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Posts Tagged ‘Painting’

Of Fish and Dots

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on September 3, 2025| 4 Comments »

Hokusai Two Fish

At seventy-three I learned a little about the real structure of animals, plants, birds, fishes and insects. Consequently when I am eighty I’ll have made more progress. At ninety I’ll have penetrated the mystery of things. At a hundred I shall have reached something marvelous, but when I am a hundred and ten everything I do, the smallest dot, will be alive.

–Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849)

I really like the bit of wisdom above from the great Hokusai, both for his optimism on aging as well as the idea that as he continues to progress his work will reach a point where everything he paints– even something as simple as a dot– has a life force within it.

Attaining that life force in any one piece, where the painting transcends what you put into it, is a rare and difficult thing for any artist to achieve. This idea that you might one day reach a point where your work has moved from a product of thought and craft to a transcendent expression of the spirit often seems beyond our reach or even our aim.

But perhaps we should keep it as an aim in our mind, along with the idea that we will continue to progress as we age, even if it is stored in rarely visited corner. If we hold on to it perhaps we will subconsciously find our way to that goal. And when we are a hundred and ten, the dots we paint will have that same life force as those created by Hokusai.

It’s something to hope for…

I’ve included a few of Hokusai’s paintings beyond his famed wave and landscapes. I love his fish pieces and the raven is wonderful. Enjoy!

I came across this post from a few years back. It’s one that had slipped my mind but was appreciative for the reminder that art and creation have no endpoints within a person. More than that, this idea from Hokusai of the energy and life force of his work continually concentrating itself until it reaches the size of a dot jumped out at me.

It reminds me of the singularity theory first put forth by Stephen Hawking, which states that when a star dies it collapses into itself until it is finally a single tiny point of zero radius, infinite density, and infinite curvature of spacetime at the heart of the black hole formed from the star’s collapse. A single point of immense mass and energy.

A dot filled with everything.

It also struck me that much of my work in recent times has focused on the sun/moon as a central element and it has taken on more and more prominence as the years pass. I often see it as this same sort of Hokusai-like dot, the energy of the painting concentrating itself in and around this ball.

There are future blog entries coming on this subject. But for this morning I am going to just enjoy some of Hokusai’s wonderful fishes. And that raven!

FYI- I am aware that the second from the bottom image is not a Hokusai painting but rather one from Hiroshige that is styled after Hokusai. I am including it because it was in the original post and I like it. And that’s good enough for me.

koi-carp-and-turtles-katsushika-hokusai

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If I Can Dream

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 31, 2025| Leave a Comment »

Lux Templi-At the West End Gallery

I dream’d in a dream, I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the
whole of the rest of the earth;
I dream’d that was the new City of Friends;
Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust love—it led the
rest;
It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of that city,
And in all their looks and words.

— Walt Whitman, I Dream’d in a Dream (1855)

Keeping it simple this morning since it is a Labor Day weekend. The theme today is dreaming of a better world and though it might seem that has little to do with the work or labor that is celebrated by this holiday, there is a connection.

After all, why do we work?

To provide a better life for ourselves.

Though it might seem like we toil simply to survive at times, we all still maintain a dream of a better world for ourselves in some form.

I would like to think that it is not asking too much that we extend that dream of betterment to all others. Wouldn’t our personal world be enriched and made better by the fulfillment of such a dream?

That’s all I have to say this morning. I have work to do. It might not better my life or anyone else’s in any way, but I am still going to make the effort. It’s all we can do– make an effort.

Here’s a bit of Sunday Morning Music. I went with two biggies today, two American icons– Walt Whitman and Elvis Presley. The song is If I Can Dream from Elvis’ legendary Comeback Special in 1968. I remember watching this as a kid with my dad and even then, being impressed with how hard this guy was working for our approval. You may or not be an Elvis fan, but there is no denying that the man is working hard here.

Dreams take that kind of effort.

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Three Rules/ Oh What a Beautiful World

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 29, 2025| 2 Comments »

The Call of Wonder– At Principle Gallery

Three Rules of Work:

Out of clutter find simplicity; From discord find harmony; In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.

–Albert Einstein

This Einstein fellow is a pretty smart guy.

Simplification, harmony and opportunity could be ingredients for any recipe to success in any field, but I think they apply particularly well to the creative arts. I know that I can easily apply these three rules to my own work.

For me, its strength lies in its ability to transmit through simplification and harmony. The forms are often simplified versions of reality, shedding details that don’t factor into what it is trying to express.

There is often an underlying texture in the work that is chaotic and discordant. The harmonies in color and form painted over these create a tension, a feeling of wholeness in the work. A feeling of finding a pattern in the chaos that makes it all seem sensible.

And the final rule–opportunity lying in the midst of difficulty– is perhaps the easiest to apply. The best work always seems to rise from the greatest depths, those times when the mind has to move from its normal trench of thought. Times when one has to expand beyond the known ways of doing things and find new solutions and methods to move the message ahead.

The difficulties of life are often great but there is almost always an opportunity or lesson to be found within them if only we are able to take a deep breath and see them. These lessons always find their way into the work in some way.

Thanks for the thought, Mr. Einstein. I hear good things about the work you’re doing.

I run theses Three Rules from Einstein every couple of years and it felt like the right time since I think we are all looking for simplicity, harmony, and opportunity in our own lives. Plus, I am short on time this morning. I am going to embellish a bit with two other favorite quotes from Mr. Einstein and a newer version of the wizened wisdom of Oh What a Beautiful World from the ageless Willie Nelson and Rodney Crowell, who wrote and first recorded the song in 2014.

Here are those words from Einstein:

The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.

———–

“People like you and I, though mortal of course like everyone else, do not grow old no matter how long we live. What I mean is we never cease to stand like curious children before the great Mystery into which we were born.”

–Albert Einstein, Letter to Otto Juliusburger, September 29, 1942

And what a mystery it is…

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Caspar David Frederich

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 25, 2025| 1 Comment »

You call me a misanthrope because I avoid society. You err; I love society. Yet in order not to hate people, I must avoid their company.

I have cited the quote above from 19th century artist Caspar David Frederich a number of times when speaking before groups as an explanation for my reclusiveness.

It is said in a tongue-in-cheek manner but there is some truth in it. Actually, a lot of truth.

But we’re not going into that today. Instead, I thought I would share a blog entry from ten years ago featuring Frederich’s work. I have added a few more images to the original post. This is only a tiny sampling from his impressive body of work. 

Caspar David Frederich- Abbey Among Oak Trees

Caspar David Frederich- Abbey Among Oak Trees

A picture must not be devised but perceived. Close your bodily eye, that you may see your picture first with the eye of the spirit. Then bring to light what you have seen in the darkness, that its effect may work back,  from without to within.

–Caspar David Frederich

I often find myself identifying strongly with the words and work of the 19th century German painter Caspar David Frederich (1774-1840).  His work often takes a symbolic stance with expansive landscapes that overwhelm the human presence in them and much of it moves toward the metaphysical. He, along with his British contemporary JMW Turner, were at the forefront of the movement from Classicism to paintings that reflected the inner emotional reaction of the individual to the world around them.

It was said of Frederich that he was “a man who has discovered the tragedy of Landscape.” I see this in his often moody and contemplative work. It is not painting of only a place or scene– it is more a painting of emotion, of some inner vibration triggered by what is before the painter. His brilliance is in capturing that inner element and revealing it to the viewer. It’s a rare thing, one that I think most painters aspire to obtain in their own work. I know that I do.

Caspar_David_Friedrich_-_Wanderer_above_the_sea_of_fogFrederich’s work fell from favor in the latter stages of his life but the coming of modern art movements, comprised of many painters were greatly influenced by Frederich, brought him back to greater recognition through the first few decades of the 20th century. Unfortunately for Frederich, in the 1930’s his work was associated with the Nazis who mistakenly saw his work as being nationalistic in its symbolism. I know that the piece shown here on the right, Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, is often associated with Friedrich Nietzsche’s idea of the Übermensch or Superman. Even though Frederich died years before Nietzsche was born and almost a century before the Nazis usurped his art, it took several decades before his work regained the stature it lost due to this association.

But the inner message of his landscapes persevered, and his paintings still resonate with the potency of their timeless qualities today. As they should.

Caspar David Friedrich- Monk by the Sea

Caspar David Friedrich- Monk by the Sea

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The Seeker

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 22, 2025| Leave a Comment »

Under the Compass– Now at Principle Gallery

“I have no right to call myself one who knows. I was one who seeks, and I still am, but I no longer seek in the stars or in books; I’m beginning to hear the teachings of my blood pulsing within me. My story isn’t pleasant, it’s not sweet and harmonious like the invented stories; it tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves.”

― Hermann Hesse, Demian

I have a new painting on the easel waiting for me this morning. I thought it was complete when I finished up yesterday but just as I was leaving, I saw that it needed a small but critical adjustment. I didn’t have the time then to complete it, so it’s been nagging at me all night.  Therefore, I will be short this morning even though the subject deserves much more time and effort than I can give it at the moment.

Today is a triad of word, image, and song centering around the seeker. By that I mean the seeker of inner discovery, of the self. I am including a passage from a Hermann Hesse book, Demian, that was very influential in my life. It came to me at a time when I was struggling mightily and it helped me rethink what my life was and could be. It allowed me to recognize that I was exhausted from the lies I told not only to others but mainly to myself.

Without coming across this book, I doubt I would be painting or writing at this moment. God only knows what, if anything, I might be doing.

I am accompanying the passage with a painting that is very much about seeking, Under the Compass. For me, I see it as being about the inner search though it might also apply to the seeker who still looks for outer validation of their existence. I a also sharing a performance from The Who of their song The Seeker. It first came out in 1970 and this is how Pete Townshend described it in a Rolling Stone interview at the time:

Quite loosely, “The Seeker” was just a thing about what I call Divine Desperation, or just Desperation. And what it does to people. It just kind of covers a whole area where the guy’s being fantastically tough and ruthlessly nasty and he’s being incredibly selfish and he’s hurting people, wrecking people’s homes, abusing his heroes, he’s accusing everyone of doing nothing for him and yet at the same time he’s making a fairly valid statement, he’s getting nowhere, he’s doing nothing and the only thing he really can’t be sure of is his death, and that at least dead, he’s going to get what he wants. He thinks!.

Divine desperation. Maybe that is the unifying bond here, the driving force behind the Seeker.

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Natural Selection

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 21, 2025| 4 Comments »

 The Heights, circa 1994

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. 

GC Myers 1994 Early ReductiveWork6I 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 brushes hairsticks 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.

GC Myers 1994 Early ReductiveWork 1GC Myers 1994 Early ReductiveWork 5GC Myers 1994 Early ReductiveWork 2GC Myers 1994 Early ReductiveWork 4

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Beyond the Blue Horizon

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 19, 2025| 3 Comments »

Wherever the Wind Takes Me – At Principle Gallery

The worst sin that can be committed against the artist is to take him at his word, to see in his work a fulfillment instead of a horizon.

–Henry Miller, The Cosmological Eye (1939)

Love these words from Henry Miller. I think most people, artists included, look at a piece of art and see it as an endpoint rather than a jumping off point. I would like to think that my work serves both as an invitation and starting point for the viewer. My hope is that my little world as I present it is welcoming enough that they easily enter and feel comfortable. Once there, my wish is that they begin to explore both the space in which they are and the self they see in it. To start an inner journey of some sort, one that might last only for a few moments or for a lifetime.

That’s asking a lot, I know. And it’s not fully in my mind when I am at work because at that point I am fully engaged in my own inner journey. It’s only after I step back and try to view a piece with a more dispassionate eye that I begin to recognize if a piece has that potential in it.

A horizon to pursue.

A starting point of a journey.

Some do. Some don’t. And maybe some that I think do, don’t. And vice versa.

One never knows for sure. And that is the beauty of art. Some see totality and some see endless potentiality.

That’s all the time I have this morning. I see a horizon forming and need to get moving towards it.

Here’s a song from Michael Nesmith, best known as one of the Monkees. This is his take on Beyond the Blue Horizon, a song that was first performed by Jeanette MacDonald in 1930. It’s quirky but still works for me this morning.

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I Got a Feeling

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 17, 2025| 2 Comments »

NightFlare– At Principle Gallery

I say in speeches that a plausible mission of artists is to make people appreciate being alive at least a little bit. I am then asked if I know of any artists who pulled that off. I reply, ‘The Beatles did’.

— Kurt Vonnegut, Timequake (1997)

To make someone else appreciate the fact that they are alive is an admirable goal for any artist– or any person, for that matter.

I can’t say that it was my mission when I first began painting. I don’t know that I actually had a mission other than trying to find something that would release the pent-up feelings within me. It began as a selfish act, for me alone.

There was never a consideration of its effect on other people. Actually, I doubted that it would have any effect on others. At the time, I didn’t have a lot of faith in my ability to do much of anything, let alone make others appreciate the fact they were alive. I wasn’t sure that I was that thrilled about being alive so who was I to make others feel that way?

But as time passed, the work I was doing, after first being an expression of self for myself alone, became a way of reaching out to people, many who recognized their own feelings in that work. I have been blessed to have heard from so many people over the years that tell me how the work has affected them. 

The effect this has had on me is immeasurable. I can’t say that it measures up to Vonnegut’s mission aim of making people appreciate being alive.  But I can unequivocally say that the reactions these folks pass on to me make me glad I am alive.

Maybe that should be a corollary to Vonnegut’s words, that the mission for the artist should also be to find a gladness for their own life in making others realize their appreciation for being alive.

If so, mission accomplished.

Here’s a favorite song and performance by those very same Beatles. This is from their legendary concert that took place in January of 1969 from the rooftop of their Apple Corps headquarters in London. It was their last public performance. I am not going to try to explain the effect that the Beatles had on everything in their short lifespan, not just on music. There are no contemporary comparisons, nor have there been any since, to make someone who came of age after they were around understand their influence and reach since the world had already changed by then. The shortest way I can describe it as the world was in black-and-white before the Beatles and in full, vivid color afterwards.

I love this performance of I Got a Feeling, particularly that of Paul McCartney, though everyone shines, including Billy Preston on keyboards, though you only get brief glimpses of him.

Makes me glad to be alive. 

Mission accomplished.

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I Am/ John Clare

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on August 15, 2025| 2 Comments »

Placidarium (2017)

I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below—above the vaulted sky.

–I Am, John Clare, ca 1845

I came across the post below from several years ago and was reminded of the painting shown above, Placidarium. It was painted in 2017 and instantly became a favorite of mine. The title was a conjured word that described a self-contained environment much like a terrarium or aquarium. I saw this as a self-contained ecosystem of tranquility. Over the years this painting has traveled far and wide in attempt to find a home that needs a placidarium of its own. And time and again, it has always returned to me like a boomerang.

Though I was pleased to have it with me once more, it was always a little disappointing when it would come back. Was there something in it that only I could see, a voice that only I could hear? That was certainly a possibility. Some work speaks so loudly to me that it feels like it must be audible to many others and sometimes that’s just not the case.

Some voices speak to only one person. Kind of like the many voices in my head that tell me to do terrible things. I am just kidding, of course– there’s not many voices, just one.

All kidding aside, the fact that this painting’s voice seemed to go unheard and the tranquil world it portrayed reminded me of this poem and the life experience of poet John Clare. I could see him lying untroubled as he slept among the flowers under this sky.

Sounds pretty damn good to me, as well.

[From 2021]

John Clare was an interesting case. He led a troubled existence for much of his 70 years on this planet. Born in Northampton in England to a family of rural farm laborers, Clare bounced from job to job and place to place, living a life of poverty. In an attempt to raise money to prevent his parent’s eviction from their home, Clare, through a local bookseller, submitted his poetry to the publisher who had published the works of John Keats. His book of verse, as well as a second soon after, was published and praised.

But even then, recognized as he was as a poetic genius in farmer’s garb, he struggled with his own mental demons. Much of the rest of his life was spent in English asylums. His most famous poem, I Am, whose final verse is shown above, was written in one such asylum, Northampton General Lunatic Asylum, around 1844 or 1845.

His work was somewhat overlooked after his death in 1864 at the Northampton Asylum, where he had spent his final 23 years. But in the 20th century his worked received new attention and Clare’s work was elevated and he has been deemed a major poet of the 19th century.

It’s a sad life, indeed. It reminds me of those times when I have been going through genealogy records, following an ancestor’s life as it progresses, and come upon a record from some sort of institution. It might be an almshouse– a poorhouse– or a county home, a place where they gathered the paupers, the handicapped and those with mental problems so that they would be out of sight.

Coming across these records always makes me very sad. I can imagine myself in these ancestors’ places, the feelings that I would no doubt be experiencing– the loss, the alienation, the confusion that must have plagued their minds.

But even more than that, my sadness comes from knowing that their voices were no doubt unheard by the time these records were registered. They had, by that time, become problems to be swept aside.

And they, no doubt, wanted little more than the peace of mind that Clare describes in that final verse– the untroubled sleep of a child in the grass beneath a high, clear sky.

I find my own desires for this life dwindling down to those same simple wants. And in this, I find a bond with these poor, troubled relations. And with Clare in that English asylum.

And that in turn makes me grateful for the small graces that allow me to live the life I live and to find expression for my own small I Am.

Sigh.

Here’s a fine reading of I Am from Tom O’Bedlam:

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Choices and Decisive Moments

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 11, 2025| Leave a Comment »

The Choice— GC Myers 2017

There is nothing in this world that does not have a decisive moment.

–Cardinal de Retz  (1613-1679)

Photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson , a favorite of mine, took that phrase from the quote above and used it to describe that moment in searching for an image when the photographer makes the creative decision to snap the photo. But I see the term at play in everything we do, everything we are. Who, what, and where we are is all the result of random moments of decision. Every day offers us new choices for moving ahead and very seldom do we ponder where these often simple and mundane decisions might ultimately lead our lives.

I think about this all the time when I consider the course my life and career has taken. Several of the galleries in which I show came about as the result of a series of random decisions– and a few moments of serendipity!– and if any of those choices leading up to the final result had differed in any way, my life as it is now might be completely different.

Even the beginning of my painting career might not have occurred if I had decided that working off a ladder on that September day twenty years ago was not a great idea. I would not have fallen and would not have found the time or inspiration to begin painting. Maybe it would have come anyway at some other point but who knows? And would that decision to follow painting at that later date yield the same results?

I see it in genealogy as well. When I look at the charts that show one’s whole ancestry laid out in an ever-widening mesh of connections all I can think is how we are all built on a huge set of random choices and pure chance. If any single one of those many thousands of connections had not been made the whole mesh that brought us here would fall away and our very existence would most likely not have occurred.

Our existence relies on so many ifs: If one ancestor had not returned from the many wars, if one ancestor had not been the lucky child that survived the many diseases that took so many children from most families in the earlier days of our country, if one ancestor had turned left instead of right and not met that person who became their other half.

It’s a delicate dance of decisive moments that leads us all to the here and now.

We can try to consider what each conscious decision we make might someday yield but there are so many decisions made on a daily that seem so inconsequential that they easily escape our notice. We often don’t realize the magnitude of a decision until much later and are either enjoying or suffering the result of a decision from our past.

Only then do we recognize it as the decisive moment.

I guess the best we can do is to use our best judgement in those decisions we truly consider and hope that who we are at our core allows us to make wise choices on those that we fail to consider fully.

I am reworking an old blog post from about 12 years ago to highlight the painting at the top from 2017, The Choice. It’s one of those pieces that jumped at me when I painted it, becoming an instant favorite of mine, but never clicked for anyone else. Over the years, as much as I liked it from the start, my appreciation for it has only grown. Maybe it’s because I see it as a representation of the choices and decisive moments that brought me to this here and now.

Or maybe not. I can’t decide…

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