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Posts Tagged ‘Solitude’

Gallery Talk One Week From Today!

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on September 20, 2025| 2 Comments »

A Place of Sanctuary— You Could Win This Painting!

The whole value of solitude depends upon oneself; it may be a sanctuary or a prison, a haven of repose or a place of punishment, a heaven or a hell, as we ourselves make it.

― John Lubbock, Peace and Happiness

I promised the other day to reveal the painting that I would be the main prize awarded to someone at the Gallery Talk that I will be giving at the Principle Gallery next Saturday, September 27.

Well, here it is.

It’s titled A Place of Sanctuary and is a substantial piece at 18″ by 24″ on canvas. I believe this painting is, as I wrote earlier, a pip. I can’t fully describe what it is that makes it so, but it never fails to capture my attention when I am in its presence. Presence might be the right word, with its deep and rich colors and a large sun that feels that it might be a hypnotist’s watch mesmerizing me as I gaze at it.

Whatever it is, it transports me to a place that feels like sanctuary.

I have always maintained that the paintings given away at Gallery Talks over the years have great meaning for me, that giving it away has to involve a sense of sacrifice on my part. It has to hurt a little bit, has to make me question if I am making a mistake. This painting definitely falls into that category.

There will be a drawing for A Place of Sanctuary at the end of the Gallery Talk at the Principle Gallery which takes place next Saturday, Saturday 27, beginning at 1 PM. The Gallery Talk and the drawing for the painting is free and open to everyone. You must be present when the painting is awarded.

Hope you can make it to the Principle Gallery next Saturday. In the meantime, here’s post about this painting from a few years back:

I had never heard of John Lubbock before coming across the short quote above. He was one of those interesting 19th century British characters, a titled member (1st Baron Avebury) of a wealthy banking family who made great contributions to the advancement of the sciences and math as well as to many liberal causes. For example, it was John Lubbock who coined the terms Paleolithic and Neolithic in describing the Old and New Stone Ages, as well as helping to make archaeology a recognized scientific discipline. As a youth he was a neighbor to Charles Darwin and was heavily influenced by the older scientist, who he befriended. He also worked with Darwin as a young man and championed his evolutionary theories in his later adulthood. He was obviously a man who used his position and access to higher knowledge to add to both his own intellect and that of our collective body.

That being said, his words this morning gave me pause. I have generally viewed solitude as a sanctuary, even in the troubled times of my life. It was a place to calm myself, to gather my thoughts and clearly examine what was before me. I crave solitude so the idea that for some this same solitude could feel like a hell or a prison seemed foreign to me.

What differentiates one’s perception of such a basic thing as the solitude in being alone? How could my place of sanctuary be someone else’s chamber of horrors?

If you’re expecting me to answer, you’re going to be disappointed because I can’t really say. I might say it might have to do with our insecurity but I have as much, if not more, uncertainty and insecurity than most people. We all have unique psychological makeups and every situation, including that of solitude, is seen from a unique perspective.

This subjectiveness is also the basis for all art. What else could explain how one person can look at a painting and see an idyllic scene while another can feel uneasy or even offended by the same scene?

Now, the painting at the top, titled A Place of Sanctuary, is a piece that very much reflects this sense of finding haven in solitude. For me, it is calming and centering, a place and time that appeals to my need for sanctuary.

Someone else might see it otherwise. They might see something remote, alien and unsettling in it.

I may not understand it but that’s okay, too. So long as they feel something…

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The Passing Parade

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on June 3, 2025| 5 Comments »

The Passing Parade— Included in Entanglement at the Principle Gallery

Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away… and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast…. be happy about your growth, in which of course you can’t take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don’t torment them with your doubts and don’t frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn’t be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn’t necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust…. and don’t expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.

― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

There is something in this new painting, The Passing Parade, from my upcoming Principle Gallery exhibit that just fills me up. It would be easy to simply say that there’s a joyfulness in it and let it stand at that. It does have an unmistakable sense of joyous verve, after all.

But that feels more on the surface, almost like it is the painting’s mask. No, there’s something more beneath that, something deeper and more internalized. Not joyful but not sad nor remorseful.  

A feeling of apartness.

Don’t take that to mean loneliness. It’s an altogether different animal. 

I went looking for a something that might better describe it than my impoverished words and came across the passage at the top from Rilke, one that I shared here a number of years back. It seemed to capture exactly what I was feeling in this piece, about how we change internally and how we express these changes to the outer world.

Some become more solitary and, in their solitude, grow away from people in general. I count myself among this group. But as Rilke advised, I try to not display that outwardly when dealing with people, understanding that not everyone will understand or desire this apartness. Or care, for that matter.

You might think that since I write about my work and perhaps too much more here on a daily basis, that I would easily talk about the doubts, uncertainties, and beliefs I possess and write about. That’s not the case at all. I will answer questions honestly and openly but still try to keep my apartness somewhat hid.

And that’s what I see in this piece– an inward-looking solitude that outwardly watches the passing parade of life from a distance.

I understand that to some that might seem sad. Of course, I don’t see it that way since I know that my apartness is often filled with the joy and love that you see on the surface of this painting. It is not sad at all except when sadness is present, as it sometimes is in every life.

It is hard to explain in words. Maybe that’s why I paint. A painted image transmits and translates itself to others in ways that they alone understand.

Much better than my words. In this case, I hope my meager words haven’t garbled your translation of this painting.

Now, leave me alone and get back into the parade. As Garbo said– I vant to be alone. Actually, I need to be alone. Still lots of work to be done for the show and I can’t get anything done if you’re still hanging around…

The Passing Parade is 12″ by 24″ on panel and is part of my annual solo exhibit — this year marks my 26th show at the Principle– of new paintings, Entanglement, that opens on Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. The work for this show will be delivered to the gallery on Sunday and will be available for previews, though the show will not be hung until later in the week.

The day after the show’s opening, on 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.

 

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The Solitude Hoarder

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on April 17, 2025| 1 Comment »

Peak of Solitude— At West End Gallery

Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self.

–May Sarton, Mrs. Steven Hears the Mermaids Singing (1965)

Some of the most serious problems with our society stem from the hoarding of great wealth by the ultra-rich. Their constant need for more and more can only be fulfilled by sapping the wealth from those economically beneath them. But I’m not here to bitch about the super-wealthy today.

After all, there are problems that come with one hoarding anything. As it is with wealth, this drive to attain and hold on to more and more of anything generally causes a deprivation of something else. Everything we choose to do or attain has a cost of some sort.

We give up one thing for some other thing. If I do this, I won’t be able to do that. This might result from the cost in time, comfort, money, attention or almost any other thing. Time and money tend to be the biggest factors, or at least it seems so as I write this now. I will probably think of other examples moments after I post this.

I am a hoarder of solitude.  It is my precious in the same way the Ring of Power was for Gollum. I hold greedily onto it and am always seeking more and more. And also like Gollum, when I am without it, I am frantically seeking to regain it.

And I am willing to pay almost any price for it. I have paid for it with the relationships and time I might have with others or loss of opportunities and income for my work, among many other things. 

And the older I get, the more precious it becomes because solitude’s main currency is time, an ever-decreasing asset.

That may sound pretty sad to many of you. Maybe even a bit crazy. I get that and I can offer little if any defense or rationale to sway your opinion. Because when I am in the midst of my gathered solitude, what others think seems inconsequential. 

I think only another hoarder can understand that.

Here’s a lovely guitar version of Astrud Gilberto’s Corcovado also known as Quiet Night of Quiet Stars

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Deepen the Present

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on March 26, 2025| Leave a Comment »

The Natural— At West End Gallery

Solitude is not something you must hope for in the future. Rather, it is a deepening of the present, and unless you look for it in the present you will never find it.

–Thomas Merton, The Ascent to Truth

I had something in mind yesterday that I wanted to write this morning. It was a sort of vent. I won’t even mention the subject of this proposed diatribe but there is enough horrific crap floating around that won’t have to strain your imagination if you guess.

But when I finally plopped in front of my laptop, I had lost the desire to vent. It wasn’t a moment of exhaustion or dejection. I just wanted to sit in peace for a little bit this morning. Wanted to simply take in the quiet of the darkness around me.

Wanted to deepen the present, to steal a phrase from the Thomas Merton quote above. As he implied, you can’t hope or wait for solitude to arrive. It’s here in the present, always near and waiting to embrace you if only you can slow your mind enough to detect it.

That’s seems simplistic and much easier said than done. After all, it’s a hard task to slow the mind given the speed and anxiety of life today. There’s even a little guilt in doing so, especially for a compassionate and caring person. It might feel selfish for some to feel peaceful solitude while others suffer.

But solitude often brings clarity. And clarity of thought often brings decisive action. and that is what is needed in this world right now.

So, for this morning I am guiltlessly seeking the clarity that comes in solitude. I know it’s in here somewhere.

Here’s Across the Universe from the Beatles. It seems right for the moment, with its refrain of Jai Guru Deva Om which literally translates from the Sanskrit as glory to the shining remover of darkness. And looking out my window just now, I see the tall trees as dark bony silhouettes against the emerging light…

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Solitude and Reverence/ Being Alone

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , on February 19, 2025| 1 Comment »

Solitude and Reverence

Perhaps the primary distinction of the artist is that he must actively cultivate that state which most men, necessarily, must avoid: the state of being alone. That all men are, when the chips are down, alone, is a banality — a banality because it is very frequently stated, but very rarely, on the evidence, believed. Most of us are not compelled to linger with the knowledge of our aloneness, for it is a knowledge that can paralyze all action in this world. There are, forever, swamps to be drained, cities to be created, mines to be exploited, children to be fed. None of these things can be done alone. But the conquest of the physical world is not man’s only duty. He is also enjoined to conquer the great wilderness of himself. The precise role of the artist, then, is to illuminate that darkness, blaze roads through that vast forest, so that we will not, in all our doing, lose sight of its purpose, which is, after all, to make the world a more human dwelling place.

–James Baldwin, The Creative Process (1962)

I’ve been looking quite often recently at the painting at the top which is here with me in the studio. It’s from about ten years ago and is titled Solitude and Reverence. It was an instant favorite for me when I finished back in 2015 so when it returned to me after its tours of the galleries, while I was surprised it had come back, I was pleased to have it back with me. I believe it’s a piece that says a lot about me and my work and the role solitude has played in it.

This morning, coming across an image of this painting used on the blog several years ago reminded me of a couple of things that I have shared over the years on the role of solitude and being alone for the artist. One is the passage at the top from a 1962 essay from James Baldwin and the other is below, from an early (2008!) blogpost where I wrote about advice I gave to young wannabe artists. I thought both worked well with this painting. At the bottom I am adding a song from Billie Holiday, at the peak of her powers, on the same subject. The song is Solitude from her 1952 album of the same name. Just a beautiful recording.

I’m showing the picture to the right to illustrate a bit of advice I often give when speaking with students or aspiring painters. This is my first studio which is located up a slight hill behind our home, nestled in among a mixed forest of hardwoods and white pine. This photo was from last February [2007]. It was a fine little space although it lacked certain amenities such as running water, bathrooms and truly sufficient heat. However, it served me very well for about a decade.

The advice that I give to aspiring artists is this:  Learn to be alone.

The time spent in solitude may be the greatest challenge that many artists face. I have talked to many over the years and it is a common concern. Some never fully commit to their art for just this reason. To be alone with your own thoughts without the feedback or interaction of others can be scary especially for those used to being immersed in people and conversation.

I like to think that I have been prepared for this aspect of this career since I was a child. For much of my youth we lived in the country, in houses that were isolated from neighbors. I had a sister and brother, 8 and 7 years my senior, and they were often my companions at times. But as they came into their middle teens, I spent more and more time alone. This is not a complaint in any sense. Actually, it was kind of idyllic. I lived a fairly independent life as a kid, pretty much coming and going as I pleased. I explored the hills and woods around us, going down old trails to the railroad tracks and old cove that ran alongside the Chemung River. I studied the headstones at an old cemetery tucked in the edge of the woods overlooking what was then a thick glen, filled with the family who resided at a late 1700’s homesite that had stood across the road from our home. All that remained of that place was a stacked stone chimney which served as a great prop for playing cowboy.

In the woods there were immense downed trees that served as magnificent pirate ships. There were large hemlocks with thick horizontal branches that were practically ladders, easy to climb and sit above the forest floor to watch and dream.

My life– and my work– would be very different without this time alone. Sure, maybe I’d be a bit more sociable and comfortable with groups of people, something which is sometimes a hindrance. But it prepared me for the time I spend alone and allowed me to create my own inner world that I occupied then and now. The same world that appears in my work, the same world that is my work.

This is only a short post on a subject I could drone on about for pages and pages. But, to aspiring artists, I say learn to love your time alone. Realize what a luxury and an asset it can be to you as an artist. It is gift that is available to us all if we only recognize and accept it as such. Learning to be alone will make your work grow and distinguish itself in ways you can’t yet see.

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Inner/Outer Voices

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on October 11, 2024| Leave a Comment »

gc-myers-early-figure

What are we when we are alone? Some, when they are alone, cease to exist.

—Eric Hoffer

I’ve spent a tremendous amount of time alone in my studio over the years. Literally, tens and tens of thousands of hours in solitude. It has been time that has allowed me to close myself off in a certain way from the outer world and create the inner world that I show in my work. But occasionally the outer world breaks through and my simple solitude is shaken. I find myself caught between the outer world and my inner creation, my inner being.  

It’s a frustrating time and it becomes hard to focus in order to find that inner world. It’s been that way recently but I keep pushing for it and know that it will return soon. I am reminded of the post below from a few years ago that deals with being alone.

I was recently contacted by author for use of one of my images for inclusion in his upcoming book. It was an old image, one that I still possessed and had used on this blog, so I began to go through my files to find it. Shuffling through the old work, many from before I began exhibiting publicly, brought a number of surprises. There were pieces, like this one here on the right, that had slipped my mind and seeing them rekindled instant recognition and memory, like stumbling upon an old acquaintance who you had not thought of in ages. But there were others that had been lost in my memory and seeing them still only vaguely brought traces of their origin, as though you were again coming across someone who knew you, but you couldn’t quite remember them even though there was something familiar in them, something that told you that you once knew them.

Looking at these old pieces made me think of all the time spent alone with these images. The quote above from Eric Hoffer came to mind. What are we when we are alone? Is that the real you? Or is the real you that person that interacts with all the outside world?  Looking at these pieces, I began to think that the person I was when I was alone had evolved slowly over the years, becoming closer to one entity. What I mean is that the person I was when I was alone, my inner voice, did not always jibe with my outer voice and over time, especially as I have found a true voice in my work, has come closer and closer to becoming one and the same.

I don’t know if I can explain that with any clarity. It’s a feel thing, one that instantly comes from holding one of these paintings and still seeing the division that once was in them and in myself.  It is not anything to do with quality or subject or process. It’s just a perceived feeling in the piece, an intangible that maybe only I can sense.  But it’s there and it makes me appreciate the journey and the work that brought these two voices closer together.

My alone time immersed in these pieces has seldom felt lonely and, going back to Hoffer’s quote, never did I feel that I ceased to exist in my oneness. I know people who are like that, that need constant connection and interaction in order to feel alive and vital, but for me it has often felt almost the opposite. That probably is a result of that division of my inner and outer voices that I have been trying to describe. When I was alone, I was always comfortable with my inner voice and the work that resulted from it served in the forms of companions.

I definitely exist in my solitude and my work, my constant companion, is my proof.

I am going to stop now. Enough confession for one morning.  I have new companions on the easel to which I must attend.

This was a replay of a replay from back in 2017. Its message hasn’t changed a bit in the intervening years. Maybe I am just using it as pretense to play a song, The Inside Man. that I played here a few years back. I have no idea about its title’s meaning but for today it refers to the inner being. It’s a piece I came across awhile back, a piece of dance music from a Croatian DJ/ musician, Funky Destination. There’s something in it that always both focuses me and stirs me up– at least that inner part of me. The inside man…

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Steps to Solitude

Posted in Biographical, Painting, Recent Paintings, Technique/History, tagged , , , on January 29, 2014| 7 Comments »

GC Myers- Steps to Solitude smMaybe I decided to use this image  because it was -8° when I headed out for my stroll through the woods to the studio.  Well, not really a stroll.  More like a hard determined march, trying to cut through the sharp cold as quickly as possible.  But as I glimpsed at the still dark sky,  Venus  was shining brightly just above the treeline, so much so that it caused me stop and just wonder at its brilliance.  To my eye it had a reddish glint that made it seem  like some exotic little gem in the sky.  Beautiful enough to stop me in my frozen tracks.

This brought to mind the upcoming  Little Gems show at the West End Gallery in Corning that opens next Friday,  February 7th.   I am currently prepping a group of paintings for this exhibit of small work which is always one of my favorite shows of my painting year and one that always brings back good memories.  As I have noted here in the past, the Little Gems show in 1995 was the first opportunity I had to show my work in public.

A first step on a then unknown path.

This will be my twentieth Little Gems show, something which would have seemed unfathomable back at that first show.  I don’t paint as many small pieces in recent years, spending more time on larger work, so this is always a great time to revisit the small form.  There is something  wonderful in seeing the colors and forms compressed into a smaller space, something that brings out the gem-like quality in each.  Each element, each mark takes on greater weight in the smaller form.  There’s a different type of concentration, one that is  quicker in its self-editing and one that is definitely more intuitive.  The sizes are such that everything just happens quicker and there is less time to ponder.

And that is often a good thing.   I’ve often said that I’m not smart enough to paint when I have to think about it.   Maybe these small pieces are  proof  of this.

**********************

This piece is called Steps to Solitude and is a compact 3″ by 6″ painting on paper.  It will be at the West End by the end of this week along with several other small pieces.

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Advice to Young Painters/ Redux

Posted in Biographical, Influences, tagged , on November 14, 2012| 4 Comments »

I came across this photo of my old studio up in the woods yesterday and remembered that I had used it in a post several years ago, back in December of 2008.   [Wow, I’ve been doing this blog for that long?]  It was a post about the role of solitude in my work.  My new studio is much more comfortable and warm, with all  the amenities , such as phone , cable TV and the  internet , that keep me  connected to the outer world.  Reading this post made me realize how less alone I am today at times in the studio and how important that time of solitude was for my work’s growth at that time.  I’m not sure that my work would have evolved in the same way in my current environment. I just thought it was an interesting post and wanted to share it again:

I’m showing the picture to the right to illustrate a bit of advice I often give when speaking with students or aspiring painters.  This is my first studio which is located up a slight hill behind our home, nestled in among a mixed forest of hardwoods and white pine.  This photo was from last February [2007].  It was a fine little space although it lacked certain amenities such as running water, bathrooms and truly sufficient heat.  However, it served me very well for about a decade.

The advice that I give to aspiring artists is this:  Learn to be alone.

The time spent in solitude  may be the greatest challenge that many artists face.  I have talked to many over the years and it is a common concern.  Some never fully commit to their art for just this reason.  To be alone with your own thoughts without the feedback or interaction of others can be scary especially for those used to being immersed in people and conversation.

I like to think that I have been prepared for this aspect of this career since I was a child.  For much of my youth we lived  in the country,  in houses that were isolated from neighbors.  I had a sister and brother, 7 and 8 years my senior,  and they were often my companions at times but  as they came into their middle teens I spent more and more time alone.  This is not a complaint.  Actually, it was kind of idyllic.  I lived a fairly independent life as a kid, coming and going as I pleased.  I explored the hills and woods around us, going down old trails to the railroad tracks and old cove that ran along side the Chemung River.  I studied the headstones at an old cemetery tucked in the edge of the woods overlooking what was then a thick glen,  filled with the family who resided at a late 1700’s homesite that had stood across the road from our home.  All that remained was a stacked stone chimney which served as a great prop for playing cowboy.

In the woods there were immense downed trees that served as magnificent pirate ships.  There were large hemlocks with thick horizontal branches that were practically ladders, easy to climb and sit above the forest floor to watch and dream.

My life would be very different without this time alone.  Sure, maybe I’d be a bit more sociable and comfortable with groups of people, something which is sometimes a hindrance.  But it prepared me for the time I spend alone and allowed me to create my own inner world that I occupied then and now.  The same world that appears in my work.  That is my work.

This is only a short post on a subject I could drone on about for pages and pages.  But, to aspiring artists, I say learn to love your time alone and realize what a luxury and an asset it can be.  Your work will grow from your time alone.

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