I’ve been working on trying to create a patterned underpainting in my work, inspired by a dream I had a few weeks back. It still is moving ahead and is not yet what I saw (or, at least, what I recall seeing) in that dream. It may never get to that state but it acts as a catalyst, something that pushes me forward. This small piece, a 9″ by 12″ canvas, uses blocks or plates much like those I saw in my dream to form a pattern that hovers barely vsisble in the sky. It doesn’t have the intensity of the color of the dreamed vision but it still creates what I think is an interesting effect on this piece. It serves as both a step forward and a self-contained entity.
I call this piece Time Frames, alluding to the shapes of the plates in the sky here. Like much of the underlying textures in my work, it refers to those forces and knowledge that have untold influence on our world and our lives yet remain just beyond our perceptions.
All that we do not know.
At the moment, we are at the leading edge of all knowledge here in this world. Yet, it is an edge that is always moving forward and what we believe today with all certainty may one day be revealed to be proved false. Future generations may look back on us and wonder at some of the things we believed to be true.
But you live with what you know and what you see. Blissfully in the moment even while obscured ultimate truths may be oh so near…
Been working on some new pieces, some with simple imagery with an added layer of random transparent forms making up a large block of the painting. Here it creates an undertexture in the background which forms the sky on this untitled painting, a 12″ by 12″ canvas. It has the same sort of chaotic feeling that I often try to create with my preliminary layers of gesso in prepping the panel on which I paint. This canvas does have those layers of gesso giving it a mild texture but the transparent organic shapes painted over it have an overriding effect that carries and defines the sky here.
It’s still an experiment in progress but so far I like the effect and the feeling it creates here. Now I am trying to envision how it might incorporate itself in the wider body of my work, to see if it adds something tangible to the work. I have to just give it a little time and study it a bit before it becomes a regular part of my work.
All men whilst they are awake are in one common world: but each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own.
~Plutarch
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The other night I fell asleep early then awoke and after a bit tried to go back to sleep. I flopped around trying to be comfortable but the wheels of my mind started turning and for a while I just lay there. But there came a time when I slipped briefly into dreams even though I still felt awake.
It’s a strange feeling but it felt good at the same time because in those moments of lucid dreaming I saw a color and a surface that was new to me, one that I saw being used in my work. It was multi-colored with blues and greens within it and a certain level of depth within the color that gave it a gorgeous glow. Plus it was arranged in transparent plates that overlapped so that the combined colors deepened even more.
It’s hard to describe now because even in the time soon after waking I struggled to fully recall it in my memory. It was there completely but in a vague sort of way. It was not a color that I had worked with or had even seen though I can’t be sure of that.
I wanted to see it and tried to recreate it within my own range of color and technique. I stumbled a bit at it for most of the day yesterday and finally realized that it would require something new, something different either in media or process to get the color and surface and depth that was still in there somewhere.
But the piece at the top did pop out during the day’s attempts and while it disappointed me because it didn’t fulfill my dream, it has an interesting feel that pleases me on another level. Maybe this will take me a step closer to what I am seeing in my dream or maybe it will evolve into something different on its own, something I can’t yet envision.
It has shown itself in my dream so maybe it can come forward now if I keep looking for it with my waking mind. Who knows? You can never tell how things will turn out when you’re trying to take something from that inner world and move it out into the waking world.
I think I’ve written here in the past about how the aftermath of a show is for me in the studio. In the week or so after a show opens there is generally a little letdown, the result of a sudden loss of the energy that accumulates from the adrenaline and anxiety in the build up to the opening. I usually mope in a way, floundering around for several days trying to refocus and regain my bearings, to find some point in which to direct my energy.
It’s often a frustrating time even while the show still hangs and does well. I sometimes get a little lost in those moments where the very act of painting becomes absolutely abstract and foreign in nature to me. The purpose that just a week ago seemed so apparent now has dissolved and I find myself questioning everything– my abilities, the purpose and direction of my work and so on. Those particular moments weigh heavily on me.
As I said, it’s a frustrating time. Fortunately, I know from times before that this was coming and will pass. It’s part of the process, part of who I am, If, as Shakespeare says, all the world’s a stage and we’re all merely players, then this is simply part of the makeup of the character I portray in this play. It’s maybe the only role for which I am truly suited by nature and ability.
And maybe that’s the thing I need to remember in these frustrating days; that this is the role that I best play, that this is the role that was written specifically for me.
That kind of ties in with the painting at the top, Center Stage, which is part of the Home+Land show at the West End Gallery. We are all the main characters in our own plays and we need to be be willing to play the part with conviction, to embrace the role that is written for us. When you are on that stage, let your light shine.
And that brings us, in a sneaky manner, to this week’s Sunday morning music. I’m going with one of my favorites, Neko Case, and her rousing version of the children’s gospel classic, This Little Light of Mine. Gets the day started with a kick and blows away those frustrations. So, enjoy, have a great day and let that light shine.
Painting is a state of being…Painting is self discovery. Every good painter paints what he is.
–Jackson Pollock
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In yesterday’s The Guardian, here was a review of a current exhibit at the Tate Liverpool of Jackson Pollock paintings. Writer Jonathan Jones describes Pollock’s work around 1950, in the period when he was briefly liberated from his chronic alcoholism, as being the pinnacle of his career. As he put it : Pollock was painting at this moment like his contemporary Charlie Parker played sax, in curling arabesques of liberating improvisation that magically end up making beautiful sense.
That sentence really lit me up, as did the words of Pollock at the top of the page. In Pollock’s work I see that beautiful sense of which Jones writes. I see order and rhythm, a logic forming from the seemingly incomprehensible. The textures that make up the surfaces of my own paintings are often formed with Pollock’s paintings in mind, curling arabesques in many layers. In fact, one of the themes of my work is that same sense of finding order from chaos.
To some observers, however, Pollock’s work represented the very chaos that plagued the world then and now. But true to his words, Pollock’s work was indeed a reflection of what he was– a man seeking grace and sense in a chaotic world.
Painting is, as Pollock says, self discovery and indeed every painter ultimately paints what they are. I know that in the work of painters I personally know I clearly see characteristics of their personality, sometimes of their totality.
I believe that my work also reveals me in this way. It shows everything– strengths and weaknesses, hopes and fears. You might think that a painter would be clever enough to show only those positive attributes of his character, like the answers people give when asked to describe their own personality. There are some that try but it comes off as contrivance. Real painting, real art, is in total revelation, showing the chaos and complexity of our true self and attempting to find order and beauty within it.
Just a while ago I had been thinking about this painting, about 18″ by 26″ on paper, from back in 2007. It’s called Time Flowsand it’s a bit of an anomaly for me, with all the stonework and waterfall. A one time only thing that pops back into my thoughts now and again.
But it is its texture rather than the subject that always sticks out for me– thickly layered and very rough with deep pits that go all the way to the paper below. It was coarser in many ways than my normal surface but it worked perfectly for this particular piece. The pits captured pigment in an interesting way, more interesting than if I had tried to paint it with a brush.
It came back to mind this morning in the aftermath of last night’s flooding that took place just a few miles north of the studio. Small streams and falls turned into raging cascades, washing out and covering many roads. Thankfully, no injuries.
Seeing the videos of the local water in motion made me think of it connected to a song from Jimi Hendrix titled May This Be Love. I always think of the song as being titled Waterfalls. Like the painting, it is definitely more placid than the swollen streams from last night.
This is a short video previewing some of the work that is part of my Native Voiceshow that is opening this Friday, June 5, at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. The opening reception runs from 6:30 until 9 PM and is open to the public. This is a show that has some real visual oomph in its colors and textures and while I think the work shows well on the computer screen, it definitely comes across better in person. So if you’re in the DC/Alexandria area on Friday evening, please stop in and see the work in person and say hello.
Yesterday’s Gallery Talk at the Kada Gallery went really well. Many,many, many thanks to Kathy, Joe and Morgan at the gallery for providing a comfortable setting and the many folks in attendance for taking time out on a rare sunny Saturday afternoon to spend it with me. They were an absolutely wonderful group –attentive and inquisitive–which made my task much easier, making me feel very welcomed and at ease in front of them.
Hopefully not so much that I over-talked or came across as too full of myself. I always worry about things like that on the ride back home, agonizing over things I said or didn’t say. It comes easy because at that point I am pretty tired of hearing my own voice, tired of pretty much being the public me at that moment.
One thing I forgot to mention which bothered me as I was on my way home was that it was the input that I get from the encouragement and stories shared by the folks that attend these events are such a huge inspiration and the motor that drives my work. I work untold hours alone in my studio and it is their reaction to the work and the fact that they allow me to glimpse briefly into their lives that make them seem almost present at times in my studio. Distant eyes looking over my shoulder.
I shared one recent inspirational story that took place very recently right there at the Kada Gallery. A week or so ago, they received an email inquiry from a lady in Switzerland about a large painting, titled Family Lines with the Red Tree with a Red Chair in its branches. It turns out that she had recently lost her husband to Alzheimer’s and one of their final exchanges was about that very painting, obviously seeing it in online. Her husband said that he was the Red Tree and she was the Red Chair. I have to admit to being made teary-eyed by that. How can something like not stick with me, not find its way into my thoughts when I am alone in the studio?
That story, like so many others shared with me over the years, brings a sense of purpose to the sometimes abstract and introverted act of painting. I can never fully thank these people for the gift in their sharing.
One of the ways I do try thank folks at these talks is by having several giveaways, including an original painting. We had a very good time with it yesterday and the group was so receptive that I thought they deserved another. I had a painting, Color Rising, from a few years back that won by a young lady in her 90’s which leads me to this week’s Sunday music selection. The painting, shown left, was a monochromatic piece, shades of back and gray with just a dash of color. I explained that I do these paintings periodically to just more less refresh my color palette in the period between working on shows and that seeing one of my compositions with the color removed was a bit like hearing a song that you’ve heard a thousand times before done by one person done by somebody else. The song has the same notes, chords, melody and lyrics but it is somehow different, somehow changed.
That brings me to this musical example, a version of the Beatles‘ song In My Life from 1965‘s Rubber Soul album. My god, I can’t believe this song is fifty years old! This version is from the American recordings of Johnny Cash, done in the final months of his life. His age and ailments changed his delivery and imbued the songs with real heart-felt emotion and purity. A powerful group of music. This version of the Beatles’ song is not so different but it has his own personal meaning which makes it his own.
Again, so many thanks to everyone who came yesterday. It was my great pleasure to spend the day with you all. Hope your Sunday is a good one…
I mentioned here earlier that I am giving a Gallery Talk next Saturday at the Kada Gallery in Erie. When I give one of theses talks it is not uncommon for me to bring a small group of new work for the gallery. One of the pieces that is heading to Erie with me is this painting, a 24″ by 20″ canvas that is titled Away From the Chaos.
Actually, I should say that it wastitled Away From the Chaos.
You see, this painting started its life several years ago in a much different form. It was a piece that showed just once for a very short stay in a gallery then moved to the wall of my studio where it has been ever since. It was one of those pieces that seemed to be right in the moment but was just missing that something which kept me from making contact with it. It was like a person who has experienced a stroke and has full cognizance with much to share but just can’t make the person in front of them understand.
And I was that person who couldn’t understand. I could see there was something in it. Life and emotion. But muted and totally restrained. The colors of its sky felt pointy and sharp to me–a sickly yellow that didn’t add depth in the image and gave the whole thing a green pallor that belied what I felt was the emotion behind the painting.
So for years, I would go into the room that held this painting and feel a sickening, uneasy pang whenever my eyes settled on it. It made me sad that it seemed there physically but was so far away.
Finally, a week ago, I could take it no more and decided to either revive it or kill it. The sky transformed in depth and color, becoming warmer and more giving. The fields brightened. The brightness of its color and the roof line of the barn changed as I altered one edge that always felt wrong to me– a small flaw but one that became larger when combined with the others.
And the Red Tree made its way to a central point where it truly became the welcoming symbol that I often see it as. It suddenly felt so much more alive and complete. It could reach out now and communicate to me. And that’s a comforting thing for me.
The old title no longer seemed appropriate. I settled on Making Contact. Now it seems right.
This painting can be seen at the Kada Gallery next Saturday, April 11, where I will be giving a Gallery Talk which begins at 1 PM. If you can make it, please stop in– we will be having a free drawing for one of my original paintings and a few other goodies. I am aiming for an entertaining and , hopefully, an enlightening talk. Hope to see you there.
People are like stained glass windows: they sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light within.
–Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
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A number of years ago, I came across this quote from Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, the famed psychiatrist who pioneered the study of death and dying and introduced theFive Stages of Griefto us.
Her words really struck a chord, for the human aspect as well as for the parallel I drew from it for painting. Creating paintings that felt as though they were lit from within has long been an aspiration for me and I had never realized that there seemed to be connection between that desire and my personal desire to be a decent and caring person.
But her words kind of put those two things together in my mind. I began to see that my painting was a reflection of my aspirations. That might not seem like much of a revelation but it certainly felt like one when I first read those words. The work felt even more personal to me, more tied to my own character. I felt that if I could continue to work hard at my work I could apply the same sort of effort to being a positively charged person and hopefully the two would someday merge together. I don’t know if that’s good or bad but it became how I perceived what I was doing.
On the painting side, sometimes I hit close to my goal as far as feeling a painting is lit from within. The piece at the top, a new 12″ by 24″ canvas, is such an example. It just feels as though it has that inner glow I am seeking. It is titled, fittingly, Light Within.
The personal side will take a little longer. But this gives me some hope.
I’ve been working on trying to create a patterned underpainting in my work, inspired by a dream I had a few weeks back. It still is moving ahead and is not yet what I saw (or, at least, what I recall seeing) in that dream. It may never get to that state but it acts as a catalyst, something that pushes me forward. This small piece, a 9″ by 12″ canvas, uses blocks or plates much like those I saw in my dream to form a pattern that hovers barely vsisble in the sky. It doesn’t have the intensity of the color of the dreamed vision but it still creates what I think is an interesting effect on this piece. It serves as both a step forward and a self-contained entity.
Redtree Times 