horses

It's All One Song

Horse, 18 x 23 in, oil and gold leaf on panel.

Horse, 18 x 23 in, oil and gold leaf on panel.

You have to choose.

I’ve been told that since I was a kid. You have to choose, you can’t do everything.

Yeah, so, maybe. Time catches all of us. I’m not going to get to learn to fly bush planes. I’m on the edge about surfing- a knee replacement makes the hop-up impossible, but I’m still thinking about going the route of a standup paddleboard. I don’t really have time to be a sculptor. Well, that’s still a maybe, too. But I have faced the reality of life, the demands of making a living have required some choosing.

As an artist, however, I still want to push. My brother, Chris, gave me a Neil Young CD a few years ago. It’s a live recording, from the late 90’s, and as Mr Young is just starting up, a few big chords rumble out and some guy yells, It all sounds the same! Without skipping a beat, Neil yells back, It’s all one song.

I listened to that disc, oh hell, I don’t know how many times. But I heard it when I was ready. Ongoing art conversations (arguments?), with my son Todd, and visits with my friend Troy Mathews, as well as exposure and conversation with several other students I’ve met through Darby’s job at PNCA, have me questioning myself. My unconscious, self-limiting rules on art, or at least my art. What is art? What can be art? Why do I have these rules, and where did they come from.

I’ve long been a fan of Gerhard Richter, but only recently realized there is a treasure trove of interviews and videos with and about him on the interwebs. (In my lame defense, I’m 58, and have managed to somehow avoid nearly every opportunity to be educated on technology. I stumble along at my own pace, rather like exploring a black hole.) But back to Richter. He was a very accomplished and successful photorealist, when his mind pulled him into abstraction. In one video, an interviewer (who comes across to me as a little snotty), asks him why, that his new work could be wrapping paper. He quietly smiles at her, and says something along the lines of, To make something beautiful. Something beyond myself.

And it occurred to me, Yeah, why not? Why do I have my self imposed restrictions? Where are they from? I have some ideas, but it doesn’t strike me as particularly interesting- the getting rid of them, past them, is the interesting part.

There will be a couple new gallery pages added to my website soon. I’m a slow study, especially when it comes to my own evolution. But that’s the part I like. Thinking, struggling. Well, like might be a little strong. Drawn to. Learning and expanding. When I get good at something, I often lose interest. And I don’t want to abandon the work I’ve been doing- the barn paintings and landscapes, in fact the landscapes will be growing too. The couple new directions will inform those bodies of work, much as they have spawned the new work.

So yes, I’ve had to choose, to specialize. But not too much. It’s all my song.

Pale Horse

Pale Horse, 16 x 20 inches, oil on glass.

I've been toying with animal images for years, trying to escape my pre-disposition for rendering the snot out of things. Then one day I was cleaning my pallet (I use a big sheet of glass), and saw the paint through the clean underside. Maybe there was a solution there.

I don't think it's something I'm going to repeat, working on the glass ground, as the fragility makes it too iffy, but it was a fun and satisfying experiment.

It will be my contribution to the Rochester Contemporary members show this month.

The painting doesn't actually have the reflection of my shoulder along the top, or the chair leg on the right. Turns out there are more problems with the glass than fragility.

Life's been crazy!?!?!

Can't believe it's been a month and a half since I posted, but then I think about the month and a half, and I realize, Well, yeah.

Silver Creek II, 32 x 40 inches, oil on linen, and now living in Texas.

First a trip to Texas for a show, where 8 paintings found new homes. I couldn't have been happier, and the temperature was a beautiful, balmy 70 degrees all weekend, making it a comfortable visit as well.

Once I was home, we raced down to NYC to meet miss Madeleine Grace Rogers, who made me forget all about how terrific Texas had been.


Then home again, and to the opening of the 6 x 6 show at RoCo (Rochester Contemporary) in Rochester. It it their annual fund raising event, and artists from all over the world donate pieces that are sold for $20.00 each to benefit the gallery. I participated this year to support the gallery, but I had my own more important reason- my son Todd donated a piece and it would be our first chance to exhibit in the same show. His piece sold at the chaotic opening night frenzy, as did one of mine. The other is still available at  http://www.roco6x6.org/6x6x2013.php, # 3220, a mono type of a horse. It can be purchased online, and the money goes to a great cause- supporting the arts in a very difficult market.
And finally we headed to North Carolina for a family celebration of my mother's 80th birthday, and an early Father's Day with my dad. A quick but wonderful trip to see my family who means so much to me, and maybe most fun of all, to watch the next generation cousins all get a long and laugh so easily.
In between all that, about 28 paintings have been slowly, (in some cases with much blood, sweat and tears), coming together. I'll try and tell you about that a little sooner, rather than my more typical later.
Spring is near ending, and I feel like it's passed me by. But the coyotes were out and singing last night, as loud and close as I've ever heard. Life goes on.