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Posts Tagged ‘Red Tree’

Surveyor/ Listening

Posted in Biographical, Literature/ Books, Recent Paintings, tagged , , , , on July 30, 2021| 1 Comment »

GC Myers- Surveyor

“Surveyor“– Currently at the West End Gallery

I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony.

― Gustave Flaubert, November

I often write here about the need to have one’s voice heard, about how we all have a desire to send our message of who we are out into the world. And I do believe this.

But as important as this might be, I often find myself at this time of the year feeling a little tired of my own voice. And a little regretful, especially after openings or talks where I come away feeling that I spoke too much and didn’t listen enough.

It’s as though there should be a certain balance between the two — talking and listening– and I feel like I am out of this balance.  A yin/yang thing, I guess.

I know that I feel a lot better when I listen more and talk less. Maybe this allows the voice of someone else to be heard, someone who may need that more than me in that moment.

And hearing them creates a bit more balance and harmony. For them and for me.

And that feels better because, after all, balance and harmony is what I am seeking with my work.

And myself.

I think that might be the message carried in the piece at top, Surveyor. I see this painting as being about the Red Tree seeking this harmony in the rumor of forests and waves as Flaubert put it, as well as a having a need to communicate with the other distant tree.

Harmony and communication– it falls within the balance between talking and listening.

Okay, enough talking on my part…

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Eureka Moment

Posted in Biographical, tagged , , , , , on July 28, 2021| 1 Comment »

GC Myers- Eureka Moment

“Eureka Moment“– Now at the West End Gallery

It is not easy to convey, unless one has experienced it, the dramatic feeling of sudden enlightenment that floods the mind when the right idea finally clicks into place. One immediately sees how many previously puzzling facts are neatly explained by the new hypothesis. One could kick oneself for not having the idea earlier, it now seems so obvious. Yet before, everything was in a fog.

― Francis Crick, What Mad Pursuit

As a pioneering scientist best known for revealing the double-helix structure of DNA, I guess Francis Crick knows something about Eureka moments.

For those of you who don’t know, Eureka is from the Greek and means “I have found it.” Archimedes, the famed 3rd Century BC scholar, is believed to be the first to have used the term, having ran through the streets naked yelling Eureka! after having a sudden scientific revelation while in his bath. Any sudden discovery, usually of knowledge or enlightenment, has come to be known as a Eureka moment. Goldminers during the California Gold Rush would yell Eureka! when discovering a rich vein of gold and it remains the state’s official motto.

It’s a pretty dramatic thing, this burst of sudden revelation. It can change perceptions of things in a flash and everything surrounding it falls immediately into place. It’s kind of like you’ve been struggling to look at one of those Magic Eye images (autostereograms) that appears as just a mass of dots until something clicks in, allowing your mind to see the image hidden among the dots.

A pattern that was hidden becomes apparent and obvious. And once you see it, it can’t be unseen.

Not counting Magic Eye paintings, I don’t know how many times a person experiences such Eureka moments in their life or if it even occurs for everyone.

I am relatively sure I have had one such moment. Four? Well. maybe two. Or more likely 1 1/2. I don’t know which probably means it wasn’t a real Eureka moment. But I did have that one and if that is the only one I ever have, I am okay with that though I will always seek and hope for another.

That’s the basis for the new painting at the top, Eureka Moment, that is now at the West End Gallery as a late addition to my current solo show there. It certainly captures the feeling I experienced during what be my singular Eureka moment.

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Pax Terram

Posted in Biographical, In the Studio, Music, Painting, Poetry, tagged , , , , , on July 26, 2021| Leave a Comment »

GC Myers- Pax Terram 2021

“Pax Terram“– Now at the West End Gallery

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

― Wendell Berry, The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry

The painting at the top here is a new, late addition to my solo show currently hanging at the West End Gallery. It’s 12″ by 16″ on aluminum panel and is titled Pax Terram which loosely translates as Land of Peace.

It’s one of those pieces that are important for me as a means to alleviating my anxiety. The process of creating a harmony in the painting requires a deep focus which stabilizes me. It makes me take a breath and step back from the concerns that sometimes plague me. It’s much like stepping back from the easel while painting to see how things look from a distance.

A benefit of using this process to do such a thing is that when I am done, its calmness inducing effects don’t end. The painting itself continues the work. Looking at Pax Terram affects me in much the same way as the actual process of painting.

It reminds me very much of a favorite Wendell Berry poem, one of this better known works that I have shared here before, titled The Peace of Wild Things. Reading it feels like the stepping back I mentioned above.

A pause and a breath.

This poem has been translated into a choral work that also has placid charms. It’s from composer Jake Runestad and the performance below is from the choral group Conspirare.

Seems like a good way to kick off what looks to be a hectic week.

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The Dusk of Memory

Posted in Biographical, Quote, tagged , , , on July 20, 2021| Leave a Comment »

GC Myers- And Dusk Dissolves sm

“And Dusk Dissolves“–Now at the West End Gallery

It was that hour that turns seafarers’ longings homeward- the hour that makes their hearts grow tender upon the day they bid sweet friends farewell…

― Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio

Dante had it right– dusk is that hour of recollection, some warm and some less so. As I age I see this more clearly, most likely as a result of simply having more to look back on than look forward to at this stage in my life.

Don’t jump too hardly on that last line. I feel there is still a tremendous amount of living ahead for me and others my age or older. It’s just math– the ratio of time lived to the expected or hoped for time left in one’s life– says that the greater part of our life is behind us for people of my age and older. 

And I believe dusk does often remind us of this fact. It’s a time when we sometimes pause to look back on the day, to reckon what we have done and not done during that time and to measure what lies ahead for the next day.

And sometimes this recollection extends back further than the day that just passed due to the moment in which it takes place. Maybe it’s the warmth and color of the sunset. Maybe it’s the way the landscape around us changes in the setting light, as colors deepen and contrast to the narrowing light. Whatever it might be in that moment, something triggers flashes of distant memories.

Words spoken and unspoken. Maybe just a glance from a face you remember or the most innocuous detail from some moment that didn’t seem important when you saw it so long ago.

Sometimes these moments are full and make sense. Sometimes they are fragments that seem insignificant. Yet they remain in place in our memory.

And as that moment of recollection passes and we move to settling in for the night and looking ahead to the coming day, these recalled moments dissolve, much like the setting sunlight melts into darkness.

There’s a wealth of recollections to pull from as one ages and maybe I see that in the depth and richness of the colors here. Maybe every stroke of color in that sky is a fleeting and flashing moment from my memory. I don’t know.

It makes me think of when my dad was in his final years suffering from dementia. His memory was spotty at best and often large segments of it were absent. I remember one instance when he was disturbed and asked me with great seriousness to tell him if I knew who his mother was. I went to a photo of her from her college yearbook (Potsdam 1918!) and explained in great detail her history. He listened to me more intently than any other time I can remember in my life, like he needed to know this and wanted to inscribe it deep into memory.

Looking back on that moment now, I can only imagine him as the Red Tree looking back and, instead of the richness of individual colors in that sky of memory, he is seeing a hazy grayness with occasional peeks of color. A recognizable tree or hillside whose color has faded to almost gray. And the distant deeply colored mountain that might have been his mother was not even visible.

Makes me appreciate every moment, every fleck of color, every drop of light, every insignificant recollection that remains with the hope that my dusk never fully dissolves.

This painting, And Dusk Dissolves, is 30″ by 48″ on canvas and is part of my current solo show, Through the Trees, at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. It will be on display until the end of August.

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Exultation

Posted in Event, Literature/ Books, Painting, tagged , , , , , on July 15, 2021| Leave a Comment »

GC Myers- Exultation 2021

“Exultation“- Hanging Now at the West End Gallery

Say you could view a time-lapse film of our planet: what would you see? Transparent images moving through light, “an infinite storm of beauty.”

The beginning is swaddled in mists, blasted by random blinding flashes. Lava pours and cools; seas boil and flood. Clouds materialize and shift; now you can see the earth’s face through only random patches of clarity. The land shudders and splits, like pack ice rent by a widening lead. Mountains burst up, jutting and dull and soften before your eyes, clothed in forests like felt. The ice rolls up, grinding green land under water forever; the ice rolls back. Forests erupt and disappear like fairy rings. The ice rolls up-mountains are mowed into lakes, land rises wet from the sea like a surfacing whale- the ice rolls back.

A blue-green streaks the highest ridges, a yellow-green spreads from the south like a wave up a strand. A red dye seems to leak from the north down the ridges and into the valleys, seeping south; a white follows the red, then yellow-green washes north, then red spreads again, then white, over and over, making patterns of color too swift and intricate to follow. Slow the film. You see dust storms, locusts, floods, in dizzying flash frames.

Zero in on a well-watered shore and see smoke from fires drifting. Stone cities rise, spread, and then crumble, like patches of alpine blossoms that flourish for a day an inch above the permafrost, that iced earth no root can suck, and wither in a hour. New cities appear, and rivers sift silt onto their rooftops; more cities emerge and spread in lobes like lichen on rock. The great human figures of history, those intricate, spirited tissues that roamed the earth’s surface, are a wavering blur whose split second in the light was too brief an exposure to yield any images. The great herds of caribou pour into the valleys and trickle back, and pour, a brown fluid.

Slow it down more, come closer still. A dot appears, like a flesh-flake. It swells like a balloon; it moves, circles, slows, and vanishes. This is your life.

― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

I’ve been wanting to share this passage from Annie Dillard for some time. When looking for something to partner with the new painting at the top, Exultation, it came to mind.

I see this painting as being about the appreciation for the wonder of the moment in this place. Our whole existence as a species has been a miracle of sorts, taking eons and ages for the conditions of this planet to adjust to a point where we might survive and even thrive.

It is a precious and precarious existence.

As Annie Dillard makes clear, the mark made by humans is but a blip in the time-lapse film of this planet’s history. And each of us, from the greatest figures in history to the most humble among us, is no more than a fleck of dust whirling as background noise.

Our time was always going to be limited in the grand scheme of things. It took, as I say, a miraculous concoction of conditions to create the delicate environment required to sustain us. But that environment is equally as fragile. We may well be shortening our own screen time in that film of this planet’s lifetime.

But in our best of times, as few as they may have been or will be, it has been place of great beauty and abundance. A place that allows us at those moments to sense a seeming harmony between the earth, sea, sky, and all that is beyond this world.

Perhaps our tenuous existence on this planet’s timeline makes those rare days even more precious. Times to exult.

Exultation is a 24″ by 36″ painting on canvas now hanging at the West End Gallery. It is included in my solo show there, Through the Trees, which opens tomorrow, Friday, July 16. There is an opening reception from 4-7 PM Friday at the gallery.

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Moment Revealed

Posted in Event, Literature/ Books, Quote, Recent Paintings, tagged , , , , on July 13, 2021| Leave a Comment »

GC Myers- Moment RevealedNothing in this world is hidden forever. The gold which has lain for centuries unsuspected in the ground, reveals itself one day on the surface. Sand turns traitor, and betrays the footstep that has passed over it; water gives back to the tell-tale surface the body that has been drowned. Fire itself leaves the confession, in ashes, of the substance consumed in it. Hate breaks its prison-secrecy in the thoughts, through the doorway of the eyes; and Love finds the Judas who betrayed it by a kiss. Look where we will, the inevitable law of revelation is one of the laws of nature: the lasting preservation of a secret is a miracle which the world has never yet seen.

― Wilkie Collins, No Name

This is another new painting from my solo show at the West End Gallery that opens Friday, July 16. It is 10″ by 20″ on aluminum panel and is titled Moment Revealed.

It’s not the biggest piece but it has a lot of power, at least for me.

In the eyes of Wilkie Collins‘ narrator in his 1862 novel, No Name, the inevitable law of revelation is one of the immutable laws of nature. I believe that as well, though I think there are instances of personal secrets remaining hidden during the lifetimes of those folks involved. But in the long term, I believe that all secrets are subject to revelation if there is someone interested enough to do the detective work.

That sounds like I am talking solely about personal  indiscretions and crimes but it also applies on a grander scale, to the big secrets and questions that the universe poses for us simple humans. They seem like unsolvable riddles to us now but given enough time and interest, the revelation of their truth and answers will become clear to us.

Will that happen soon? In my lifetime or in the lifetime of some reader out there?

Unlikely. However, maybe only one or two secrets coming to light– if we can survive long enough as a species– will change all of our perspectives on our existence.

That certainly happens on a smaller, more personal scale. Sometimes, a simple revelation can change everything in your world. Sometimes for the better and sometimes not so much. I would like to think that this painting refers to one such moment, one where the truth is suddenly right there in front of you. So much that seemed cloudy with uncertainty becomes crystal clear in that moment and the path forward is sharply defined.

One’s purpose and place in the world seems to make sense in that moment.

And that is a good moment, no doubt.

Moment Revealed is part of my new annual exhibit, Through the Trees, opening Friday, July 16, at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. There is an opening reception that I will be attending from 4-7 PM Friday. The show is currently hanging and available for previews. Thank you!

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The Center Found

Posted in Literature/ Books, Quote, Recent Paintings, tagged , , , , , , on July 12, 2021| Leave a Comment »

9921088 The Center Found sm

“The Center Found“- Now at the West End Gallery

Imagination sees the complete reality, – it is where past, present and future meet… Imagination is limited neither to the reality which is apparent – nor to one place. It lives everywhere. It is at a centre and feels the vibrations of all the circles within which east and west are virtually included. Imagination is the life of mental freedom. It realizes what everything is in its many aspects… Imagination does not uplift: we don’t want to be uplifted, we want to be more completely aware.

― Kahlil Gibran

I came across the passage above from writer Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931) and felt it matched up well with my interpretation of the new painting at the top, The Center Found. I see it as it being about the Red Tree’s awareness of the many worlds surrounding it and its place and purpose within those intersecting worlds.

As Gibran points, out, that comes with the mental freedom of imagination which allows the Red Tree here to see the possibility of these worlds existing.

So perhaps the Red Tree in some of its many iterations could be a symbol for ones imagination. I can see that being true in this piece and in many others and could easily live with that interpretation since it links imagination with awareness.

Gibran is certainly right that we want to be more completely aware. I am not sure that I completely agree that we don’t want to be uplifted in a spiritual sense. I might be taking liberties here but I think he means we don’t want to be uplifted by others, that our uplifting is dependent on our own actions and understandings.

But I understand his point that without awareness, there is little possibility of being truly uplifted. And I would like to think that in this painting the Red Tree has found that center of awareness, that it feels the intersections of all the worlds around it.

And is then uplifted.

The Center Found is part of my new annual exhibit, Through the Trees, which opens Friday, July 16, at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY. There is an opening reception from 4-7 PM Friday. The show is currently hanging and available for previews. Thank you!

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Nocte Bleu

Posted in Favorite Things, Music, Painting, tagged , , , , , , , on July 11, 2021| Leave a Comment »

GC Myers- Nocte Bleu sm

“Nocte Bleu” – At the West End Gallery

Almost without exception, blue refers to the domain of abstraction and immateriality.

–Wassily Kandinsky

Though the Red Tree and the color red play a large part in my body of work, I am a confessed addict of the color blue. I have written in the past about instances of painting with blue where I almost feel an intoxication after hours of having my face inches from it for several hours at a time. I often have to consciously refrain from using the color at times for fear I will fall into an uncontrollable spiral where all my work is nothing but blue.

That might not be so bad, now that I think about it.

But I do let my addiction off the leash periodically, especially for my shows where there is generally at least a handful of what I would call blue pieces. The piece shown here, Nocte Bleu, is an example. It’s a new 10″ by 20″ painting on aluminum panel that is included in Through the Trees, my annual solo show at the West End Gallery that opens this coming Friday.

I almost felt guilty painting this piece, it gave me such pleasure. And it continued even after the process was done. It was one of those pieces that kept me peeking at it while it was in the studio. Just something in it that satisfied a need within me.

I understand that this doesn’t describe the painting or process or help you understand it in any way. But that’s the way it is with us addicts. Sometimes you just got to have the good stuff, the real blue.

For this Sunday morning music I am going to a favorite piece, a sort of obscure song from jazz horn player Richard Boulger and his 2008 LP Blues Twilight. Blues– see? He knows. The song is Miss Sarah, one that I have played here awhile back. I think it’s a great song to kick off a Sunday morning. Try it on for size.

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Through the Trees

Posted in Event, Favorite Things, In the Studio, tagged , , , , , on July 8, 2021| Leave a Comment »

9921087 Through the Trees (and Toward the Light) rev sm

Through the Trees (and Toward the Light)– GC Myers

I have spent most of my life moving through the trees.

The title for my new solo exhibit at the West End Gallery, is Through the Trees. It is a show that focuses on the place of trees, specifically the Red Tree which has been my symbolic stand-in for the past twenty-plus years, in my work and in my psyche.

You see, I have spent much of my life moving through the forest whose trees and dark, cool spaces have been my companions since I was a child playing alone on the wooded hillside behind our old farmhouse.  It was there that I began to appreciate the importance of solitude and learned how to be alone.

My home and studios have been in the forest and looking out the window of my studio as I write this, I am greeted with a wall of verdant green foliage on the trees surrounding me. In the winter, the trunks and limbs of the trees are exposed like skeletons in shades of gray and black.

For the past twenty-four years I have left my home each day and walked through the trees to my studio, following a path that is now worn as though it has been in place since time began. And maybe it has. Who knows who may have traveled these woods in the ages before I found my way here?

I find a sort of symbology in this short trek, one that takes me through the darkness of the woods to the light of the clearing. I find unity with the trees and the wild spirit they represent during my walk and unity with humanity in my studio where I do the work that connects me with others.

But even in the studio, as I attempt to reach out to other humans the forest is always close at hand to remind me of wilder, primal parts of myself.

So, it is only natural that the tree shows itself so often in my work. This show highlights that fact and represents my journey from light to dark that takes place each day.

The painting at the top is the title piece for this show. It is called Through the Woods (and Toward the Light) and is 30” wide by 40” high. The show will be hung today and tomorrow and is available for previews. The opening for the show is next Friday, July 16, from 4-7 PM at the West End Gallery on Market Street in Corning.

At this point, I plan on being in attendance. I am honestly a bit nervous about that since it is my first appearance with people in the last two years. I feel a bit like an awkward kid. But unless something happens with our viral rate, I will be there to talk about my work and hopefully see some folks I haven’t seen in quite some time.

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Gifts

Posted in Painting, Quote, tagged , , , , , , , on July 6, 2021| 3 Comments »

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“To the Limit“- Part of the upcoming West End Gallery show

The purpose of life is to discover your gift.
The work of life is to develop it.
The meaning of life is to give your gift away.

— Dr. David Viscott

I wasn’t going to write about this today but I came across a tweet yesterday from a well known law professor who I highly respect using the quote above. Well, he used the shorter version– The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away— which cuts out the developmental stage in the middle.

All fine and dandy. However, he attributed it to Pablo Picasso. Things immediately stirred my interest because I like Picasso and he has actually said some very noteworthy things that end up as oft used quotations. But this just didn’t sound right.

So, off to Quote Investigator and, sure enough, there it was. No evidence of Picasso ever saying this nor Billy Shakespeare — I can call him that as we go way back– who is also often given credit for this quip.

No, it turns out that the first evidence in print came from a radio/TV psychiatrist who was very popular in the 1980’s and early 90’s, Dr. David Viscott. He died in 1996 at the age of 58. I don’t really remember him but he was pretty well known  for his fast diagnoses of callers problems and his in depth discussions on the required pharmacology. He even entered popular culture with his voice being the inspiration for the cartoon psychiatrist Dr. Marvin Monroe, who appeared regularly on the first seven seasons of The Simpsons. 

The earliest mention of the same sort of sentiment but in different, more specific words comes from an 1843 essay titled Gifts from Ralph Waldo Emerson:

Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.

Perhaps Emerson was the David Viscott or Dr. Marvin Monroe of his era? His advice is very much the same though it is a bit dated with females, half the population, being relegated to sewing handkerchiefs. Thankfully, today females populate every field of endeavor and can do much more than sew hankies. I don’t want to offend any hankie sewers out there but how many hankies do we really need?

But the idea of giving of yourself, to share what you do best with those you love as well as the rest of the world, is the idea here. The idea that thought, effort, and time have went into a gift make them all the more precious. Even now, as I sit here, I have several gifts within sight that have been given to me over the years. Each is precious to me for just those reasons.

The tragedy is that so many of us never find that gift or overlook it when it is right in front us. Or even more tragically, that for whatever reasons, we never try to follow the hints to our gift that we do recognize. 

So, now that we’ve cleared up the origins of the advice at the top, get out there and do something that you love and share it with friends or family or the rest of the world.

It’ll make your day as well as that of someone else.

The painting at the top, To the Limit, is a new piece that is included in my upcoming show, Through the Trees, that opens next Friday, July 16th, at the West End Gallery in Corning. I used this painting for this post because the blowing tree often represents for me self-sacrifice and the giving of all to an effort. I guess that would make for a splendid gift.

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