It's All Relative...

1984 - PALMETTO 3 - w/c - 22x30

I'm not really into self-help books but am a big believer in positive thinking. On a recent drive to the lake house, I caught a book review on NPR's 'Here and Now' ("Counterclockwise," by Dr. Ellen Langer) which really grabbed my attention. As you know, a few years ago we repurchased a house we'd lived in back in the early to mid '80's... since it's on a lake and only an hour away, we've had a great time fixing it up. Lots of hard work but worth it in more ways than I'd ever imagined. Our own personal 'togetherness' and watching the g-kids enjoy swimming and boating during family get-togethers... and personally, getting a whole lot of exercise!

It's a long article but the part I heard on NPR begins with this short paragraph: "I told him that I didn’t know if anything would change as a result of the study, but he might have a good time for a week. He agreed to join us." which is about halfway through the article.

In essence, a controlled study showed that by putting a group of elderly men in a time warp situation for a week where everything (tv, radio, newspapers) is 1958 and you don't even mention anything that's happened since, they improved remarkedly both physically and mentally in just that short time. An earlier study had shown the difference in giving nursing home patients a plant to 1) take care of, or 2) let the aides take care of. The first group became much more involved and attune to more than just the plant. The theory is that we don't need to follow the assumed aging process... there are workarounds!

I didn't really listen closely because I immediately realized the similarities with our own situation and thought about when J and I are working on one project after another at our 'time warp' place, we are much more involved and attune there than when we come back home and each of us go to 'our separate corners' and resume a slower, more suitable pace. I think just being able to go there on occasion is enough... no plans or desire to move back, just want to try to keep up with the people we were three decades ago... and then drive back home and rest up!

This possibly also addresses why I've been so adamant about regaining my earlier, more realistic skills in artmaking. I've rejoined a weekly painting group that I'd been a member of in the 80's... no idea why... nice people, enthusiastic painters, camaraderie maybe... could be it's just a square I need to fill... or refill. I don't know how else to explain except that I expect it to have a positive affect on my future work. Um, wonder what the first signs of schizophrenia might be???

Meanwhile, back in the studio, in present time and having nothing to do with the lake house scenario, plans are well on the way to getting a new body of Bokushos lined up. Don't know what I'm going to do with them, but I'll be ready for whatever!

Rhythm...

AVALON 10 - 2010 - small watercolor sketch

It comes and it goes... and all I can do is look for it when it's gone. Oh, I know where the usual stuff is, but the usual stuff isn't doing it for me right now. Blame it on the economy, the large inventory of 'usual stuff,' the fewer galleries due to closures and my own mismanagement of career. The latter is a bit of self pity, just ignore...

Such is the rhythm of life... ups and downs... and sometimes they look just alike. I've nothing to complain about... four months into the year and four fair size paintings sold... started many a good year with those meek numbers. Never know what tomorrow will bring. Surprise is the name of the game. Yadda, yadda...

So... I take this time to 'play'. That is, to explore a few side roads, see what's off the beaten path. About every ten years I get this itch and sometimes a major direction change happens, sometimes just a fun drive around and then back on track. Change, btw, doesn't happen overnight... usually takes several years of overlapping styles/mediums to notice a change actually happened. But it's usually pretty distinct, such as moving from grasses to patterns, then to canvas and abstract... and on to geometrics. A bunch of other, smaller sidesteps not mentioned but they contributed to the overall rhythm of change.

I'm in the hunt again but I don't know what I'm hunting for. So I sketch a lot, mess around a bit with watercolor, nothing big, just looking, hoping to spot something I might become passionate about. Until then, my rhythm is a bit off...

Painting Just For Me...

Archives - 1988 - Magnolia 5 - W/C - 22 x 30

Prepping for another surge of family at the lake house... will be out of pocket for the next week... but that's another story...

As most who follow these wanderings know, I'm not one to stay too long on a chosen path. At some point I must (briefly or not) shift directions and either explore something new or revisit something from the past. The latter is the current infatuation, a journey back into realism combined with a medium I've never really mastered but will give one more try... oils.

An FB friend mentioned this Josef Albers quote: "Knowledge does not destroy spontaneous work; rather, it ceates a solid base for it."

I consider this research for knowledge... painting directly from an old photograph, similar to the w/c above, but in oil. First I'll work as realistically as possible on a small canvas, sharpening eye/hand coordination, reaching back to a time when this was my primary way of working. I knew exactly what the finished work would look like: nearly identical to the photograph. Second purpose is to get the feel for oils again... not as a big-brush-palette-knife abstract process but an exploration in color mixing and detail application. If things work out, I'll move to larger supports.

Why? First, to make sure I can still make the calls... that I'm not controlled by habit and routine. Where's the creativity in that? Things have become so predictable in the studio the challenge has left the room. I've a large inventory spread across several states and I don't really need to keep growing it at this point. So now is the time to play... to see what I can still do, to entertain new thoughts that may lead to just time out to paint for me... or a new direction all together.

I'll take sketch and w/c materials with me this next week... since I won't really be in charge, maybe I'll find time to work on that eye/hand coordination thing...

Weaving Grass...

Still in early '80's mode, still thinking about the watercolors I did when we first lived at our lake house... even scanning photos of the period to update my digital database... an on again, off again endless process.

Looking back, I can see the seeds of work to come, the geometrics, the lines, the gestures, though some might disagree, I can see them. My work was searching for a style, I was still trying out every new product that came along, influenced wildly by scores of new ideas in every magazine and with every artistic association.


Some of the comments in previous posts point out how we leave so much behind as we surge forward with our new style and materials, so anxious to be "professional!"... to "make it!"... to be identified with our own personal style. So I did.

I've always loved flowers, growing them as well as painting them. But doesn't everyone? I needed to go beyond flowers. I began to notice that the interaction of leaves, especially elongated leaves offered endless arrangements and that's what I began to emphasize. The way new and old grass blades weave in and out, creating their own directional flow, relationships and compositions. Here are three of the early Pampas Grass series from 1985. They are numbered 4, 5 and 6 and are appx 22x30.


We moved to New Orleans in 1986 and I arrived with growing series in hand. I eventually painted over 50 in just the Pampas series... but as many in a similar Grass Series and lots more in the Bamboo, Palm and Daylily Series. This was a time of tremendous growth for my fledgling career marked by successful competitions and eventual gallery connections.

In 1989, the Pampas Series looked like this... this is Number 28. Then below, one of the last in the series that was still watercolor (I was trying to move the series to canvas with mixed results.) This is Number 47 and painted in 1992. It was specially painted for American Artist Magazine for an article complete with demo views.

To be continued...

Sorting... And Rescuing...

So there I was, digging into several stacks of old stored paintings when I realized a large number of the watercolors were abandoned efforts that might benefit from just a little attention. These works were at the tail end of a long commitment to the grass series and I had begun exploring new directions and mediums... they probably just didn't hold my attention any longer... the magic was gone.

So here's the plan... I've always figured that someday I'd take up watercolor again, more as a pastime than a career move. Let's face it, at some point I'm going to prefer sitting to standing and working with sizes under 30" instead of 6' canvases. Why not play around with a few of these unfinished works just to see if there's still a flicker of feeling for the medium. If it goes well I'll show before and after images... but more than likely it will become apparent to me that I gave up on them for very good compositional reasons. But then, maybe time will have given me new visions for new solutions. Some look quite promising, though there is little future for them.

I ripped up a lot of quality 30 lb paper today... some could have been gessoed for other uses but I've already got stacks of that... prepped and waiting. That's not really a very large trash bin... but it's a start. Could be that after trying to finish one or two pieces, I'll get a bigger container and put all the old has-beens out of their misery.

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Part Two...

Same song, different verse... this time with old serigraphs. I've been threating to get all the old SSPs (silk screen prints) properly photographed and put on the archival section of my website, but procrastination runs thick in my veins. But with the spirit of the moment, ie resolutions and all that, I'm going full blower. I won't be tossing any at this point, maybe later when I get to the drawers of old prints that didn't make it to the signing stage... suitable for g-kids to draw on the back, mostly. At some point in my printing marathon I thought it would be a good idea to hold back the first numbered print of each edition... thinking, of course, that they would someday be very valuable *smirk*. Well, I'm glad I did... not that they are valuable to anyone but me. But what a bunch of jolts to the ole memory! Each one has a story and, brace yourselves, I will share a few in due time. Haven't taken a precise count of them but there are easily over a hundred. Man! I'm so impressed!

I've got my work cut out for me!

Color As A Found Object... Oops!

1985 - Azalea Splash - 11x30

We're way overdue for quality time at the lake... J's sprain is still sprung but there's too much to do to put it off. He'll just have to take it easy and work on small projects. I've been collecting Oops paint from HD and Lowes (returned and marked waay down) and will start painting the downstairs with whatever seems appropriate or can be mixed to something close. I found a gallon of a gorgeous shade of geranium red and can't decide which room deserves it. There's a very large bath, also a long skinny laundry room, both windowless... either could use some color excitement.

Whatever isn't used will wind up in the studio as underpaint as I build up layers. I always finish the paintings with good quality acrylics, usually Golden, but as I work larger these days, it takes an awful lot of paint to create my idea of a proper surface... hence, Oops!

I think I'll gather my w/c supplies and take them all to the lake. There's something about my main studio that sez 'same ole, same ole' demanding that I actually work on REAL paintings, suitable for gallery inventory. Well, shoot me now! It's summer, I want to play... REAL paintings will just have to wait! I've given thought to eventually taking my oils down there as well... but let me see if I can actually make myself set aside time to sketch and dabble with paint.

Yes... go pack up the watercolors... every last tube and scrap of paper! Ummm... maybe I'll see if I have all the parts to my dismantled old drafting table... it used to be a key piece of furniture in my small studio there.

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I understand this creative list by Hugh MacLeod might become a book. Includes a 31 point list of tips, cool enough, followed by an expanded list that's just plain good reading. I think he pretty much covers everything you need to know about the tending to the creative side of life.

Ah, Spring!

1991 - Azalea Row - 11x15 - watercolor

Had to go looking for a suitable painting and found this watercolor from years ago. Azaleas were made for watercolor... any other medium just would be too much.

The best medicine for me was a day at the lake with dogwoods in full riot and azaleas coming on fast and strong. J tried driving the van down to the boathouse... which went without a hitch, but the return trip was a combo of too much hill and not enough traction. We got to know our neighbors better, however... the good, helpful kind that show up just when you need them!

To the studio... must avoid Spring Fever!

(Your sister claimed this one years ago, Joe)

Beyond Santa Fe

I don't know where to begin... perhaps with this rainbow which might be considered "the icing on the cake!" It was a thoroughly artful time-out from the business of art, if that makes any sense. I've completed the demands of one exhibition and have only begun work on another... the timing was perfect to get away, take a breather and... become inspired all over again. Robin's invitation to visit for a few days was spot on! Raya, who was also part of our French residency adventure last year, lives in Santa Fe and had just shipped a large body of work to NYC, so she had time to join us for gallery hopping... saying it takes in-town visitors to get her out of the studio to see what's going on... sounds familiar, right? Here, we relive our gastronomic adventures at an outside cafe featuring French cuisine.
I've had the pleasure of several other visits to Santa Fe, was an artist for Waxlander Gallery for three years, had a solo show and sold well. It was a good arrangement but complications, including caring for an aging parent, meant I wasn't able to keep up the terrific pace required. Although I'm not pushing for that kind of commitment again, I dropped images and contact info at a few galleries where I felt my work would fit. Although I know it's the wrong way to behave, I tried to avoid speaking to anyone, though I did have a few positive conversations and maybe I'll hear from them, maybe not. The competition is keen for wall space in that town... and you may know by now that I don't do crowds well. If they like what they see, I'll hear from them. If not... I've got plenty to do as it is.

Wednesday and Friday were our 'hit the pavement' days, on Thursday we stayed at the compound in the hills. The views were incredible including the distant storm and resulting rainbow. The clouds that day also created fantastic shadows on the mountainside, topped by snow covered crests and waves of lower, pinion studded plains. We were overlooking the small town of Pecos, the monument there, historic Forked Lightening Ranch (once owned by Greer Garson) and Jane Fonda, Don Immus and Val Kilmer also have ranches in those hills. We waved...

I managed four small watercolors of views from interior windows, one was of the mesa which stood immediately behind and above the house. I left that one as a hostess gift for the owners since it seemed to offer the most detail.

Two others were too loosey goosey in their attempts to capture the distant mountains (see rainbow photo above) but when I simplified the dark shadow created by the passing storm, it was a keeper. Need I add that I thoroughly enjoyed myself... as I told Robin, never once did I wish to go home even a day early... and most know how I get antsy when away from my nest. Thanks again, Robin... do I ever owe you!

Katrina Nandina

1988 - Nandina 2 - 16x18 - Watercolor

Received an email about a painting from the past yesterday. A watercolor purchased at an art festival in '91, not long after we'd moved to the NOLA area. I was told that during the clearing out of her Katrina flooded home, she pulled the painting out of a pile and attempted to remove it from the frame but most of the image stuck to the glass. Now that they have their new home in order, she was hoping I would have another in that series, understanding that I'd moved on to other types of images. I looked up the painting and am certain that I can come up with something similar. I told her it might take a bit of time, but I would try. My nandinas are in bloom and it's a wonderful subject to paint... I'll find the time.

Port Gibson Paint Day

Arrived Fri afternoon at the post Civil War (but not by much) home of a long time artist friend. Other paint buddies from NOLA joined us... great dinner and conversation. The above photo was taken by one of the painters... the exquisite home of generous and gracious hosts.

Sat morn we had time to take a drive to 'the bluffs' where there were many historical markers noting various battles... very serious stuff to be happening on such beautiful countryside.
Unique... a very different kind of soil allows for sunken roads through bluffs that are like plaster walls with tree roots half exposed...
Took many pics through the windshield while driving, not great photography but good enough to capture the essence.

The day was cold and windy so we set up in the mezzanine of a beautifully restored building which housed a quilt shop downstairs. Nothing but my memories of the drive to paint from, though the rooftops and church steeples of surrounding buildings would have made good compositions. I was still in awe of the drive so that's where I focused. I'd brought a number of small pre cut mats and backings, along with w/c materials... I haven't inventoried a w/c painting in many years! But (surprise! surprise!) was able to complete six paintings in the few hours we had to devote to the project. I think it was to my advantage that I had nothing to look at... pics or view... just fresh memories.

Here are three of the six watercolors. Five of them sold at the wine/cheese auction party that evening... terrific support from the locals.

In many ways, the people and culture of the South are vastly misunderstood in today's world. Like any other part of the country or world, there are problems which seem to characterize the whole of an area. That's a huge mistake on our part, whether it be Mississippi or (fill in the blank.) As always, I was very much in awe of what I saw and of those I met. It was a really fun adventure!

About Those Grasses

Aha! An opportunity to re-run an old "American Artist" article that pretty much explains what was going on during the 'grass years'. Scroll down for readable text, and the demo enlarges with a click.

I was often asked how long it took to paint a full sheet (22x30) watercolor, but since I usually had a half dozen in progress at one stage or another, it was hard to tell. When I had to do a demo for this article, photographing as I went, I kept track of the hours and found that I'd worked appx 40 hours on it. But they would often take months to finish as I propped them around the house and studio, waiting for some kind of subconscious enlightenment to tell me what was weak or needed fixing.

I was working with a subject I was magnetically drawn to, in a color (green) that I had little love for. So another challenge was to create the essence of a thriving plant that actually had very little real green in it. Hence the strange purples and oranges that weave through the composition. Amazing the variations one can make with green. I once had a university art prof tell me she'd like to show her students my work just to impress on them how varied green can be. It was wine-time talk, but I appreciated it none the less. Another time, a juror for a national show, on awarding the painting, said she'd never view pampas grass the same way again. Heady compliments for this emerging artist with little formal training.

And yes... it did get boring after awhile... but with good music and deep thoughts, time would pass quickly enough. A visiting artist at the art colony I frequented (another post, another time) laughed as he drew an imaginary line around my closet shaped space where I sat in the wide open pavilion, elbows pinned to my side, hunched over my painting. That might have been the beginning of the end of that phase of my art life... I began to look at myself from outside that small space and realized I needed to grow and expand.

Other elongated leaf shapes; palms, bamboo, iris and daylily, got the same treatment to a lesser extent. I had done flowers and quickly realized that wasn't where the real magic was... at least not for me. There were many metaphors to choose from in the tangle of old and new leaves, I liked to reference the mix of generations, which my own family was dealing with. We had two mothers in our care, if not in our home, adult kids in their yo-yo years, and grand children beginning to make their appearance. An entanglement if ever there was one!

Career Perspective

1988, Pampas Series, No. 18, w/c, 18x22

From Comments on Choices:This from Lisa Call: "I've been thinking about your choices post off and on for a few days. As someone still at the emerging stage of the art career your thoughts from the other side give me pause to think. I'm not sure what I'm thinking but I appreciate you sharing your thoughts."

Thanks, Lisa... and all the others who make the effort to balance this form of communication.

Compared to "How To Be An Artist" books and articles, there are precious few resources on what happens at the other end of the stick. How do we wind this career thing down? Not that we admit to wanting to (depends on the day of the week) but the reality is that there is a lot of accumulation to be dealt with, both physical and mental, and shutting the door on it... making more of it, even, is wildly irresponsible without some sign of control. We're taught to clean up our mess when we've finished a project... doesn't that include the lifetime career project? (Ummm...define 'finished.') How are we even supposed to know when it's time? And, would that be a positive or negative attitude?

I have long lived genes from way back, good health and no reason to not continue to produce for quite some time yet... no, I ain't 'finished' but I do have a need to tidy up. Blogging an art career from my perspective (we all know how skewed perspective can be) seems to help sort it out, and might give (or invite) a few clues to/from others.

Now, if I was an artist of note (you know the kind I mean) I'd have aides and assistants (not the kind from certified health care centers!) to handle the grunge work and I'd more or less direct what I wanted them to do... they'd be revving up demand for my work, documenting, writing articles and books about me and handling the myriad details... not to mention stretching, gessoing and framing! There would even be one designated note taker to remember which technique worked best for each of the various applications... in fact, if I could only have one helper, that would be the guy!

The grass painting above reminds me that there are still a number of people around the country who think of me as 'the painter of grass.' (And that was way before 'the painter of light'.) That series, and variations with other elongated leaf subjects, carried me for a good ten years... very good years, better than the quality of this image shows... still haven't had all those slides scanned... still waiting for the assistants to show up and get some of this documenting stuff done!

Knot Intimidated...

1991 - WINE KNOT
11x30, watercolor

There's a tangled tie-in here somewhere... I've received my legendary Moleskine sketch book; luscious, scrumptious and must not drool upon. I have doubts that I'll ever get past the adoration of this artful icon to actually make meaningful marks within.

So... considering I have reams of unused printmaking paper (quality stuff) and having stumbled across a website giving explicit tutorage on making your own sketchbook, I set out to do just that. And I did, but it's of my own design after noting the general idea and not being one to follow directions. So my sketchbook has lots more knots (there's the tie-in!) and will never gain the respect of the original... but I bet I won't have a problem with intimidation!

The painting above was the first of a series, taking my longstanding grass subject and tying the strands in knots... the others have pun-like titles using Knot for Not... you can get an idea on this old, incomplete web page.

Making Tracks...

1995, Night Tracks, 18x30, mixed media/paper

A very important transition series as I moved from realism to the abstract was the Tracks or Traipsings. They often featured loose or random rug patterns and supposedly marked the passage of whatever personalities ventured across. Some were mixed media on paper, some on canvas. I started thinking about them this morning with talk of bird flu in Europe and how best to avoid any 'bird tracks' in our path as we traipse about the countryside. As I searched through my inventory images I realized how few really good photos I took of them, most are blurry, I can only hope the slides are better. I particularly like this one as it relates to the dark history of the area... the Cathars and Crusades... da Vinci Code and old castles... yeah, this one fits.

Stepping Lively

1993, RHODE ISLAND RED TWO STEP
11 x 30, watercolor

{{Take a deep breath!}}
I'm paying for a laid back life style these last few years... time spent with little real responsibility, just coasting along, doing as I please. Seems lately, everything is piling up and insisting on decision making skills... no fun! Well, maybe a little fun, the plans for France in April... that's fun, or promises to be. Company coming and going this weekend... that's not fun (spread this stuff out, people!) And I've got to cook, too? And entertain one wife during the day(s) while everyone else goes off to a swim meet? Yikes! Won't even go into the other concerns floating on the fringes, but there sure won't be any painting done today (or into next week, fersure!)

Thinking back for a painting that might describe life as I know it right now... the rug patterns, yes! Much of that series involved the idea of things, people, feet, unknowns traipsing across a rug. (Me? Walked on or walking on?) Didn't mean for these abstract red shapes to be anything, but they sure did turn into dancing chickens! A fun mixed media w/c that still makes me smile. Half sheet would make it about 11x30.

One other thing... had an invite to join a gallery north of Boston... they saw my work in Atlanta, want to add more abstracts to their line, talked about New Orleans (one of their artists being from there) and in general, were nice people... website looked good... but I sent my regrets.

1988, Ficus

1988, Ficus, 26x40, w/c. Looking back through my digital files, I'm surprised to see how much intermingling of defined series I was doing. Here is an example of using random pattern realistically, in both the 'rug' background and the negative/positive leaf shapes of the ficus. This was a time when the pure grass and other elongated leaf forms were going strong and I see this piece as an example of a desire to break away, or at least explore some variety. I must have felt pretty confident to work on such a large format. This one won top prize at Mississippi Art Colony.