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 signaturepiece, 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.
Evolution advances, not by a priori design, but by the selection of what works best out of whatever choices offer. We are the products of editing, rather than of authorship.
–George Wald,The Origin of Optical Activity (1957)
I came across the quote above from George Wald (1906-1997) who was a Nobel Prize winning a scientist whose work focused on retinal pigmentation. I don’t know much about that, but his words made me think about how evolution occurs in whatever we do, how we try new things in order to hopefully make our lives better. We keep those that work best for whatever reason and discard those that don’t, mirroring the process of Natural Selection.
This thought made me think of how this has worked in the evolution of my own work. It has been a constant trial of new techniques and materials. There have been small and large changes, some that have stuck with me and are now built into my artistic DNA. Others lingered for but a short time and were soon took their place in my personal annals as examples of a failed past, like looking in a book of natural history describing species like the Dodo that lost out to Natural Selection.
Thought I’d take this opportunity to share a post on some of my earliest work, sort of like pages from my book of extinct species. Some are gone forever as a result of the editing of natural selection, but some live on in certain traits that have been passed down from them. And as I point out in the post below from 2014, the styles and techniques shown below, unlike the Dodo, can always be reborn by me in some manner in the future.
I have been spending a lot of time in the studio in the last few weeks painting in a more traditional manner, what I call an additive style, meaning that layers of paint are continually added, normally building from dark to light. I’ve painted this way for many years and most likely that’s the style you know. But much of my work through the years, especially in the early years of my career, has been painted in a much different manner, one where a lot of very wet paint is applied to a surface, usually paper. I then take off much of this paint, revealing the lightness of the underlying surface. That’s a very simplified explanation of the process, one that has evolved and refined over the years. I refer to it as being my reductive style.
When you’re self-taught, you can call things whatever you please. I’m thinking of calling my paint brusheshairsticks from now on. Or maybe twizzlers. Maybe I will call my paints something like colory goop?
This reductive process is what continually prodded me ahead early on when I was just learning to express myself visually. I went back recently and came across a very early group of these pieces, among the very first where I employed this process. I am still attracted to these pieces, partly because of the nostalgia of once again seeing those things that opened other doors for me. Pieces that set me on a continuing journey.
But there was also a unity and continuity in the work that I found very appealing. Each piece, while not very refined or tremendously strong alone, strengthened the group as a whole. I would have been hesitant to show most of these alone but together they feel so much more unified and complete.
This has made me look at these pieces in a different light, one where I found new respect for them. I think they are really symbolic of some of what I consider strengths in my work, this sense of continuum and relativity from piece to piece. It also brings me back to that early path and makes me consider if I should backtrack and walk that path again, now armed with twenty years of experience. Something to consider.
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.
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 gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts.
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 Entanglementexhibit 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 gallery. The demo, my first there, should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts. Hope you can make it.
Into the Blue Tangle– At Principle Gallery June 13, 2025
O time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t’untie.
— William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night
This is another new painting, Into the Blue Tangle, from my upcoming solo show at the Principle Gallery. This year’s exhibit, my 26th at the Alexandria gallery, is titled Entanglement and this piece very much captures the meaning and spirit behind that title.
I’ve written here that my work, at its core, represents my belief system. I think that can be said of the work of almost any artist. The work from this show is an even more direct display of my belief system, putting its certainties and uncertainties out there for all to see. If you’ve read this blog for any amount of time you know that uncertainty plays as big a part in this belief system as any certainty I might hold.
Maybe the bigger part, actually.
That uncertainty is a big part of this painting for me. In it, the Red Tree stands alone on its tiny outcropping, feeling certain that there is something beyond what it senses, something that binds it to everything everywhere. Yet, it is unsure in its own ability to recognize or understand the meaning of this entanglement if it were to unravel before its eyes.
How can one understand the answer when one doesn’t know the question?
So, it senses the wonder of that great tangle of energy that swirls around unseen and undetected with the certainty that it is part of it yet uncertain as to how or why. It all remains a mystery, bound together in tight interweaving knots that give glimpses of beginnings and endings without ever truly revealing either.
Perhaps time will reveal an answer. Or a question. Or not. Maybe we’re not meant to know much here in our time here. Maybe what we think we know here clouds what we inherently know from our bonds to that tangle above?
Hmm. Now, I don’t know even more than before.
That wasn’t supposed to happen, so I better stop and just share a song for this Sunday Morning Music. I am going with the obvious, Tangled Up in Blue, the classic from Bob Dylan. On its surface it doesn’t have a lot to do with this painting but then again anything and everything has to do with this painting.
At least, that’s how I see it.
Into the Blue Tangle, a new 14″ by 14″ painting on canvas, is included in my exhibit of new work, Entanglement, that opens less than two weeks from today, on Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM.
The day after the show’s opening, on Saturday, June 14, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery. The demo should run from 11 AM until 1 PM or thereabouts. Hope you can make it either or both events.
What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity, devoid of troubling or disturbing subject matter, an art which could be for every mental worker, for the businessman was well as the man of letters, for example, a soothing, calming influence on the mind, something like a good armchair which provides relaxation from physical fatigue.
–Henri Matisse, Notes of a Painter (1908)
I love this passage from Henri Matisse expressing his aspirations for how his work might affect the viewer. I should probably be sharing some of his work but I am instead sharing a new painting from my upcoming show at the Principle Gallery. I can rationalize this by saying that I very much share Matisse’s desires for my own work and have often found it to be a soothing, comforting influence, as he put it, on my mind.
A good armchair in which to relax.
This new painting, The Pacifying Light, fits that description very well, at least to my eyes and mind. I find something very soothing in the color and rhythm of this piece, something that instantly puts me at ease without even pondering any meaning in it. It makes it very inviting, giving the viewer an easy entrance into it.
This accessibility is often half the battle in creating a piece of art that engages or moves people in any way. Feeling comfortable in the created space of an artwork allows the viewer to relax and really explore what they are seeing in the work and what that meaning that holds for themselves.
There is that sort of easiness in this piece. It feels quiet and invitingly peaceful while still maintaining space for deeper reflection. I guess that would serve as my corollary to Matisse’s stated aspirations– to put the viewer at ease while still giving them something to think about.
I think The Pacifying Light fulfills that goal.
The Pacifying Light is 20″ by 10″ on canvas.
is included in my exhibit of new work, Entanglement, that opens less than two weeks from today, on Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM.
Two weeks from today, I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM. Hope you can make it either or both events.
Skip the Light Fandango–At Principle Gallery June 13, 2025
We skipped the light fandango Turned some cartwheels across the floor I was feeling kind of seasick When the crowd called out for more The room was humming harder And the ceiling flew away
—A Whiter Shade of Pale, Procul Harum
I can’t exactly say why the opening line from the old Procul Harum song came to mind when I was putting the finishing touches on this new painting. It really doesn’t have much to do with the song itself but since that moment that line seems glued to this painting in my mind.
I think it may have to do with the sky here, with the rolls crossing it reminding me both of pinwheels and cartwheels. There’s also something in the tone of this painting that feels a bit like that of the song to me. Unlike some of the other paintings from this show that employ this pinwheel/cartwheel sky, this piece carries more darker undertones. It shows a bit in the image above but is more evident when seen in person.
Even with the reference to the song, this is a painting that very much fits in with the theme of my upcoming Entanglement show at the Principle Gallery that opens two weeks from today, on Friday, June 13. I see the Red Tree here recognizing its relationship with the greater patterns of energy that make up all, understanding that it has descended from it and will eventually ascend back to it.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time glancing at this painting over the past several months. It has the ability to pull me in and hold my attention while creating a deep emotional response within me, a trait I find appealing in any piece of art.
Whether this applies to others as far as this painting is concerned, I cannot say. You can never tell for sure. That’s the beauty and mystery of art.
Now let us listen to that Procul Harum song that inspired this piece’s title. This is A Whiter Shade of Pale from 1967. If you’re of a certain age, you know that this song was radio staple throughout the late 60’s and 70’s and was played at every high school prom in that era. I can’t say for sure, but I think it was required by law.
Give a listen then let yourself out– I have tons to do this morning and need to get to it pronto.
Skip the Light Fandango is 15″ by 30″ on canvas and is included in my exhibit of new work, Entanglement, that opens two weeks from today, on Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on the following day, Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM.
The Entangling— Coming to Principle Gallery, June 2025
The outward wayward life we see, The hidden springs we may not know— It is not ours to separate The tangled skein of will and fate.
–John Greenleaf Whittier, Snow-Bound (1866)
This new painting from my upcoming Principle Gallery show might best represent the concept of this show, at least in how I see it. It’s a triptych called The Entangling. It’s simple and spare with the tangles of knots that make up the sky and their relationship to the Red Tree carrying the painting’s emotional weight here. It has a mixture of stillness and movement, along with a quietness that sings clearly, that connects with me and pulls me into the tangles.
I am showing it with its frame here. It seemed more important to show it as it will appear on the gallery wall rather than showing just the images of the three painted surface.
This piece probably deserves more discussion and time than I can afford this morning. But then again, maybe it doesn’t need it. Maybe it doesn’t require explanations. Maybe it is, in simply being what it is, the explanation of itself.
Hmmm… That’s something to think about today as I continue prepping work for the show. In the meantime, here’s a song from Lisa Hannigan that is at least somewhat titularly related to the subject today. It’s called Knots and this fun video does have to do with painting– sort of.
The Entangling is included in my exhibit of new work, Entanglement, that opens Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on the following day, Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM.
Trip the Light Fantastic— Coming to Principle Gallery, June 2025
Come, and trip it as ye go On the light fantastick toe…
–John Milton, L’Allegro, (1645)
Trip the light fantastic. From Milton’s 1645 poem, it originally meant to dance nimbly. But for some reason, perhaps its phrasing or the derivations of the term over the centuries, it’s a term that summons up all sorts of images in my mind. But for the purpose of the new painting shown here, nimbly dancing might well fit as a description.
Using the phrase as its title definitely came to mind as the painting took on its final form. With the lively, rhythmic spirals and bright undercolor in the sky along with the rolling undulations of the sea, there is a feeling of a dance of sorts in piece for me. Of movement and countermovement, of rhythm matching rhythm and the joy that comes when that movement seemingly becomes effortless.
As though the two rhythms have become one.
As you may know, I am not a sailor. So, I can only imagine that there are those magical moments when the sea, the winds, and the sailor feel as one. I would imagine that would be an exhilarating feeling of unbridled joy and freedom.
That’s what I see in this piece. I feel lightened and brightened by it. But that’s just me…
This painting, Trip the Light Fantastic, is 15″ by 30″ on canvas and is from my annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. This year’s exhibit, my 26th there, is titled Entanglement and opens on Friday, June 13. Much of the work in this year’s show deals thematically with the bands and tangles of energy that make up everything, including us in our human form.
Much of it entails representing that energy in the sky of these pieces in a variety of ways– as twisting knot-like ribbons without beginning or end or cacophonous bands that interweave over and under one another. There are also some, such as this painting, that employ colorful rhythmic spirals.
It all makes for a striking look in each piece, one that make me really stop and consider each. The skies are often the central figures in this work, as much as the boat or the Red Tree or the house, and it’s hard to not dwell on finding some sort of meaning in them. There’s an almost meditative, therapeutic feel in many of these pieces for myself, both in the painting and the viewing.
Does that translate to other viewers? I don’t know. And maybe that doesn’t matter in the long run. It felt like I didn’t have any choice but to paint these pieces. In some weird way, they demanded to be painted at this point in time.
Maybe I needed them for some reason. Some purpose.
I haven’t figured out the why of this. I only have the what at this point. And maybe, like so many things, I will never get the answer I seek. Maybe I am supposed to only ask the question.
If that’s the case, so be it. I am satisfied in continuing my search without answers if every so often I get to trip the light fantastic…
Redtree Times 