to that gallery nearly every day to take in the Cezanne paintings. He would then write long letters to his wife describing the work and what he saw in it. These letters were later assembled in a book that expresses the joy and wonder that Rilke found in Cezanne’s paintings.

I came across the passage above about Cezanne’s habit of revisiting subjects again and again. He painted over 30 self-portraits (a handful are above) in his lifetime as well as over 80 versions of Mont Sainte-Victoire. His still life paintings were often new examinations of the same subject matter.

Rilke’s description of Cezanne as being like a dog gazing into a mirror and thinking that it was another dog made me laugh. But it also made me think about how many other artists often revisit the same themes and subjects repeatedly.

For me, it is in my landscapes and the ubiquitous Red Tree. When I think about it, every time I am in the midst of a new painting and it shows itself as Red Tree landscape, I seldom, if ever, think of it as a revisitation of a past painting. No, it always feels like it is something new, something fresh. It may be familiar to me, may spark a feeling of recognition but it seems new to me in that moment.

Another dog in the mirror.

One might wonder why that is so. I can’t say for sure, can only throw out theories based solely on my own glaring lack of knowledge in things such as art or psychology or most anything else. Just guesses really.

Maybe it is mere mental laziness? I might go with that but that is kind of insulting on a lot of levels. If that were the case, why even make the effort to talk or write about it?

Maybe one senses there is something more to be found in whatever that subject is but can’t quite determine what it might be. You need to come back to it again and again.

Kind of like a recurring dream, one that keeps showing up over time as the seemingly same dream but one that is slightly altered in some way that makes it feel somehow new to the dreamer. Certain aspects of the previous dreams remain but some are gone. Some elements that might have been mere background in former dreams suddenly take on greater significance. As a result, though it might have the same overall imagery and scenario the tone and feel of the dream is entirely different.

I could see this being the case with my painting. There is often a repetitive quality, but similar paintings never feel quite the same. There are often subtle (and not so subtle) changes in color, texture, emotion, depth, perspective, and on and on. There are refinements and progressions to the previous incarnations as well as regressions.

Like the recurring dream, some parts move forward to the new dream and some do not.

That dog in the mirror looks familiar but I don’t know it. Yet.

Here’s a tune that has nothing to do with this post other than the fact that it has dog in its title. Maybe that’s more than enough. Anyway, this is Sundog Serenade from the new album, The Southwind, from Grammy-winning guitarist Bill Mize. As mentioned here before, the album cover features one of my Archaeology paintings. That doesn’t matter– this is just a lovely tune for this morning.





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Jamie Wyeth The-Sea-Watched_2009

Jamie Wyeth- The Sea, Watched



Painting to me is addictive. These are moments when it is inspiring, but they are few and far between. I keep my tools sharpened for the moment when things do start clicking, but that doesn’t happen a lot. I really have to push myself sometimes. Painting is a profession in which it is very easy to be lazy, particularly if you have any degree of success.

–Jamie Wyeth



I am in the same time period as the post below from 2018, in the weeks after my last major obligation of the current year and next year’s shows in the distance.  It’s a time to catch up on things unrelated to painting, things like maintenance projects on my home and studio, before the winter weather begins. I have found that while it feels like lazy time that takes me away from painting, it is actually a time of germination. Seeds of new images and colors grow during this period until they get to the point that break through the surface when I finally get back to painting in earnest.

I thought this was a good piece to share today. Its sentiment remains constant and serves as a reminder to not become too lazy, to get back to it as soon as possible. One difference might be that I could possibly have to adjust the amount of productive time as an artist I have left in my life. This morning, 30 years seems like a major stretch. But who knows, right? It remains something to shoot for, at least.



The painting above is The Sea, Watched from artist Jamie Wyeth. son of Andrew Wyeth and grandson of NC Wyeth. I came across the quote from Wyeth that is below the image, and it really struck a nerve with me, especially in the moment.

Being back in the studio after the Gallery Talk at the Principle Gallery [2018], I am conflicted by two desires. One is to just be bone lazy and do nothing, to simply enjoy the good feelings generated by the talk and my own sense of my work at the moment. The other is to dig back in with even greater fervor, to move the goalposts ahead and begin the next step towards reaching those goals. What exactly those goals are is yet to be determined but I do know they are there.

I do feel that I do have to move forward, to not be lazy and rest on the work that is out there at this point. Part of that comes from doing these talks and getting real feedback on what I have done. I don’t want to come before these folks next year and have nothing new, no advancement in the body of the work, to point to.

That is the one of the addictive parts of this painting thing– a fear of falling short.

But sometimes the lazy part is appealing. I look at the work so far and I feel good about it. I tell myself to take it easy. Relax. Coast for a while. That would certainly be easy to do.

But part of me knows that’s the wrong way to go. If for some reason my career ended today, I can’t say I would be satisfied with what I have done. I don’t feel that my story is completely told yet, that the work hasn’t yet revealed all that it has to yield.

So, I dig back in.

I was asked after the talk the other day if I planned to retire and I laughed. First, I said I couldn’t because all of the paintings I have given away at these talks represented my retirement funds. But I then said I couldn’t imagine not doing this to the day I either die or become incapacitated in a way that would prevent me from picking up a brush and making a mark.

Realistically, I figure I have a good twenty-five years in which to be productive. And if I am fortunate and take care of myself, maybe thirty. I notice more and more older artists working into their 90’s and beyond, producing new work that are exclamation points on long careers.

That would be good. But it won’t happen if one lets laziness creep too much into the equation. Fortunately for me, the credo, “Live to work, work to live,” is not a scary or depressing idea.

So, that being said, I’ve got a lot of work to do. Have a great day.

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GC Myers- Time Patterns 2024

Time Patterns– At West End Gallery



The point is, art never stopped a war and never got anybody a job. That was never its function. Art cannot change events. But it can change people. It can affect people so that they are changed… because people are changed by art – enriched, ennobled, encouraged – they then act in a way that may affect the course of events… by the way they vote, they behave, the way they think.

― Leonard Bernstein



This is not meant to be a political post and I will try to not veer into rhetoric. But, as I have pointed out in the past, everything ultimately is political in some way.

I have been thinking lately about the difference between the two presidential candidates. Not the obvious things. Those are too glaringly obvious in almost every way to go unnoticed. I don’t have to go into detail here. You see and know. Even those people who say they don’t know Kamala Harris can see the differences.

And I am not talking about gender or skin color.

The difference that sticks out for me is a little less obvious. It is something that the felonious former president*** lacks, at least in my observations. And it makes me wonder if this particular deficit is a bond between him and his most ardent followers.

What I see him lacking is a sense of art. He is a person who has obviously never felt nor been changed by art. He has seemingly never felt the communion that occurs between someone and any particular piece of art that stirs something deep within them.

For him, art is like everything else in his world–a transactional tool or commodity, something to be used to gain something tangible for himself alone. When he encounters art, it is to be used, not experienced or felt with awe or joy.

There is not art for art’s sake in his worldview.

You could see it in the years he was in office. There was no music in the White House. No celebrations of music and culture at the Kennedy Center. It was a time when the titular leader of our nation refused to honor the arts because its purpose and meaning both evaded him and failed to serve him.

It was a time devoid of art and joy for us a nation.

And that begs the question: Is that same deficit of feeling for art one of the unifying bonds between him and his most slavish followers? Have they never been changed by art, never responded to deeper feelings that art offers? Have they not seen themselves in, and been transformed by, the words, images or music of others?

And if they do lack this relationship with art, does it make them resent those who openly experience and feel art, seeing them as being somehow elite?

I don’t know that there is an adequate answer or if this is even a legitimate question. I just find myself wondering. It seems like it could be so.

But again, I don’t know.  I just feel that art, while it may not end the suffering felt by so many, expands the experience one feels of this world, creating new avenues of reality. And denying art limits our possibilities as humans. Much like the sage words at the top from Leonard Bernstein.

One guy’s opinion…

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GC Myers-  In the Pocket of Time sm

In the Pocket of Time, 2014



The crystal sphere of thought is as concentrical as the geological structure of the globe. As our soils and rocks lie in strata, concentric strata, so do all men’s thinkings run laterally, never vertically.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Method of Nature (1841)



I came across the passage above from an Emerson essay and decided to look it up to find the context from which it came. It originated in an essay/oration that was written in the 1839-1841 period and was titled The Method of Nature.

I am still trying to glean the exact meaning of the essay but the section that contained the line above speaks about how those who, in any time, claim to have the answers to existential questions or insights into the deepest concerns of mankind eventually reveal themselves to be superficial. Their thoughts seldom, if ever, dig deeply enough to reveal eternal truths that might unify all people and times.

As he put it, their thinking runs laterally, not vertically.

I immediately felt that this might be applied to the painting the top, In the Pocket of Time. It’s a painting (30″ by 24″ on canvas) from 2014 that I brought to the Principle Gallery this past weekend as part of a group of work featured at my Gallery Talk there. It is from a subset of my Archaeology series that I call my Strata work. It is much like the Archaeology pieces without evidence of humans, focusing instead on the layers below the surface.

This particular painting from that Strata series has been with me for a while now. It hung for the last few years in a back bedroom/storage space of my studio. It reminds me of fine wine as it seems to get better with time. I am more and more struck by its surface finish and the rhythm of the strata, as well as how well it transmits its feeling and message from the wall. It’s a piece that speaks directly to me.

Putting Emerson’s thought to it deepened my appreciation of it. I could see in it how we deal always with what is presented on the surface and how seldom we recognize how much more there is to discover if we would only dig a little deeper.

That might be a gross simplification. Or not. Who knows? The words and the mage just seemed to click for me and maybe that’s enough to say.

Let’s tie this up with some music. Here’s a 1992 song from Peter Gabriel titled Digging in the Dirt.  The video is from the same time frame as his Sledgehammer song/video and, like it, this video has some interesting visuals.



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GC Myers-- Harmonia  2024

Harmonia— Coming to Principle Gallery



When we speak of man, we have a conception of humanity as a whole, and before applying scientific methods to, the investigation of his movement we must accept this as a physical fact. But can anyone doubt to-day that all the millions of individuals and all the innumerable types and characters constitute an entity, a unit? Though free to think and act, we are held together, like the stars in the firmament, with ties inseparable. These ties cannot be seen, but we can feel them. I cut myself in the finger, and it pains me: this finger is part of me. I see a friend hurt, and it hurts me, too: my friend and I are one. And now I see stricken down an enemy, a lump of matter which, of all the lumps of matter in the universe, I care least for, and it still grieves me. Does this not prove that each of us is only part of a whole?

For ages this idea has been proclaimed in the consummately wise teachings of religion, probably not alone as a means of insuring peace and harmony among men, but as a deeply founded truth. The Buddhist expresses it in one way, the Christian in another, but both say the same: We are all one.

–Nikola Tesla, The Problem of Increasing Human Energy



This is another new painting that is headed to the Principle Gallery with me tomorrow as part of a group of new work. It is titled Harmonia and is 8″ by 8″ on panel. Like a few other of the new pieces, this has an smooth untextured surface that gives it a very glass-like appearance. This is especially so with the transparency of the paints which allows the white ground underneath to shine through, producing an effect as though the piece is lit from behind.

That’s something that I always aim for in my work. When it appears, it shows itself in lesser or greater magnitudes. I think this one is on the higher end. It has a very striking appearance, much more so in person than in the image shown here. Sometimes a photograph loses some of the fullness of a painting, flattening out the colors and not fully capturing their depths, intensity or transparency. I think that is the case here.

The title comes from a belief of mine that is very much attached to the words above from Nikola Tesla, that we are all as one. It’s the same sentiment that echoes from poet John Donne:

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

That is the feeling I get from this piece, that as much as we try to isolate ourselves from the world we are forever attached to and affected by this connection. We live our best lives when we recognize this and achieve some sort of harmony — or should I say truce– between ourselves and the world. It’s a matter of giving everyone and everything the same degree of respect and kindness that we expect to be given by others. 

It’s another form of the old love-thy-neighbor adage. It’s been around forever because it contains an eternal truth. Harmony, both inner and outer, might be the prescription for all that ails us. That’s the easy part.

Finding it is another story. But like anything, once you know what you seek it becomes easier to find.

Speaking of harmony, here’s a song that practically oozes with it. It’s Helplessly Hoping from Crosby, Stills and Nash.



TOMORROW!!

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 28

GALLERY TALK at the PRINCIPLE GALLERY

 GOOD CONVERSATION, ART, SOME LAUGHS,

THE CHANCE TO WIN A PAINTING–AND MORE!!!

BEGINS AT 1 PM.



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GC Myers- Between Order and Chaos

Between Order and Chaos– Coming to Principle Gallery



In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order.

–Carl Jung



I am busy getting ready this morning for the Gallery Talk I will be presenting this coming Saturday, September 28, at the Principle Gallery, beginning at 1 PM. Part of this preparation is finishing new work and packing up that work as well as the painting that will be given away in a free drawing for those at the talk, along with a few other surprises. You have to come to the talk to know what those will be.

GC Myers- Point of Contact 2016

Point of Contact — You Could Win It!

Along with the new work, I am also bringing four favorites of mine from the past decade. One is the painting above, Between Order and Chaos, shown above. It is a piece that jumped out at me in many ways since it was first painted. The post below from a couple of years back explains one of those aspects.



There is a philosophical concept called Unus Mundus— Latin for One World. Its premise is basically that behind the evident chaos of this world and the universe there is a unifying realm of absolute knowledge on which all existence is based.

It has been around for ages, going back in some form to the ancient Greeks. In the last century, Carl Jung became the biggest advocate of this theory, using it to explain the similarity in the content and construct of the myths and stories of the cultures and their belief systems. Each represents the discovery of some small bit of the order or pattern contained in chaos surrounding this world and becomes a recurring symbol, forming what Jung termed as an archetype. 

I describe an archetype as being how there are universal reactions and interpretations to certain images. One of the main reasons I use the Red Tree and the Red Roof, the Red Chair, and the ball in the sky that serves as the sun/moon is that each translates seamlessly across cultures. You don’t need specific cultural knowledge to understand the reality they symbolize. Each carries universal meaning.

This theory, the Unus Mundus, is what I see as the force behind the new painting at the top, Between Order and Chaos. It’s about how we struggle to create order in the face of constant chaos (represented in the sky’s slashing marks) with the orderliness of the flower beds representing this attempt.

The round flower bed caught in the curve of the path echoes the sun above. I see it somewhat as a symbol of synchronicity, another term coined by Jung. He uses it to explain some coincidences that seem to have some sort of meaning though there is no explanation for this feeling.

A coincidence might be just that or it might be that we have unwittingly come in contact with a strand of the Unus Mundus.

I sometimes feel as I have had fleeting moments of synchronicity but I can’t be sure of that.

How does one really know such a thing?

And I can’t say that we will ever learn more about or understand the Unus Mundus or the meaning of synchronicity, even though it might be for the betterment of us all as a species.

Perhaps we have become too comfortable living in this slice of the universe between order and chaos?

I don’t know. But for now, it’s all we have.

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Celebratio

GC Myers- Point of Contact 2016

Point of ContactGrand Prize at Saturday’s Gallery Talk



The very act of understanding is a celebration of joining, merging, even if on a very modest scale, with the magnificence of the Cosmos.

–Carl Sagan, Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark



I will be giving a Gallery Talk at the Principle Gallery, beginning at 1 PM. I’ve been doing these talks at the Alexandria, VA gallery since 2003, with the only break coming during the pandemic. I enjoy these events, getting to speak with folks, answering some questions, and hopefully sharing some stories or information that is new to those in attendance.

I also have made a habit of giving away some things, including the painting chosen for this year’s event, shown at the top. This piece, Point of Contact, is one that is near and dear to me, which is why it was chosen. I’ve pointed out a number of times here that I only choose work to give away that has meaning to me.

GC Myers- Celebratio sm

Celebratio– Coming to the Principle Gallery

I’ve always believed that real giving has to hurt a bit in order to have real meaning. That’s the case with this piece for me.

I am also readying a group of new work to bring along on Saturday. Mixed in with this group are a few favorite pieces from the past decade. One, Celebratio,  10″ by 20″ on canvas, shown here on the right, is from the same time frame, 2016, as Point of Contact. It slipped under the radar at the time, getting limited exposure in the galleries. Inexplicably, it was never shown at the Principle Gallery or even shared here on this blog. but has become a favorite of mine here in the studio in recent years.

But it has become a favorite of mine here in the studio in recent years. Maybe it is the joy I see in it that inspired its title. It always lifts my spirits and that’s saying a lot, considering what has occurred in the world in the past eight years since it was created.

I like to think that it echoes the words of Carl Sagan at the top of the page, that it represents the coming to an understanding and merging of oneself with the magnificence of the Cosmos.

A reason for celebration, indeed.

Hope you can make it to the Gallery Talk on Saturday.

Here’s a song from Sly & The Family Stone that I think meshes pretty well with Celebratio. Like the painting, I was surprised to find that I have never shared this song on this site.

Better late than never, as they say…



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Comes a Wind

GC Myers- Comes a Wind  2024

Comes a Wind— Now at Principle Gallery



That man’s best works should be such bungling imitations of Nature’s infinite perfection, matters not much; but that he should make himself an imitation, this is the fact which Nature moans over, and deprecates beseechingly. Be spontaneous, be truthful, be free, and thus be individuals! is the song she sings through warbling birds, and whispering pines, and roaring waves, and screeching winds.

Lydia Maria Child, Letters from New York (1843)



Be spontaneous, be truthful, be free, and thus be individuals!

Is there any better advice than those words from Lydia Maria Child way back in 1843? She is best known for writing the famous Thanksgiving poem, Over the River and Through the Woods. But more than that, she was a forward thinker in her time– an abolitionist, women’s rights and Native American rights activist, journalist, poet and novelist whose work often took on white supremacy and male dominance, issues that plague us to this day.

She would no doubt be a forward thinker in our time. Her words certainly ring true, then and now.

I am using her words today to accompany the new painting above, Comes a Wind. It’s one of the larger pieces, 30″ by 48″ on canvas, from my Principle Gallery show that opens tomorrow night. I chose her words because I felt they somewhat described how I view my landscape work. I never have tried to imitate the reality nature, never wanting exactitude or even a representation of a single real location.

I just wanted to capture the feel and rhythm of the landscape. We live in it and with it. We are part of it, carrying that same feel and rhythm within us. At least, that’s the hope. I believe we sometimes lose that feel and rhythm that connects us to the land. We fail to see the grace and inevitability of nature. When left to its own devices, the landscape achieves an organic perfection.

It is as it should be and only as it can be.

I think this piece is a great example at my attempt to capture that feel and rhythm. It has an organic quality in the curves and lines of the landforms that calms me in much the same way that I feel looking at a panoramic landscape in reality. Like much of my work, there is an area somewhere near the center of the landscape where the landscape’s layers go down then rises up, creating what I call the saddle or easy chair (taken from an old Dylan song) of the painting. I don’t know exactly why I do that, but it feels like it acts as place for the eye to settle in and rest, like one might in a saddle. Or easy chair.

When I first finished this painting, I saw it as being about some forewarning brought on the wind. I still see that somewhat but I now also see the wind as pictured as being about letting ourselves go with the rhythms of nature, about reconnecting to our place within the greater forces.

Or as Ms. Child may have put it: Be spontaneous, be truthful, be free, and thus be individuals!

Here’s that Bob Dylan song with the easy chair reference, You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere. From1967, it was part of his Basement Tapes and more famously recorded by the Byrds in 1968. This is a newer version that I like very much from Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. It’s a great tune. Worth a listen.



Comes a Wind is included in Continuum: The Red Tree at 25 which opens tomorrow, Friday, June 14, at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria. The opening reception runs from 6-8:30 PM on Friday. I will be there so please stop in and check out the show. Maybe have a chat.



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