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Posts Tagged ‘Virginia Woolf’

Out of the Loop 2013





I’m fundamentally, I think, an outsider. I do my best work and feel most braced with my back to the wall. It’s an odd feeling though, writing against the current: difficult entirely to disregard the current. Yet of course I shall.

–Virginia Woolf, 22 November 1938, A Writer’s Diary (1953)





The lines above Virginia Woolf from a 1938 entry in her A Writer’s Diary struck a chord with me. In the entry, Woolf looked back on her career, describing how she had at points received praise and widespread acclaim and at other times fell out of favor with the literati, suffering criticism and personal attacks that marked her as a second-rate talent.

She had certainly known the highs and lows.

She claimed that the attacks did not bother her as much as she might have expected since she had never saw herself as being famous. How can they take away something you never felt you possessed? Actually, she saw their downgrading of her as being a sort of relief, shedding all pretense of her being part of the insider’s club. She could clearly see herself as an outsider now. As she wrote, it put her back to the wall, a place where she felt she did her best work.

Much like the I’ll show them attitude I described here recently.

As I wrote above, this resonated with me. Though I’ve had my fair share of high points and an equally fair share of low points, I have always, like Woolf, viewed myself as an outsider.

I believe this comes from knowing who I am and how I am built. I understand that I don’t have what it takes to be an insider. I don’t play a social game, don’t go to parties and few openings. To be honest, I am uncomfortable at my own events. I don’t schmooze with museum or gallery directors. Don’t seek out people who might specifically help my career. No agent seeking new opportunity nor public relations person trying to spread my name in the media. Outside of this blog and a few little social media entries, I have no mechanism for self-promotion. And even this seems like something more than self-promotion now.

I was never part of an artistic group or school. Well, there was one time, when my work first showed at the Principle Gallery in 1997. I was part of group of five artists from this region, all then showing at the West End Gallery, selected by the Principle Gallery who then labeled us the Finger Lakes School. We did a couple of shows there under that label. But even then, I was the outsider in that group, the only one of the five working outside of traditional representational oil painting.

I also don’t pursue opportunity. Perhaps to a fault.

After my 27-year relationship with Kada Gallery in Erie ended when they closed a couple of years ago and the gallery repping my work in California had changed their business model in a way that greatly lowered my visibility there, I considered looking for new galleries to replace those two. I had a realization then that I had not approached a gallery in nearly 30 years and that every gallery that had represented me approached me first. Approaching galleries now felt so far out of my comfort zone that I soon dropped the idea.

And often, I turn away those opportunities that are offered.  I have often failed to follow-up on commission requests simply because I wanted to do work that pleased me first and then others, not the other way around.

A year or so ago, I was offered a chance to have 13 of my Red Tree paintings grace the covers of a series of Hermann Hesse books published in Mandarin Chinese. The company in China had been following my work for several years and felt that my work was a good match for Hesse’s work. I was flattered but ended up turning down the offer simply because I felt it was too far out of my hands.

Mistake? Maybe. It wouldn’t be the first time. But I find myself being okay with this and those other peccadilloes because I know how I am.

I know I am an outsider, will never be the toast of the art world outside of my little corner of it every once in a while.

The way I see it is that to be in that wider spotlight requires effort and responsibility that goes well beyond the work itself, something I am not comfortable in taking on at this point in my life as an artist.

And I am fine and comfortable with that. To be honest, I never trusted the perception that came with the highs nor the lows. Though the praise is nice to hear sometimes and the rejection always stings, they ultimately are not accurate indicators. The work was generally equal in my eyes at both the high and the low points. Actually, there has been work produced in the low points that went unnoticed that I feel was better than much of the work from the high points.

Time, it turns out, levels out those highs and lows.

So now I just do my work, as Woolf did, with my back against the wall and going forever against the current.

That’s all I can do. That is who and what I am– the outsider.

Here’s a tune from Eddie Vedder that is somewhat, if not wholly, in the same vein. This is Society.

PS: Not that it matters, but this is a remake of the post I accidentally deleted yesterday. I think the original had a bit more gracefulness and flow than this one. Maybe it hit its points more impactfully. But this will have to do for now.  It’s much like trying to recreate a painting where the original just flowed organically from the artist. The copy never has the same ease of being, at least in the eyes of its maker. 

The painting at the top, Out of the Loop, is a piece from 2013 that I am considering for inclusion in my June show at the Principle Gallery. It recently came back to me from California where it had been for over a dozen years. My impression of it had been reduced to the online image of it, such as the one at the top. When I took it from the crate, I was thrilled and surprised at its vibrance and depth, which far exceeded the digital image. Seemed a perfect fit for this post but still deciding if it goes to Alexandria in June. We’ll see…






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Nightbloom— At West End Gallery



The melancholy river bears us on. When the moon comes through the trailing willow boughs, I see your face, I hear your voice and the bird singing as we pass the osier bed. What are you whispering? Sorrow, sorrow. Joy, joy. Woven together, like reeds in moonlight.

–Virginia Woolf, A Haunted House, and Other Short Stories (1921)



What do I have to say this morning? Is there anything that needs to be said? Any grievances, worries, sorrows, joys, that need to be expressed if only to feel as though they have been released from within, even in this little forum?

There’s a desire to say much this morning. But the will to do so is not there.

Maybe that’s the melancholy river bearing on us? I don’t know but that feels right this morning, sitting here in a darkened studio with the glow of my computer screen serving as moonlight.

And in it is sorrow and joy, woven together.

I am going to let the river flow by this morning. Here’s a song, Hold Back the River, whose title and lyrics says something quite different, about not allowing time and tide to wash away the moment. I don’t know if that’s absolutely correct but, as they say, you get what you pay for. This song written and performed by James Bay is from about ten years back. I have to admit that even though it was a platinum record at the time, I was unaware of it before this morning. It’s hard enough keeping up with old music, let alone everything new. But I liked the song and this performance and felt it kind of fit.

Give a listen them step aside– you’re blocking my view of the river.



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GC Myers- Moment Revealed

Moment Revealed — At Principle Gallery



What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.

–Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse



little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark…

We often look for one singular moment that reveals an ultimate truth, something that answers all our questions. Something that gives structure and meaning to the great riddle that is life. In waiting for that one burst of revelation, we often overlook the tiny clues given to us on a daily basis.

We want it to come all at once, easy and simple. But it comes in dribs and drabs, leaving it up to us to somehow put all these clues, those little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark together for ourselves.

How do we do that?

I don’t know. I am still groping around in the dark. But every so often a match flares up and for a brief and glorious moment there is bright light shining on everything. Of course, it doesn’t last long and I am plunged back into darkness with nothing but the quick flashes of what had been illuminated– partial glimpses of odd angles and shadows–running through my mind. It all makes sense for a brief instant in which I am filled with a sense of understanding.

Not happiness, not even contentment. Just understanding.

And within an even briefer instant, it is gone and I am once more groping in the dark. But at least I know there will most likely soon be more little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark. 

And for the time being, that is all I can hope for. It might be all I ever get so it will have to be enough.

Here’s a song, Everybody Knows from Leonard Cohen, that probably has little connection it whatever it is I wrote about. It’s just that I woke up with this song in my head and it stayed with me while I was walking to the studio in the darkness way too early this morning. Maybe it is one of those little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark?

Maybe. Who knows?



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“A Time For Reckoning”– At the West End Gallery



“For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of – to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others… and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.”

Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse



I gave a Virtual Gallery Talk in late August from the West End Gallery where the primary theme was the aloneness required for the creation of art. Well, at least, in my experience.

I thought I did a credible job but coming across the paragraph above from Virginia Woolf in her classic To the Lighthouse made me think I could have been a lot more concise in my explanation of the concept. Just a beautiful piece of writing. And it encapsulates in a moment what I struggled to describe over the course of a half hour.

I am humbled by own inarticulateness but equally happy just to somewhat share the same idea of which she so eloquently wrote. It makes me want to just shut up and recede into being that wedge-shaped core of darkness, as she put it, and seeking those strange internal adventures on which art is built.

Sounds like a plan. Have a good day.

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The waves broke and spread their waters swiftly over the shore. One after another they massed themselves and fell; the spray tossed itself back with the energy of their fall. The waves were steeped deep-blue save for a pattern of diamond-pointed light on their backs which rippled as the backs of great horses ripple with muscles as they move. The waves fell; withdrew and fell again, like the thud of a great beast stamping.

― Virginia WoolfThe Waves

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I was planning on showing this painting, The Green Wave, at some point in the future. It’s from French painter Georges Lacombe  (1868-1916) who was part of Les Nabis, a painting group heavily influenced by the work of Paul Gauguin. I am a big admirer of many of the painters, including Lacombe,  associated with this group.

As I said, this was planned for sometime in the future but yesterday’s results in elections around the country prompted me to want to show it today. It was heartening, a big ray of light in the darkness, to have the people of Virginia show up in a big way and make a big statement against what has been happening this past year carrying the Dems to statewide victories. They rejected Ed Gillespie‘s attempt at copying 45*’s  playbook of divisive rhetoric, giving Ralph Northam a landslide victory in the race for governor and won the majority of the down ballot races.

And it wasn’t just Virginia. Across the country Dems, Independents and disillusioned Republicans made very much the same statement– what is happening is not who we are. Longtime GOP seats were flipped in places that were thought to be bulletproof. If the members of the GOP in the house and senate don’t take notice and begin to act responsibly and in the best interest of the country and their true constituents– not the fat cat donors who line their pockets– they most likely will be swept away by this same wave when it comes around next year.

I can’t think of much, if anything, to say positively about the person who some call our president. But I do thank him for waking people up, for making so many more people take an active interest in what has been taking place while we all allowed ourselves to be distracted. They have been energized and yesterday’s victories demonstrates that real results can occur with focused resistance.

And that will only serve to strengthen the resolve of those who are going to make up the coming wave. This wave cracked the seawall. That was shown yesterday but a bigger wave is out there, restlessly waiting to unleash its full fury.

Like a great beast stamping.

A year ago on this day, that election left many of us thinking that this country was beyond saving, that we had succumbed to our lowest qualities. Hatred. Greed. Selfishness. Fear.

But people have come together to take action and to make their voices heard. So be encouraged this morning  but do not relax, don’t think your responsibility has ended in one day or one small act. You snooze, you lose.

Instead, be even more involved. Double your efforts. Add your full force to the gathering wave and let everyone know what is coming.

Like a great beast stamping.

 

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