Yesterday on the blog, I showed one of my small pieces from this year’s Little Gemsshow at the West End Gallery, which opens February 6. I thought I might show another today, this one a little 4″ by 6″ painting called The Outlier’s Home.
It’s a simply constructed piece that features the intense color of the foreground set against the placid blue gradation of the sky with a red-roofed homestead alongside a Red Tree set between the two contrasting forces. It has a feeling of distance and separation but without anxiety or fear.
Maybe that is where the title originated, in this separation. I like the idea of the outlier, that thing or being that is apart from the normal set. An aberration, something slightly outside the norm in one way or another. I think that is why I envision the Red Tree standing alone apart from other trees in many of the paintings.
I like the idea here of a place outside the normal that seems peaceful and accepting of itself, not caring what the world that looks at them from across that purple field thinks. I think that’s what we all hope for in this world– an acceptance for ourselves as we are without having to put on a mask to fit into the crowd.
It’s a lot to see in a simple, little piece. But that’s my take.
I’ve been working recently on some very small pieces for the upcoming Little Gemsshow at the West End Gallery in Corning. I’ve mentioned here before that this particular show is always a sentimental favorite of mine as it was in this show that I first publicly showed my work twenty years ago. It represents the first step on to the path that I now follow and that makes it special for me. Plus I enjoy working in the smaller scale for a bit. It allows for easily easing back into older themes and forward into newer ones.
One of these pieces that just finished yesterday is shown here at the top. It’s a 4″ by 6″ painting that I call Storms Are on the Ocean. I haven’t done a boat painting in some time and thought the smaller format would be the perfect opportunity to re-visit the theme. I am always drawn to the motion in these pieces and the billow of the sail. It reminds me of a fable or a dream in some way that I find appealing.
I thought this would be the perfect match for this week’s Sunday morning music which is the song after which this painting is titled. It’s The Storms Are on the Ocean, a song first done by the legendary Carter Family back in the late 20’s. This version is from June Carter Cash‘s last album, Wildwood Flower, which was released in the year, 2003, after her death. Like the final recordings of her husband, the great Johnny Cash, this album shows her in a fragile state of health which adds greatly to the emotional impact of the songs.
It definitely comes through on this lovely song with its haunting chorus: The storms are on the ocean The heavens may cease to be This world may lose its motion, love If I prove false to thee
Watched the news just now and they featured clips from around the nation that had shoppers pushing and shoving one another at department stores early this morning. Black Friday, of course. Scenes of a guy being taken away in a police cruiser after a fight with a lady over a $5 Barbie at some distant Walmart just don’t seem that unusual on this day.
Good grief, as Charlie Brown might say.
I only mention this because I am urging you to shop locally and shop small this holiday season. Tomorrow is Small Business Saturday where shoppers are urged to do just that– support their local, small businesses. It’s a concept that is very important to me as I am a small businessman, as is every artist. I create work that is art first. But after the creation, the distribution of this out into the world is not unlike that of all other products, requiring packaging, shipping and advertising, among other things.
And every gallery that I sell my work through is a small business and all have been anchors in their local business communities for many years. For example, the West End Gallery has been a fixture on historic Market Street in Corning, NY for 38 years now. They show the work of over 50 local artists and craftspeople– glassworkers, jewelry makers and fine woodworkers. All are small businesses who buy most of their materials locally and who spend the bulk of their income locally, supporting other local small businesses in both ways.
It is this cycle of small business that gives communities like Corning that vibrancy makes them beautiful places in which to live. This is a purely speculative statement but I would guess that most comfortable and livable communities, big and small, around the country feature a foundation of strong small businesses. After all, who can best serve the local needs? The answer is small businesses with a stake in the community.
So, this year, please try to shop locally and shop small. You are feeding the lifeblood of your community when you do so. Besides, is a $5 Barbie really worth a beatdown or an arrest?
I’ve often write about change, lately in the form of fighting against my own selfishness through acts of generosity, somehow hoping that this reinvention of the self makes me a better person and affects change in others. I spent a few hours yesterday with John and Ron, a couple currently from Iowa and Illinois, each side of the Mississippi, who ad come to the West End Gallery specifically to see my work. I had a great time getting to know them a little better and learning more about their lives. Listening to them over lunch, I found that their own lives were stories of reinvention, of finding new identities.
It really struck a chord with me, making me appreciate how creative and adaptive we are as people. Sometimes it’s a practical matter, out of the need to meet the demands of our basic needs, and sometimes it is a matter of changing behaviors that we realize are negatively affecting our lives. Either way, the result is a new self of some sort, hopefully one that brings us more happiness and satisfaction with ourselves.
It reminded me of a post from several years ago, in 2009, where I wrote a short bit about reinvention, using Loretta Lynn as my subject.
Thanks to John and Ron for the inspiration for this morning. It was great meeting you and I hope the rest your trip goes smoothly.
Here’s what I wrote back in 2009:
Reinvention.
What I was is not what I am and what I am is not necessarily what I will be.
We’re fortunate to have such an opportunity, to be able to change and evolve over our lives. To be able to show the world other and new facets in our prisms. The only question is why do some people take this opportunity to reinvent themselves and other do not?
I thought about this the other day when I was in the studio, prepping work for my next show. I was listening to Van Lear Rose, an album from a couple of years back from Loretta Lynn, the Queen of Country Music. It’s a great album with Jack White of White Stripes fame producing and playing. The songs have Loretta’s unmistakeable signature voice and songwriting but have a new feel. A little more edge and a little less twang. A new side to Loretta. She took the opportunity, when it presented itself, to step forward and change.
But what about those who don’t? Why don’t they continue to evolve? Are they simply satisfied with where they are? In music this is pretty common, guys playing the Oldies circuit, performing the same songs that they made popular when they were 18 years old. Perhaps the opportunity to change never showed up. Maybe they felt safe in staying in their tried and true routine of rehashing the past. No risk there.
Who know? I surely don’t but I do know that this chance to change our skin, chameleon-like, is an opportunity that the truly creative should not simply push aside because for them to remain static is death. Take the risk.
Tomorrow is the final day for my show, Layers, at the West End Gallery.
It’s been a great show, one that I was pleased with from the time that it came together and one that brought great reaction in the gallery. That’s a gratifying feeling as an artist to have those two things intersect in a show. Anytime a show is successful it affirms that the vision you hold for the work in it is somewhat on track. It tells me that the work is somehow hitting the mark in creating an emotional conduit which reaches off the wall and connects to any viewer open to it.
And this show has done that. And more.
I have written before of the post-show letdown that often comes, a malaise that sets in once the show’s opening has passed. This show has not seen anything like that. In fact, it has been the reverse. It has been far more inspiring, creating more energy in the studio than I would normally see in the aftermath of most shows. It is like a tide of positive energy has flowed from this show and I am eager to harness it, to see what it brings.
Many thanks to Lin and Jesse at the West End for their positive response to this show and to everyone who has seen the show or made some piece in it their own. You have given me more than you will ever know and I hope that you have found something in the work that inspires you as well.
The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul?
–Oscar Wilde, De Profundis
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This painting, a 10″ by 20″ canvas titled Pulse, is part of the show, Layers, that is hanging at the the West End Gallery for just over another week, until August 29th. I was going to write more about this painting but reading the words of Oscar Wilde above make me think that I need not say more.
The mystery of the universe and that of the self are one and the same.
My show, Layers, at the West End Gallery hangs for another two weeks, until August 29th. It has been a very good show thus far with many of the paintings having found new homes, many of them in distant locales. In fact, more than half of those sold have left the state, including two leaving yesterday for Utah. This has created a lot of gaps in the exhibit, enough so that Jesse Gardner, the assistant director there, asked if I had some larger pieces available to fill in the gaps.
This struck me as a nice opportunity to show a few paintings that have not been seen in a while, pieces that have been biding their time with me in the studio. Included is the piece shown to the right, Peaceful Tidings, a piece measuring about 18″ by 36″ on paper. It is a painting that inexplicably only showed in one gallery for a short time before coming to the studio. Why I have kept it under wraps is a question that I can’t answer. It has always seemed to be here, always drawing my attention when I am near it. So this seems like a nice chance to let it out once more.
A few are from the group of work that I call the Dark Work, from around 2002. Includes in this group are two pieces shown below, Night Karma and Night Vibrations, which is a larger piece, coming in at 30″ by 34″ on paper. This series was a departure in style and tone from the much lighter and transparent work I was doing at the time and was very reflective of the tone of the time just after 9/11. Darker and with more weight, more ponderous.
But over the years as this work has become less associated with that time and people take it in with a different perspective, viewing it for what it is expressing in the now. As a result, there are only a handful of these pieces from that time floating around, including this small group. This work has great meaning for me and served a great purpose in my development, allowing me to better follow the inner voice that is most true to who I am as a person. It’s good to show these pieces, even if only for a short time.
So, if you’ve already seen the show at the West End Gallery or if you have not, there is something new for you to see before it comes down in a couple of weeks. Hopefully, you will find it interesting.
Had a really nice Gallery Talk yesterday at the West End Gallery. A wonderful crowd of folks turned out, a mix of many new faces and those who I have seen before. Made for a very comfortable setting and their warmth and interest made me feel at home.
Sort of the theme of the talk.
I had two different people, both from my hometown of Horseheads, remark afterward how proud they were that I was from and creating this work there. It caught me off guard. I had never looked at my work from that perspective, as being a source of civic pride. I had never seen it as being of one place but it is, being from where I live. My home. There’s a power in that phrase that can’t be underestimated.
Many, many thank you’s to everyone who took time from a summer day with perfect weather to spend an hour with me, especially to those who traveled distances to do so. I cannot fully express my gratitude for your warmth, your attention and your participation. And, as always, many thanks to Linda and Jesse Gardner at the gallery. Sticking to the theme, the West End is my home gallery and they have always made me feel at home there. Thanks so much for the opportunity you gave me nearly twenty years ago. My life is much changed as a result.
So, since I usually have some music on a Sunday morning, let’s stick with the theme of home. Here’s 25 Miles , performed by the late Edwin Starr, the Motown artist who is best known for his 1970 #1 hit, War . You know the song– War– good god y’all– what is it good for, absolutely nothing. 25 Miles was from a couple of years earlier, in 1968, and reached #6 on the pop charts. It’s an indicator of what was to come with War.
Well, I give a Gallery Talk this afternoon, starting at 1 PM at the West End Gallery in Corning in support of my show, Layers, which hangs there for another few weeks. One of the attractions for this talk is a drawing that will be held among the attendees for a painting of mine. The process of deciding what that painting will be resembles a dance, going back and forth between selections.
I have been spending the last few days looking at some of the pieces that I have here in the studio, trying to find one that is right for this event. I have given away paintings before at these talks and it has always been important to me that the pieces have some significance for me. I don’t want to simply pick out an old piece that I now recognize as having weaknesses. I have a few of those from many years ago that still take up space here. It would be easy to grab one of those and be done with the whole selection process.
But that would be like handing out discards and that doesn’t seem like the right thing to do when the whole concept behind the drawing is to display the appreciation I have for those who have followed and supported my work through the years. If the folks take time on a summer weekend afternoon to come to the gallery to participate in a Gallery Talk then they deserve a piece that is real and alive, something meaningful and of value to me.
So, after going back and forth, I settled on this painting from a number of years ago. It is titled Silent Passage and has long been a favorite of mine. It is a real painting with an image of 9″ wide by 29″ high on paper. Its framed dimensions come in at 18″ by 38″, so it has presence in its size and its value. But more important to than the size or monetary value of this painting is the meaning of this work for myself. It encapsulates much of what I have tried to put across for these years.
A study in quiet and movement. Color and texture. Light and dark. Now and eternity.
I hope whoever takes this home this afternoon will understand the meaning it holds for me and will see it for themselves.
The Gallery Talk starts at 1 PM. Hope you can make it there.
I conceive of the art of painting as the science of juxtaposing colours in such a way that their actual appearance disappears and lets a poetic image emerge. . . . There are no “subjects”, no “themes” in my painting. It is a matter of imagining images whose poetry restores to what is known that which is absolutely unknown and unknowable.
–Rene Magritte, 1967
In a letter two months prior to his death
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I am giving my annual Gallery Talk at the West End Gallery this coming Saturday, August 9. I don’t usually come in with a prepared speech, instead speaking off the cuff and responding to the audience, but I still prepare myself in a few different ways. One is to go over possible themes and clarify my thoughts on these subjects to minimize awkward pauses at the actual talk. Oh, it doesn’t eliminate them but it helps to have some sort of thought formed beforehand.
The quote above from Belgian Surrealist Rene Magritte reminds me of an instance where I didn’t fully get across what I was trying to communicate in response to a question. While speaking to a regional arts group consisting of enthusiastic painters, some amateurs and some professional, a question was brought up about the importance of subject. Magritte elegantly stated in his words what I was trying to say that evening, that the purpose of what I was doing was not in the actual portrayal of the object of the painting but in the way it was expressed through color and form and contrast. To me, the subject was not important except as a vehicle for carrying emotion.
Of course, I didn’t state it with any kind of coherence. Hearing me say that the subject wasn’t important angered the man who was a lifelong painter of very accomplished landscapes. He said that the subject was most important in forming your painting. I fumbled around for a bit and don’t think I ever satisfied his question or got across a bit of what I was attempting to say.
I think he was still mad when he left which still bothers me because he was right, of course. Subject is important. It is the relationship that you have with the subject that makes it a vehicle for accurately carrying the emotional feeling you are trying to pull from the painting. While I am not interested in depicting landscapes of specific areas, I am moved by the rolls of hills and fields and the stately personae of trees and that comes through in my painting. Yes, I can capture emotion in things that may not have any emotional attachment to me through the way I am painting them, which was part of what I was saying to that man that evening, but it will never be as fully realized as those pieces which consist of things and places in which I maintain a personal relationship.
It is always easier to find the poetry of the unknown in those things which we know.
Hopefully, I will not be as inelegant Saturday as I was on that evening. I hope you can come to the West End Gallery around 1 PM and test me a bit. I think I’m ready. Plus, you might walk away with a painting from my studio!
Yesterday on the blog, I showed one of my small pieces from this year’s Little Gems show at the West End Gallery, which opens February 6. I thought I might show another today, this one a little 4″ by 6″ painting called The Outlier’s Home.
Redtree Times 