Ed Maskevich

An Open Letter To Andrea

2010-04-10T11:27:00.005-04:00

Hi Andrea,

Thanks for your email and your request to use one of my paintings as a model. Your request is something that fits well into my artistic philosophy, and for that matter my life philosophy. I have believed, since I can’t remember when, that all knowledge, skills, and ideas should be shared. Otherwise I think there is a great ability for the development of “Prima Donnas” and God knows that I’ve had my share of them in life. So, where do I begin with all of this?

One of the good things that came from art school was being around a variety of people and seeing that they had a variety of ideas and practiced a variety of techniques (unless they were trying to suck up to the teacher). To roughly paraphrase Picasso, “A good artist borrows, a great artist steals.” If you go to Europe it is not uncommon to see people set up easels and painting supplies, in one of the galleries, and proceed to make a copy of a painting. In the USA people consider this to be “Cheating” because you are copying and not being original. One of the important things that I learned in art school is that there is nothing new under the sun. It’s all be done before in various ways and we just haven’t discovered it yet. I always encouraged my students to copy the works of “The Masters.” Copy a Degas drawing and it is like studying with Degas. Copy a Rembrandt and it is like having Rembrandt at your side teaching you.

Many years ago I did a pastel painting, as a gift, for a therapist who was helping my wife and myself. She requested a piece that was thematic of a mother and child in a loving relationship. I immediately thought of the artist, Mary Cassatt. I did not copy one of her pieces. Instead I researched photo references of mothers and children and did a composite sketch. But before I started the painting I surrounded my easel with books and images of Mary Cassatt paintings. I wanted her spirit in my studio so that I could learn from here and be guided by her. At a certain point in the painting these images were put away, because I didn’t want to duplicate her, but I wanted to put my own mark on the painting.

Whenever I’ve taught I’ve always brought in my own materials and would work along with the students. For me, it’s easier to visually show someone how to do something than to try to explain it verbally. I guess that’s why I always did well when I apprenticed out in a building trade (I learn better from watching and doing). I would get comments from others, some artists and some not, that by doing this, showing them my techniques, I was essentially teaching them how to do what I could do. That I could be taking sales away from myself. My response was pretty straightforward and simple.

Unlike so many college art teachers I do not see making art as a mystical and magical thing. I see it as a craft (I come from a blue collar working class family). I have long told students that I can teach them to draw and paint but I cannot teach them to be artists. Drawing and painting are crafts like being a carpenter, plumber, mechanic, doctor, lawyer, or whatever. We learn our craft and then we practice it. If we want to be good we practice it a lot. You have to teach yourself to be an artist because it is an internal expression but that expression is difficult, if not important, if you are not skilled in the craft of what you are doing.

As for someone else making paints just like mine, well they can’t because they are not me. Our art comes from the experiences of our lives. To duplicate my art, the shapes, forms, colors, compositions, intensity, and sensibility, then you would have to duplicate my life, and God only knows why anyone would want to do that. Our life experiences lead us all to different places. We have different encounters and interactions. Because of our personal history we understand the world around us differently. The theologian and scholar, John Dominick Crossan, has taught that you can have 4 people all standing together witnessing the same event at the same time and they will all come away with different memories of it. This is because we all filter the events of life through our own personal lens of history.

So, when I say that no one else can make paintings just like mine I’m not being vain or arrogant. I’m being pragmatic. I’ve taught students that our art is a reflection of our personality. Going again to Picasso and paraphrasing him, every work an artist does is a self-portrait. If I am neat and meticulous by nature, my art will be that way. If I’m a sloppy person my paintings will be sloppy. As for me, my paintings are a reflection of me and my mental illnesses.

They are tightly constructed but I try to disguise it with a feel of being casual (my need to try to hide who I am). They have a certain tension because I am a very tense (and intense) person. Because I am filled with oddities and eccentricities, so are my paintings. What is not seen on the surface is that I may have labored for hours or days to get a color or stroke just right. Now I don’t like to have people around when I paint because I’m afraid they’ll rip me off. Rather it is because, for me, painting is a very intimate activity that requires my full attention. It requires me to get lost to everything but the task at hand. I think by nature most visual artists are solitary creatures.

That doesn’t mean that I think artists shouldn’t share ideas and techniques. Quite the opposite is true. I think that artists need to collaborate more frequently with each other. As artists we are not really competing with each other and we should be helping each other with sales, marketing, exhibitions, materials, techniques, and so on. If you sell a painting it doesn’t mean that I’ve lost a sale. The person who bought your work did so because they liked your style and content as opposed to mine. When one artist succeeds we all succeed because someone bought an original work rather than a reproduction or a poster. Maybe someone sees your work but it just isn’t quite what they had in mind so you suggest they look at my work and I sell a piece. Again, it isn’t that you lost a sale (because you never had it) but that a sale was made. Commercial galleries understand this, which is why major cities have gallery districts. It draws a variety of people, with a variety of tastes into a centralized location where they can see a diverse group of works. The best place to open a new gallery is in an area with existing and established galleries.

Well, my mind is tired. I hope I didn’t ramble on too much and that this was somewhat helpful. Also, if you want to quote anything from this for your blog please, feel free to do so. I think I will be using this as my next blog posting.

Post Script

The French artist Ingress once commented to a young student, "Learn perspective then forget it." The same idea applies to composition and yes, even colors. You learn the theory, the mechanics of it and you practice it over and over again, ad nauseum, until you no longer have to think about it consciously, you're able to "forget it" and just do it. It just becomes part of you. Once you are so disciplined in form, composition, color, etc. that you no longer have to think about how to do them then you are finally free to create (including the emotional aspects). The internal chatter dies away and you have an "AHA!" moment. As a painter I can respond and react to what is in front of me visually without having to over-think it. Because of this I am free to follow the rules or to break them when circumstances call for it. I am free to let the painting tell me what to do and what changes are needed. And yes, Paula, an artist's palette is somewhat of a signature mark, just like we choose styles and colors of clothes because we like them and they fit.

And Andrea, you mentioned thumbnail sketches and I agree with their importance. I have learned, however, that what works at 3” doesn’t always work at 36”. I have to constantly re-evaluate and readjust as circumstances call for it. Again it is learning the rules and then having the freedom to break them when it’s right.

The first piece is titled “In Advance Of Winter” and measures approximately 4.5’ high X 7.5’ wide X 4’ deep and is made of mixed stacked wood. I have been spending a lot of time cutting up dead trees, splitting the wood, and stacking it so I can burn it and heat the house next winter. I’m good for about 2-3 hours a day until my arthritis overwhelms me and I have to stop. The next 3 pieces were done on a recent trip out to San Diego, CA to see our daughter. I learned how to not frustrate myself and use available resources and spaces. Two are part of my “Boundary Barrier Series” and they measure 14.5” X 20.5” and 20.5” X 14.5”. The third is titled “Dark Marsh” and measures 20.5” X 14.5”. All are done with artist crayons on paper. Finally is a thumbnail sketch of one of the Boundary Barrier pieces. It is graphite on paper. I’ve included my color notes.

How Long Have I Been Asleep?

2010-02-12T10:47:00.013-05:00

I look back and see that I haven’t posted anything since June 2009. Back in May of that year I went into a bit of a funk. I had just started to come out of it when we made our road trip to California. Even though that trip seemed to be fraught with problems there was a lot of good in it. I got to see an old high school girlfriend and meet her family. More importantly I got to spend time with our oldest daughter. I spent quite a bit of time reading (including fiction which I seldom read), which I don’t do often enough. But for someone like me, a person with OCD, being outside of my normal routines and environment can wreak havoc. The trip stressed me out and put me into a deeper funk.

Once we returned I became even more cloistered. I don’t really mind that, there is not much out in the world that I care to participate in. As Irv Kupcinet said, “What can you say about a society that says that God is dead and Elvis is alive?” The people whose company I enjoy, because they can tolerate my personality, are far and few between and most of them live elsewhere or have died. As a result I usually don’t leave our property more than once a week. Then it’s usually to go to a building supply store for things that I need to buy to fix something around the house, or to go buy liquor. So, since May of 2009 I have only done 1 blog posting (in June) and only made 1 piece of art, a nude done in colored pencil. My doctor added a new med to my regime. It’s an anti anxiety med. She prescribed it because I am, by nature, a very tense person. In the last 15 years I have broken about 12-15 teeth from biting down so hard. So, that’s why I like drinking. Not to mention that having a strong willed adult daughter along with her stronger willed and rambunctious 4 year old son live with us so I tend to get a bit stressed.

Put all of this together and what I wanted to do was to burrow into the ground and pull and an insulating layer of earth over me and hibernate. Metaphorically that’s just what I did. Because I was questioning my life, especially as an artist and whether making art was really important. I just wanted to be distracted and that included avoiding my studio. Some of it was non-productive, like sitting back mindlessly watching movies. Otherwise I did home improvement projects. The problem with that was that projects that should have taken a few days turned into a few months. It was a combination of anxiety, uncertainty, and indecision mixed with physical problems.

At this point in my life I find that I’m good for about 2 hours of labor before my body rebels and gives out. I installed a wood burner add-on furnace to my HVAC system. I probably spent about a month internally debating placement and methodology before I got off my butt and did the work. The same holds true for the simple wood burner in my studio. I was splitting wood by hand using a maul and found that after 2 hours arthritis would stop me. My hands would swell and I would have to pack them in ice. Ibuprofen and whiskey would help the pain while I sat and mindlessly watched more movies. There is nothing like being reminded of your limitations and age especially since I used to be so strong. I have since bought a small electric log splitter and vowed to start splitting wood earlier in the year and be ready for next winter.

But this is also a reminder that I am going to have to change the way that I approach my art as I start to come out of this funk. My hands are stiff and arthritic and don’t have the dexterity that they used to. I cannot control materials they way that I once used to. Everything seems more clumsy. I have less energy and even less stamina.

Yet the depression and physical limitations don’t seem all that bad or daunting. I think about the great Norwegian artist, Edvard Munch, who suffered from depression. He had been hospitalized numerous times. When told that there was a treatment that would cure him, he refused it. He told his doctor that it would change who he was as a person and therefore as an artist. As Monet aged and his eyesight failed his Water Lily paintings became more abstract. I used to spend hours at the Museum of Modern Art in NYC looking at these particular paintings. It was like being in a chapel. When Matisse was old and bedridden, his assistant would tape paper to the ceiling of the bedroom and attach charcoal to the end of a stick so that the master could draw. So I guess that I can find a way around the numbness and stiffness in my hands. I guess that I can take these elongated periods of depression and learn from them and use them. The bleakness makes everything more enjoyable and alive once I resurface.

As I emerge from this particular funk I find that I am dreaming more and the dreams are more intense. At times they are so real I cannot tell where I am and feel like I am in an alternative reality. I take this as a positive sign of change and growth. They fit with the mythological writings of Joseph Campbell, the theological writings of John Dominick Crossan, and the articles that I have been reading on Biocentrism by Dr. Lanza, M.D. There is a sense that change is coming and for a person with OCD it is strange that I welcome and look forward to it and almost eager to embrace it. The idea of the Boundary Barrier becomes even more important. I have started to sketch out more ideas. I am also anticipating more multi-media pieces and experimenting with different materials. My creativity is returning and I begin to have a sense of excitement and renewed enthusiasm.

The first image is the wood burner add-on furnace that I spent way too much time working on. The next image is the small wood stove I put in my studio (again way too much time). Next are the 2 dogs we have added to our household. Have I ever mentioned that we are suckers for unwanted animals? We now have 5 dogs, 3 cats, and a rabbit. First is “Dolly” who we found abandoned on the roadside in the dead of winter (not uncommon in this area) about 1 year ago. She is a pure bred American Pit Bull Terrier and one of the sweetest dogs you would ever want to meet. She looks like the dog “Pete” from the old show, “The Little Rascals” and is probably the best dog with our grandson. I also call her “Wedge Head” or “Pinky” because of her pit characteristics. The next dog is “Oberon.” He is a purebred English Mastiff given to our daughter by the breeder. In this picture he is 9 months old and weighs about 110 pounds. He’s a bit of a runt and will probably max out at about 175 pounds. He is big and clumsy and is afraid of most everything (pretty pathetic for such a large dog) but he is highly lovable. He is called O.B. for short but my wife and grandson refer to him as “Obi Won Kanobi.” I call him “Lumpy.” The next image is from my “Boundary Barrier” series. It is done with water-soluble artist crayons and is titled “Hedge Wall With Bare Trees.” The final image is the only art I have done since May 2009. It is titled, “Woman of Color #1” and measures 20” X 13” and is colored pencil on paper. It ties in with my “Torso Series.”

Hopefully as the days become longer and the sunshine returns I can become more productive before the black dog returns. I guess I’ll just have to wait to find out. In the meantime doses of vitamin D3 and lots of garlic seem to be helping. And so does this wonderful version of the song, "Somewhere Over The Rainbow. by the artist israel iz kaʻanoʻi kamakawiwoʻole

Road Trip

2009-07-17T12:17:00.006-04:00

My wife and I, along with 2 of our dogs are on a road trip. I used to like the adventure of travel, when I was young, but not so much anymore. Every year it seems more trouble than it’s worth.

I haven’t been on a plane in 9 years. When I first started traveling by plane the flying was part of the vacation. There was an exotic quality to it. Comfortable seats, drinks, and food that was even somewhat palatable. When my wife and I started seriously dating she lived in LA and I was up in San Francisco. The fares were cheap enough that I could hop on a commuter flight Friday evening and return on Sunday evening. I always sat in the back of the plane, in the smoking section, and drank a double scotch on the rocks. I only drank scotch, for some unknown reason, when I was on a plane.

Now flying is a chore. Airports are frustrating and their parking lots are a nightmare. When I go through the metal detector I always set off the alarm. I have a surgical steel knee. I can tell them about it and show the 10-inch scar but I am always told, “Step over to the side, sir.” I always smile as they pass the wand over me wondering if this is the time I’ll be strip-searched.

Traveling now means getting in our van and driving. I installed a platform bed in the van. One of us can rest and sleep while the other one drives. When it is late and we are both tired we can pull into rest areas and sleep for a few hours. With 2 dogs, one weighing 90 pounds, and a 12-gauge shotgun we feel pretty safe.

I do love watching the landscape unfold in front of us. The landscape has long had a spiritual and mystical sensibility for me. I am much better at being a passenger so I can just sit back and watch the scenery roll by me. When I have to drive I get easily distracted and very fatigued. I could never be a long-haul truck driver.

Because of my obsessive nature I have been known to drive up to a 1,000 miles in a single stretch (it took me 20 hours). It is the OCD. I don’t like being away from my life and I miss my stuff. I miss the rituals and routines that give a rhythm to my daily life. It may sound funny but all this daily sameness gives me a certain freedom, especially with my painting. The “sameness” is a discipline.

This trip is a little tougher on me. We are not taking the shortest route. We made a deliberate decision to avoid the main highways and to drive the smaller side roads as much as possible. We have been going through real “Bubba” country. The small towns that are true “Americana.” And I forgot to bring my bib-overalls.

This trip has a few different purposes. The main objective was to visit our daughter who lives in San Diego, who we haven’t seen in over a year. It also gives us a chance to see some old friends from LA that we haven’t visited with in over 3 years. The other reason was so that we could visit the town of Paducah, KY.

Paducah is a small town that has fallen on hard times. They are trying to reinvent themselves by recruiting “working artists” to relocate to the town. They are offering artists houses at below market prices and even empty downtown lots for free if you put up a building as a studio and gallery. Paducah seems to know that where you have the arts and artists eventually the economy becomes strong and vibrant. When I first visited Santa Fe, NM about 30 years ago it wasn’t much. Artists came for the scenery and the cheap prices and decided to stay. Now, Santa Fe is a Mecca for artists and a thriving vibrant city. So thriving that it’s tough for artists to be able to afford to live there anymore. So, if you’re an artist thinking of relocating, you can find more info on Paducah’s program at www.paducaharts.com.

The first image is of my bobble-head Jesus that I have on the dashboard of my van. For me it’s a throw back to the 1960’s when good Catholics everywhere had little plastic statues of Jesus on their dashboards. As the song went, “I don’t care if it rains or freezes, long as I got my plastic Jesus, sittin on the dashboard of my car.” My van died just outside of Tucumcari, NM and we spent 4 hours in the hot sun (104 degrees) before we got towed into town. Tucumcari is on old Route 66. The next image is from a new series that I am playing with based on the idea of boundary barriers. The last image is based on looking out my bathroom window. The trees and the brush form interesting patterns. Both of these paintings are done using artist crayon on paper. With both of them I am re-exploring the use of deeper, richer, and more muted colors.

You Want What ?!

2009-05-26T11:19:00.004-04:00

Back when I was about 18 or 19 years old I thought that one of the greatest sins that could be committed was to live a boring life. So back then it was my hope/wish/prayer that I would have an interesting life. There is an old saying, “Be careful of what you wish for, you just might get it!” In my youthful mind an interesting life meant being a successful, rich, and famous artist traveling the world. Well now I know that I should have been more specific in my wish. I didn’t get the successful, rich, and famous part but I sure did get the interesting part. After the last couple of months, with illness and death issues, I was hoping that everything would settle down. Good God how naïve could I be?

I recently found myself at the Emergency Room of the local hospital fearing that I was having a heart attack. Being nearly 60, overweight, and coming from a family of multi-generational heart disease, I became concerned when I experienced light headedness, dizziness, cold-sweats, nausea, and a tightness in my chest which extended to the left side of my neck, shoulder, and arm and didn’t go away after 6 hours when I had tried various home remedies. After spending 7 hours in the hospital receiving various tests and drugs (the morphine didn’t even give me a buzz) I was scheduled for a nuclear stress test and released to go home. I finished those tests a few days ago and will soon find out the results. I do have to admit it is a rather intriguing notion to be injected with a radioactive die solution.

I don’t want to live forever but I would like another 21.5 years even though at times life seems like an endless repetition days. That would give me the time to help raise my grandson to manhood. Regretfully, I have little confidence in his mother (my daughter) and even less in his father. It would also let me achieve my 50th wedding anniversary to my wife, the lovely Louise. After that, whatever happens happens. It does make for an interesting life.

But after all this stress and chaos there is another question that I need to answer. How do I make art out of all of this? This is the stuff of life and it is too good to waste. This is the stuff of life that makes good art. Another blogger, Philip Edson, has questioned me about expressing my “darker” side. As I thought about it I started to use darker and deeper colors. I started to use the landscape to express hiding places. Places where I can go and tuck myself into the shadows while I watch the world. Those places where I am separated, safe, protected, and remain unseen. I have created barriers and hiding places of my choosing. But there is more beyond that, as Philip asked me, how do I express more about my illnesses and depressive feelings? This has been a very good question for me.

My obsessive mind loves this type of entanglement. How do I express this stress and chaos? Do I want to be illustrative and narrative or go in another direction? There is an uncertainty that stalls and confronts me yet I see this as a good thing. If you look at history, all human growth comes from conflict. And if you look at history it also answers a lot of questions. So, I am going back and looking at the work of Rembrandt, William Blake, Edvard Munch, and Francis Bacon. I am also looking at the work of the contemporary artist, Basquiat. I am spending more of my reading time looking at human mythology, especially as it applies to the ideas of boundaries, barriers, and the dark forest. I sometimes lament that I am discovering more of this later in my life when my energy is waning but I’ll take it whenever and wherever it comes. It ain’t over until I’m dead and as I said, I hope/wish/pray that isn’t for another 21.5 years. So, if anyone has any ideas or thoughts about imagery, I’ll be glad to listen to them.

The first two images are from a series of darker colors that I have been working on. The title of the series is “Copse On Rich Street” and they are done with artist crayon on paper and they both measure 14.75” X 20.625” The next is a variation on a previous painting I had done. The colors are darker and the image leans in becoming less open. It is titled “Hiding In The Tall Grasses” and it measures 14.75” X 20.625” and is done with artist crayon on paper. These three pieces are reflective of my need for privacy and to separate myself from others and the world. To sit tucked away in quiet and dark places. The last piece is based on another series I started. It based on the idea of barriers and boundaries. The boundary threshold is an ancient notion known to all cultures providing society with known limits. It provides society with the unspoken “social contract” to which most people adhere. Within these limits are safety, contentment, and mutual support. To go beyond the boundary is to enter the unknown and to risk danger, darkness, and fear. The hope is to survive and to experience life more intensely. The piece is titled “Hedge Wall With Stripped Trees” and measures 20.625” X 14.75” and is done with artist crayon on paper. For me they all have a sense of entanglement and doing everything the same size fits well with my OCD.

Doing The Hokey Pokey

2009-04-03T12:09:00.004-04:00

Recently I received a phone call from my sister, Barbara, out in Seattle telling me that our brother-in-law, Bill had suffered a massive heart attack. Luckily, he survived it. The big dumb Mick, while having the heart attack, drove himself to the hospital. When he arrived in the ER he immediately passed out. In a very short time he was wheeled into the only open operating room available and had a life saving stent placed into one of his arteries. Bill always did have the luck of the Irish. A few days later I learned that one of my oldest friends had died at the end of January. I was numb. Paraphrasing the writer/monk, Thomas Merton, I know that at 59 I am not yet old but I am reminded that every day I am living on borrowed time.

I sat there, with my head in a vise, babbling on to my wife about these two events in my best self-pitying “poor me” attitude. Ever being the comforter my wife took my hand and with the most compassionate sarcasm she could muster she said, “Poor baby, you’ve survived a heart attack and death and you lived to tell the tale.” Like a sharp stick in the eye she brought me back to reality and the present. God, I love that about her. She must have been a Zen master in a previous life.

Brother-in-law Bill is at home recovering very nicely. My friend, Bo, is still dead. One out of two ain’t bad I suppose. That’s a .500 average. There’s an old saying, “The best party I ever went to was an Irish funeral.” When my father died I learned the importance of a wake and the value that it has for the living. So, in a way, this is my wake for my friend.

Bo and I had been friends for 43 years. He helped to foster my budding interest in jazz. The first time I smoked marijuana was at his apartment while listening to recordings of the (original) Dave Brubeck Quartet. He introduced me to the writing of Thornton Wilder and J.D. Salinger. A decade later, through him, I learned of the writings of Thomas Merton, which came to have a very powerful influence on my life and sense of spirituality. He taught me how to shoot pool and how to be a carpenter. Over the years we had many road trips and adventures together. We also had many conversations, over coffee or fine cognac that went late into the night. Perhaps we had a bond because there was a spirit of rebelliousness in both of us. There’s an old movie, “The Wild One” starring Marlon Brando where his character is asked what he’s rebelling against and his answer is “What do ya got?” That was Bo, rebelling but not quite sure of what he was rebelling against.

We were on similar paths but over the years but they began to branch off in different directions. When I first met him he was very liberal. Over time he became moderate then eventually conservative, especially about his Christian faith. Knowing him, I couldn’t understand how he had become a conservative, right wing, Christian. On the other hand I was more moderate in the beginning (although some I know might say I was liberal or even radical) and eventually grew more liberal. Along with an interest in spirituality and world religions, I also have a strong interest in Christianity (scripture, history, orthodoxy, theology, etc.) especially when compared to other religions. I went in a different direction headed towards the more radical boundaries of the faith. These diametrically opposed views, rather than drive the friendship apart made it stronger. He was one of the few that I could argue or debate with and still be intense, direct, and opinionated and not have to worry about it. But then he had similar qualities.

He had a restless spirit and could be a pain-in-the-ass but he had a good heart. Like so many of us, he was filled with a lot of self-doubt and questioned his self worth. He never fully appreciated how much he really touched and helped others. So now that he has joined the cosmic dance (he wanted to join the heavenly choir but really didn’t sing that well) and my wife has poked me in the eye I will pour a glass of fine cognac and enjoy the ride on the stream of my memories.

So, does this have anything to do with art? Well, yes and no. Artists not only reflect the world around themselves but they also reflect who they are as people. I believe that art is autobiographical. It is the trail that I leave behind as I pass through life. Anything that touches my life also touches my art. Who and what I am, both good and bad, shapes the form and content of my work. My landscapes do not depict lonely places (because I am not lonely) but rather solitary places. I like solitude and to have places where I can hide and watch the world unseen (does that make me a voyeur?). They are the places that I go to in order to recharge my batteries so that I can confront the world when necessary. They are the places where I go to really find out if the hokey pokey is what it is really about.

The first image is a photograph from one of my favorites bloggers, Lori Witzel (artist, writer, philosopher and hokey pokey enthusiast http://chatoyance.blogspot.com/). The next photo is one of myself as a young artist in 1969. I was visiting my friend, Bo, when he lived up in Eureka, CA. The third photo is a picture of my friend, Maurice “Bo” Peltier (1938-2009) doing his James Dean impersonation from “Rebel Without A Cause” or as his brother put it, a rebel without a clue. The final image is from a new series that I am working on. It is titled “Copse On Rich St. #4” and measures 14.75” X 20.625” and is artist crayon on paper.

Decidedly Undecided

2009-02-24T20:09:00.004-05:00

In my last post, Phillip Edson left a comment that my art didn’t seem to reflect the angst and such that I write about. In some ways I agree with him and in others ways I disagree so I decided to write about it. For quite a few weeks I have been writing this post in my head and obviously I haven’t gotten very far. I have been looking for a singular approach to it but haven’t found that starting place. My thoughts are many and scattered like the pencils and pastels on my drawing table. There is no order or reason to them. And so, like making art, I just have to pick up one and start. It will probably seem fragmented but I hope, eventually, to pull it all together into a cohesive whole.

Many times in the past I have paraphrased Picasso with the statement that every work an artist does is a self-portrait. The work that I do is a reflection of who and what I am, a snapshot of myself at that particular moment. That particular moment is also a reflection of all my accumulated experiences, good, bad, or indifferent, in life. However, we live in a 4 dimensional existence, length, width, height, and (forward moving) time. Because of this we can never see the whole completely at any given moment.

Imagine looking at a large piece of cut crystal. I can hold it in my hand and at any given moment I can see the top or the bottom, the front or the back. I can see a combination of the front, top, and a side. I can see many of the facets that form the total shape and give it the luster and sparkle it presents. What I cannot see is the whole crystal from all sides and angles at the same time even though it is clear and transparent. Yet, even though it has many sides and facets it is still one crystal that presents itself and reflects the light in many different ways.

I am like that cut crystal (or cut glass in my case). The art that I make is a reflection from one of those facets of my life.

Off On A Tangent

Facets are made because of our life experiences. Some we willingly accept or try to achieve while others are visited upon us. As always, it is not important what we have as what we do with it. As I have said before I have various mental illnesses and I was emotionally abused as a child. Big WHOOP! I am neither alone nor special but as a young man I felt that way and my art reflected those feelings. Like me, my paintings were dark and brooding. My paintings were dark and had a gritty quality to them. My self-imposed artistic hero was Jackson Pollack because of his hard living and self-destructive nature. The suffering soul was an image that appealed to me. I was looking for beauty in those places where most people avoided, the fringes where the discarded gravitated. I did find beauty but not in its classic definition.

Another Tangent

I don’t think that opposites are always what we think that they may be. For example, to me, the opposite of love is not hate. Love and hate are the same strong emotion focused on a person, an object, an idea, or whatever. Mirror opposites, those feelings that are diametrically opposed are really the same thing. For me, the opposite of love is indifference. If I can love you then I can hate you because they are the same strong emotion. If I don’t care about you then I neither love nor hate you, I am simply indifferent to you, i.e. you don’t exist. Love and hate are active while indifference is passive. Does this make sense?

So What Has This To Do With My Art?

In my artist statement I have a quote from the psychoanalyst and author, June Singer from her book, BOUNDARIES OF THE SOUL. She says, “Jung has wisely said that if you are able to observe a quality that is characteristic of a person, you may be quite certain that somewhere in that person the opposite is equally true.”

Being emotionally abused made me feel weak and vulnerable so I filled my work with strong color, shape, and composition. Bravado is just another expression of fear. If I’m “In your face” then maybe I can make you back off and keep from getting too close. If I took something complex and made it look easy and simple then I could screw with you if you tried to do it. I could also contradict conventional thinking. Because I felt so inferior it was a way to feel superior. I was/am expressing myself through the mirror opposite. Because of the angst I am looking for Elysium (or Valhalla, Nirvana, Heaven, The Ground of All Being, The Still Point, or whatever you wish to call it). It is like a long and dreary winter makes me focus more on and long for the spring and summer and the warmth and light that they bring. The landscapes also acknowledge that I like to stay hidden where I can watch and observe from the fringes. I don’t make it easy for others to get close to me by putting up obstacles and barriers and obstructed pathways. Yet the nudes speak to the exact opposite. With everything stripped away I am left completely exposed.

Over time I have no doubt that this will continue to change. The longer that I live, the more facets that will be carved into me. I realize that a lot of this might be as clear as mud. If you wish to question me, please do so. If you have questions about my thinking please ask me. For me, so much of this is thinking out loud.

The first piece is an oil on hardwood panel. It is a triptych that measures 48” X 77.5” and is titled “Tall Grass Pathway.” The next piece is an oil on prepared paper titled “Dark Woods 03” and measures 21.75” X 34”. Next is artist crayon on hardwood panel that measures 11” X 14” and is titled “Half Hidden Barn.” The nude is colored pencil on paper, measures 26” X 20.5”, and is titled “Bathtub Nude.”

Can’t Get No Satisfaction

2009-01-03T15:56:00.004-05:00

A couple of months ago an old friend from high school commented, “I have a good life but it’s not a satisfying life.” This comment became for me the gift that keeps on giving; it gave me something to obsess about. Like a large boulder in an open field I kept meandering around it. Looking at it from all angles trying to figure out why I recognized it. Why I am drawn to and intrigued by it. Among many other thoughts it reminded me of some stories about different artists. These may be urban myths but still are good stories.

The first is a story about the American artist, Billy Al Bengston. As the tale goes, it was said he was doing abstract paintings that had surfaces that were heavy and thick with paint. One day he came into his studio and stood in front of his most current painting. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a revolver and shot all of the bullets into the painting. He then turned and walked out of the studio. Shortly thereafter he began a series of paintings that became known as the “Chevron Series” a set of amorphous paintings that were smoothly airbrushed. It was said that with the heavy abstracts Bengston, “liked what he was doing (the process) but hated the results” while with the Chevron series he “hated what he was doing (process) but loved the results.”

Then there is the artist, Robert Irwin. In the 70’s he was doing semi-conceptual sculptures that were part of the architecture that played on the theme of light, time, space, and perception. He left NYC and moved out to southern California where he rented a street level warehouse space. It is said that he painted the interior of the space black except for the back wall, which was white. He covered all the windows and then drilled a hole in the door turning the space into a large pinhole camera. It was said that he spent a year sitting inside that space watching the inverted street scenes for a year. He seemed to need to change his way of looking at things.

In the 1970’s it was fairly common for art collector’s to pay for an artwork that had not yet been made, to place an order for a future work. The painter, Larry Poons had such a following for his tightly rendered “ellipse” paintings. One day he told his business manager to give all the money back because he was no longer happy doing the ellipse paintings and was going off in a new direction. He started to do large abstracts where, while the canvas was on the floor, he would spatter and pour the paint creating thick and fissured surfaces. These “poured’ paintings became highly successful and numerous other artist followed Poons’ lead in changing styles and directions.

So why the sudden and drastic changes, especially when everything seems to be going so well, when everything seems so good? Maybe we begin to discover that what we really want are things that lie on a deeper level. We begin to develop our psychological and spiritual natures so as to bring an order and meaning to the chaos that we perceive surrounds us. Reinhold Niebuhr (theologian, ethicist, and political analyst) teaches that “profound religion is an effort to answer the challenge of pessimism. It seeks a center of meaning in life which is able to include the totality of existence, and which is able to interpret the chaos of something which only provisionally threatens its cosmos and can ultimately be brought under its dominion.”

I told my friend I also have a good life. I have a good and wonderful spouse, children that I love, and a delightful grandson. Even with all of this I am not quite satisfied. I have a nagging sensation that there must be more. Happiness still eludes me no matter what I try. I no longer look for nor expect happiness and satisfaction rather I just keep trying to move forward, one day at a time, hoping that I’ll eventually find meaning, or at least stumble upon it (probably while looking in the wrong direction). Don’t beat yourself up over not being satisfied (I tried and it doesn’t work) it seems to be part of the human condition.

This dissatisfaction seems to me to be existential angst. This angst is what drives the arts and creativity. It is why so many artists eventually go completely off their meds, something I have often considered, or drink a lot or do drugs. This angst is why people become alcoholics or drug addicts; why people become workaholics; why people become conservative, fundamentalist religious zealots of any faith. This angst is what drove me, as a teenager, to the edge of the abyss to consider suicide. It is what compelled me to live a self-destructive life through my late 20’s. It is why I lived in a monastery for a year seeking spiritual direction and religious bliss (unsuccessfully). I didn’t really know what I was looking for but I knew when what I was doing didn’t fit. I’m 59 years old and I’m still trying things on to see if they fit; I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. As Justice Holmes used to say, “The aim of life is to get as far as possible from imperfection.” I know that I’ll never achieve it because I don’t believe there is perfection in this life. I don’t think that perfection, happiness, or being satisfied is static and serene. I see them as dynamic, growing, changing, and ever moving.

The pieces here are a variety of what I have been working on. The first is from one of my favorite hiking places. It is titled, "Birch Trees in Fall" and measures 24" X 36". It is oil on hardwood panel. The next is one of my figurative pieces. I have been playing with colored pencils and enjoying it. It measures about 34" X 20.5". The next is based on a theme of a dark wooded place. It measures 20.5" X 32" and is oil on prepared paper. The final piece is from a series of torsos that I have been doing. It measures 19.75" X 13.75" and is a combination of colored pencil and artist crayons.

Truth, Reality, and Literalism: Part Two

2008-11-08T15:47:00.003-05:00

This painting by the Surrealist artist, Rene Magritte, intrigues me. It is a wonderful play on words but more importantly it causes the viewer to question his or herself. The title, which is painted on the canvas, is “Leci n’est pas une pipe” which translates to “This is not a pipe.” The viewer looks at it and says, “Of course it’s a pipe, I can see that, it’s very obvious.” What the viewer misses is the truly obvious that this is a painting. It may be a painting of a pipe but still it is a painting. What we actually see and what we perceive may be completely different. This is always the problem with beginning art students and why they have difficulty in what they are drawing. Most often they are drawing what they think they see, because they are not looking carefully, rather than what is actually there. Also because the logical side, which uses language the student substitutes, dominates our brains a symbol of what is there rather than what is actually there.

However there is more to it than that. How we perceive something is determined by the filter of our own personal history and even our personalities. The theologian and scholar, John Dominick Crossan, teaches that you can have four people standing together, all witnessing the same event at the same time and each of them will come away with a different perception and memory of the event. Does this mean that one interpretation is better than another or that very simply they are just different? Because something is real or meaningful to you does that mean it has to be that way to me? Being obsessive I can play with this idea for a long time. Regretfully, society is usually a little uneasy with those of us who think and act a little differently. Maybe that’s why I find it so much fun.

About 15 years ago I belonged to a co-op gallery in this area. We were putting on an exhibit with the nude human form as the theme. First of all because the nude is a beautiful subject but also because this is a conservative area and we knew it would generate some interest. Good or bad we didn’t especially care as long as we got people to react. Included in my work were some nude self-portraits. At the opening my wife asked me if I was troubled by the fact that people, complete strangers, were going to see me nude. I had to remind her that I was fully dressed and had no intention of taking my clothes off at the gallery. I had to remind her that there is a difference between the real flesh and blood me and a piece of paper hung on the wall. The viewers were not looking at me but looking at a drawing. Even though the drawing and I are both real we are not interchangeable. My wife and I, side by side at the same event each perceived the reality differently and that’s just fine with me.

Afterthought

There are many blogs that I used to visit on a regular basis. I haven’t visited them very much lately. Where we live there is no high speed internet or cable. Satellite service is too expense so I use my cell phone to access the web. As long as I am just viewing text it is fine. When I visit sites that have a lot of visuals and images my service stalls and locks up. I hope to resolve that soon and then I will be able to start visiting again.

I haven’t written much lately because I am going through some changes and adjustments. My doctor and I have been playing with my meds to find a better balance. The meds were helping somewhat with the OCD but there was a persistent depression and sense of anxiety. The meds for the ADD weren’t that effective so I went off of them to help save money. There were additional meds that could’ve helped with the depression and anxiety but are not available as generics so being on a fixed income and helping to support our grandson the cost became prohibitive. We finally went back to an old drug that had worked well in the past (Prozac) and increased the dosage. It has helped the OCD and the depression and put me on an even keel but at a cost. My world has become more bland. It feels like I am wearing a suit made of heavy inch thick felt that weighs me down and insulates me. I have to struggle to overcome my own inertia. I go into my studio and wonder why I even bothered to open the door. I remember reading about the painter, Edvard Munch who suffered from mental illness and was hospitalized on several occasions. His doctor offered him a treatment that would greatly help. Munch turned it down because it would affect his creativity. I think about this story a lot while trying to figure out what to do with myself. On the positive side I have better focus for reading. I am currently reading a volume of essays by the theologian, ethicist, and political analyst, Reinhold Neibhur, who was an influence on Barack Obama.

The images included here are a copy of the Magritte painting, “Leci n’est pas une pipe” and I do not know the dimensions but it is oil on canvas. The next is a self-portrait titled, “From My Point Of View.” It is graphite on paper and measures 10.5” X 13.5”. This drawing is about 30 years old and was included in the exhibit I mentioned above. The next is just one of my landscapes that reflect somewhat inaccessible areas. It is titled “Four Birch Trees” and is oil on prepared paper and measures 21.5” X 33”. The next is from my Nudist Series and is titled “Treading Water #2” and is colored pencil on paper measuring 33” X 21.5”. The last 2 are from a series that I’ve been working on based on torsos of average everyday people. They are done with artist crayon over tempera on paper and each one measures 19.75” X 12.75”.

Truth, Reality, and Literalism

2008-08-05T08:39:00.004-04:00

At first glance it would seem that these three words are all a reflection of the same thing. The dictionary defines truth as “Conformity to fact or reality; a verified or accepted fact; that which is true or actual.” Reality is defined as, “Having actual existence, or actually occurred; that which is real as opposed to that which is imagined or merely apparent.” For literal it says, “Not figurative or metaphorical; following the letter or the exact words; to interpret statements factually or unimaginatively.” Now just to muddy the waters further I’m going to throw two more words into the mix, actual and comprehend. Actual is defined as, “Existing truly or objectively; real; now existing.” Finally, for comprehend the dictionary states, “To take into the mind; to grasp by the understanding; to understand; to embrace.” I obsess over these words. Well, I obsess over a lot of things because of my mental illness and because that’s a big part of my nature, these words are just an extra bonus.

How do I understand and use these words and thoughts to better understand the world around me, to better understand myself? As I read and study about creativity and mental illness I am intrigued by how often a mentally ill person has a better grasp of reality than “normal” people. I guess that is probably due to the fact that those with mental illness view reality different from most people and from how the dictionary defines it. I know that this is true for me. Also, my views have been shaped by my personal studies of religion, theology, spirituality, psychology, history, and mythology over the last 40 years. Throw in some art, music, literature, and politics to add some seasoning to the mix along with knowing that embracing conventional thought has never been that important to me.

Does being literal about something help me to understand its true meaning? Does literally depicting something make it accurate or even right? Does accepting something literally make it actually true and rightly objective? Does mythology, which tries understanding truth that is beyond comprehension, uncover more real truth where literalism may hide it under layers of misunderstanding? It is almost like an oxymoron; sometimes truth and reality have to be distorted in order to begin to grasp their real meaning.

My underlying rant here is that I am not very fond of fundamentalists or literalists of any tradition or religion. Life is not “one size fits all.” I know that from personal experience because I have never really fit in anywhere and at my age I don’t really care. I don’t need to belong to the right group or to have all the right answers to feel good about myself. There is more than one right answer no matter what any politician or religious leader might say. Meaning goes beyond mere words. To get to the real meaning I may not only have to read between the lines but to also understand what they meant to the person who wrote them down and why they were important. How I understand something is not the only way to see or understand it. Doing all of this is not very efficient, it may not even be logical but then those are two qualities that I have never been known for possessing.

How does distorting what is literally true and accurate help to convey the real truth and meaning? When I taught drawing I would tell students that sometime being technically accurate would make a drawing or painting “look” wrong. I offered 2 examples that I learned in art history classes. The first was about the British Museum, which had acquired some statues from the frieze of an ancient Greek temple. The curators were surprised at how distorted these pieces look since the Greeks were well know for their accuracy and skill. Eventually one of the curators suggested that the carvings be hoisted up to the same height as the temple frieze. When this was done the statues were all back in proportion and looked correct. These Greek sculptors knew they had to alter the reality in order to make everything look right from the ground because of the distortion linear perspective would cause at that height.

The other example is the statue, The Pieta, by Michelangelo. The physical proportions are distorted on purpose because of the “reality” the artist was trying to show. The figure of Jesus is carved life sized but if Mary were to stand up she would be over 7 feet tall. This was done not only to make the final piece look right but to also depict another truth. The Pieta is not about Jesus or his being removed from the cross. It is a story about a mother. It is the story of her grief and heartache she has as she holds her dead child in her arms. A child who now looks so small and frail.

As artists we have all learned that being technically accurate or literal doesn’t always make something look correct and is not always a good thing. We have learned that there is more than one right way to tell the same truth. We have also learned that sometimes what you leave out is just as important, sometimes even more important, than what you put in. And in my case that having a mentally ill mind gives me a healthier sense of reality.

These paintings depict some of my reality. The first is titled, “At the Water’s Edge” it measures 22” x 34” and is oil pastel over oil on paper. The next is from a series I am doing based on the nudist lifestyle. It is titled, “Come On In”. It measures 30” X 40” and is oil pastel over oil on hardboard panel. The final piece is based on one of my favorite species of bushes. It is titled, “The Burning Bush”. It measures 22” X 22” and is oil on paper mounted to hardboard panel.

Realistically Speaking

2008-06-21T16:25:00.004-04:00

About 10 years ago my family and me made a trip out to Seattle to see my mother. She was 84 and her health had steadily been declining and we wanted to see her before she might die (she died 2 years later). She spent most of her time sleeping so there was plenty of time to go on outings. One of these excursions was to take a car ferry from Seattle over to the Olympic Peninsula, the only rain forest in North America.

Once everything was secured and the ferry was underway the majority of people went up to the main deck. Most gathered in the large enclosed main cabin. Others, like myself, stayed outside on the main deck. Most of these stayed huddled together on the fantail, which was partially sheltered, by the main cabin. It also gave them a chance to watch the city as it slipped from view. One hearty soul stood up near the bow while I went over to the rail at mid-ship to watch the view as it passed in front of me. While my wife and sisters stood back on the fantail my oldest daughter, Melissa soon joined me and we joined into conversation.

When she asked me what I was thinking I told her I was reminded of the phrase of people who are “ahead of their time.” To me, the reality was that you could never be ahead of your time, or behind it for that matter, but could only be of your time. We live in the present moment and that the future and past are only illusions, myths that we create to help us understand our lives. The people who we say are ahead of their time are actually those who are just watching and observing what is in front of them. I went on to tell her that this ferry ride was a metaphor for what I was thinking.

Most of the people who came topside went into the enclosed main cabin. In there they were protected and sheltered from the elements around them. They were free to lose themselves in thoughts, memories, puzzles, newspapers, and anything else that pleased them. A few others, like my wife and sisters, were a little more hearty so they came outside but not too far outside. The main cabin partially sheltered them from the wind and they could look back at the city, the place that they were leaving behind. In a sense, they could look back at the past as it was starting to slip out of view. Then there was the guy up on the bow that wanted to fully face whatever was coming his way. No protection from the wind or the spray of the waves. Even though I admired this stance the problem I saw with it was not noticing what was here and now and losing sight of where he was coming from. My position at the mid-ship allowed me to look forward to where we were going and still see where we had come from while allowing me to enjoy what was right in front of my face.

People who we say are ahead of their time or people who we call prophets are neither. They are merely people who are willing to look at what is right in front of them and are very realistic about what they see. They don’t put a spin on it or dress it up. They don’t deny the realities of who or what it is or try to downplay it. They accept it for what it is. So what does this have to do with art, creativity, or mental illness? I’m not really sure but I’m going to try to work that out here.

Depression causes realistic thinking and/or seeing reality more clearly. Depression keeps the person in the present, in the moment, in the here and now. I think this is why so many people with mental illnesses are involved in creative endeavors. Creativity becomes a reprieve from this harsh reality. I want to escape it but I can’t find the way out. It becomes a tool that helps me to deal with my demons and to keep the snarling black dog at bay. The ancient myth of Medusas tells us if we look at her directly we will turn to stone. The Hebrew Bible tells us that no one can look at the face of God and live. So what is a poor boy to do? How do I look at and confront these harsh realities and survive?

My creative outlets (painting, drawing, photography, and writing) act like a mirror. I can see my demons without looking at them directly. I can create an emotional buffer so that I don’t become paralyzed. It is a way to disassociate without having to totally flee from who I am. I know that it’s a crutch but it is also a survival mechanism. It is what has allowed me to remain somewhat intact all these years.

As I paint I am afforded an emotional distance that permits me to look at myself. I can look at who I really am, at this moment. I can’t really lament the past. It’s already gone and nothing can change it. I can always hope for the future but that is only an illusion, a work in progress. What I can do is to look at what is here right now and if I choose then I can deal with it. I can look at what I have and figure out what I can make with it. That, in essence, is what art and creativity are about, grabbing different elements out of the surrounding chaos and making something out of it. It is my therapy. It is a way to explore who I am without creating too much pain. It keeps me from being too comfortable with who I am and to keep pushing on to who I am supposed to be.

The three paintings here are part of that search. “Winter Passages” measures 30” X 48” and is oil on hardwood panel. “Floating The River” measures 24” X 36” and is oil on hardwood panel. “Moonlight Sonata” measures 30” X 24” and is oil on hardboard (masonite) panel.

Back From The Other Side of The Horizon

2008-05-19T10:17:00.005-04:00

My wife and I agree that this last winter took a heavy toll on us. Whatever cold or flu virus was out there we got it along with our daughter and grandson. It was probably early April before any of us started to feel healthy again. Then there was the snow. December’s mildness lulled us into a sense of complacency. With the coming of January we had one snowstorm after another. At times it seemed like it was never going to stop. Our season total finally came to rest at 106 inches. Once again the snow blower broke down so we had to clear the driveway with shovels, a task that takes about two and a half hours. Even with all these storms the dogs still needed to be taken on walks. Everyday I would walk them 4-6 miles. They enjoyed it far more than I did. This being West Michigan the overcast blanketed the sky and we would not see the sun for weeks on end. It is amazing what constantly gray and gloomy skies along with a lack of sunshine can do to a person’s attitude and outlook. Like the infomercials on television I pause and say, “but wait, there’s more!”

A few days before Christmas my sister, MaryAnn called (there are 3 of us, she is the oldest and I am the youngest). We exchanged pleasantries and updated each other on our families. The conversation flowed easily and wandered through different topics. Finally she asked me some questions about my disabilities and mental illnesses. She was also perplexed as to why, even though we grew up together in the same household, we remembered childhood so differently. That was a very good question. It tied in to what I had been reading about creativity, mental illness and theology (does it take a sick mind to link those 3 subjects together?). Unknowingly she asked me the right question at the right time. The obsessive part of me took over and I was off on a mission, but wait, there’s more!

As all of this is going on I have to deal with problems with our dogs. We got our newest dog about 7 months ago. Her name is Tosca. She is a 7 ½ year old female Belgian Malinois. She was retired from being a search and rescue dog and the family that adopted her could no longer care for her so we took her in. She is intelligent, energetic, and athletic. She also has a strong prey drive and a need to be dominant. She was fine at first then slowly behavioral problems started to pop up. She is fine with me. I am dominant over her (and all the other dogs) and won’t take any crap from her. She has developed a dominance issue with one of the other dogs and has started so many fights with him. My body always has fresh scratch marks from breaking up fights, but wait, there’s more!

Just as I was sitting down to write again the hard drive on my computer froze up. I go off to the repair shop. The hard drive had to be wiped clean, reformatted, and a complete operating system reinstall done. There we several other issues because of being misinformed by the manufacturer, Dell. I also had to get some recovery disks from Dell and entered into a twilight zone of the customer service desk from hell during that process. I also discovered that people in India don’t seem to appreciate sarcasm. Now back to my journey to the other side of the horizon.

Having both OCD and ADD I am able to obsess in more than one direction at a time. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing but I know it’s not very efficient. I would’ve thought that multi-tasking would save time. I started rummaging through my past much the same as you might casually browse through an antique store. There were lots of bits and pieces and curios. I had to wonder why I kept all of these things but one of the manifestations of my OCD is that I am a hoarder. The more that I looked the more I found and I was drawn in even deeper. I eventually lost track of where I was and why I went there in the first place. Mesmerized is a good way to describe it. I saw so many things that I had forgotten about and really didn’t want to remember. I can’t say that it reopened old wounds. Those wounds have closed and scarred over. I could definitely feel an aching in the scar tissue and was aware of it. It sent me into a deep funk.

Being in a funk or being depressed isn’t necessarily a bad thing. In my case I didn’t have to go out and deal with the everyday world. I was free to sit and stare aimlessly out of a window for hours on end. I was free to be incapacitated. Depression can be an effective tool for putting things into perspective. I can get all energized about what I want to do, how I want to do it, and where I want to take it without ever being realistic. My depressions become the great equalizer. It causes me to look at things more realistically and truthfully. In some strange way it helps to break the hold of my obsessions. It also tempers me creatively. It reminds me that I can’t go in all these different directions at the same time. It also, painfully, reminds me of my limitations. Being reminded of who and what I really am is a good thing.

This funk made me pause and reexamine my life and the direction of my art. I found that I needed to make certain corrections to my course. I found myself painting more, as a therapeutic action, but producing less finished paintings. Painting became non-verbal thinking. It freed me from logic and language. It freed me from needing to make sense of things. I have many panels where I would paint them close to completion only to scrape them down and repeat the process over and over again. Some panels have been repainted 6-7 times.

The subjects now begin to reflect more of who I am and the contradictions that I embody. The landscapes portray the part of me that is a recluse. I can hide and be an observer. In being hidden there is a much greater sense of safety and freedom. I am free to do and be who I am without criticism or judgment. In this state I no longer have to spend my energy trying to pass for normal. The nudes present the opposite. All of the new paintings of nudes are based on the theme of the nudist lifestyle, a subject that fascinates me. As a nudist I completely expose myself and don’t hide from others. It is all out there in the open. For me there is again a sense of safety and freedom plus complete relaxation. Once again others do not criticize or judge because we call all see that we are pretty much the same. I have discovered for myself that things that are mirror opposites are actually one in the same thing. The opposite of love is not hate. Love and hate are the same strong emotion and there has to be a connection to who or what I love/hate. For me the opposite of love is complete indifference. A strong emotion versus no emotion.

All of these paintings were completed while in my recent melancholy. The woodland scene was repainted about 6-7 times. It reflects my sense of privacy and complexity. It also reflects that if someone wants to really get to know me they will have to make their way through a lot of brush and brambles. The painting is untitled. It measures 24” X 36” and is oil on hardwood panel. The cattail painting also reflects a sense of privacy and was repainted about 4 times. These grasses by the water always have a calming effect on me. It is also untitled. It also measures 24” X 36” and is oil on hardwood panel. The figurative painting is from a series I am doing on the nudist lifestyle. A reflection of living everyday life completely exposed and in the open. It is untitled. It measures 34” X 22” and is oil on prepared paper.

Creativity, Mental Illness, and the Arts

2007-12-10T15:35:00.000-05:00

I always start out with the intention of writing more frequently. What happens so often is that my own thoughts distract me. Even when I am not all that distracted I become indecisive. Having an anxiety disorder, this is one of the issues that I deal with constantly. I can become paralyzed from moving forward not because I am afraid but rather from constantly debating with myself which direction is the best. Or I may see too many options and cannot decide with to follow first. It amounts to hurry up and wait. My brain has now calmed down a bit and the dust has settled.

Let me first tell you an old joke. The terminology is a bit dated and politically incorrect but I don’t care. A salesman is driving down a country road on the way to his next appointment when he gets a flat tire. The only place with enough room to pull over is in front of the county mental hospital. As the salesman gets out of his car he notices a patient in an upper floor window watching him from behind the bars. “No harm,” he thinks. The salesman open the trunk, gets out the jack and the spare tire and goes to work. Carefully he places the lug nuts into the hubcap so he won’t loose them. As he rolls the flat off to the side a large truck goes speeding by causing a rush of air. The gust of wind picks up the hubcap throwing it into the air scattering all the lug nuts into the drainage ditch and field. Thinking to himself the salesman says, “What am I going to do? How can I put the spare on without the lug nuts?” He then hears a voice calling to him. It is the patient watching from the window. “What do you want?” the salesman says. The patient yells back, “Take one lug nut from the other three wheels and use them to hold the spare onto the wheel. There is a town just a few miles down the road. If you drive slowly and carefully you should make it there and can get everything repaired.” The salesman was stunned this was a great idea. He yells back to the patient, “Thanks, that’s a really good idea. But how, how…?” “How did I think of it?”, the patient responds. “Well I’ll tell you mister I may be crazy but I’m not stupid.”

I may be crazy but I’m not stupid has become one of my mantras. This story shows what society in general thinks about those of us who have a mental illness. Mentally ill people must be in some sense inferior to those who are not mentally ill. Society likes to think that it is not as prejudiced as it really is. One need only go into the work place and tell coworkers and managers that they have diabetes and need to take medication and there will be an outpouring of sympathy and understanding. Yet, let the same person go into work and say I have a mental illness and need to take medication and watch the difference in attitude. Interestingly enough these are both chemical imbalances in the body. Why does society view them differently? Even among people and institutions that can and should know better this same attitude is prevalent. This is something that I know for a fact because it contributed to my losing my last job.

For the past 16 years I have been treated for the mental illness known as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). I used to refer to it as my “disability” but I think that this is a far too gentile word lacking impact. In the last 4 years of treatment and therapy I have come to find out that I also suffer from Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) stemming from my mother emotionally and psychologically abusing me as a child. Please save the violins. I am not looking for sympathy. I am only looking to explain and educate. In the past, especially when I was younger, I kept it secret because I knew that I would be stigmatized and rejected. I changed jobs frequently (every 18-24 months) when I suspected that I could no longer pass for normal. I didn’t necessarily want to be “normal” I just wanted to work and be accepted for who I was so that I could support myself, and later my family, and have money left over to make art.

I eventually got a job at a college in the greater Grand Rapids, MI area. I naively thought I might have found a place to call home because they said they wanted people who could think “outside the box” and that they reached out to people of diverse backgrounds. Being an artist I always thought outside the box and having a mental illness I was about as diverse as you could get. It sounded like a match. The problem was that I believed what they said and they didn’t say what they believed. I was eventually forced to admit my illness. To this educated community it didn’t matter; I didn’t do things their way so I was unwanted. I felt that in dealing with me they were educated enough to stay just within the law but well outside their stated philosophy. As they old saying goes, they weren’t willing to put their money where their mouth was.

That was perhaps one of the best things that happened to me. The US government has now certified me as being mentally ill and disabled. It’s like letting me free from a confining space and no longer having to pretend who or what I am as a person. I am still getting used to it. I am still stretching out and rediscovering long unused muscles. I no longer have to feel ashamed of myself. It is a great relief.

Over a year ago I was involved in an interview by a local newspaper. They came to a drop in center that has been set up specifically for those of us with mental illnesses. It was there that I told the reporter that if I had been given a choice early in life if I wanted to have these afflictions my answer would’ve been no. I did not choose them they chose me. Another person responded by saying if you could now magically remove them from us we would all probably say no. I agree with that statement. These illnesses have hammered, beat, and tempered me into the person that I am. I don’t ask for sympathy but only understanding and acceptance of who I am as a person. To help educate you let me give you a description of the disorder and how it affects me.

My OCD manifests itself in a variety of ways. Counting has always been one of the big things. How many steps with this foot versus how many with that foot; how many times did I touch this object with my left hand, how many with my right hand; stuff like that. I am also a hoarder. I keep useless scraps of paper or whatever because it JUST might be important and then I'll wish that I hadn't thrown it away. My studio is filled with clutter because it is difficult to throw anything away. But don't touch my piles because I know what is in them. I am also a security freak. In our last house I wore out 2 sets of door locks on the front door constantly checking them. I also have a phobia about fire. I have checked constantly to make sure that stoves, that are stone cold, really are turned off. I used to leave for work an hour and a half early to have enough time to go through my security issues just so I could be on time for work. I have never misplaced keys because I have always ritualistically put them in a specific place each day. I also suffer from religious scrupulosicity. For too many years I was convinced that I was condemned to hell for any minor infraction of...nothing...of being human. I also have very low-grade ticks and snorts. OCD is related to Tourette's Syndrome and that might be the connection. It might also be the reason that I am so outspoken. People with Tourette’s blurt out inappropriate words or phrases for no apparent reason. On my last job I would recheck information numerous times for fear of giving a wrong answer to a student and then suffering the wrath of my boss.

My mother's mother had OCD, which manifested itself as religious scrupulousity. My mother had OCD in the form of hoarding and obsessive cleaning of 1 item (her cooking pots) while the rest of her house was a complete disaster. One of her sisters had OCD, manifested as obsessive cleanliness and counting and a brother who suffered from panic attacks. Then there was me with the above symptoms. The next generation is both of my daughters. They both have panic attacks and counting symptoms. The oldest is also a hoarder.

Over the last 40 years I have never stayed at a job for more than 2 years. Beyond that I could no longer pass for normal. I lost my last job because of the difficulties in controlling my OCD. In my case it has given me a very intense, concrete, and direct personality, not the warm fuzzy one that employers embrace. It was not that I was rude or uncaring, as I would so frequently be accused, but I was just very specific and matter-of fact. I am now considered unemployable and on complete disability. My psychiatrist and therapist say that I have an extreme form of the disorder. Ever since I became disabled it has become a bit easier. I no longer have to try to be someone other than myself. I don't have to hide who I really am and at my age (58) I don't care what people might think, and I don't have to try to pass for normal. Talk about something that sucks all the energy out of you.

With the ADD I always had a hard time concentrating or focusing for long periods of time. My mind was always eager to go on to the next thought. In school it was very easy to get distracted and loose track of where I was or what I was supposed to be doing. The same held true in the workplace.

The PTSD gave me an overwhelming need to become strong, mentally, emotionally, and even physically. This may have been due to being beat up emotionally by my mother. If you have ever seen the TV show, “The Sopranos”, think of the mob boss’ (Tony Soprano) mother, the wonderfully pathological “Olivia”. That was my mother. Maybe that is why I use strong color, shape, form, and light. I have a need to overwhelm others in order to protect myself. It may be why I am very protective about my family. It may also be why I have intolerance for things, people, or situations that are unjust or unfair.

Since this is becoming so lengthy I will break this into parts. In the next part I will let you know how this has impacted my art and how I see art and mental illness, in general, working together. I hope to have this posted within 2 weeks. I will include things that I have found as I have been reading about creativity and mental illness. This is more than just about art but creativity in all aspects of life. How people with mental illness see things differently than others and this leads to creative problem solving. But for now let me list a few names of famous people who were mentally ill and had a positive impact on life and history because of their creative thinking.

Abraham Lincoln, the admired sixteenth President of the United States suffered from severe and incapacitating clinical depression which sometimes led to thoughts of suicide as well.

Lionel Aldridge, as a defensive end for the legendary Green Bay Packers of the 1960's, he played in two Super Bowls. During the 1970's, he suffered from schizophrenia and spent two and a half years homeless.

Leo Tolstoy, author of War and Peace, Tolstoy revealed the depth of his own mental illness in the memoir Confession. He suffered from clinical depression, hypochondriasis, alcoholism, and substance abuse.

Isaac Newton, the English mathematician and scientist who formulated the theory of gravitation is suspected of suffering from bipolar disorder.

Winston Churchill, the quote "Had he been a stable and equable man, he could never have inspired the nation. In 1940, when all the odds were against Britain, a leader of sober judgment might well have concluded that we were finished," was written by Anthony Storr about Churchill's bipolar disorder.

John Forbes Nash, mathematician, author of the game theory of economics, winner of the 1994 Nobel Prize in Economics, he suffered from paranoid schizophrenia. He was also the subject of the book and movie "A Beautiful Mind". His son, who is also a mathematician, suffers from schizophrenia.

Michelangelo in The Dynamics of Creation by Anthony Storr it discloses the mental illness of one of the world's greatest artistic geniuses.

The first painting is oil on hardwood panel and measures 24” X 36”. Once again I have been using Dorland’s cold wax medium. I was asked to show a progression of how I get to where I am going. I am afraid that I do not have a very efficient method of painting. There are many layers and one color covers over another. But it works for me and gives me the result that I am looking for. These are phases 2-5. Phase one is the panel primed with an earth tone acrylic and a very simple and loose brush drawing marking out the large masses. The difference between phase 4 and 5 is subtle, the adding of a few red embellishments.

The second piece is oil on prepared paper and measures roughly 30” X 22” and is a continuation of my practicing portrait skills. I promised Jafabrit that I would send her the portrait I did of her. I apologize to her because this ill mind of mine is so easily distracted. I plan on her having it by Christmas.

Authentic

2007-10-28T15:40:00.000-04:00

Webster’s dictionary defines authentic as, “original, genuine; one who does anything with his/her own hand; being what it purports to be; not false or fictitious; genuine; valid; verified; authoritative; reliable.” I have been obsessing about this for the last two weeks because of two separate situations. They both deal with religion and politics.

My friend, Bo, and I have been friends for over 40 years. He was the one who turned me on to smoking pot. He helped to nurture my growing interest in Jazz. He was the person who taught me how to be a carpenter. After all these years I am still pretty much a liberal (with some libertarian overtones) while he has grown more and more conservative, both in political and (organized) Christian attitudes. Like old friends everywhere, we spar and debate on issues that are important to us. Over the years we have learned that friends do not need to always agree.

A public figure that acts as a lightning rod for some of these dialogues is the (quasi) religious leader, James Dobson. He is the head of the conservative socio-religious group, Focus On The Family. Dobson has stated that the two most important issues facing the US today are abortion and gay marriage. Well, not only do I disagree with that statement but I also think that it is a biased load of crap. I see it as a prejudiced statement being used as a scare tactic to manipulate peoples’ thinking. Of course, my friend disagrees. This was a wonderful opportunity for debate. God, how I love a good fight!

I don’t necessarily believe in abortion but I do believe in choice. I believe in people’s rights to make their own decisions on how to live their lives. I also don’t want anyone to interfere with me on how to live my life. I am capable of screwing it up all by myself, thank you very much. I believe that the current worst evil in the US is economic injustice. I believe it to be the root cause of so many social ills. I also see that attitudes on the conservative right as being so screwed up that even a contortionist would stand in awe. Part of my argument against the radical right is that the life is only sacred until it is born. After birth the child no longer matters. If you grow up in poverty with inadequate food and housing, well too bad. If you don’t have health insurance, too bad. Part of the problem is that the radical right just doesn’t want to put their money where their mouth is.

My youngest daughter feels the consequences of this attitude. She is a single mother. Even though she works she doesn’t earn enough (including child support) to support herself and the child. She lives with us and we help her where we can (we are on a fixed income) because we fell that is what an authentic family would do. Her employer does not provide health insurance and the state says she makes too much money to be eligible for health benefits. I somehow don’t see how an annual income of $10,000 is “too much” to support a family of two. I argued to my friend that she was raised in a pro-choice household knowing that whatever she chose to do, we would support her. Her choice altered the course of my life and that’s just fine with me. Without hesitation we chose to support her whereas the state and the radical right chose to abandon her. Last week my old friend sent her a substantial check (he is also on a fixed income) because he knew that to be authentic to his beliefs that he needed to live them and not just talk about them. He put his money where is mouth is.

The other incident is with someone who is becoming a new friend. Rosie is a dancer, a teacher, and a student in a fairly conservative seminary. In her ethics class that day the discussion was about gay marriage. She said it turned into a gay bashing session with hers being the only dissonant voice. She has been selected to present an opposing argument to the class next week. I am not a religious person but I am spiritual by nature. I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church. I have studied Christian theology as well as the theology of other traditions. I am conversant in Christian orthodoxy and the bible. I am, however, not conversant in being a homophobic moron. I’m just a poor dumb artist but I just don’t understand how someone who professes to be an authentic Christian can believe in and speak hatred, ignorance, and prejudice.

About four years ago, our oldest daughter came out to us that she is a lesbian. Our response to her was, “Okay.” She was being true to herself she was being authentic. She is my daughter and I love her. All I have ever wanted for her was to lead a good and happy life. To become the person she was meant to be, a real person. She is one of the most creative, intelligent, and compassionate people that I have ever met. How could I be true to my beliefs and myself if I couldn’t accept who she is as a person?

What does all of this have to do with art? Well, being authentic as a person effects whether or not my art will be authentic. Becoming true to myself, becoming more authentic to myself has never been easy. It means risk and vulnerability. In the case of my disability, my mental illness it means risking ridicule and becoming ostracized. It may sound odd but losing my last job because of this was one of the best things that ever happened to me. It gave me a great freedom. I no longer had to pretend to be someone other than myself. If people ask me if I’m crazy I can proudly answer yes, certifiably so!

That attitude has carried over into my painting. Something happened recently, I’m not really sure what it was, that allowed me to break a link that was holding me back. I was able to break free from concerns about financial success or acceptance in the art community. The more I accept who and what I am the more authenticity I see in my paintings. If my work is not true and authentic to me they will never be perceived that way by anyone else.

These paintings are a continuation of my using the cold wax medium. I am finding that it is really unifying my style and technique. I am finding that my work is becoming more unified as a whole. The first image is a continuation of my daily walks with the dogs. It measures about 15” X 15” and is oil on paper. The next image is based on a bridge that I used to see everyday when I was still working. It measures 30” X 48” and is oil on hardwood panel. The wax medium gives me more confidence to work larger. Finally, poor Jafabrit made the unfortunate mistake of posting a photo of herself and her dog, Rufi, on her blog. Well, I have been wanting to practice my portrait skills so I took the opportunity. If anyone else is daring enough to post their photo or email me one, I will probably attempt one of you. This piece is 24” X 20” and is oil on hardwood panel.

Book Notes

2007-10-06T10:37:00.000-04:00

It has been quite some time since I posted anything. It’s time for me to get back into gear. Life has been very introspective lately. My doctors have been working on fine-tuning the balance of my medications. Where it adds in one place it sometimes detracts in another place. But I have been happy with the results. Not only is my focus better but also my attention span has slightly increased. This in combination with using the cold wax medium I discovered is helping me to make new some old things.

After years of searching and experimenting, the wax medium gives me the ability to get a similar affect in oils to what I had with pastels. I am pretty happy about this. I am able to build up separate and individual strokes in multiple layers with minimal intermixing on the surface. A lot of what is happening on the surface goes back to attitudes from when I was doing color field paintings. There is also a slight color shift. The paintings are still bright just not garishly intense. I am working slower and with more deliberation. I will write more about this later.

So what I have included here are some of the notes I have kept while reading a book on the American artist, Joseph Raffael. Reading becomes a somewhat slow process for me because I am always taking notes. I refuse to mark up a book by underlining, highlighting, or dog earring the pages. It causes too much distraction when I may go back to the book years later. It also keeps me from discovering something new in the book. Anyhow, I hope that you find the notes interesting.

The paintings included here are my experiments with the wax medium and using a technique similar to what I did with pastels. The still life of the apples measures 20” X 24” and is done on a hardwood panel using oils and cold wax medium. The pear still life measures 14” X 11” and is done on a hardwood panel. Again this was done with oils and cold wax medium with assorted elements added using oil pastel.

Reflections of Nature: Paintings by Joseph Raffael
By Donald Kuspit and Amei Wallach

He is an altogether twentieth-century incarnation of a pragmatic romanticism out of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau. Nature “is the organ through which the universal spirit speaks to the individual, and strives to lead back the individual to it,” Emerson wrote. P.9

Nature in Raffael’s twentieth-century cathedral is transfused with the theories of Carl Jung; the teachings of Krishnamurti, Gurdjieff, and Tibetan Buddhism; the poetry of Rainer Maria Wilke and Wallace Stevens. P.9

“To be religious you don’t have to be part of a religion,” Raffael says. P.9

The thing about painting is that it is an activity, and it’s about life and death. P.10

Edward Hopper seems astonishingly close to Raffael in his statement of 1933, the year Raffael was born: “My aim in painting has always been the most exact transcription possible of my most intimate impressions of nature. If this end is unattainable, so it can be said, is perfection in any other ideal of painting or in any other of man’s activities.” P.10

…at New York’s Cooper Union School of Art in the early 1950s, Wallace Stevens, Jung, and Buddhism as taught by Daisetz T. Suzuki at Columbia University were the intellectual air that avant-garde painters breathed. “I am nature,” Jackson Pollock had declared, meaning that he was of nature, not merely an outside observer. P. 12

“My concern is with the rhythms of nature…the way the ocean moves…The ocean is what the expanse of the west was for me…I work from the inside out, like nature.” Pollock was quoted as saying. P.12

Albers himself may be most noted for his investigations into color through the painted medium of stacked minimal squares, but his teaching, honed in the gesamtkunst world of the Bauhaus, was more catholic. “We want a student who sees art as neither a beauty shop nor imitation of nature…but as a spiritual documentation of life,” he wrote. He taught that “color is the most relative medium in art,” and that under no circumstances should an artist get on an aesthetic bandwagon. P.13

Then, as now, Raffael’s paintings took nature as their form and abstraction as their means. They can be read either as whole or as fragmented into thousands of prismatic effects, which, like Thoreau, float with “the impetus derived from the earth and the system, a subjective heavily laden thought, in the midst of an unknown sea.” P15

Raffael married Lannis Wood…together they determined that what was needed for his art was to strip himself of all outward concerns with community and ambition. They moved to France, where painting became the core around which their days were constructed, even to the extent that they slept on a mattress in his studio. P18

Consider the duck (in the painting Galactic Waters III) as the eyeball in Thoreau’s notion of a lake as “earth’s eye, looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.” P. 21

“The mystery,” says Raffael, “is being a human being, finding oneself in this universe, and trying to make head or tail of it.” P. 23

Rants, Ravings, and Ramblings

2007-08-25T16:18:00.000-04:00

The last few weeks have been somewhat busy. Some things were interesting and some pretty boring. A mixture of good, bad, stressful, relaxing, and everything in between. One of my major accomplishments was to somewhat clean up my studio. This has taken up most of my time. You can see from the photos that the studio is far from neat and tidy. By nature I am not a neat and organized person. Still, this is far better than it has been for some months. A little more work and I’ll be happy. I also spent time reorienting the layout trying to better utilize the space. So far I like it.

The art show at the nudist resort was a bust. There were about 20 booths. A mixture of painting, sculpture, photography, woodworking, and jewelry. The only sales were a few small pieces of jewelry. Everyone else, including myself, didn’t sell anything. The year before there was a big turnout and everyone made sales. Oh well, you don’t know unless you try. I was hoping for enough sales to fund the trip for the fair in FL in October. Now, I’ll have to cancel that plan. The cost of gasoline to get down there will cost too much.

We also had a large gathering of my wife’s family at our house. That alone is enough to make me want to head for the hills. These people are okay I guess. Nothing really to make them stand out from most other middle class people. They all want to portray a good image to those around them. They are all concerned with financial success and security. Churchgoers who want their children to get a good education and go on to be successful themselves. The All-American dream. They are all pretty reserved and are always politically correct. So, why don’t I get along that well with them?

For one thing they are all pretty conservative. That, in and of itself, is not a bad thing. I like to have conversations with people who have different views. God knows that I love a good healthy debate with an exchange of thoughts and ideas. When I get together with my sisters and their families that is what we do. I call it enthusiastic discussions but my wife calls it arguing. She was raised in a family where the dad was the patriarch and no arguing or raised voices were allowed. Her family has a definite pecking order and everyone has a role within the family. My background was a little more animated and some of us (me) refused the role that was assigned while my oldest sister assigned herself the role of head of the family, after my parents died, but no one pays any attention to her. It’s like the old saying, “call me what you want just don’t call me late to dinner.”

So fitting in is a bit difficult for me. My wife says that I shouldn’t talk religion or politics. Well, three of my favorite topics are art, religion, and politics. And since none of these family members really likes to talk about art that really limits me. Put that together with me not being conservative. I seldom am politically correct. I am opinionated, outspoken, and have a low tolerance for bullshit. Did I also mention that I refuse to play my role in this family drama?

“If you are young and are conservative, you have no heart. If you are old and liberal, you have no brain.” This is an old saying that I have heard many times and I still don’t believe it. It is interesting, though, to see how people got there. It is even more interesting to see how these same patterns repeat themselves over and over again all through history.

“Freedom is having nothing left to loose.” From the song, ME AND BOBBY McGee by Kris Kristofferson.

A friend of mine who is an engineer and has taught business management classes over the years once told me that companies are only truly entrepreneurial when they first start up. Why? Because they have nothing to loose. Once they get some success they begin to circle the wagons to protect what they have gained. The business model goes from entrepreneurial (liberal) to protective (conservative). People do the same thing. The art community is not exempt from this. How many artists who are well known and famous keep producing the same kind of work year after year? It is a scary idea to risk money and reputation on trying something new. Stay the course and alter your values from what got you there to what is going to keep you there. This is part of what puts me at odds with my wife’s family. It is what has dissolved a friendship with her twin brother that started 30 years ago.

Perhaps because our assets are modest, my wife and I have remained liberal (we have less to loose). My wife’s twin graduated with an art degree and moved to NYC where we met. We were both struggling artists. He was crazy enough to take what little extra money he had and invest it in getting an MFA degree. I invested my extra money in beer. We would visit the galleries and both painted. After 3 years of taking my work around to galleries and getting rejected I returned to San Francisco. He never really took his portfolio around but paid more and more attention to business and remained in NYC. By the time I married his sister a few years later he was still liberal, still making art, and earning his money in entrepreneurial ways while I was schlepping from job to job to pay the bills. Years later, he and his wife started their own business. After many years of hard work it grew into a successful business. With that growth came change. He became conservative and defensive. He had success and understandably he didn’t want to loose it. His success has continued over the years. My wife and I are people of modest means where he and his wife have considerable (by our standards) means yet he doesn’t seem all that happy.

Now, when I see him occasionally at family gatherings he seems to put great effort into avoiding me. The person who once shared many of my personal views now eschews them. The person who thought of materialism as a social ill now embraces the trickle down philosophy of Reagonomics. The guy who I knew as a bi-sexual and would have sex with anything with a pulse (the 3 years I was in NYC he had about 100 sexual partners with 30% being men) now uses my unmarried daughter and her son (my grandson) as a warning to his children about sexual activity and considers Bill Clinton as immoral because Monica gave him a hummer. SIGH. I will say that his attitude that I am not the kind of person he would want to associate with is correct. If I were him I wouldn’t like me either. Hell, I am me and I always don’t like me. But it became clear that I needed to cut the last thread of a friendship that really died years ago. It’s hard for me to move forward when I keep trying to drag the long dead past with me.

Anyhow, all was not lost. I grabbed a plate full of food and a bottle of Chianti and slipped quietly into my studio where I enjoyed time alone listening to Mozart and reflecting on my lack of financial success. I have so many other success of different kinds. My enthusiasm for making art is returning. I finished 2 pieces and have started 3 more using a new paint medium that I am enjoying. As I reflected on the baggage of my past I have been pulling out old pieces that have been around for way too long. When all this wet weather we are having here finally ceases I will build a bonfire out of these paintings and offer them as a sacrificial gift to the art gods. Soli Deo Gloria!

These 2 paintings are a continuation of my Winter Walk series. They are both done in oil on masonite panels with some detail added with PrismaColor pencils they measure 18” X 16” and 16” X 18”. The other images are interior shots of my studio.

Compost and Mulch

2007-07-26T19:16:00.000-04:00

I used to have coffee with a musician that I know. As we were chatting I brought up an idea that he had talked about months earlier. He told me that he was fascinated with my thinking process. At times he didn’t think that I was really listening or cared about what he was saying but then months later I would bring up the idea. Only it had been reframed to my way of thinking. I told him that a lot of my thinking is a real digestive process. The analogy that I used was a compost pile. I take all of these bits and pieces and scraps of thought and through them all together. In the dark and dank recesses of my mind, like in a compost heap, they decay, break down, and reform into something new. Something that is of me. My wife says that it is more like a manure pile since I’m so full of it. The other analogy I used was brewing beer. All the ingredients get mixed together, brewed, and then the concoction is left to sit and ferment. Only once the fermenting process has taken place is the beer ready for consumption. For better or worse this is the way my mind functions.

So, I was looking at a comment left by Lesly Finn on a previous post. She said, “These two paintings seem to come from your struggles.... the dense trees are the problems and worries, then the colours in the background are the plans and hopes beckoning you onwards.” This gave me pause. She was so accurate, so right. For the next week I did what I do best, I obsessed over this thought. It went everywhere with me. It went on my walks, to the store, and into my studio. I turned it over and over and looked at it from every angle. Then I was reading a blog posting titled, This Land Is Their Land, on June 28th from the author, Barbara Ehrenreich. In it she says, “I need to see vast expanses of water, 360 degree horizons, and mountains piercing the sky—at least for a week or two of the year. According to evolutionary psychologist Nancy Etcoff, we all do, and the need is hard-wired into us. “People like to be on a hill, where they can see a landscape. And they like somewhere to go where they can not be seen themselves,” told Harvard Magazine earlier this year. “That’s a place desirable to a predator who wants to avoid becoming prey.” We also like to be able to see water (for drinking), low-canopy trees (for shade), and animals (whose presence signals that the place is habitable). This also struck a chord in me. So, Barbara gets tossed into the compost pile with Lesly, throw in some ideas from the analyst, Carl Jung, which says that within every person exists their opposite. Give all of this a few good turns and the fermentation begins.

These ideas have all come together. My world has recently been turned upside down. Out of that has come some new problems, some new struggles. In one sense I am looking for a way out of that thicket and underbrush. I am looking to get out of all the tangles and into the clearing. At the same time there is a sense of comfort and safety in being there. The trees, brush, and thicket surround me and protect me. This is a place where I cannot be seen. I know that this is a lot of my emotional baggage surfacing.

I also know that as comfortable and secure that this place is, I don’t want to stay there forever and yet I don’t want to leave it behind, at least not right now. What I think I want is to make assorted pathways in and out of this space. I want the ability to move back and forth as needed. There is a nice sense of have someplace to be so that I can learn whatever it is that I am supposed to and to be able to do a little more experimenting away from the view of others. Okay, I think that I’m sounding sappy here so enough, at least for now.

Tomorrow I head down to the nudist resort to do an art fair. It is only a 2-hour drive so it won’t be too bad. The weather is expected to be pretty nice. Temperatures in the low 80’s and mostly sunny. Hopefully it will draw a good crowd. Hopefully the crowd will be in the mood to spend money. The two pieces here are new things that I have been playing with. The first one is oil on prepared paper and is titled “In The Thick of It.” With this one I went back and used some techniques from my abstract color field painter days. The paint was thinned a lot. The first layers were scrubbed on randomly using cheap brushes. I would then start spattering the paint randomly, let it dry, spatter another layer, and so on. The final touches were done with a brush. The second one is oil on panel and it is untitled currently. The main areas were blocked in loosely with thin washes in several layers. I then started going back into it with small brushes and mixing the paint with a medium called, Dorland’s Wax Medium. Depending on how it is used it can give an effect similar to encaustics. I mixed it in a 1:1 ratio with the paint so the color would be translucent as I built up the layers. I have included close ups of each to show the textures.

Twofer

2007-07-18T11:10:00.000-04:00

Okay, this is going to be a posting in 2 parts. I have been tagged some I am going to give you 8 facts about myself. Hopefully they will be interesting, entertaining, and even trivial (I like trivia and trivial facts). Only, I’m not going to play the whole game but only half. I’m going to expose myself but not pass it on.

Part One: Answers to unasked questions

I was born in Cambridge, MA, USA. The Home of Harvard University and Massachusetts General Hospital. Since leaving there at the age of 9 I have lived in Ohio, California, New York, Colorado, and now Michigan. There are a number of other states I would like to live in (including the state of reasonable sanity) but I don’t think that I will live long enough to achieve that goal.

My favorite vegetables are broccoli and brussel sprouts. Most people dislike these two, or a least the brussel sprouts, but God help me I love them. My favorite fruit is grapes. I love eating a bunch of cold crisp grapes. I am also especially fond of them in their liquid version. I just don’t understand why my doctor won’t let me count wine towards my vegetable/fruit servings for the day.

I was an altar boy. Decades later I lived in a monastery and contemplated becoming a monk. It was a good try but not a great try. To this day I still love reading and studying theology, spirituality, and comparative religions. I just don’t like participating in organized religion. Too much politics.

I have a dry sense of humor. I also love bad puns. You know, the kind that make people roll their eyes and groan and think that I must be off my meds. Speaking of being off my meds, I also like dark humor.

I am a conservative. People I know are shocked when I say that because they have thought of me sometimes as a radical, sometimes as a libertarian, but mostly as a liberal. I believe I’m a conservative because I believe in the Constitution of the United States and the principles, beliefs, and thinking of the founding fathers. I think that people like Richard Nixon and George W. Bush are radicals (not to mention demented and out of touch with reality) because they want to destroy all of that. Other great radicals include Jerry Falwell, Pat Roberstson, and James Dobson, who hope not only to destroy the USA but Christianity and anything that resembles sanity and intelligent thought.

I do not suffer fools very well. Stupidity is a mortal sin. Now this is not to be confused with ignorance. An ignorant person doesn’t know any better but is open to learning. A stupid person is someone who does know better and just doesn’t care. Regretfully, science has not found a cure for stupid.

My taste in movies leans to intense psychological dramas. I think that this is because I am not a warm fuzzy person. I’m a curmudgeon and proud of it. As for TV, I’m a sucker for most anything on the history, discovery, or the learning channels. My wife and I are also suckers for forensic shows. We both now know how to do away with each other and never get caught.

And last, but not least, also has to do with part two, Oscar Wilde said, “If God had intended for me to be naked, I would’ve been born that way.” Well, I was born that way. I was born naked. Actually, after exposing myself to you with all of the above there seems to be no point in not telling you that I am a nudist and that is the naked truth!

Part Two: All Shook Up

As I last posted, my world has been topsy-turvy for a while. Things are beginning to settle down and fall into place and some good things are coming from it. I haven’t been painting much but that seems okay to me. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of picture framing and getting things ready to do an art fair at the end of July. The Turtle Lake Resort, a nudist resort, in Union City, MI (southern MI between Kalamazoo and Battle Creek) is having an art fair. They are doing this for a few reasons. First, an art fair is a good thing. Also, this gives artists a venue to exhibit artworks of nudes without viewers getting bent out of shape. It also gives the resort a way to market to non-nudists, called textiles, in order to introduce them to nude recreation. I have done a similar fair down in Kissimmee, FL (just outside of Orlando) and it was great for exhibitors and patrons alike. I will be doing that fair again in October.

A resort like this is peaceful and calming because it removes so many stereotypes that people have about each other. Without clothing you don’t see social or economic status, liberal or conservative, job position or status. You don’t see the things that make you or I different or that separate us, you only see that we are all the same. We ate the same basic 2 models with variations on a theme. Sans clothing, a lot of psychological barriers are removed and people converse more easily and openly. Stress is reduced because everyone’s flaws are showing and no one is held to an unattainable standard of beauty or image. In a society that equates happiness and fulfillment with wealth and beauty this is a big deal. Because of my disability I often feel like an outsider. With other nudists I don’t feel all that different. Besides, for an artist what better way to get in some life drawing?

I have started painting again. I have been playing with some different materials and techniques. There has also been a shift in my palette. It is as if recent events have shifted my axis 3-5 degrees off center. Not a real big change but over time it will be significant. I am approaching this slowly and seeing where it will take me. Right now it feels very good and has me hopeful. In my next post I will write what has been going on and post the images.

These three pieces were done for a friend I know from when I was in high school. He was part of a community group that worked and volunteered to help beautify their city by planting trees. They have put together their own book and these paintings are to be included in it. They are all oil and oil pastel on paper. They are all 9” X 15” to fit with the 11” X 17” book format. The name of their project is “Trees For Menlo.”

Changing Times

2007-06-26T17:08:00.000-04:00

These past few months have been tough on me. It is like living inside of a snow globe, one of those objects where you shake it and watch snow flakes swirl and drift over a scene in the globe. With OCD I need certain predictability, a certain consistency in my life. Without this my anxiety levels rise, my thinking becomes fragmented and scattered, and I have a hard time functioning. I feel like I am wandering aimlessly in a heavy fog. This isn’t necessarily bad. Life, the great I Am, in its infinite wisdom knew it was time to shake up my life and see where everything settled down. I know that it is a good thing that will bring new growth and ideas. I know that in spite of my doubts, I will survive the anxieties and the uncertainties. I know all of this I just don’t quite believe it yet.

The patterns of my life have been turned upside down so that we could accomplish some short-term goals. We have helped our daughter move across the country and get settled into her new life. We have finished fixing up our house after endless hours of work. The hardwood floors are refinished and new carpeting installed. New paint, inside and out and all the maintenance projects are finished. The trees are trimmed and the flowers are blooming. We had real estate agents come over and evaluate our house so we might sell it. It now turns out that we will stay here for a while.

The economy in Michigan is horrible and the housing market is even worse. People are selling their houses for thousands of dollars less than what they paid for them years ago. We are not willing to do that. Moving, for us, is a choice not a necessity. We want to get away from cold harsh winters. Otherwise, we like our house and its location. Our house is fully paid for and we are comfortable. We are disappointed but not sad. We will wait out the economy.

Even though this change, moving, will not happen for a while all of this has set into motion other changes. Time away from my studio has forced me to look at what I am doing with my artwork. What I saw did not make me very happy. In fact it put me into a bit of a depression.

To me, a lot of my work looks stale and lifeless. It does not have the energy that I am looking for and that I desire. Drawing has always been important to me. In fact I prefer drawing to painting. I look at my work and I have lost the sense of drawing in it. I want to go back and reincorporate drawing into the final image. I want that spontaneity, that sense of moment, of the here and now. Drawing has more of a sense of the temporary, preparatory, and even fleeting. Drawing is more like life, a fugitive on its way to becoming something. That transitory nature, that sense of impermanence intrigues me.

I do not need to reverse direction but I need to adjust my course. I need to refocus on those things that are vital and important. Everything else can be thrown overboard.

Both of these paintings are from my Winter Walk Series. Both are oil on prepared paper.

A Mixed Assortment of Things

2007-05-19T14:12:00.000-04:00

Things have been very busy lately. Much too busy for my taste. We have numerous projects going on that all seem to be headed in different directions. I don’t even seem to have the time to visit the various blogs that I like to read.

We have been getting our house ready to put up for sale. It is time for us to move on. Our oldest daughter is moving and my wife and I are tired of the winters. I really dislike all that goes into this pre-sale preparation. We have torn out the old carpeting. The new carpeting is set to be installed in about 2 weeks. At that time we will have to shuffle the furniture all about. We also had new kitchen appliances come in. They have all been installed and are functioning wonderfully. We have also started to strip the hardwood floors and get ready to refinish them. In any future house that we have, I want to have concrete or ceramic tile floors for the easy maintenance and durability.

My wife has also decided that this year the garden should have raised planter boxes. So, I built the boxes and ordered in topsoil. This was just pure grunt labor. I had to wheel barrel the dirt about 100 feet. After a couple hours of that I was pretty much useless for the rest of the day. My snow blower broke this last winter so with all of the shoveling I am nursing a torn rotator cuff in my left shoulder. Getting old is truly an adventure. But that is all done and we will have loads of fresh vegetables this summer since my wife loves to garden.

My oldest daughter is moving. She was born in California and has always wanted to move back there. So, she loaded all of her belongings into my cargo trailer and we drove out to San Diego, CA. She doesn’t have a job yet but has enough money to survive for about 3-4 months. We don’t worry about the job. She went to school to study and become certified as a Radiological (X-Ray) Technologist. I am very happy that she is moving forward with her life.

The trip out here had numerous problems ant set backs. Now that we are here everything has gone pretty smoothly. In the first week she found an apartment, moved in and set up her household. Found all the nearby markets, Laundromats, and other necessities. She found a good auto mechanic who is honest and reasonably priced. She even managed to get some job applications and resumes sent out.

Monday morning we leave and head back to Michigan. We will go by way of Bisbee, AZ, a little artsy-fartsy town in the desert. Then on to Silver City, NM and we will go through the much-fabled town of Roswell, NM and then through Fayetteville, AR. I haven’t done much art on this trip. I am mostly using my camera and done a few sketches. I did find a great art supply store and bought myself some toys, extra large oil pastels made by Sennelier. I am looking forward to getting home and trying them out.

The 2 pieces here are some different techniques I have been playing with. The landscape is titled “The Winter Blues”. It measures 20” X 16” and is oil and oil pastel on prepared paper. The nude is titled “Model with Hairy Armpit” and I think it measures about 23” X 17” and is a mixed media piece. I have been building up thin washes of oil and at various times drawing back into it using graphite, litho crayon, and oil pastels.

Tiny Bubbles

2007-04-10T15:04:00.000-04:00

I remembers the entertainer, Don Ho, made this song famous. This song is playing over and over again in my head. Perhaps it has to do with the way my thoughts have been lately. A great stress has been removed from my life and my mind is free to relax. Tiny bubbles of thoughts, random ideas, and obscure memories are escaping from the recesses of my brain and rising to the surface. Like leaves blowing in the wind, I never know what will come by next. It doesn’t matter what or when is coming by, I am just enjoying the show. So, my comments may seem fragmented and disjointed, this is okay. There is a thread somewhere that ties them all together. I just haven’t found it yet and I’m in no hurry to get there.

I have been reading the book, PRIMITIVE MYTHOLOGY: THE MASKS OF GOD, by Joseph Campbell. Campbell was a professor of literature at Sarah Lawrence College who had a lifelong interest in mythology. From him there is the thought, “When Housman writes that ‘poetry is not the thing said but a way of saying it,’ and when he states again ‘that the intellect is not the fount of poetry, that it may actually hinder its production, and that it cannot even be trusted to recognize poetry when it is produced,’ he is no more than reaffirming and lucidly formulating the first axiom of all creative art – whether it be in poetry, music, dance, architecture, painting, or sculpture – which is namely, that art is not, like science, a logic of references but a release from reference and rendition of immediate experience: a presentation of forms, images, or ideas in such a way that they will communicate, not primarily a thought or even a feeling, but an impact.”

I also have been thinking about what I recently wrote about my grasshopper mind. Jumping here, there, and everywhere. How at times I lament the lack of forward progress. As I look at it now, the zigzagging has created many interesting marks and patterns in the course of my life. That there has not been this straightforward logic of references but relying much more on what has had an impact on me. This is, perhaps, the unifying thread. And what has had an impact on me has been a great variety of things.

Jafabrit commented on the “Jack-of-all-Trades” and how culture downplays that role. Sadly, this is too true. The Jack-of-All is no less focused, no less competent than the Master-of-the-Trade. They are just two different methods, two different paths to the same end.

I also think back on the comments by Lori Witzel. She said the Impressionists had their Salons because of the rigidness of the Academies. I am guilty of becoming rigid because of how many galleries think and function and because I wanted to be able to be accepted and fit into them. To that I can only say, SIGH and mea culpa!

It is time to take lessons from my grandson as I watch him play. I watch him explore his world. He examines the things around him and accepts them for what they are (most of the time). He has a willingness to try many things and not limit himself. No concerns of will it work, will it be accepted, and will I suffer rejection? He makes things and with a great, HAH he presents it to everyone and then goes on to the next thing. So, I need to go back and start making things that have some sort of an impact on others and me. I need to start making things again where when I am finished that I can stand back and go HAH!

There are too many thoughts running through my head right now, like a runaway train. I need to go sit and meditate and reflect. To let things settle down and see what new bubble rises to the surface this time. Also, as an alternative to the academies, salons, and galleries, my wife decided that she would start a small part-time business as an artist representative. She started, if you will, a cyber gallery to show my work and to see if she can make some money from my obsessions. You can find it at www.emfineartstudio.com. All feedback is welcome.

The first image is part of my Winter Walk series. It measures 10” X 18” (25.5 cm X 45.75 cm) and is oil and oil pastel on prepared paper. The second image is a piece that I did for an exhibit at a church. It is titled, “Let Them Fall Where They May” and is based on the Christian parable of the sower and the seed. It measures 38” X 36” (96.5 cm X 91.5cm). It is mixed media. The landscape is oil on panel; the birds are made from steel wire, masking tape, paper mache, and spackle; the vines are cut from a bush I found on one of my walks.

Grasshopper Mind

2007-03-27T13:16:00.000-04:00

A thousand times a day
I resolve myself
to do something.

A thousand times a day
I resolve myself
against it.

Grasshopper mind.

I wrote this poem back around 1978. Around that time I was also reading a book about the French Minister of Culture and philosopher, Andre Malraux. One of the things that he commented on was that whenever you choose a path, you leave all other paths unchosen. A simple thought that has complex implications. This thought haunted and hounded me for a long time. I had a need to find a way around it. I became obsessed with it. It was a sickness, literally. That sickness is my OCD and it is an anxiety disorder.

Every time I would start to explore one path, to see where it might lead me I would become anxiety ridden that it might be the wrong path. I would have to stop and go back and start over on another path. Part way down that new path I would become overcome by the same concerns and anxieties. Once again I would stop, turn around and go back to the beginning to start over. Sometimes it might be a change in materials and techniques. Other times it might be a change in subject matter. Sometimes I might be so indecisive that I would do nothing but make excuses for a while. I don’t think that I was really aware of it at the time. Now, I can look back and see why I didn’t make a whole lot of forward progress. This is one of the realities of my life. This is how I have lived most of my life.

In some cases fear can be a motivating force. Fear of becoming trapped in a life that I saw as filled with unhappiness motivated me to say goodbye to family and friends and move alone to the other side of the country. Fear of wondering if I would wake up one day as a stagnant old man and wondering what might have been if I had just tried motivated me to attempt various things. In other cases it can cause paralysis. Fear of trying something because I might fail. Fear of trying something new and different because I might be ridiculed or be seen as strange.

Youth had its own set of anxieties and resolutions, as did every decade of my life. Now I’m getting older and I don’t have as many years to screw around and indulge myself. The greatest anxiety now is that I might not discover whom I truly am and what I am supposed to be doing before I die. Yet, jumping from one path to another seems so counter productive to achieving this goal.

Now, I have long believed that the solution to a problem, any problem, lies within the problem itself. If I sit quietly and think about it, pray about it, reflect on it or contemplate it, the answer will make itself known. This sounds easy enough but how many things are easier said than done? What also adds to the difficulty is that the answer might be something that I don’t want to hear. Actually, it might be something that I am not ready to hear or accept. Big difference. I try to make myself fit into cultural norms that just don’t work for me. It is not that these norms are wrong but rather one size does not fit all.

I look at the work of other artists and I see unified bodies of work. I see a cohesive whole that moves forward with deliberation and purpose. Then I look at myself and I see zigzagging all over the place. So what’s a poor boy supposed to do? Well, the answer for me is to accept the fact that my path is a crooked path. In the Judeo-Christian Bible the prophet, Isaiah says that God makes straight lines with crooked writing. I can relate to that idea. In a recent post the blogger, Philip Edson does an interview with the artist Jafabrit and discusses her work, which she calls interstitial art. She defines this as “Art that blurs the divide between fine art and craft, high art and low. Art that crosses boundaries.” Jafabrit goes on to say, “I love so many types of art and the process of doing them. Over time each discipline/medium has added to my repertoire and each satisfies a creative need.”

Perhaps I have spent too much of my time being obsessed with achieving some form of financial success or recognition. Those aren’t really bad things especially when you are trying to support yourself. But trying to be someone other than who I really am isn’t a good thing either. A recent event has freed me from an anxiety that was a major stumbling block. Now, as an artist, I am free to be a happy wanderer. Free to wander along a road that goes here, there, and everywhere. Free to embrace my anxieties and eccentricities and see where they lead me. God knows fighting them and trying to deny them only left me tired and frustrated.

The above paintings are a continuation of my attempts to combine representational with abstract. They are all oil and oil pastel on prepared paper. The first is titled, “Standing Alone” and measures 20” X 16” (51 cm X 40.5 cm). The next measures 24” X24” (61 cm X 61 cm) and is titled, “Distant Echo.” The final piece measures 24” X 18” (61 cm X 46 cm) and is titled, “Red Hot Mama.”

The Politics of Illiteracy

2007-03-07T13:42:00.000-05:00

An educated population can govern itself. I am not sure if this is an exact quote but it is attributed to the American Founder, Thomas Jefferson. This is a sentiment that I agree with completely. I not only believe passionately in education but more importantly I believe in knowledge, wisdom, and creativity. These attributes all seem to be in short supply in today’s world. I look back over the last 4 decades of my life and I see a general decline in education and the ability of people to think critically. I have seen people, in general, shun the responsibility for their own lives and place failure on some mythical other. This both saddens and frightens me. I have to ask, what happened?

Over the years the educational system has been blamed for this problem. I think that this is somewhat true but I put a greater share of the blame on the politicians and on society itself. The USA is a very materialistic culture that is driven by consumerism. It is very good at being goal oriented without really understanding the consequences of its actions. It is an impatient culture that wants results and wants them now.

Education, for me, is learning how to think critically and learning how to ask the right questions not learning how to memorize the correct answers. It seems simple enough; you can’t solve a problem if you don’t know what is the real problem. The danger here is if you or I ask too many (or enough) questions we will find the answer but we may not like it. We just might discover that we are the problem. God forbid that we should live an examined life. We want absolution but we don’t want to have to admit fault or have to change so there is only one real course of action, delusion. In step the politicians, the corporations, the churches, and yes even the schools. They are happy to provide this service because it is profitable and gives them control. Here I think of two things, the book, A Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley and the movie, The Matrix. If you are not familiar with them you should research them. They are both entertaining and educational.

Back when I was in high school (1964-67) not everyone was considered to be college bound. Skills and temperament decided that some would have their education geared to going into the job market after graduation. This could be in business, manufacturing, or the skilled trades. Those of us that had the skills and temperament for college were given a more rigorous and well rounded education. We studied advanced math, laboratory sciences, literature (American, French, English, and Russian). We took foreign languages, music, and studied art. We even had to take the dreaded P.E. (physical education or gym). It was to make us well rounded and expand our worldview. It was to teach us to understand our world. We fear what we do not understand. If we want to remove fear then embrace understanding. To understand we need to embrace learning and thinking.

What does all of this have to do with art, especially abstract art? I comes from my last post where I said, “It was way too easy to think that people didn’t understand (abstract art) because they were illiterate about art.” This is true. What is also true is that I was expressing my own frustration, or guilt, at not having the skills to make others understand what I was doing. I am very good at feeling guilty. As a child my mother controlled me by using guilt. Later the Catholic Church got in on the act. Now that I am grown up I can feel guilty all by myself. There is something else at work here, though. I learned how to think and because of that I feel that I have the responsibility to make others, who have not learned how to think very well, understand what I am doing and saying. Art is a dialogue between the artist and the viewer. I realize that I am personalizing it way too much when I take the blame for someone else not understanding it. Guilt, the gift that keeps on giving. By doing this I may have become part of the problem by trying to dumb down or pander to the viewer’s inability to understand. It may also be a sign of my own insecurities and wanting to do something that was more readily acceptable. Silly me, I’ll never be able to survive in that world.

So yes, Philip, we are both coming at this issue from slightly different directions but our thrust is the same. Education is failing because it has become a bureaucracy just like the government and any large corporation. The primary goal of any bureaucracy is to sustain and protect itself. They are not there to serve but to be served. These worlds are exclusive, they are there to support the elite. This is not the world that I want to live in. I want to live in a more inclusive world. As a culture we say we value thinking outside the box to solve problems. The reality, I believe, is that we fear it because it upsets the order and rule of the elite. This is a culture that claims it embraces the Judeo-Christian tradition. This tradition says that we are all created in the image of God. Well, God is creative so we are all created in the image of creativity, to be creative. So I have to ask the question, why do we, as a culture, try to beat the life out of creativity in our children, our schools, and jobs?

The above images are my trying to combine abstract and representational methods. The first is soft pastel, measuring about 16" square. It is titled, "4 Yew" and is about 10 years old. The other image is oil pastel. I don't remember the size. It is titled, "Red Field, Green Road and was done about 4 years ago.

Now, Where was I?

2007-03-01T12:56:00.000-05:00

This saga of my life goes on a bit more, dear reader, so I hope that I am not boring you. I know that it has been interesting for me to revisit my own history and look back over my old work. As the old saying goes, if you fail to learn from history then you are doomed to repeat it. It is also hard to know where you are going if you don’t know (or remember) where you have been.

I really like abstract art. I enjoy looking at it and I enjoyed making it. What I did not enjoy was constantly being asked, “What is it?” or “What does it mean? Or especially, “My kid could do that!” I got tired of explaining myself. I had to use too many words to explain a non-verbal form of communication, i.e., painting. It was way too easy to think that people didn’t understand because they were illiterate about art. As the artist, I am the one responsible for communicating. I am the one responsible for making the viewer understand. For me to believe otherwise would be for me to agree with those artists who only created for the critics or the art intelligentsia. I am way too blue collar (and perhaps too pedestrian) for that to happen. I wanted to find a way to combine what I liked about abstract art with what the average viewer might be able to appreciate.

I also had a need to prove to myself that I really did have the skills and abilities to be able to draw and paint what I saw. This is one of the stumbling blocks of my disability (OCD) that I have to constantly recheck, reaffirm, and reprove everything. I had also remembered a book that I read about the artist, Henri Matisse. I remember it saying that after he had been declared the FAUVIST, the wild beast that he had set up his own school. The story goes on to say that many students were disappointed because he had them doing academic studies first before he would permit them to go onto more free style work. The basic attitude being that you had to know how to do it correctly before you could do it in a distorted manner. This is echoed in a story that I heard about the American artist, Frank Stella, having a conversation with the British artist, David Hockney. The story goes on to say that Stella expressed regret that he never learned to draw and that he was limited in his art because of it. True or not it is a great lesson. True or not, it is something that I have obsessed over ever since then.

The obsession is how do I combine the best of both of these worlds, abstraction and representationalism? This is the path that I have set myself on. I do realize that it may be a fool’s errand but it doesn’t seem to matter to me. Part of it becomes to find the sacred in the everyday ordinary things. I remember the movie, American Beauty, where there is a scene of the young videographer, showing a bag endlessly caught in the swirls and eddies of the breeze. This is a scene of the common place being recognized as a moment of poetic beauty.

When I look at my paintings of silent prayer I ask, can I find the same thing or theme in the world around me? I believe that I can do this. For me, the landscape has become a metaphor. In the landscape there is a metaphor of the spiritual and all things living. The common place that shows itself to be more than what it really is, or to be more than what I think it may be. There may be a brief moment when the light shines on an ordinary object, like a pear, and the shapes and colors come alive in a way that I have never noticed before. That in these simple things I become aware of something that is eternally true yet hidden in plain sight. I am not sure of what it is that I am looking for I just hope that I will recognize it when I see it. My life seems to be more subtractive than additive. I don’t know what it is that I am looking for but I know what it isn’t. So, I have to keep trying things out until I finally get it right.

These are all pieces from the last 10-25 years. The first two are portraits of my wife, and her dog, shortly after we got married. I was re-exploring my love of Matisse and the Fauvists. They are both oil on gessoed watercolor paper. The others are soft pastel on prepared paper. I needed to prove to myself that I still had drawing skills. Looking at the works of Edgar Degas, Mary Cassatte, and Wayne Thiebaud influenced the use of the pastel.

Love and Marriage

2007-02-12T18:31:00.000-05:00

The past few weeks have been both hectic and stressful. The weather has been horrible. Our youngest daughter was rear ended while going to the store. She was hit by a large SUV who was driving faster than visibility permitted. She’s okay but the car needs repairs. Dealing with insurance companies are always such a hassle. Then my computer has been having numerous problems. The other week the hard drive started to make noises that hard drives just should not make. I finally bit the bullet and got a new computer. A very nice Dell laptop. I also had to get a portable hard drive since the CD burner on the desktop died and get a new printer. The old printer died about 3 months ago. Having new toys is nice but such a hassle loading software, transferring files, and all that good stuff. Plus the new computer has VISTA, which has numerous issues of its own.

The hardest thing, though, was having to put down one of our dogs. Her name was Hope and she was a Sheltie mix. We took her in about 14 months ago from the Humane Society. My wife volunteers there and we decided to foster her because she was unadoptable due to age and medical problems. My daughters and I saw months ago what my wife would only now admit to, the quality of her life was gone and everyday was a struggle for her. Like all of our other pets, she will be missed.

So, on with my art journey. I stayed in my SF loft for about 2 years. I had the opportunity to move to NYC so I jumped on it. I figured that at least once in a lifetime every artist had to make his or her trip to (art) Mecca. So, I went and paid homage and bowed down before the great gray temples of the art gods. I went beyond intellectual, in my art, and started to become more cerebral. I saw a lot of art. Some I liked, most I thought was bad. Too many artists seemed to be making art for the critics and the art intelligentsia. Some seemed to spend more time working on their reputations rather than their art. The art scene was very political and I am not good at politics. In fact, I suck at it. After 3 years of being chewed up and spit out by that city, I decided that I had had enough and headed back to California.

I spent the next several years mucking around with various things. Artistically I was not very productive. I spent too much time drinking, chasing women, and making excuses for why I wasn’t productive. It was a very dark and depressing period for me. I started to re-explore spirituality to try to make sense out of everything that I was dealing with. I did a lot of reading, from the early church fathers through contemporary writers and theologians. One of my favorite authors was a Trappist monk, Thomas Merton. His work had such an impact on me I eventually ended up living in a Catholic monastery (I was raised and lived for many years as a Roman Catholic). After awhile I discovered that these guys were more neurotic than me and that celibacy thing was really becoming an issue for me. About a year and a half after leaving the monastery, I got married.

I remember back to reading a book about the American sculptor, David Smith. In the book he expresses that the best sculptures of the 1950’s never got made because the artists were too busy just trying to put food on the table, to support their families. I think that any artist who is married and raising a family knows what this is like. Between working a full time job and dealing with kids, there is never enough time let alone money for materials. It becomes easy to get frustrated and just give up. However, I am a stubborn S.O.B. who doesn’t like to be told I can’t do something so I dug in my heels.

Creativity seems to be a balance of the inner needs of expression and the external limitations that life has handed me. I spent too many years being frustrated by focusing on what I could not do rather than adjusting to what I was capable of doing right then and there. Large paintings were going to be a thing of the past. I did not have the time or money to work that way any longer. Everything had to be scaled down including the amount of time I could spend painting.

I continued to work abstractly and was looking to focus on a specific theme or direction. As a young artist I wanted to make important statements but never felt that I had anything important to say. Now, after many years of spiritual studies and meditation I wanted to try to paint some of those thoughts and ideas. To create a visual prayer book. I remembered reading about the Rothko chapel in Texas and it struck a chord in me. I have never been to the chapel but remember the depth of spirituality I always felt when I saw his work. It just seemed right to merge two of the loves and passions of my life, art and spirituality. These paintings draw from my understanding of silent prayer and meditation. They are influenced from the writings of Thomas Merton, Pierre Tielhard de Chardin, St. John of the Cross, Julianna of Norwich, the early desert fathers, and numerous Zen masters and mystics.

The first image is our beloved dog, Hope, who gave us much joy. The other images are all oil on prepared paper. They were all done sometime in the 1980’s. They are from a series based on silent prayer and the journey from dark to light. They all measure 17” X 15”.

After School Projects

2007-01-28T17:07:00.000-05:00

As I approached receiving my BFA there were some decisions that had to be made. There was the question of whether or not to go on for a MFA degree. To get into the MFA program at the SF Art Institute, for me, would’ve been a simple and seamless process. The University of California Berkeley was also very eager to accept Art Institute graduates into their MFA program. It was all very enticing then reality sets in. Did I really want to continue going to school for another 2 years and most importantly, where would the money come from?

Originally, when I took a hiatus from school and worked to save money, I had saved enough to pay for my education. During my last 2 semesters there was a rather steep tuition increase and I found my savings to be inadequate. I was forced to take out a student loan. By today’s standards a $1,000.00 loan is nothing but back in 1970 it was real money. I just couldn’t see getting further into debt especially in a field where I knew I would most likely not be able to earn a living. I was also anxious to set up my own studio and throw myself into the wonderful and magical world of art.

My studio was in a small warehouse in a seedy section of San Francisco called “South of the Slot” or “The Mission District”. A true wonderland that included the bus depot, tattoo parlors, cheap bars, winos, but most importantly spaces with cheap rent. The space was primarily one big room with 15’ high walls. It had 2 toilets but no bath so with the help of a friend I converted one toilet into a shower. There was no heat (the previous tenant caused an explosion so the heater was missing). San Francisco does get cold in the winters but when you’re young you can tolerate little things like no heat. I don’t think that I had my paint freeze more than twice then thaw out and start to run.

Living in a decaying industrial section of a major city can at romantic. It conjures up images of the poor suffering artist. After awhile the bloom of romance fades and what is left is the stark reality of day-to-day living. It begins to seep in through my pores and a subtle change begins to take over my psyche. This part of the city was dark, dirty, and brooding and it slowly began to affect my thinking. Slowly my painting began a transition towards a much more gritty style that reflected my environment. This is not all bad. I was beginning to see beauty in strange places. The color and shapes of manhole covers and sewer grates. The color of oil slicks in puddles after the rain. The multiple layers of posters and handbills pasted up on old walls and sections torn away to reveal the original surface. The sound of church bells, amidst all the traffic sounds, announcing the Angelus, the mid-day prayer of the Catholic Church. This was an ever-changing kinetic sculpture on a grand scale.

The downside was that this was a very depressing area. My OCD makes me prone to depression so living in this area only compounded things for me. Still, there was the romance of the starving artist living a tormented life for the sake of his art. One of my artistic role models at the time was the American painter, Jackson Pollack. A wonderfully creative person but a deeply troubled soul. Perhaps he wasn’t the best of role models for me. But when I was young I figured that I could survive anything so I just forged ahead. At this time I was literally thinking outside of the box. My paintings not only used industrial materials but I abandoned the traditional square and rectangular surfaces and began experimenting with different shapes. The colors were darker and more brooding (just like me) and the sizes and shapes would not fit neatly into most homes. I would apply the paint randomly and then study the chaos and then try to bring a sense of order out of it. An engineer friend of mine, decades later told me it was the law of entropy in reverse. I always did have a notion that the artist was an observer. One who watched the chaos of life swirl about. On occasion the artist reaches out and grabs bits and pieces of the chaos and eventually reassembles these pieces into a whole and calls it art.

These paintings are all from the early 1970’s in San Francisco. They are all done on painter’s drop cloths using a variety of industrial paints, lacquers, and metal powders. The irregular circle and the triangle are both about 72” high. The winged painting is about 72” high with a 96” wingspan. The diamond shaped thing with the tentacles is made from canvas webbing that I got at a sail making shop. I stained it and painted it a little as one whole length, cut it into pieces and wove it together and painted it some more. I am guessing it was about 18” wide.

From The Beginning

2007-01-21T14:25:00.000-05:00

As far back as I can remember I have always had an interest in art. As a child I was always drawing and coloring. I could go into my own world and be happy and safe. It was a protective cocoon. Childhood was not an especially happy time for me. My mother was verbally, emotionally, and psychologically abusive to me. She really didn’t know any better since this was the way that she was brought up. Add to this the fact that in the 1950’s I went to Catholic parochial school through fourth grade and you have the perfect mix for a psychotic or an artist.

All through school art was my best subject probably because it was my identity. Up until high school it was all the normal stuff that you would get in most any school. In high school I could finally take real art classes. This meant all the basics like form and composition, design, learning how to render, and even a smattering of color theory. Later, when I first started college, it seemed like more of the same. I spent a year at a community college. This was a pretty good experience. The most important thing that I learned was that I didn’t want to go to a traditional 4-year state college. I wanted to go to an art school. In order to achieve this, I quit school for a year and worked 2 jobs (one full time and one part time) in order to get the money to go back to school.

I went to the San Francisco Art Institute since the major emphasis of the school was fine arts not that commercial stuff that could actually earn you a living. This was back in the late 1960’s and there was an incredible energy in the San Francisco Bay Area. The Art Institute had a reputation for being very avant-garde and experimental.

Like any other beginning student I started off somewhat conservative, trying to show that I did have certain basic skills. I started off doing paintings that were somewhat surrealistic but quickly let my environment change me as I experienced this new art scene. I was also pretty eager to show my instructors that I was not just the average, run of the mill, student. In the 60’s and 70’s the art scene in NY was dominated by large abstract color field paintings. As a young student I wanted to emulate the modern day masters. I wanted to be an urban painter on the cutting edge of the art scene so I started to experiment. I was going to make art for the sake of art.

San Francisco in the late 60’s was a pretty vibrant place. It was the new center of rock music and the counter culture was growing by the day. On the weekends free concerts were the norm in Golden Gate Park. Experimental theater and Alan Ginsberg doing poetry readings at the City Lights bookstore. There was student unrest at SF State and Cal Berkeley. The time was ripe for change. The art scene in SF had gained national notoriety with the New Figure movement headed by Richard Dibenkorne, Elmer Bischof, and David Parks. The ceramic artist and sculptor, Peter Volkous, gave new direction to an old craft. Sound was being used to create sculptures that could not be seen but heard and felt. Art and technology were partnering up.

California has always been on the cutting edge of technology and this carried over to the arts. The instructor that taught me how to use airbrushes and spray guns learned his craft doing custom paint jobs on cars and motorcycles as a low-rider in the 50’s. He also taught me about automotive lacquers and synthetic paints. Another instructor was using epoxy paint on surfaces built up dimensionally with strips of aluminum and fiberglass. It was very easy to be influenced by all of this.

Eventually a core idea took root in my mind and working abstractly seemed to be the logical direction to head. This early direction is still the basis for my artist statement. I wanted to create large fields of color, of what appeared to be a single color but was made up of many different colors and shades. I wanted to create paintings that seemed simple on the surface but really had a complicated understructure. Even back then color was the most important element for me. To help the color become more intense, more vibrant I would use industrial materials and techniques. In some cases I would use a dark, almost black ground and then spatter bright intense colors over it, the dark intensifying the bright. Other times I would lay down a base coat of gold or silver metallic paint and use transparent glazes of lacquers over it in a spattered effect so that the ground and the top coats would both show. These paintings were created in a very physical way like the abstract action painters of the late 50’s. The act of painting was almost like a dance, as I would move around the painting lying on the studio floor.

These paintings are all from 1971 and part of my final student portfolio. They all measure 96” X 96” and are done on plywood. The paint is a mixture of acrylics, lacquers, synthetics and metal powders. I apologize for the quality of the images. The slides are old and have not been well cared for and my slide scanner doesn’t work so I had to improvise. Hopefully, they still show the general idea.

Alternative Materials

2007-01-11T19:13:00.000-05:00

I was recently visiting the blog of the abstract painter, Philip Edson. He mentioned mixing pigment that is used for coloring concrete into his paint. I had left a response that over the years I have used many different non-traditional materials. He had asked if I had any examples. Regretfully, the many moves over the years have relegated my old slides (that date back 30+ years) either to an obscure unopened box somewhere or they just got tossed because I got tired of hanging on to them. I did find an old exhibit brochure, from 1973 that is from a group show that I was part of in San Francisco. The images are in black and white but they may serve to illustrate my thoughts.

My use of alternative materials came from different sources. First, in San Francisco back in the early 1970’s, there was an aire of excitement and experimentation. Artists all over the SF Bay Area were playing with new and experimental materials. Unlike so many east coast artists, Californians were not afraid of technology. During my school years I had also been exposed to instructors who were very experimental and knew and understood different industrial materials. There is also the fact that art materials are expensive and like so many other young and struggling artists I was trying to keep expenses down.

While in art school I would buy enamel oil paints used for house painting and mix them with my oils and paint on large sheets of heavy Kraft paper that I bought on rolls. When I started to use airbrushes and spray guns I switched over to acrylics. I did a number of large amorphous color field paintings this way. I was influenced by the artist, Jules Olitski. Later, I had seen some paintings by the LA artist, John McCracken and was very intrigued with the high gloss lacquered surfaces of his panels. It was then that I started to experiment with automotive lacquers, fiberglass, polyester resins, and metal flake and powdered pigments. I seldom went to an art supply store rather I would go to custom car paint shop and surfboard shops for my materials.

I would stain or paint my surface a somewhat random gradation. I would then begin to layer fiberglass and resins to build up thick glaze like effects. In between layers I would spray the dry powdered metal pigments into the wet resin. I would build up some six or so layers. The light would reflect off the metal powders in the various layers and cause a wonderful color modulation. Later I would pour, drip, and dribble the materials onto my surfaces. I gave this up because of a combination of toxic fumes and getting resin in my hair one time too many. I was also starting to work larger and needed to find less expensive materials.

The paintings that I was doing at the time were about 8’ X 10’. My primary painting tools at the time were all from commercial paint stores. I was using 9” rollers, 3” house brushes, and gallon paint cans. It was then that I discovered that I could make my own acrylics, of sorts by using industrial materials. The basic material for making acrylic emulsion (used in the paint, mediums, and varnishes) was a product called AC-22 made by a SF Bay Area company called Rohm and Haas. At the time I worked for a large national paint company, Dutch Boy Paint, and had access to ordering the material. It had to be ordered in 50 gallon drums, which was fine since I was going through about 10-15 gallons of paint a month. The AC-22 was intermixable with latex house paint, which I just happened to have access to, acrylics such as Liquitex, and with the tinting pigments used in the commercial paint industry (which are also intermixable with oils, lacquers, synthetics, and even stains). So I started to experiment and make my own paint.

Besides just mixing up the paint I would dump in sand, silica, even baking soda and beer to see what it might do to the paint and the different textures that it might create. I would take my metal powders and throw them into the wet surface to see what the affects might be and how it might alter the look of the material. I would apply the paint by rolling it on, splattering it and even pouring it. At times it would get up to an inch thick. I started to use painter’s drop cloths because they were so much cheaper than canvas. When the paint dried I would even carve back into it to expose the different layers and add linear elements. I would cut the paintings apart and reassemble them in different shapes them using grommets.

I used to spread plastic sheeting on the studio floor under my canvas. If I didn’t do this it would be next to impossible to peel the paintings up from the floor. The overflow paint would spill over the edges and dry. It could be pulled up from the plastic in solid, eccentric pieces. I used to adhere these pieces and parts to paper and illustration board and then embellish them or use them for small studies. I had a friend who peeled up a nice chunk and made it into a necktie to wear to a gallery opening. I learned a lot from these different materials and techniques. I don’t use them much anymore but they are still in the back of my mind. One day, when the time is right, I’m sure that I will slowly pull them out and start using them again.

The top image is a photo of my SF studio back in 1973. You may notice a lack of traditional studio equipment and an ample supple of industrial materials. The next image is one of my paintings from the period. It is done on a length of corrugated cardboard using my homemade paints with various materials (beer, baking soda, sand) mixed into it. The colors are vary soft and muted (pinks, creams, yellows) and percolates its way up the surface. It measures 87” x 36” and is untitled. The next image is a mixed media piece by an artist friend, Ursula Schneider. She used metal, wire, plastic and acrylic paint. It measures 44” x 19” and is titled “BATMAN”. The final piece is by another SF artist, Vincent Lynch. The colors are very earthy and organic. Vincent used yogurt and ketchup along with his paint, let mold grow and then sealed the surface later adding dyes, paints, metal powders, red oxides, fiberglass, pebbles, and rocks. The piece has an 84” diameter and is titled “STONEHENGE 3”.

Intensity

2007-01-05T13:47:00.000-05:00

An artist, I once knew many years ago, was working on a series of paintings based on the idea of intensity. Her premise was that all intensity equals no intensity. At the time the idea seemed strange to me until I saw her paintings and understood what she meant. If everything is intense, if there is no contrast, if there is nothing to compare it to then intensity is a relative term. It is like the idea of “local color” which if it exists in a vacuum it applies otherwise it is relative to everything around it.

Okay, so why am I thinking about intensity? Well, the last 6 months of my life have been more intense than I would have liked them to be. At times I felt like I was wound up tighter than a cheap watch. I think that this has been reflected in my paintings, which seemed to portray all intensity all the time. This is just tiring. It is like when I cook spaghetti sauce, if I let the pot boil, soon everything will cook away. When I keep it at a simmer I can gently nurse it all day long letting the flavors gently weave together and not evaporate away. Yet, at any moment I can simply turn up the heat and bring it back to a boil if needed.

Well, it is a New Year and so time for new thoughts, ideas, goals, and directions. It is time for me to loosen my grip on those things that I cannot control. It sounds simple enough but with my OCD it becomes a major task. So, I have started to refocus on my meditation practices. Going back to meditation is like visiting an old friend that I haven’t seen in awhile. I enjoy the company and can’t figure out why I stayed away. It brings a calmness and relaxation that is a welcomed counter balance to the intensity. All intensity all the time is fun for a while but it is a sure recipe for burning out my life.

Our winter here has been very mild and most pleasant. This has enabled me to get the dogs out for a daily walk in a nearby nature preserve. The walks alone help to clear and calm my mind but I have a bad habit of getting caught up in some obscure thought that ends up taking on a life of its own. So, I have started using yoga breathing techniques to go with my walking. Focusing on my breath is like a mantra that empties my mind of irrelevant thoughts, concerns, and worries. I am able to let go of my death grip on all things intense and start to enjoy the more subtle things all around me. It is like a vacation, a well-needed vacation for my brain. Once again I am enjoying the wonderfully rich earth colors and the textures of the bare branches and vines as they twist and weave in the most intricate patterns. There is an incredible visual richness. It reminds me of some of the things that I wanted to achieve in my paintings before I got seduced by my own wandering thoughts. So it is time for me to refocus.

I am starting to play with some different materials and techniques to see where they will lead me. I am also going to dial back the intensity of my colors and explore some muted tones. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed them. It is time to try for a more balanced approach (considering how unbalanced I am this should be interesting).

Both of these pieces are done on prepared paper. The first one, NUDE IN A YELLOW CHAIR, measures 36” X 24” and is done with oil and oil pastel. The second one is an attempt to play with some new techniques. It measures about 10” x 14” and is done with oil washes and colored pencil. It is an attempt to somewhat dial back my colors. It is based on my recent walks.

A Body Of Work

2006-12-14T20:27:00.000-05:00

I was reading Lesly Finn’s blog on putting together a gallery package to present to various galleries. Lesly touched on putting together a style and a body of work. This is a concept that I have read many times before. From a business point of view it makes complete sense. Make no mistake about it, being an artist is a business, like it or not.

I remember reading an article, back in the 1970’s in Artforum Magazine, about the American artist, Larry Poons. As a painter in NYC he achieved critical acclaim doing large paintings of a field of color that had a scatter pattern of ellipses painted on it. He was right up there with other notable painters of the time such as Ken Noland, Frank Stella, and Jules Olitski. These artists were selling paintings before they were even made. One day, Larry Poons, as the story goes, told his agent to give all the money back because he was tired of producing paintings according to a formula and wanted to explore a different vein. He started doing his poured paintings and they were wildly successful. Other artists soon followed and broke free from their self-imposed restraints and pushed their art further along.

So, I have to ask myself what constitutes a body of work? I have read several articles over the years and still it is as clear as mud. One article that I read the author/artist even specified that not only was a signature style necessary but also a signature subject matter. So where does that leave an artist like myself that really wants a bit more latitude in what I do?

Being an artist is a business. This is even truer for a gallery. As an artist it is difficult enough for me to market myself, I can only imagine how difficult it is for a gallery representing dozens of artist. Combine that with the fickle nature of buyers, critics, and fashion trends. Add to this the trends of what subjects, styles, and color combinations are selling the best. After all of that I have to decide, as an artist, what success is to me and what I’m willing to do to achieve it. The simple answer for me is that I want to make good art, that is meaningful to me, that others like and want to purchase at a high enough price that I can earn a living. Then I wake up from the dream and have to face reality. As a young artist I used to think it’s not what you know but who you know until I talked with an older more seasoned artist. He was a veteran of the NYC gallery scene. He told me it’s not who you know but who you blow. I didn’t believe him (or rather I didn’t want to believe him) until I moved to NYC and experienced it firsthand. So what’s a poor artist to do?

As a young man I dreamed of national recognition and the romantic notion of the artist in his loft in the heart of a major metropolitan area. Then came marriage and kids and the lower expectation of becoming a regional artist. As life goes on and I have more time to reflect, I see more clearly the things that are important to me and adjust my goals accordingly. This attitude may be a cop-out or an excuse for not being successful. It may also be the recognition that I am not willing to pay the price to achieve certain kinds of success. I like to think that it is the latter.

So I go back to the idea of what constitutes a body of work. Personally I like to look back at history and the work of artists that I admire and see what I can learn from them. I look at the work of the American painter, Phillip Perlstein. I like and admire his work. The problem for me is that over the last 25 years he still seems to be doing the same painting with little or no change. Chuck Close, the painter of massively oversized portraits, maintains the same subject matter as his body of work but pushes his technique and style. Another 20th century American artist, Wayne Thiebaud, is a favorite of mine. I read a brief biography of him where he stressed it was important to him to be able to paint a full range of subject matter, still life, landscapes, figurative, and nudes. As I have watched his work over the last 25 years I have seen a variety of subject matter from him and watched him ever so gently push his style forward.

Art and life are the same. Both require me to have a strong curiosity of the world around me and to be interested in many things. Both require me to question what I am doing and why I am doing it. Both teach me to take what I have learned from one part of my life and work and apply it to something else. For a year I did nothing but pastel still lifes of fruit and it taught me a lot about drawing the human form. For a few years I did landscapes almost exclusively and now I am doing more nudes. I know that I will cycle back and repeat these subjects over and over again. Every time a new cycle begins I will bring more knowledge and skill with me. I will bring new ways of seeing old things.

I am not burdened with financial success (regretfully). I have greater freedom to make my body of work more varied. I like being able to explore different subjects and periodically experimenting with materials and techniques. This isn’t always easy for me. My OCD wants me to keep things the same, to maintain a routine. Yet, there is another side of me that is afraid if I don’t change that I will somehow diminish myself. So, my body of work is not consistent by subject matter as much as it is consistent by being a reflection of myself. As time goes on and I become more eccentric so will my art.

Both of these paintings are oil on prepared paper. They both measure 24” X 24”. One is a venture into bible themes titled “Nude Figures With Fruit Tree” and the other is titled “By The Pool”, a continuation of nudist themes that I have worked on over the years.

What A Difference A Day Makes

2006-12-06T14:57:00.000-05:00

Here in the mid-West, it is a cold, dreary, and snowy day. It is not the cold and snow that I mind so much as it is the lack of sunshine. Here on the shores of Lake Michigan we get what is known as lake effect. The cold air comes across the warmer water and picks up moisture. This causes us to have greater snowfall and much more overcast. For me, gray days make for gray thoughts but then I read a posting by painter, Shari Jamieson and my thoughts changed direction.

Next Wednesday, my grandson, Aidan, will celebrate his first birthday. Shari’s post made me think back to when our youngest daughter came home one evening and told us she needed to talk with us. She had been living in San Diego and was having a hard time of it and returned to Michigan. She had been back less than 6 months and was making plans to enroll in a physical therapy program at the community college. After a few failed adventures, she was looking to get her life in order.

When she told us that she was pregnant I sat there smiling and chuckling. I commented that all those talks about practicing safe sex apparently went unheeded. We have also raised our daughters with the attitude that we wanted to teach them how to think and not what to think. Being an old hippie who was involved in the civil rights, farm workers, and anti war movements I have also embraced feminism. I taught my daughters that only they have the right to decide what should be done to their bodies. We are pro-choice here in the heart of the bible belt (here we are called pro-abortion but then I refer to the anti-choice people as being pro-fetus). My daughter made a choice, she had the baby and kept him, and as promised we supported her in her decision and continue to support and help her with her choice. She knows that being a single parent is not an easy task.

It hasn’t always been easy. There are days that I want to run away from home and try to reinvent myself but I know from experience that doesn’t work. So, I suck it up, pour a glass of wine (not whine) and get on with life. The plans that my wife and I had for retirement are now being redrawn. At my age I expected that my children would be moved out and living their own lives and that my wife and I would be able to go off and have some new adventures and to be a couple again, not just parents. That I would be able to spend more time with my art and follow those dreams. I did not expect to have an infant in the house again. Cie la vie!

Financial success as an artist has eluded me my whole adult life so what’s another decade of waiting? I don’t say that glibly. Success in life, for me, is not measured but what I do or achieve but how well I have learned and how well I have lived my life. Trying not to sound like a Hallmark card, but also by how well I have learned to love. My paintings seldom end up the way that they started out. The twists, turns, and mishaps that occur are all part of the process that forces me to see things in my art that I would’ve otherwise have missed. Art imitates life and life imitates art. In the case of the artist life and art are all one in the same. We find unexpected beauty where we least expect it. All those abandoned places and piles of debris that have been discarded and forgotten. Just look at the photos of Lori Witzel and you’ll see what I mean.

This has been an interesting year for me, filled with twists, turns, and mishaps. I lost my vehicle but survived a major car crash. My disability insurance has run out and I am not able to work due to my disability so I have no income. I am locked in mortal combat with the Social Security Administration trying to deny my disability (My doctors say I cannot return to work. To do so would only make my condition worse). Loss of income has forced us to sell our retirement property in New Mexico. The future looks so much grayer and bleak. I guess it’s time to tighten my belt and make some art out of all of this shit!

The one thing that outweighs all the other stuff is that a year ago this coming Wednesday our grandson, Aidan, was born. He’s my little buddy. He never complains when I repeat my stories. He laughs at all my jokes and he never tells me that what I’m doing is stupid or looks dumb. He is the happiest and most quirky human being that I have ever been so graced to meet. He really does help me to see the world with new eyes. Take comfort, Shari, your world is changing in unexpected ways so just fasten your seat belt and hang on for the ride and what a ride it will be. You will see things and go places that you never imagined. You will also find out things about yourself and your art that may surprise you. And like myself, with pastels, you may discover materials and techniques that you may otherwise have never considered. I know I did!

The above painting is oil on panel that measure 20” X 20” and is an image of my grandson when he was 6 months old. My daughter had just gotten him goggle style sunglasses for the bright summer sunshine. The photo is Aidan with his face pressed up against the sidelight of the door. He is trying to figure out what our dogs are barking at.

Pastel Painting

2006-11-28T18:09:00.000-05:00

Traditional soft pastels are one of those mediums that most non-artists do not understand. At least, they don’t understand them very well. For a very long time pastels were not seen as something that was used for doing serious work. It was considered a medium that was used for doing preparatory work for the real painting, i.e. an oil painting. Or it was seen as a medium that one might take with them when going off to do some sketching. As a young artist I pretty much had that same opinion.

About twenty years ago I started using pastels again after not touched them for a very long time. Because my children were young and trying to take care of them and work with oils was impossible for me, I gave up painting. I either did photography or worked on pen and ink drawings. This was fine for a while but I have always loved color and missed using it. I tried using colored pencils but just didn’t like the results that I was getting. I also wanted to be able to cover larger areas and to be able to work quickly. Young children kept me from spending too much time focusing on my paintings. Pastels seemed like the right choice. Open the box and be ready to work. Clean up was basically closing the box and cleaning my hands with diaper wipes. Pretty simple. So I bought a cheap set of 24 colors and starting working.

I absolutely hated them! As a painter I was used to mixing any color that I wanted. Squeeze 2 or 3 colors on a palette, mix them and I have the color that I wanted. With the pastels, I couldn’t just mix 2 or 3 sticks together and get the right color. I could blend the colors on the surface but then I would get smooth and flat areas, which I did not like. I was after a much more sketchy look, something that was controlled but had a very casual feel to it. I would spend hours looking at pastels by Edgar Degas, Mary Cassat, and Wayne Thiebaud trying to figure out how they achieved their results. I swore that once I learned how to use them properly I was going to throw them away and never touch them again. Well, I learned how to use them and then used them exclusively for 10 years.

Pastels combined everything that I liked about both drawing and painting. I had always liked drawing better than painting and this gave me the chance to draw with color. I loved the fact that the medium was always “open” and that I didn’t have to worry about any color shift with drying paints. My studio space was small and it was great that I didn’t have to work about any fumes although the dust was a real pain. Like any other medium though, it had its downsides.

To get the effects I wanted I had to spend a lot of time doing prep work on my paper. I spent more time prepping my sheets than I actually spent painting. If I could’ve afforded to by sanded pastel paper this would not have been an issue. At the time dark colors were really limited so I was never able to get the range of darks that I wanted. Those were minor issues. The real problems came when the work was done.

I only used fixative during the intermediary stages because of the color changes that it caused. I never used fixative after the final layers of color were put down. This meant that I had to be very careful about storing unframed pieces. Framing became another headache. Pastels need to be framed under glass. This means that a mat must be used. To keep the bevels on the mat from getting pastel dust on them, the mat needs to be raised with a floater behind the mat. It is always necessary to use glass. If plexiglas is used, static electricity can pull the pastel away from the support. The glass also means extra weight and care when shipping or transporting the paintings. If I wanted to do anything large it became a nightmare and would cost a small fortune. The largest pastel I did was a 30” X 40” on a masonite panel and I used a spacer to keep the glass off of the surface.

I don’t use my pastels very much anymore but I pull them out every so often and play and experiment with them trying to find ways to overcome their negative aspects. Maybe one day I’ll figure it out. The 2 above pieces are both pastels that I did in the early to mid 1990’s. They are titled “Daydreaming” and “2 Peaches”. Both are done on home made sanded pastel paper that was toned with an acrylic wash. The under paintings were done with hard pastel that I scrubbed in with a wash of turpentine and layered over using soft pastel. There is no fixative on the final layer but in the spirit of Degas, I used steam to set the final layer. Both are matted (with a spacer) and framed under glass.

A Page For Lesly

2006-11-17T20:11:00.000-05:00

The last few weeks of my life have been rather intense. It has left me tired and somewhat disoriented and unable to focus. It has let the black dog back into my life. Rather than try to write anything I am only putting up images. In a wonderful email from Lesly, she has suggested more nudes so here are more nudes. They are primarily oil on paper but a few are mixed medium (oil, oil pastel, tempera).

It’s A Sparkly or How I Learned to Love Being Manic

2006-10-17T16:52:00.000-04:00

I had a teacher in college, over 30 years ago, who figured that I was going to be successful. He told me that it would take longer because I was pushing so many fronts at the same time. When your horizon is that broad, he explained, it takes a lot longer to move everything ahead versus being focused on one particular area, or niche. Well, I’m still waiting for that success. It hasn’t happened and I’m still all over the place. I think part of success is based on consistency and I am consistently inconsistent.

When my children were just wee tots, there was an animated film called the Secret of Nimh. I haven’t been too much of a fan of cartoon style movies for a long time now but this one caught my attention. It had a character, a crow named Jeremy that intrigued me (whose voice was done by the comedic actor Dom De Luise). Jeremy was constantly distracted during the adventure by various things and objects that caught his attention. He would be going along, get distracted and stop, and say “oooh, it’s a sparkly.” Well, that’s me! I seem to be constantly distracted by the sparklies, the new and different things that I encounter in my life.

The reason that I had (and still do have) such a broad artistic horizon is that I just can’t seem to focus on one specific (narrow) area in life and pursue it, or for that matter follow through on it. After all these years I’m not sure if that is a sad and pathetic thing or actually a good thing. There are just so many things in art to be interested in and so little time to explore all of the possibilities. When I think about all of the interesting things that life has to offer, it borders on being overwhelming. Something being overwhelming doesn’t necessarily stop me but constant trial and failure does wear me down and make me want to retreat from the world and my life. I know that I will cycle through it and greet my life with new enthusiasm and want to try new things. I just never seem to learn. Like Jeremy the Crow, the sparklies always catch my attention and distract me. The chemical imbalance in my brain that caused my disability also causes this attitude.

Over the course of my employment career I have sold commercial house paint and did custom paint tinting, I managed a hardware store and later an artist supply store. I have worked in a bakery and a small manufacturing firm building floor cleaning equipment. There was time in there to go live in a monastery to study theology and possibly to be come a priest. I have worked as a carpenter, a plumber, and worked doing plant facilities maintenance in industrial complexes. For a while I put siding on houses and then went on to sell building materials for a lumberyard. Later I switched to the printing industry. First on the pre-press-lithography end working as a paste-up artist and later doing film composition and color separations. After a hiatus of many years as a picture framer I returned to the printing industry doing customer service and sales work. I worked for 3 different printing shops before I ended up working in the financial aid office of a community college. It was there that my disability finally caught up and overcame me.

My artistic career has not been much different. There was my surrealist period, then going on to be an abstract expressionist. Later came color field painting and while I lived in NYC I had a gallery director call me a phenonmenologist (I still smile when I remember that). This was all followed by the conceptual art phase. After marriage and family I began to work realistically. That morphed into impressionism and that into expressionism and that into kind of, sort of, where I am now.

Gee, with a track record like that I just can’t figure out why success has eluded me. I say that, of course, tongue in cheek. My art and my life have been one very interesting ride. Sometimes it has scared the crap out of me but it has seldom been boring. The years and my disabilities have now worn me down but apparently I haven’t learned much from the experiences. My art is still all over the place, my life cycles between somewhat controllable periods of depression and mania, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up (or if I want to grow up), and I’m still looking for the next “sparkly.”

The above pieces, like me, are all over the place. The long landscape is titled “Barn On A Grassy Hill.” It measures 12” X 30” and is done with oil pastel on a hardwood panel. The still life of 2 pears is done with soft pastel, conte crayon, and oil pastel on a hardwood panel and measures 9” X 12”. The nude is done with soft pastel, oil pastel, and oil paint on paper and measures 17.75” X 10”.

Dynamic Tension

2006-10-10T19:38:00.000-04:00

Back in the early 1970’s I shared a loft in NYC with a buddy from college. It didn’t last too long because our personalities clashed. I can remember him pacing back and forth, smoking endless cigarettes, and using his hands to express unknown sentiments all the while telling me that I was a nervous person. I was the one sitting motionless on the couch, wound up tighter than a cheap watch, waiting for my head to explode so I could release the tension.

Tension is a very interesting feeling. Like so many things it can be use for good or bad. Used one way it can motivate, used another it can cripple or paralyze a person. The power of tension creates earthquakes and it also creates mountain ranges. Sexual tension can build and when released with a lover can unleash unbridled pleasure. Elements of tension in a story can hold our attention waiting for the outcome. Tension on a cable holds a bridge up. Political tension can cause us to hold our breath waiting to see if the world will sink into chaos.

Tension fascinates me. I guess that it should, there seems to be so much of it in my life. I always tell myself that I want to be free from it yet, when there is no tension I seem to go out of my way to find it or create it. I don’t really understand why I do it. I sometimes wonder if I am a glutton for punishment or if there is a part of me that abhors or fears a quiet and tranquil life. There is obviously something wrong with the way that my brain is wired and how it functions. Or maybe the gods just programmed me that way.

Whatever the reason is, it doesn’t really matter. For me, tension seemed to be here to stay and since I had it, I figured that I might as well use it. Over the years I’ve tried using it in my personal relationships, in my marriage and how I raised my children, in how I have dealt with jobs and co-workers. None of that seemed to work out really well. Actually, a lot of it was disastrous. There were times that it wasn’t disastrous and that was when I used it in my painting.

This tension could help to bring a painting to life. The tension could add a shimmer or resonate with some unknown chord. It could create the feeling of a perilous balancing act where I might wait and watch just to see which way it might fall or a mad dance whirling and taking on its own life. It could be like lightening cutting through the darkness illuminating the world around it, motionless and silent, for just a split second waiting for the rumble to catch up to it. The tension was never boring but always interesting and filled with life, even if I didn’t really understand or agree with it. This tension is always real. And it is exhausting, but sometimes feeling exhausted can be a good and satisfying thing. It lets you know that you are alive. It lets you know the difference between you and a chair just sitting there.

The above piece is untitled. It measures 15" X 21.75" and is oil on prepared paper.

Our Memories Always Follow Us

2006-10-02T12:03:00.000-04:00

Whatever we do,
Wherever we go,

Our memories
Always follow us.

There’s just no place to leave them.

This is a poem that I wrote about 30 years ago. I knew that my memories accumulated and became part of who I am. Even if I don’t remember them, they stay silently in the background adding to who I am as a person. This, of course, influences who I am as an artist and how I express myself.

In my artist statement I wrote, “For quite a long time I used to believe that the essence of my work could be distilled down to one word, strength. Strong color, shape, composition, light and so on. That slowly I was eliminating all of the unnecessary elements. I was trimming it down to bare and simple forms. The paintings were sleek and trim and could hold their own.” Strength was important to me. It was how I protected myself. It was how I kept others at a safe distance so that I could not be hurt. It was how I survived.

I have a disability, OCD, but I also have a second disability, Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD). I am not a war veteran. I have PTSD because I was abused as a child and that forever colors the way that I see my world. Being an artist became my refuge and then later my identity. It also became the way that I protected myself and held my demons at bay. Regretfully, it also kept other people at bay. All of my experiences shape my life and they also shape my art so it was only natural that my paintings started to reflect the need for strength. I wanted something simple yet I wanted it to be richly complex without it appearing to be that way. I wanted to create subtle contradictions in the paintings to see if others could break through the code that I was covertly sending in a very overt format.

I am not so sure if this was an attempt to reach out to others and to reveal myself or if it more like the story of the Wizard of Oz? Am I merely the wizard hiding behind the curtain? It is attributed to Pablo Picasso that every work an artist makes is a self-portrait. I really do believe that in every work that I make I am revealing bits and pieces of myself. Subtle clues left along the path of my life. More importantly, my work reflects back to me who I am or what I have become. Both as an artist and a person I need to look closely at these images and decide if I really like what I see. Is this who or what I really want to be or is there something different, something better? It is too easy to get used to the safety and comfort of being stuck in the ruts of my own making.

The last few months I have spent more time meditating and reflecting on my life. I have been looking at my paintings with a much more critical eye to see what I like and dislike. As I look at my art and my life I have discovered what I don’t like about myself and begin work to make changes. There is much uncertainty, which makes me nervous, but at the same time there is a wonderful excitement. I have become too complacent with how I make my art and now change is in the air. My paintings show me that it is time to push on to a new level, to a new way of seeing and expression. It’s going to be fun!

The quartet of paintings above are all part of an ongoing variation on a theme series. They all measure 10” X 12” and are oil pastel on paper.

Only I can be me

2006-09-21T17:51:00.000-04:00

About five years ago I was at a gallery reception for a show of some of my oil pastels. The gallery director introduced me to a regular client who was intrigued with my style and my working methods. After exchanging some pleasantries, the gentleman started to ask me some questions about my techniques. He seemed a bit surprised when I started to give him some detailed information about my materials and techniques.

After we chatted for about 20 minutes he asked me if I wasn’t afraid that someone else would be able to copy my work. It was a very flattering question but I told him that I didn’t see that as a problem. I told him that I didn’t think that anyone else could be me, or even want to be me. I had learned a long time ago that you can teach someone materials and techniques but you can never teach anyone to be an artist.

When I taught I did not hesitate to show students exactly how I achieved my results. I would bring in my own supplies and paint along with the students giving constant demonstrations. It was not my techniques, or color choices, or subject matter that made my work unique or my own, it was me. To quote Eileen Clegg, “When you begin to act on your creativity, what you find inside may be more valuable than what you produce for the external world.” There is uniqueness to every artist, to every person.

When I showed my methods to students and watched them try to duplicate it I always got a smile on my face. As they tried to use my tools I could see their creativity begin to slowly open up. Each person was creating a variation on the methods. This was not because they were trying to vary it but because they were bringing who and what they were to the methods. They were finding how these tools worked best for them and creating a variation that worked best for each one of them.

No one can really duplicate the path that my life has taken. Even if someone else experiences the same things that have shaped my life we will each see it in a different way. Where I may be fearful, another may be excited. I may be passionate while another is indifferent. As all of my experiences shape my life they also shape my art. So when I try on the colors, or styles of other artists I usually find out much. What I usually find out is what doesn’t work for me. When I do find something that does work then I also find that I have to modify it to make it work for my particular needs, hopes, and desires.

It also causes me to look deeper into myself as an artist and a person. I wonder about what drew me to the elements of another artist. I wonder why when I try to duplicate it that it may not work all that well for me. The colors, the shapes, the compositions may not be the right fit. Sometimes when I try these things on and look in the mirror I find I just don’t like the way it looks on me. This leads me to discover just a little bit more of who I am.

These two pieces are both oil pastel on panel. They are titled, "Strong Sunlight", measuring 15" X 15" and "Little Red Barn", measuring 8" X 10".

The black dog and the bathrobe

2006-09-03T17:14:00.000-04:00

Winston Churchill was a tenacious old curmudgeon, who with great strength and resolve, lead England through one of its darkest periods in history. His world was literally crashing in around him yet he would take the time to go sit in a garden and do landscape painting. It was only by letting go of the left side of the brain, the logical, that he could see a little more clearly how to solve the problem he was confronting. Conflict resolution was not all that he was seeking. He was looking for a brief respite from his companion that he referred to as the black dog that sat in the corner. Winston Churchill was hounded by depression.

There are stories of various people that I have kept with me over the course of my life. I found the stories interesting and thought provoking. Also they resonated within me. I am writing about two such people. These two are very different individuals. They lived very different lives, in different countries, at different times in history. There were two qualities, though, that they did share.

The other person is the twentieth century American artist, Jim Dine. His work is somewhat figurative yet very bold and expressionistic. He is well known for a series of semi abstract paints of hearts. The series of his that had the most impact on me though, were his paintings of a single bathrobe. Even before I knew the story behind them, I was drawn to them. Jim Dine also suffered from depression. There were some days that he could not even get out of bed. When he did he would walk around wearing his old bathrobe. As his depression lifted and he slowly recovered the bathrobe became his subject. Perhaps it was symbolic of his journey back from the edge of darkness.

Because of my disability, OCD, I also suffer from bouts of depression. OCD and depression go hand in hand. The last few weeks I have been on that edge of darkness. It is a place that drains my energy, physical and creative, and leaves me exhausted and exhausts my family. It wreaks havoc with my familial relationships, as I become a dark and brooding person. I have to struggle against it to make the least attempt to do any drawing or painting. As much as it interferes with my art it also emboldens my painting. Like the old saying goes, “whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Once the cycle has completed itself and the fog lifts from my mind I fall in love with life all over again. To be creative is an affirmation of life, of all things living. Creativity is an affirmation of the wondrous mysteries of the universe. Without these forays to the edge of that dark plain I would not be able to fully appreciate the light, color, and love around me. To be left tired and listless makes me want to take advantage of my energy and passion when it returns. Making art is a reflection of what I, the artist, have found and experienced on my journey. It doesn’t matter if it is gray and dreary or bright, colorful and warm. Good or bad, right or wrong, dark or light, it is all part of my journey. This journey is my story and my paintings are the illustrations that I leave along the way.

Both paintings are done on prepared strathmore paper. The both measure 12.75" X 19.75". The lighter one was completed in 2004 and done in oil pastel. The darker version was done in 2006 and done in oil.

Called to be an artist

2006-08-27T15:43:00.000-04:00

Is being an artist something that one chooses to do or is a person more specifically called to be an artist? For many artists that I know, as well as for myself, it was a call, a vocation, and an avocation. For many of us there really was no choice. Nothing else was going to make us feel complete or whole. It’s not to say I didn’t consider other careers. I did but I kept coming back to art.

When my oldest daughter was first going off to college, she declared that she was going to be an art major. People that we know thought that it was wonderful that she was creative and was going to follow in my footsteps. I was filled with a sense of dread. To be an artist means to embrace a wonderful madness but it is still madness. When I embarked upon this path I knew what I was getting into but I was not convinced that my daughter knew what was ahead. I told her that she needed to take a long hard look at my life because that was the best that it was going to be for her. Artistic creativity is a wonderful thing but it can be a terrible burden.

On the surface most people see being an artist as a life that is fun and filled with play and creative exploration. They do not realize the endless hours of disciple that go into being an artist. Art does not happen by accident, it happens on purpose. The artist controls the medium, not the other way around. It is only by continual practice that the artist is able to make the medium yield the best that it has to offer. It is only through endless hours of practice of color theory, form and composition, and any and all mechanical skills. Without this solid foundation the artist will never be free to express the creative ideas and thoughts. When I teach drawing and painting, I tell students that I can teach them how to draw or paint, that I can teach them the mechanics. I also tell them that I cannot teach them how to be an artist. That is something that they must learn on their own and that it must come from an inner desire. What else will keep the artist going?

I think of the musician who spends countless hours practicing the scales. Rehearsing a specific part until playing it becomes second nature. The dancer spending hour upon hour putting the body through stressful physical exercise learning the steps. So the dance can look effortless and graceful. The painter alone in the studio carefully putting paint on the canvas. Placing each color and stroke just so in order to make it look easy and effortless. Each of these artists working hard to gain a little notoriety just so that they can afford to do what they love, what they are called to be. Most of these artists will spend their lives in obscurity. They will work mundane jobs just so they can afford to practice their art. After a number of years, many will just abandon their art. Working a job and taking care of a family will consume all of their energy and time. Others may go into art related businesses. They will find that all of their creative energies were used up on the job.

I knew this when I started on the path to being an artist. I knew that I most likely would not earn my living from it. I knew that I would work all day so that I could paint at night. The image, the illusion of the life of an artist is romantic and colorful, the reality is quite another thing. I knew going in that it was a madness. I still don’t know why I did it. I have no logical reason. Who in their right mind would chose such an existence? Yet, I won’t give it up. I will keep plodding along as I have for decades now doing what I love, what I feel drawn to do. To stop making art, to stop being creative makes even less sense and is an even greater madness than continuing. Maybe that craziness is the real gift that artists bring to the world. Maybe not everything needs to be practical or profitable. Maybe it is a little bit of craziness that keeps us all sane.

These 2 paintings are oil on prepared paper. They are both untitled and were both completed in 2006. The landscape measures 21.75” X 15” and the nude measures 20” X 15“. If you would care to title them let me know.

Creative or Coercive

2006-08-13T16:23:00.001-04:00

Some years back the news was filled with stories of all the flooding that was going on along the Mississippi River. Many people lost their lives and others suffered great property damage. The floodwaters came in and, for many people, washed away the work of a lifetime. This all happened because the Mississippi River was forced to be something other than what it is, a flood plain. The river has a natural ebb and flow that is, in a sense, its life. When the engineers came in and sought to change and control the river, to coerce it into following a path other than its own, it changed everything. Why was this done? Was it possibly because the engineers wanted the river to always remain the same, to never change? The life of the river, or anything else for that matter, is to constantly change and grow. Without change and growth, there is no real life.

So, what does this have to do about art? Well, everything. To make art is to be creative and creativity involves change and growth. Creativity is about constantly seeking out new and different ways to make art, or anything for that matter. It is about looking at what I have done and to see what works and what doesn’t work. It is about looking at what I have painted and listening for it to tell me where it needs to go next. Whenever I try to force the painting, to coerce it into being something that it is not then it begins to fall apart and I end up failing miserably (is there a good way to fail?). When I am attentive to the painting, to the creative process, then there is a flow that almost seems to happen in spite of me. The painting begins to take on a life of its own and I get to enjoy being part of this, of being part of the process.

I am mentioning all of this because over coffee, a theologian friend and myself were discussing the relationship between God and making art. Many years ago, another theologian friend once commented that we are all meant to be creative. We were created in God’s image. Since God is creative, so are we. It made sense to me then and it still does today. For me, God is creative. God is ever changing, and moving, and growing.

When I paint, it doesn’t really matter to me the exact point on the surface that I start with or the color I may begin using because everything is going to change and grow from that beginning point. I need to pay attention to the painting and make everything work in relationship to everything else. I need to take the time and see what is working and what is not working. If any shape, color, or form is not working then I have to learn from it and go back and change it. I need to learn from my mistakes, to accept them, learn from them, change the way I am approaching it, and move on from there.

I see God in the same light. God is not static or immovable and all knowing. For me, the God of the universe is ever expanding, constantly learning and growing, and always experimenting to discover what works and what does not work. Like painting, God is in a trial and error process always moving and changing in order to keep growing and moving forward. To be open to new ideas and always be willing to try them and to learn from them.

Both of the above paintings are part of my creative search to find what does or does not work. They are both untitled and are oil on paper. They both measure 14” X 21.75” and were created in 2006.

Nothing sees more carefully than a downcast eye

2006-08-04T15:56:00.000-04:00

Nothing sees more carefully than a downcast eye. These words come from the novel, LES MISERABLES by Victor Hugo. In the novel, the hero, who is a good person, becomes an outcast running from the law. Because of the circumstances that life has presented him with, he sees the world around him in a different way. He notices things that others are unaware of simply because these things are so mundane and seem so unimportant. It is these mundane and seemingly unimportant things that have the most to teach. Great lessons seem to come from simple everyday tasks and objects when I am willing to see them. There are two blogs that I read where these individuals are willing to see them; Rebel Belle (a.k.a. Nancy Baker) in her postings on the Tire Shop and Lori Witzel, with her good eye in her postings on Chatoyance. Now, on with my story.

When I was a young man I was in a hurry to get to where I wanted to be that I was rushing through my life. The journey did not seem so important. Achieving the goal that is what was important. And just what was this all-important goal? Why it was to become a recognized artist, an important and influential artist. Thirty plus years ago this seemed like a pretty lofty goal, now it just seems like vanity. Life had other things in store for me and I was going to learn from it all whether I wanted to or not.

Getting married and starting a family has been one of the best educational experiences of my life. It not only altered the way that I saw things but also the way that I did things. I had been used to living in raw industrial loft spaces making large abstract paintings, most of my income going to pay for my art habit. With family there were new demands on time and finances. Rather than buying paint or going out socializing, money was going to diapers, formula, and anything else the baby needed. Time that I would’ve spent painting was now spent taking care of the baby while my wife was at work. When my wife came home we would take the baby and the dog out for walks to the park then home to prepare dinner and take care of whatever needed to be done. At that time I was working as a carpenter so when everything was done I was tired and all I wanted to do was to take a hot shower, drink a cold beer, and go to sleep. There was very little time for making art.

My creative needs were somewhat satisfied by being a carpenter. I got to work with my hands, make things, and do some creative thinking along the way. Still, this was not enough. Going through art history books at the library only frustrated me since it reminded me of what I could not do. When I lived in NYC, I used to whine about the things that I could not do because of lack of money and space. My girlfriend at that time finally got fed up and yelled at me to do what I could instead of complaining about what I could not do. I am thankful to her for that.

Because of that memory, I started to pay more attention to my surroundings on the walks that my wife and I took with our daughter and our dog. I stopped seeing streets, buildings, and objects and started to see colors, textures, and patterns. I began to take my camera with me on our outings. My wife would have a bemused expression when I would focus in on the peeling paint of playground equipment or the patterns of the bark on the trees that we passed along they way. She never understood what I was doing until she saw the processed images. When she saw the finished photo in the mat then she could see that it was like my paintings. My paintings still incorporate these mundane and everyday images.

These two photos are from those walks back in the summer of 1982. They are macro images of the ever-changing patterns that appear in the bark of the eucalyptus trees that grow in the San Francisco Bay Area. Also, Mea Culpa for taking so long to make a new post.The heat wave that has been working its way west from CA has us Mid-westerners in its grip this last week and exhausted me.

The Value of Art

2006-07-23T14:47:00.000-04:00

In our American culture when schools are suffering economic hardship the arts are the first programs to be cut. Why? Obviously, society sees the arts as having little value. Is this really true or are our leaders and politicians mistaken? I believe they are wrong but go figure, I’m an artist, and what am I going to think?

In reality, I have seen many articles over the last couple of decades that speak to the importance of having the arts as part of the core curriculum. Studies have shown that when music and art are included, math and science scores go up. . Years ago, elementary school teachers found that if they softly played Mozart in the background, students learned arithmetic more quickly and retained what they learned. What was it about art and music that caused this to happen?

We know that the two halves of the brain have different functions. The left side is the logical side and this controls math, science, and language. The right side is the intuitive side. This is where art and music like to hang out. The left side is the dominant side and just can’t stand not being in control. When I teach drawing, I give students exercises that help them to turn off the left side of the brain. Actually it teaches them how to frustrate the left side and cause it to give up control to the right side. What is happening in the brain is more important than just the fluff stuff that most people see as being art. The person moves closer to being a whole brain thinker and effectively using more of the brain. The brain becomes more creative in solving problems. When Albert Einstein would be having difficulty with an equation, he would sit in a corner and play his violin. In the darkest days of WWII, Sir Winston Churchill would sit out in his garden and paint landscapes.

Our earliest ancestors, while still living in caves, made art well before they developed a written language. Even today children with learning disabilities, such as dyslexia, are taught rhythm, movement, and song to help them to learn and understand. Children are still taught the alphabet by learning a song, the infamous alphabet song. Rituals and story telling were used for millenniums to help cultures to learn and understand their histories. Yet today, our culture persists in devaluing the arts, unless of course you are a rich and famous artist, musician, actor, or whatever. As the old saying goes, “Money talks and bullshit walks.” So does art really talk?

Years ago I gave a series of talks to civic organizations on the value of art the need for the community to foster the growth of the arts. I approached it from an economic point of view. One of my favorite examples was the difference between East and West Berlin (if you are post Reagan-Gorbechev you may not remember this). East Berlin was very oppressive to the arts (art, music, literature, theater, etc.) and the city was very gray and lifeless. It struggled economically. On just the other side of the Berlin Wall, West Berlin encouraged and embraced the arts. The city was colorful and alive and the citizens of the city embraced creativity. The result was a city that was innovative and had a healthy and robust economy. What causes this difference?

What happens is something that is very dangerous and it causes world governments to shake and tremble with fear. The arts encourage people to see things in new and different ways. People and things are no longer taken for granted. New possibilities arise. In other words, people learn how to think not what to think. Knowing how to think (and solve problems) gives true power to every person. Thomas Jefferson once said that an educated population could govern itself.

An accidental footnote. My van has been sold as scrap, it was beyond repair. The young man who caused the accident ran the stop sign because he was playing with his iPod. After a few days of ranting and raving, I have gone through my grieving process and moved on. I survived a deadly crash and did not even have a scratch on me. Amazingly I did not have a single bruise nor even suffer a stiff or sore muscle. My life has been changed by not having a vehicle but change is a good thing.

The above painting is an oil pastel on sealed and primed Strathmore paper. The title is “Stream Through The Tall Grasses Version 03”. It measures 14.625” X 10.25” and was completed in 2005.

Accidental Circumstances

2006-07-15T14:11:00.000-04:00

I remember once reading that Leonardo DaVinci commented that the most interesting paintings occurred where people spit. He was talking about the public fountains where people would stop for a drink of water and rinse out their mouths spitting it out on the fountain wall. The random shapes and stains intrigued Leonardo and he would see many things in them. I have also read about artists that would pore, splatter, and drip paint onto their canvas and let it dry. They would then stare at the surface until some shape made them think of an image and the direction of the painting would be determined. But what about working in a deliberate manner and then some accidental slip up occurs and the result is a remarkable effect.

Many times I have had this accidental slip up give me some great results. I would worry, though, if this were a legitimate element of my painting. After all I didn’t deliberately intend to create that effect, shape, form, or whatever. How much could I take credit for that? How long was I going to have to wait until another wonderful accident occurred that I could exploit and claim as my own? I thought that this was a dumb thing to think about. Years later, during a workshop I was doing, I had a student show me one of her mistakes and she wanted to know if it was okay to keep it in the painting. More importantly, she wanted to know how to do it again.

Do my accidents and mistakes happen because I am just going along on automatic pilot? Do I really pay attention to my accidental happenings? Do I really learn from them or even want to learn from them? I started paying more attention to them and learned more than I expected. Because of this attention, I have discovered wonderful colors and color combinations that I otherwise would never have known about. I discovered bits and pieces of things that could be elaborated on to get wonderful effects. Most importantly, I learned how to create them over and over again.

One of the things that I now tell others is that art does not happen by accident. It may have its roots or beginnings in accidental situations but then the artist needs to take that and work it until it has taken a shape and form of its own. I tell students that they must pay attention to their mistakes and be able to create them again. That if they make something accidentally and cannot recreate it then it is not art. Art happens on purpose, it is deliberate. The artist has learned how to use the tools and materials and from them create something new.

One of my views of being an artist is that I stand in the middle of chaos, watching and waiting. Occasionally I reach out and grab a piece of chaos. I look at it and study it. Maybe it is complete in itself, maybe it is not. I reach out and grab a second piece, a third, and maybe even more. Eventually I work to assemble these pieces into something new and whole. To bring order out of the chaos.

So why am I thinking about all this accidental chaos? Tuesday afternoon, on my way home, another driver, who was not paying attention, was speeding and ran a stop sign. Being an old fart I tend to drive more cautiously. I caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye and my parental instincts kicked in. I had just a moment to slam on my brakes and to try to swerve my van. I was partially successful. Both vehicles were totaled. I was later told what I did saved his life. If I had hit him straight on at the speed I was going (50 mph) my large commercial van would’ve torn through the car’s cabin and crushed his head. I also would’ve been severely injured or killed. I still get nauseas when I think about it.

This accident now sets me on a different path. I no longer have a vehicle and we cannot afford to replace it right now. Plans that were made for the next month or two now need to be rethought and reconsidered. However, it has not changed my priorities. I got to come home to my priorities, my wife, children, grandson, cats and dogs, and all things living. I guess it must be time for a new adventure.

The above painting is titled “A Solitary Cypress”. It measures 23“ X 17.5“ and is oil on a hardwood panel and was completed in May 2006. The van to the right is titled a total wreck. It is my 1999 GMC Savannah 3500 diesel that was wrecked in the accident.

Just Perfect

2006-07-09T14:12:00.000-04:00

Back when I was a student I had a drawing instructor who gave us a very unique assignment at the end of the semester. We were told to do our very best drawing. We were also told to do the very best presentation that we could (mat, frame, etc.). For the final class we were going to meet out at the beach, build a bonfire, have food and drink, and have a critique. Cheap wine has a way of making critiques less intimidating. After all was said and done, the instructor told us to toss our drawings into the bonfire.

Of course this horrified most of the students. He finally told us that the point he was trying to make was that no matter how good we thought we were, how perfect we thought the drawing was, as students we still had a long way to go. If we couldn’t let go of what we thought was some of our best work then we really wouldn’t be able to grow and move ahead. I was one of a handful of students who tossed our work into the fire and I have never forgotten that lesson.

So, is there any such a thing as a perfect work of art? Is there any such a thing as perfection? What is the definition of perfection? I’m sure that this varies from person to person. One of the best definitions that I’ve heard was by one of my favorite writers, Thomas Merton. Merton was both a writer and a Trappist monk. I was listening to some audiotapes that were made when he was teaching classes for the novice monks and the subject of perfection came up. In the Judeo-Christian bible, Merton pointed out, the author of the book of Genesis tells us that God calls to Abraham and says, “Come walk with me and be perfect.” Using the act of walking as a metaphor for perfection. What an interesting idea.

What is walking? It is purposely throwing myself off balance and when I start to fall forward I stop myself and balance again. I do this over and over and it moves me forward. This metaphor of walking tells me that perfection is about being off balance repeatedly and constantly moving forward. Perfection is not static; it is not a goal that can be achieved. Rather it is an act of doing, it is active not passive.

So much of this is true for being an artist. As an artist I want and need to keep pushing myself. I need to keep going forward. For anything to truly be alive, it needs to keep growing and changing. All living things need to keep evolving otherwise they just become some dusty museum piece. And with this evolving comes change and new ways of seeing the world around me, to have new ways of understanding. Of course, this means that I must develop new ways to respond. Life is not static or predictable, it is always moving and changing and more frequently than not this is a messy process. As I move forward old ways and definitions no longer apply. I need to reinterpret my world. Answers that were once safe and used to work are now irrelevant. There is no safety net. I may fail miserably or I may have fantastic success. Either way is fine because it is about the process and the process gives life. As I move forward in life I approach perfection. As I approach perfection I approach truth, and as I approach truth I approach God.

The above painting is titled "Orchard Trees In A Row" and was completed yesterday. It measures 15" X 18.75". This piece is done on sealed and primed paper. It was blocked in using oil paint and overlayed with oil pastels.

Professional Affiliations

2006-06-29T14:01:00.000-04:00

My friend, Jan, a plein aire painter, has recently emailed me that she is applying to grad school. Jan and I have often discussed the value of getting an MFA degree. When I had just completed my BFA I had a chance to go right into grad school. Maybe I was just tired of being in school or I didn’t want to take on any more debt. I was also pretty anxious to go out and set up my own studio and to get on with life. As I look back at my decision I have mixed feelings about it.

I have always believed in education just for the sake of learning. Over the years I have kept reading art history, staying current with a lot of art magazines and essays, and read about and practiced new materials and techniques. I had always reasoned that I didn’t need to enroll in grad school to do this. The only benefit, I saw at the time, was that if I wanted to teach, at least on a college level, that the MFA was mandatory. However, just having the MFA was no guarantee of getting a teaching position. I know too many people with MFA’s that work in art supply stores.

As much as I love art, teaching, and showing others how to do what I do it would not have been a good fit. I do not have the temperament to fit into the academic bureaucracy. My OCD makes me a very direct, intense, and concrete person who is way too outspoken. These same qualities (or lack of) would also make me a bad fit for enrolling in a grad program. I have told Jan that if I ever do teach it will be doing volunteer work for schools that don’t have art programs or having classes in my studio. Just recently I did a once-a-week class for a group of people with mental illnesses. They were a wonderful group and I enjoyed myself. I had to stop doing it because I needed the time to work on my house.

So, for now I prefer professional affiliations. I have just become a member of the Oil Pastel Society, in the professional category. In the future I also hope to apply to the Pastel Society of America when finances permit. Once we relocate to New Mexico, I will start to look around to get involved with regional affiliations. To teach privately this will do more for me than an MFA and give me contact with other artists who share similar interests and background.

These 2 pieces were among the paintings I sent to the jury committee of the Oil Pastel Society for entry. The nude is titled “Hands Behind Neck” and measures 27.5” X 19.5”, the landscape is titled “Row Of Pines” and measures 19.5” X 27.5”. Both pieces were done on Strathmore paper, sealed and primed with gesso with powdered pumice added and completed in 2005.

Rework and Recycle

2006-06-25T20:12:00.000-04:00

This has been an extremely busy week. There has been little time for painting. Getting our house ready to sell seems to be consuming all of my time and energy. The hope is that it will all pay off. Here in Michigan that is all very iffy. The economy here really sucks. Even as the rest of the country shows some improvement, Michigan still lags behind. A friend of mine just sold her home. It was a very nice Arts and Crafts style house. It took her 6 months to sell it and that is considered good for this area. We are told to plan on having our house on the market for about 18 months at a minimum.

So, I’ve been taking care of all these little projects that I’ve been putting off for awhile. My wife also has a Moving Sale planned for Thursday through Saturday. This sale will be a weekly thing until…whenever. I will be so glad when everything is done and we can just pack what’s left and get on with the next (and probably last) phase of our lives.

All of this means that I’ve got to go through my studio and clean it out. Easier said than done. One of the negative aspects of my OCD is that I am somewhat of a pack rat. If it weren’t for things like moving I might just accumulate things until there was no room left. So I am going through old paintings to see what is worth saving. If I don’t like the image at least the materials, like the support, might be worth saving. When I was in college we were taught to be scrounges. Materials were expensive and our budgets were very limited. That idea (ideal?) has always stayed with me.

So, I found a painting that I wasn’t really thrilled with. There were certain parts that were okay and there were certain parts that I just didn’t care for. I cropped it down and started to repaint it. The final result has more of the feeling of my pastels and that is what I was after. With the oil pastels there is much more of a drawing quality that I like. So much of that gets lost when I translate it into oils.

Another Competition

2006-06-20T10:10:00.000-04:00

After having my paintings rejected from the last two juried competitions I entered another one. Like most artists I am just a glutton for punishment. A lot of people see me as being a skeptic or being cynical. This is true, to an extent. The fact that I keep entering competitions after being rejected must say that there is a certain amout of hope in me. The fact that I keep painting after 30 + years of little or no success must also say that I have a sense of hope. Either that or I am a complete idiot. Hmmmm, decisions, decisions, decisions.

Well, this competition was just for landscapes. Most of my paintings are landscapes so this seemed like a good fit. It was also juried by a group so this gave me better odds of having my paintings accepted. This show should give me some pretty good exposure. The exhibit will be shown online and will stay up for one full year. According to this organization, they get about 650,000 hits a month. If that is only half true it is still pretty good. Hopefully a sale or two will come from this.

Both of these paintings are oil on a hardwood panel. They each measure 18" X 24" and have a simple black and gold frame. They were both completed in May, 2006.

Plein Aire Painter

2006-06-12T10:04:00.000-04:00

My friend, Jan, is also an artist. We both primarily paint the landscape. I work in my studio and she is primarily a plein aire painter. Over coffee, we have discussed the positives and negatives of both methods.

Jan has talked about how wonderful it is to be potdoors on a beautiful day. To feel the sun on your face and enjoy the gentle breezes. Then, she tells me, there are all the wonderful and subtle sounds. The rustling of the leaves and the sounds of the songbirds. There are also the sweet fragrances of all the plantlife. Jan tells me that the world of the plein aire painter is a world of sensual delight. I agree with her completely.

I know this because just about everyday my wife and I take our four dogs out for a walk. We usualy head over to a state wildlife preserve and go hiking along the trails. Throughout the course of the year we experience this area constantly changing with the seasons. Earlier this Spring we counted 12 swans out on the lakes and ponds. Along the trails, away fom the waters edge, the turtles are coming ashore to dig holes and lay their eggs. The Canadian Geese are leading their young from the nests into the water to instruct them in what it is that they do. And for me it is always a pleasure to see red shouldered black birds. I've told Jan that I really do love the quiet and solitude of these places. Because I go out to them most everyday and then return home to our secluded and wooded acerage, I don't have much need to go out there as an artist.

I do like this area as an inspiration for paintings. In fact, I frequently take my digital camera or sketchbook with me. Because of my painting style, a few quick sketches and field notes are usually all that I need. Besides, lugging 20-30 pounds of painting gear, plus whatever food and drink I may want for the day, over hill and dale is not my idea of fun. Now mind you, I love to go camping. My wife and I spent our honeymoon camping in Yosemite National Park. But a day trip for painting is different.

I remember reading that the French artist, Edgar Degas, used to make fun of those early impressionist artists and their treks out to paint plein aire. While I don't make fun of outdoor painters, like Degas, I enjoy the comforts of my studio. I always have what I need when I need it. If the weather suddenly changes I never have to worry about it. When I want to stop for lunch the kitchen is only a few yards away and there is always coffee available. No, my idea of plein aire painting is to set up one of my easels out back under the shade of a tree and paint there. It is so much more convenient. And it is so much easier to take a break, stretch out on the hammock, and take a nap on a warm Summer day.

Another Framing Method

2006-06-06T18:17:00.000-04:00

I was reading another blog the other day and a discussion was going on concerning marketing. Well, I’m sure that everyone has different views on marketing but that is for another time. This discussion did get me thinking about the business side of art. I know artist that think the business end is selling your soul, that art needs to stay about base things such as that. Well, maybe I’m a little too old and a little too tired to think that way. When I was right out of college, I could work at a job all day, come home and paint for hours, and maybe even have time to go out and socialize and party.

After working various jobs for the income, raising 2 daughters, building additions on 2 houses, 26 years of marriage, and still painting, I just don’t have the energy. The idea of doing what I like, painting, and doing the kinds of paintings that I like in a style that I enjoy, and getting paid for it and actually earning a decent living from it sounds mighty good to me. My wife likes the idea, too.

Every Friday morning I meet a friend at McDonald’s for breakfast. He is an engineer by education and temperament and a businessman and entrepreneur by necessity. By that I mean he has a Master’s degree, lots of skills and experience, and in the last 2 years has sent out 350 resumes and still cannot locate a job. A big part of the problem is he has a master’s degree, lots of experience, but he’s over 50! So we discuss ways to take over the world (if you’ve ever seen the cartoon Pinky and the Brain you’d know what I mean).

He has taught me a lot about business in the last few years. You’re not in business to make money but to make a profit being one of the more important things. Profit is not a dirty word or a terrible thing unless you stop being fair, ethical, and honest. So, if I can get my materials at a lower price and still sell my paintings at the same price then tah-dah, I’ve made a better profit! This is a big reason why I not only do my own framing but also make my own frames. It also doesn’t hurt that I get what I want when I want it.

So, this framing method was pretty simple. The painting is an oil pastel that was done on prepared paper. Because it is fairly small, 10” X 12.5”, and the colors are strong and dark in areas; I wanted a border of white around it. One solution would be to frame the piece with a mat and acid free backing and put it in a frame with acrylic glazing. I went with Plan B. Using an archival adhesive, I mounted the painting to a piece of hardwood plywood that had been sealed, trimmed it to size and painted the edges black. I then took a piece of hardboard panel and primed it both front and back (this equalizes the tension on both sides and helps to prevent any warping). I used 3 coats of primer on the front then sanded it lightly using 100 grit sandpaper. I then applied 3 coats of the finish paint using a foam roller to give the surface a very subtle texture. The outer frame is made from scrap that I had from another project. The painting panel was then mounted to the larger backing panel using adhesive silicon caulking. This holds the art firmly in place but it can easily be removed at a later date if so desired. I get a similar result to matting the piece but it cost me less to make so I have a higher profit. Plus there is no glazing between the viewer and the art.

Fat Over Lean?

2006-06-03T10:31:00.000-04:00

There are different ways that different artists begin their paintings. A classic method is to stain the entire surface using the main color of your under painting. The next step is to do the entire painting as a tonal study using your only color of choice, white, and black. At this point the paint still stays fairly lean. The under painting shows the artists that there is a balance of darks and lights and that the composition does work. The next phase is where the color starts to develop. The colors are glazed over the under painting, layer after layer, adding color and richness. To glaze the paint is mixed with a painting medium that makes it “fatter” than the previous layers. The final touches are put on with the thickest and most opaque layer of paint. The classic fat over lean.

I don’t do this. I start one of two ways. I will either stain the entire surface a single color; I usually use dioxine purple or mars violet. I like them as colors and they have a high degree of being able to stain the surface using a little bit of paint. It’s all going to be covered by the time I finish so the color is not that important except I think they are fun colors. Then I will do a charcoal drawing or sketch or maybe draw with a brush and thinned paint.

My other starting method is to do a contour drawing on the white prepared surface using charcoal since graphite can leech through to the surface. Then I will fix the drawing. After that I will block in the painting with color. I usually use discord colors but not always. The paint in this layer is thinned with turpentine to speed the drying time. This is the lean phase. After that dries, I jump right in! I go right to the fat layers. Sometimes I will thin the paint with a painting medium so that it will flow better. Other times I will squeeze it out of the tube directly on to my brush or the painting surface. I do most of my color mixing directly on the painting rather than on a palette. At times I also incorporate oil sticks.

I also use this approach with my oil pastels. With the oil pastels I will do a lot of cross-hatching. At times I will blend the colors using my fingers. Other times I will use a brush dipped in painting medium. The oil pastels I use are a high grade and are completely intermixable with oil paint. They can also be dipped directly into the medium before using them. It just makes them melt right into the surface. It is because of both soft and oil pastels that I got into the habit of mixing color directly on the surface of the painting.

When I think that I’m done or I’m sure that I’m mostly completely done, I set it aside to dry. I usually set it somewhere I can see it. I will look at it but not really think about it. This is a time for non-verbal thought, waiting to see if the painting tells me that it is done. Sometimes I will add a few final touches other times I just leave it because it is done. I will use a retouch varnish, on the oils, at this time to protect the surface. I will sometimes use Kamar varnish because it acts like retouch varnish and will permit the painting to completely dry before doing the final varnish. For the oil pastels I give it a coat of the Kamar varnish both for protection and because it gives the colors a wonderful richness.

This painting is titled "Shadow Side". It is an oil pastel done on a sheet of Strathmore paper. The paper has been sealed and gessoed. It measures 10" X 12".

Variations: Nothing Is New

2006-05-24T08:19:00.000-04:00

In college, one of my instructors told us students that there was nothing new under the sun. We were reinventing things because we didn’t know that they existed. A critical look at a lot of the devices of war that Leonardo designed were not new devices rather larger versions of something that was already in use. . The Egyptians knew how to do electroplating and the ancient Greeks knew about the atom.

In the world of a friend, who is an engineer, he calls it tinkering and adjusting. In my world as a painter I call it making variations on a theme. Sometimes it is just a few variations, sometimes there are no variations, and sometimes it becomes an obsession, but then I do have an obsession disorder (OCD). For some unknown reason, there are certain images, compositions, subjects, or whatever that catch my attention and I keep returning to it over and over again.

The last few days I did a couple of small paintings. They were done alla prima. They were okay but I am still not happy with the finished results. I started going through my image files and art books looking for color variations and made notes on a small sketch that I made of the subject I am working on. The notes kept growing so now I will end up doing 9-12 variations.

When I work on variations like this I make a master drawing. Redrawing something once or twice is okay but 12+ times, I don’t think so. The master is just a very simple contour drawing that I draw over the lines using a sharpie marker. With this I can lay the master on my light box and trace out the drawing as often as I want with little effort. When I do this I usually prepare at least 6 sheets just to make it worth the effort. Set up and prep work usually takes more time than the actual painting.

Right now I need this extra time. I am busy outside working on the house. Yesterday I started rebuilding a retaining wall and will hopefully finish today. My hands are stiff from working with a wrecking bar, sledgehammer, shovel, and wheeling endless loads of soil with my old wheelbarrow.

This piece is a continuing variations theme that I have been work on over the years. When I get stuck creatively or my brain is just too tired to work I go back to a variation. It is like visiting with an old friend. This piece has the wonderfully creative title of 2 Barns Series. It is oil on paper. It measures 13” X 20”. This particular variation was completed in March 2006.

Rejection: Part 2

2006-05-21T12:29:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I drove to the Grand Rapids Art Museum (GRAM) to pick up the 2 paintings that I had rejected from a juried competition. Fred, who is one of the main volunteers for this competition, was there behind the check-in desk. He sat there shaking his head saying, “I don’t get it.” Fred liked the 2 paintings and so did anyone else who saw them, with one exception, the judge. Fred and I visited for a bit and discussed juried competitions. Fred also had both of the pieces that he entered rejected. Fred does these beautiful wooden bowls that are turned on a lathe and the top rim has the natural edge of the wood. He also does printmaking. They are simple and stunning.

As I’ve always known, competitions are a crapshoot. Who knows, maybe that day the judge only wanted pieces with analogous colors, or works done on paper, or whatever mood he might have been in that day. The day was beautiful and sunny so I enjoyed the drive. I forgot my camera so I wasn’t able to get a couple of reference shots of a barn for my image file. Once I got home, I photographed the paintings and made the necessary color corrections. Tomorrow I will email the jpegs to 3 galleries that handle my work

Early afternoon I worked on making modifications to the display panels I’ve previously built for doing art fairs. I need to make 4 more half-width panels to help add stability to the display when everything is set up. I’m becoming as bad as an engineer friend of mine with my tinkering and fine-tuning. I spent the rest of the day preparing paper and some small panels for new work, mostly studies. After laying out the drawings for 4 more pieces I started work on a small (10” X 12.5”) color study using oil and oil pastels and ended up finishing it.

Today I’ll glue some small paintings on paper down to panels and get them ready to frame (I sealed the panels yesterday). I’ve got 5 of those then I’ll work on the next color study. Maybe it’ll be another alla prima day. I’ve also posted another close-up of another molding I started making. It’s so easy it’s almost sinful. I took a piece of glass beading (this is trim that is used to hold glass window panes into the window frame) put some glue on it and tacked it down with my brad gun. Cut the miters, glue it and paint it. Done!

The 2 paintings are both oil on panel. The hilly landscape that is viewed from above looking down is from my Emmaus Road Series. It measures 24” X 48”. Playing off influence from Wolf Kahn, the other is titled Red Glow (for obvious reasons) and measures 30” X 48”. Both paintings were done this year.

More Framing Stuff

2006-05-16T20:04:00.000-04:00

As well as making my own frames, I also make my own molding. It is a little more time consuming but it saves a lot of money. I have also found out that no matter how I frame a piece, half of the time I am asked how much the painting is without the frame. Since I am now making standard size panels, it is easier for me to pull a frame off and be able to reuse it.

I like frames that have a clean and simple look. There was a particular molding that was made back in the 1960’s, that I liked a lot, but I just can’t find it anymore. I also like frames that give a floating look to the painting. Floater styles frames are making a comeback but they are still too expense for my taste. I priced one out from a molding catalogue the other day. For an 18 X 24 frame it would’ve cost about $36.00 plus shipping. Making it myself, the wood costs me $4.50. Adding the glue, nails and paint brings it up to about $6.50 plus my time.

For this frame I used a piece of 1” X 2” clear pine. I then cut the rabbet out; you can see this in the small sample piece that is with the primed frame. To set up my table saw and do this takes me about 15 minutes. Usually I’ll run about 6 lengths at once, just to save time. The most time is spent in the set-up. Next I’ll cut the rails to size. I have a chop saw for this. That being done I glue up the corners and let them sit in my framer’s vices until dry. If the frame is going to be painted I’ll use a brad nailer on the corners. If the frame is going to have a natural finish, I use a bottom pinner. Next I’ll sand the assembled frame and then either give it an oil finish or prime it for painting. I’ll usually give it 2 coats of primer or 3 coats of an oil finish.

After I let the primer dry overnight I’ll spray paint the top with a metallic gold paint, using 2-3 coats, and let that dry overnight. I’ll then use a delicate surface painters tape and mask off the gold and burnish it down. I will then spray the inside rabbet and sides of the frame with a satin finish black paint using 3 light coats letting it dry in between so that I don’t get any running. When it’s dry, I’ll drop the painting in and secure it from the back.

After that it’s just a matter of putting on the hanging wire and bumpers. The painting has my initials on the front. On the back, with a sharpie marker, I write the title, below that I add the copyright symbol and print my name and the date, and below that I use my signature. I also take some double stick tape and affix my business card to the back. If the piece is matted and has glass I will also put a dust seal on the back. For oils on panel, I just leave it.

This painting is oil on a hardwood panel that has been cradled. It measures 14” X 11” and I just finished it last week. It has the highly creative title (I hate naming paintings) of Pear With Sienna Background.

Unrealistic Expectations: The Nude Figure

2006-05-13T19:31:00.000-04:00

I have always enjoyed drawing the human figure. I really cannot think of a more beautifal subject. It is such a shame that our society and culture put such unrealistic demands 0n what the ideal body should look like, especially when it comes to women. I have 2 daughters. They are both wonderful, intelligent, creative young women. Over the years they have both sufered from having bad self images of their bodies. As a father, they do not believe me when I tell them that there is no such thing as a perfect (or ideal) body.

Bodies, there are only 2 basic models, male and female. The rest is all a variation on a theme. I come from an Eastern European heritage. I will never be the tall, lean person I used to want to be. I am built like a peasant, a tree stump, or a fire plug, take your pick. My body was made for physical labor and I have good physical strength.

If I had it to do over, I would raise my children as nudists. Nudists have very few problems with body self image. They can see,literally, and they know that everyone is different, not better, just different. They are also a lot more mellow and a lot friendlier than other people. It is rather hard to be pretentious when you are standing there naked and don't have the outward trappings, such as expensive clothes, to show others how successful or wonderful you are, you only have yourself.

So, how do I know this? Well, I am a nudist. A lifetime ago, when my wife and I were young and living in California, we used to go to nude beaches. The freedom felt wonderful and there is no greater joy than skinny dipping. Well, maybe there are greater joys but you know what I mean. Regretfully, here in Michigan, with all of its coastlines on these beautiful Great Lakes, there are no nude beaches. How sad, how disappointing. But we discovered nudist resorts. There are some very beautiful nudist resorts in this country. Nude recreation is one of the fastest growing industries in this country. The people who go to them tend to be better educated and have a much more tolerant view of life and others.

This last October, my wife and I were at a nudist resort in Kissimmee, FL, just outside of Orlando. We were there because they had an art fair. This was the second year that the Cypress Cove Resort had this event. It is not to often, as an artist, that I can find a venue to exhibit my paintings of nudes. The people who came to the fair were not just nudists, there were also textiles (a nudist term for non-nudists). The resort opened their gates to the general public. The artists got a larger group of viewers and the resort got a chance to market themselves to people that might never have thought of visiting a nudist resort. It also gave the public a chance to see that as nudists, we are just like them. We have the same interests and concerns only we do it without clothing. And believe me, when it is hot and humid this is a real benefit. Our youngest daughter (she is 22) came with us on this trip and was surprised to find that she was not self-conscious and how much she enjoyed herself.

This summer, I will be doing another art fair at a nudist resort. This time it is here in Michigan at the Turtle Lake Resort in Union City, MI. I am looking forward to it. I will have a chance to educate people about why it is important to have art in their life and why the nude human form is not obscene. We can do things with the body that are obscene but nudity itself is a reflection of the creator. As Oscar Wilde said, if God had wanted me to be nude, I would've been born that way!

Rejection

2006-05-11T10:16:00.000-04:00

Last week I submitted work to different regional competions. This week I receved the notification cards back. Rejected! I submitted 2 paintings to each of the regionals and all were rejected. These are both regionals that I have been in the last 2 years. My wife is taking this very personally. Maybe because she chose the paintings that were submitted.

For me it is more like, yeah, well so, when can I pick up my stuff? I know that jurors will select work based on their own likes and dislikes and not necessarily the quality of the work. Maybe I don't especially care because I have a lot going on right now and I am enjoying life. When I was a young man it was far more difficult. In order to help ease the pain of rejection I would, along with my artist friends, staple the rejection notices up on the studio wall and then proceed to drink way too much beer. The collection of notices became like an icon on the wall. Stack some empty beer cans on the floor and before you knew it, I had an altar to the arts gods.

So, Ive got some frames to finish making and about 6 paintings that I am working on. The weather is getting nice and I'm getting work done on the outside of the house. We are targeting mid-July to get our house on the market. I spend more and more time, in my head, dreaming about our move to the SW.

Both of these pieces are done on Strathmore paper using a combination of Caran D'Ache Neo-Pastel II artist crayons and oil pastels. They are matted with a single white mat, the glazing is plexi and the frames are made by me. They are a simple profile with a natural finish. The wood is poplar.

Busy Week

2006-05-05T11:05:00.000-04:00

This has been a very busy week for me. I have been busy getting pieces ready to drop off for competitions and exhibit. I started the week by going to my local lumber yard and buying lengths of 1" X 2" poplar. I then proceed to cut them into frame moulding. After that I cut the rails to size and assembled them. Next comes sanding and then putting on the finish. It's a lot of work but saves a substantial amount of money. If I were to buy the least expense frame I could, usually a metal frame, I would've spent about $25.00 per frame. Making it myself, from scratch, it costs me about $6.00 per frame. And right now, I have more time than money. I then went on to mount the pieces, cut the mats and glazing, and put the whole thing together. I framed 6 pieces total.

Last night I dropped 4 of them off to a new gallery. I don't know how well it will go but it's worth a try. I also dropped 2 pieces off at the Muskegon Museum of Art for their annual Regional Competition. I've been in the show the last 2 years. Very little sells there but the show has prestige in this area. I also picked up a painting that I had there that was part of an invitational.

Today, I drive into Grand Rapids, MI, about 22 miles East of here, and drop off 2 pieces for the annual competition called Celebration. I have also been in this show the last 2 years. Much more work sells out of this show. Plus the show get good coverage from the local press and a lot of people come to view the exhibit. After that I can take it easy.

I have also been busy building and preparing my panels. Even though I make my own frames I am making the panels standard frame sizes, in case I need to buy a store bought frame. I have also been preparing paper for doing more oil pastels. It's just nice to put the brushes down and do my version of coloring. The image area is being sized so when I mat them, they will fit into a standard size frame. Or more importantly, use standard size materials and help me to reduce waste which reduces my costs. Then I will take a break and do some work on the house, now that our weather is getting nice and I can work outside without getting frostbite.

Sail vs Power

2006-04-28T11:28:00.000-04:00

When I was in high school, I had a music teacher (band) who loved to go sailing. He didn't have a big fancy sail boat but a small modest one. In the summer he would teach beginning sailing as part of a local summer recreational program. On his office wall at school, he had a cartoon up on the wall. It showed a man kneeling in prayer by his sailboat. The caption read, "Forgive me, I tried a powerboat and I LIKED IT!

That is sort of the way that I feel abouting painting and playing with digital images on my computer. The computer makes it so easy to manipulate an image and produce so many variations on a theme. There are so many filters available that producing painterly effects are so simple.

I took a photograph of a bridge in Grand Rapids, MI, not far from where I live. Your typical bland older concrete bidge, crossing over the Grand River. Once I had the image in my computer I twisted the color and texture every way possible. I soon came out with a pretty good image. I showed it to another painter friend and asked him if he ever thought of playing with images digitally. His answer surprised me a bit. He sai, "Oh no, I'm afraid that I would like it too much. It's almost too easy to do and I would probably give up painting." I know the feeling.

Spring Is For The Birds

2006-04-24T15:51:00.000-04:00

After the dreariness of Winter I am always glad to see spring coming. Here, by Lake Michigan, we get what is called Lake Effect Snow and what seems like endless overcast. I have to work hard at fighting off seasonal depression. But now Spring is here. More days with sunshine and blue skies. The days are getting warmer and winter clothes and snow gear, for the most part, can be put away. And all the trees are in bloom.

Trees in bloom are the one part of Spring that I am not crazy about. I have seasonal allergies. I know that for the next month or so I will be sneezing like crazy. Even Flonase or Claritan, as helpful as they are, don't fully do the job. But still, I don't mind. Sunshine, blue skies, warmer weather, these are positives that outweigh the negative. But Spring also brings one more important thing, the birds.

Every morning, just before dawn starts to lighten the sky the birds slowly begin their morning song. With the windows now open I can again hear the beauty of their songs. It is a simple pleasure but one that I really enjoy. It is a wonderful way to be awoken in the morning.

These three pieces are done with Caran D'Ache artist crayons on Strathmore paper.

Old Friends

2006-04-23T12:30:00.000-04:00

Just about everyday my wife and I get our dogs out for a walk at a nearby nature preserve. We do it for ourselves as much as we do it for them. It's a moderate walk, about 3 miles, taking us up and down hills on the various paths. Once we get out there, the dogs are so excited that they strain against their leashes. All except one, the golden retriever, Mia.

Mia, like all of our other animals, is a dog that we rescued. Someone had used her for many years to breed so they could sell the puppies (or so we speculate). When she got too old and had developed numerous, hard, and large breast tumors, she was dumped off in an area that she was not familiar with on a road. This was in the heat of mid summer and she smelled horrible. She had been forced to go down into drainage ditches to find any water to drink.

We never knew how old she really was, the vet estimated around nine. She seemed healthy and happy and she had a good appetite. If she had gone to the Humane Society, she would have been put down because she was so unadoptable. She is one of the sweetest and gentle dogs that we have ever had and we wanted to make sure that she spent whatever time was left to her in a place where she was loved.

Now, she is noticably slowing down. When we were out yesterday morning, my wife had to take her back to the van shortly after we started our trek. She was already lagging behind and she was panting. At home, she spends most of her time sleeping and doesn't seek attention or affection as much anymore. We have seen this in the past in our other animals. We know that now her time is really limited. We have a small pet cemetary on our property. She will be buried with her friends. So, we will just enjoy her company as much as we can for as long as we can.

As bittersweet as this is, we know that we will rescue another animal that was probably unwanted. We will keep doing this as long as we can. And when we die, my wife and I figure that we will be greeted by a large and varied pack because, there are dogs in our heaven.

Preparing The Surface

2006-04-20T11:31:00.000-04:00

There are two supports that I use to paint on, paper and a hardwood panel. Years ago I used to use canvas but it is just too expense. I also have a very heavy hand so the flex and give of a stretched canvas just doesn’t work that entirely well for me. When I’m using oils I also incorporate oil sticks to either add additional color or get more of a drawing quality. For soft and oil pastel the rigid surface is a necessity. With oil pastels I can do them directly on a hardwood panel and not have to worry about framing them with a mat or putting it under glass.

For the hardwood panels, I buy ¼” X4’ X 8’ sheets at my local lumberyard. I have them make a couple of preliminary cuts just for my ease of handling. Once I get them home I cut them to the sizes that I want. If you have a heavy enough hand, you can also cut through them using a utility knife. For the cradles I use 1” X 2” clear pine. I cut them to length, put some glue on them, and tack the plywood down using a brad nailer, then fill in the holes with putty. Later, I give them 2 coats of sealer and finish with 2 coats of gesso. I use a foam roller for this because it gives the surface a little texture so that there is some drag for the brush. The last step is to cover the surface with a toned wash.

With paper I use pretty much the same process with a few variations. Many years ago I used watercolor blocks. There were really great for ease of use. I could gesso them without worrying about stretching the paper. Once again, cost became a factor. I have experimented with various papers over the years. I am currently using a paper made by Strathmore. It is not an art paper but one made for the printing industry. It has a nice texture, 2 deckled edges, measures 26” X 39”, and is pH neutral, which makes it archival. I got it through a printing shop that I used to work for, at cost. Because I bought a ream it came to $150.00 or 30 cents a sheet.

On the sheet, I lightly mark off the size I want to paint, usually leaving a 2-3 inch border all around. I next use a commercial painters tape made for delicate surfaces to mask the area. Any remaining area that is still exposed, I mask with brown craft paper (cheaper than using the tape). The clean borders give the piece a nice finished look without needing a mat. After that, I seal the surface and gesso the same as above. The only major difference happens if I am using soft pastels or artists’ crayons.

In the case of pastels and crayons, I add powdered pumice to the final coat of gesso. Usually 1 part pumice to 2-3 parts gesso and I thin it slightly (no more than 20%) with water. This gives the surface a wonderful sanded effect, much like using 600-grit sandpaper. In the case of soft pastels I can build up numerous layers without having to use fixative. I also stain the surface with an acrylic tonal wash before I start blocking in the painting.

The barn painting was a commission that was done in oil on a hardwood panel. The landscape is done in artist crayon on the paper mentioned above using the preparation mentioned. Both are finished with Kamar varnish.

Pastels

2006-04-19T10:12:00.000-04:00

When I first got married I was working with oils and doing abstract paintings. Then we started to have children. I quickly found out that you could not care for an infant, change diapers, heat bottles, and do whatever while I had my hands soiled with paint. Like it or not I had to give up painting. I filled the creative vacuum with photography. When we would take the kids and the dog for a walk to the park, I would bring my camera and do close up photography of peeling bark on the eucalyptus trees and the peeling paint on the playground equipment. These photos became my way of still doing abstract art.

As the kids got older I was able to start doing some pen and ink work. Using a rapidograph was easy set-up and no clean up when I was finished. While I was in school I enjoyed drawing more than painting so this was a natural follow-up for me. This worked great for a while but I really missed using color. I tried using colored pencils, for a while, but I just didn’t like the results that I was getting. Then I tried giving pastels a try. Pastels have an easy set-up and clean up is minimal, what’s not to like?

When I first started using them, I HATED THEM! As a painter I was used to mixing the colors that I wanted. With pastels, I wasn’t able to rub two sticks together and get the color I wanted. I was frustrated and felt like a beginner but I am stubborn enough I wasn’t going to let them beat me. I promised myself that once I was successful and learned to use them I would throw them away. Well, it took me over 10 years to stop using them. During that time, I used pastels exclusively. I found out they were a truly rich and expressive medium. They also worked well while dealing with my young children and working full time outside the house.

Now, I don’t use them so much and that’s kind of sad. For all of the good qualities there were a number of problems with them. Framing was one of the biggest factors. Not only did I have to cut mats but also the mats had to be floated (have a spacer put behind it). Also, only glass could be used not plexi-glass. When plexi-glass gets cleaned, it creates a static charge and literally will draw some of the pastel off of the surface. Not only did it add extra expense but also it created problems in shipping. And it never failed that when someone was looking to buy the painting, more often than not, I was asked how much it was without the frame.

Now to take their place I use oil pastels or a wonderful water-soluble artist crayon made by Caran D’Arch that works much the same way as the oil pastel. There are no dust problems, framing is easier, and I can get similar effects. The two brands oil pastels that I prefer are the Neo Pastel made by Caran D’Arch and the ones made by Holbein, specifically the ones where each color has 5 different tones. They both have a rich buttery quality and are a pleasure to use.

In the above paintings, the blue mug with a lemon is done in traditional soft pastel, the calla lily is done with artist crayon, and the pear is done with oil pastel.

2006-04-18T11:43:00.000-04:00

NUDE

The subject matter that I like the most, the nude human figure, is the one I seem to have the most trouble with and it is my weakest area. I’m pretty good when it comes to drawing the figure but when I go to paint the figure it seems to fall apart on me. I keep going back and forth over how I should approach it. I have a vague sense of what I want to achieve but I still haven’t figured out how to get there. In a way, I don’t know what it is but I know what it isn’t!

This vagueness probably comes from admiring the figurative work of many different artists with varying styles and wanting to emulate them somewhat and to incorporate pieces and parts of their styles into my own work but not quite knowing how to make it work. At the same time it needs to be all of my style. I struggle with keeping the compositions and shapes simple yet giving richness to them.

The painters whose figurative work I admire the most are very different. I have always loved the work of Richard Diebenkorn. The whole Bay Area Figurative movement in San Francisco was still going on when I was in art school. Diebenkorn was the master but Elmer Bischoff was no slouch. In the second generation of that school was Nathan Olivera whose work bordered on the abstract while just retaining the figure. There was also the work of Wayne Thiebaud. His work was bright and bold yet controlled and he laid the paint down in a very luscious way. There are two contemporary artists, Milt Koboyashi and Joseph Lorusso, who both capture contemporary scenes much the same way that Degas and Lautrec did in their time. Both Degas and Mary Cassatt created wonderful works of the human form using pastel. The multiple layers, richness of the colors, and the simpleness of the forms. In the case of Cassatt, I think that her pastel work was really her strength. With Lautrec there was directness and a boldness that I really admire.

These are the artists who have influenced my own figurative work. They are the ones that I come back to over and over again. Still, there are others whose work I enjoy seeing. Lucian Freud, Egon Schiele, Edvard Munch, the German Expressionists, the Fauvists, and many more. The list is long and varied.

2006-04-17T11:10:00.000-04:00

A Portrait of Myself

Earlier this year, I was asked to participate in an exhibit at the Muskegon Museum of Art in Muskegon, MI. The show was titled Self: Portraits and Narratives. The following is the statement that I was asked to submit along with my painting.

Direct, intense, concrete, loud, in your face, larger than life, intimidating, boisterous, these are all words and phrases that have been used to describe my paintings or me. These would all be pretty accurate. It was Pablo Picasso who once said that all works an artist makes are self-portraits. From my own artistic experience and philosophy, this is something that I do believe to be true. So, I took these words, thoughts, and ideas and combined them with my artist statement and used this as the foundation of my painting.

I knew that this was a good basis to start with but things are not that simple for me. I have a disability, it is a mental illness called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). One of the elements of this disorder is that I will mull things over and over again in my mind to the Nth degree. This is not always a bad thing because it caused me to look at other elements of my artwork and myself and to include them in the portrait. My artist statement was part of the foundation of the painting but I did add other elements to it.

I believe that as an artist, as I watch the world I see chaos swirl all around me. Every so often I reach out into this chaos and grab a piece of it and look at it and study it. Sometimes this one piece is a complete whole but more often than not I reach out and grab more pieces until I feel that I have enough to assemble them into something interesting. I sometimes add embellishments and sometimes I don’t. This is the main reason that I cut the portrait apart into squares. I was able to take the idea of shapes being small abstract paintings and combine it with the idea of randomness. I treated each square as a small abstract painting complete unto itself. Once the 12 individual panels were complete I reassembled them into the full portrait. With this I was able to combine the idea of abstracts and randomness or controlled chaos.

There are also other personal aspects from my life that I added to this painting. A lot of this comes from my OCD which causes me to have a very direct, intense, and concrete personality. The colors are basically dissonant because that is the way most of my life has been lived. I have also been told that my sense of color is very In-Your-Face. Even though I am short I have been told that I have a larger than life presence. All of these have been combined into this portrait.

This portrait is straightforward to the point of being blunt. It is large, bold, simple and intense. It does not pretend to be anything other than what it is. It looks simple on the surface while underneath there are layer upon layer of complexities, various complex microcosms coming together to form a completed whole.

Ed Maskevich
December 2005

2006-04-16T16:41:00.000-04:00

Artist’s Statement

For quite a long time I used to believe that the essence of my work could be distilled down to one word, strength. Strong color, shape, composition, light and so on. That slowly I was eliminating all of the unnecessary elements. I was trimming it down to bare and simple forms. The paintings were sleek and trim and could hold their own. The reality I discovered is something quite different.
My work is more about contradictions. There are simple shapes but they are made up of layers of colors and scribbles as I mix the paint on the surface of the painting. As much as I wanted to simplify everything I could not tolerate the shapes to be flat and lifeless. I wanted something simple yet I wanted it to be richly complex without it appearing to be that way. This was a throw back to my days as an abstract color field painter. I wanted each simple shape to be a small abstract painting working with other small abstract paintings on the same surface. Various complex microcosms coming together to form a completed whole.

“Jung has wisely said that if you are able to observe a quality that is characteristic of a person, you may be quite certain that somewhere in that person the opposite is equally true.” June Singer, BOUNDARIES OF THE SOUL