Wednesday, May 23, 2018
Since I`m not burning hot with great new ideas, I thought painting whole pieces in a single day might be useful again. Ten years ago the practice kept me working through the deepest grief I had experienced.
Carol Marine makes a convincing case for the habit as a way of learning efficiently. In her book Daily Painting, she asserts working small and often as a way to gain confidence and develop technique. It`s also a way to be active in the studio when the muse is away. Almost exercises without any expectation, it`s pleasant and satisfying. Nothing I liked much has come from it until this piece, a bright, brittle winter slough. Here are some of the others, all watermedia on paper 12x9.
With perfect timing, this sweet little book arrived in the mail yesterday. It fits nicely in the hand and is filled with ideas, methods, proposals, concepts, and suggestions. And it`s illustrated with lots of paintings. The UK artist Joanna Goss contacted me a couple of years ago about using an image of mine. Naturally enough, I`m the section on Yupo;
This is one of the coolest books on watercolor I`ve ever seen.
That nice red head boy got married, God bless them.
Prince Harry served in two deployments in Afghanistan. Heel spurs were never mentioned. He also created the Invictus Games so that injured servicemen could also compete in sport.
I like Meghan too;
After referring to a poem in my last post that I`ve searched 48 years for, my pal Elisabeth sent me this wonderful piece by James Dickey;
The Heaven of Animals
Here they are. Their soft eyes open.
If they have lived in a wood
It is a wood.
If they have lived on plains
It is grass rolling
Under their feet forever.
Having no souls, they have come,
Anyway, beyond their knowing.
Their instincts wholly bloom
And they rise.
The soft eyes open.
To match them, the landscape flowers,
Outdoing what is required;
The richest wood,
The deepest field.
For some of these,
it could not be the place
It is, without blood.
These hunt, as they have done,
but with claws and teeth grown perfect.
More deadly than they can believe.
They stalk more silently,
And crouch on the limbs of trees,
And their descent
Upon the bright backs of their prey
May take years
In a sovereign floating of joy.
And those that are hunted
Know this as their life.
Their reward; To walk
Under such trees in full knowledge
Of what is in glory above them,
And to feel no fear,
But acceptance, compliance.
Fulfilling themselves without pain
At the cycle`s center,
They tremble, they walk
Under the tree,
They fall, they are torn,
They rise, they walk again.
Isn`t this magnificent?! It is as urgent and inspiring as when I first saw it 35 years ago.
Pegasus! We`ve been waiting for you! What is the message?
work for sale in my studio
Monday, May 14, 2018
Though the release from pain has been joyous, to my surprise, a surge of innovation did not rush in. So as I often do, I tinker. My studio has lots of failed or unfinished paintings about. There are many opportunities for rescue.
As rapid as my recovery has been, I`m careful not to over extend my new knee. So I haven`t yet been back to some of my sources of inspiration. However we are planning a visit to Minto Brown Island. I`ve never been there in the summer and its cool muddy lagoons will be seductive and quiet. I will happily work with the thousand shades of green.
Meanwhile, these are what I`ve been up to;
Because it`s always best to have a paintbrush in hand when inspiration sweeps in, sometimes I`ll do something I`ve already done. Usually in a different medium like I did here. The site, the confluence of Fanno Creek with the Tualatin River, is dense with possibility. What I mean by that is not just the beauty but also the spatial relationships of trees to water to grasses. That couple of acres is almost Japanese in its elegant proportions.
As I remember, I had recently returned from the Finley Wildlife Reserve and I was trying to depict the delicate new grasses arising from a huge field that had been underwater. I believed she texted and said she was in the area and wanted to meet me. I said sure and because I was already in process with this, she watched me paint. Probably because I was talking, that fresh green field turned into a scene of apocalypse right before our eyes. Oh well. She was worth meeting.
As the Moon rises, eyes of the animals rise from the forest into her light.
That was the opening sentence of a poem I read in 1970 in a library. I`ve been trying to find the complete work ever since, to no avail. With the internet, I should be able to find it but haven`t.
Notorious Pam was here again doing what she does best, redistributing wealth. She was on a mission and when she was through she had bought nine of my best works on paper! She sent me photos after they were framed;
She sure did honor the paintings! Thank you Pam, you do beautiful things.
Among the many sad aspects to living with chronic pain is how small your world becomes. In my recent experience, I couldn`t shake the feeling that I was at the end of my life. Time to wrap things up. It wasn`t rational, I know what the actuarial tables predict but it was there. My family assured me it was the legs and they were right. I`m appalled at the idea now and feel sorry for that guy getting ready to go. I feel better than I have in years. Far more than I should after having atrophied for so long. And to my delight, arthritis elsewhere in my body, such as the other knee, is mostly gone!
The universe sent me this story just the other day;
She was lonely after her husband died so she took up painting. She was 85! Read her remarkable story!
John says we need to paint the house.
If my house looked like this one in Burkina Faso, I`d just sit on the lawn and look at it.
This is why I love watercolor.
In Mexico this dog walked through a parade for the Pope thinking it was for him
work for sale in my studio [updated]