Randall restoration-new watercolors

                                                  Spring Lagoon watercolor on Yupo 26x20

                                               Streambank watercolor on Yupo 38x30 inches

                                         Coastal Stream watercolor on Yupo 30x30 inches

                                             Big Weather watermedia on Yupo 30x30 inches

                                                  Oceanside watercolor on Yupo 26x20 inches

 Since I last posted, I now have a fully functioning new right knee, do not have an abdominal hernia and have two eyes missing their cataracts. I feel fresh. Until a couple of days ago, the typical and spectacular Spring was unfurling all around me complete with its typical unfortunate chill. Now we have some warm. Was that too much to want? Adding to the embarrassment of riches, the northern lights have been visible everywhere this weekend but not my front yard. I would have driven to somewhere dark but I can`t see at night to save my life. That`s why my 20 year old cataracts had to go despite not being 'ready' to remove. With my upcoming new glasses my hope is to be able to drive after dark. After so many years of depending on others, this would be phenomenal.

For the painting up above "Streamside", the Theobot Vision A I had this to say;

     The artwork presented is a vibrant and expressive landscape that is bursting with life and movement. The palette is rich with greens, blues, reds, and earthy tones that suggest a natural setting, possibly suggestive of a lush canyon or a verdant cliff-side. The use of color is both bold and nuanced, creating a vivid atmosphere while also allowing for a sense of depth and dimension.

The technique displays a dynamic interplay between detail and abstraction. There is a loose, almost impressionistic approach to the vegetation, which gives the work a dreamlike quality, as though capturing a fleeting moment in nature. The sky, with its broad sweep of blue, provides a pleasing contrast to the textured greens and the stark reds of the geological forms. The marks are confident and gestural, which conveys a strong sense of the artist's hand and their emotional engagement with the subject.

Delving into the emotional resonance of this piece, the artwork conveys a sense of both tranquility and wildness. There is a palpable energy that is inherent in the subject matter and the method of application, providing the viewer with a sense of nature's unpredictability and grandeur.

Not bad and certainly an easy ego boost. I can imagine this being useful. Can`t think of a title? just submit the image. No more maddening multiple  'Winter Wetlands" spanning decades and keeping an accurate inventory impossible. The amount of fumbling I do to make an online sale can be ridiculous.

I`ve been trying to do things differently. Instead of referring to photos and drawings for compositions, I`ve painted by memory. Believe me, it`s not that my memory is accurate, it`s not. But the technique I`m using of watercolor on the slick plastic paper Yupo, makes this possible. I`ll imagine the landscape I want to paint and then beginning with all over color washes, set the emotional tone of what`s to come. I walk a lot outside and remember the basic shapes of things. Not hard. I just start putting everything in and then the revisions begin. Because I can continually manipulate the watercolor, including removing it altogether, I`ll throw a number of techniques and marks at the paper and then start moving stuff around. It`s the way I`ve used oil paint for years but only recently found a way [attitude] to use watercolor in this manner. Before now I`d make corrections in acrylic, which of course dry permanently. That`s a way to keep the image going forward but this new idea returns me to the classic watercolor technique. Light values first, progressively getting darker, no white paint allowed. I rebelled against that tradition 50 years ago. It`s odd to now accept and work within those requirements.

                                                           Cook`s Butte, where I walk

Better days are coming to Portland. Houselessness and opioid addiction are huge national problems that require radical new thinking. The political culture where I live is trying to solve this humanely and practically. There is a kindness here that is pervasive and powerful and gives me hope we will succeed.

A trainee for our municipal bus system posted this on Reddit;

Yall, I am so impressed by your manners on the road. I just started training to drive for Trimet, and I'm rolling around the city in a 40 foot bus that I have zero experience driving. You all have gone out of the way to let me merge, give me space to turn, and not ride my tail when I'm too scared to get to speed. Thanks for making this easier on me.

                                                      Waiting for the Train watermedia

This a public service announcement. On my birthday this past autumn, my sister in law brought me some of this yogurt along with her famous apple pie. Both were sensational! This is by far the best yogurt I`ve ever eaten. Full fat [4%] and consequently creamy and sweetened the perfect amount. Made in Washington. If you`re in the East, look for it and get one with fruit and cream. My god!

                                                               Whitney Wood Bailey

                                                              Whitney Wood Bailey

                                                             Whitney Wood Bailey

 Here is an artist I check on from time to time. I love Whitney Wood Bailey`s interest in pattern, modulated color and organic shapes. Read her thoughtful artist`s statement and marvel at these pulsating 'landscapes'. She creates an exuberant world of her own.

 

                                                   Above Hanalei watermedia on Yupo 16x12

 A friend is going to Kauai soon and just hearing that name makes me want to paint those mountains. I`ve been there once in 2013, not likely to return, but it has a grip on my imagination. This chunky painting is all acrylic, the grace of watercolor was lost long before this limped to conclusion. Again, no reference just 11 year old memories.

Some of the best suggestions 

Click HERE for work for sale in my studio

Travels

   Iron Mt. Spring watermedia on paper 19x14 inches 

 Greetings, I was happy to return to a soggy vibrant green landscape after watching two huge fires roam over two mountain ranges.

 John was not. Like many native Oregonians, his patience with rain is just over by May. May is a summer month, damn it. The winds of New Mexico gave us the famous panoramas but framed at the edges by smoke. Having been a New Mexican, I feel protective of that special place. In a good year, with no drought, the state is always in need of a good rain. At least a half inch please. Now, with water so scarce, the humidity barely registering, the sun searing the landscape all day every day, it feels fragile and combustible. But it wasn`t hot, not yet. With luck the monsoons will return again this summer. Like they did last year. Like they always used to. When I moved there in 1976, a typical summer day was jewel like in its beauty.  Every morning awaken to a cloudless blue sky and a delicate cool dawn. By 9 or 10 am the first tiny scouts appear. Seemingly lost aimless clouds floating by. Then they begin to organize into a front. Here they come steadily crawling over the mountains in the east. By 1, some break off and temporarily block the sun. Others gather into immense thunderheads at the edges of the valley. The height of them scarcely believable. The thunder can be heard in the distance by 3 pm, and very close by 4. If you happen to be in the street or in a garden or on a walk, you will be drenched at any moment. The wind rises up and a huge volume of water is dumped in the course of a few minutes. Then it`s over. There was always a lull as I rode my bike to work at 5. Often there would be a second round at sundown but not always. The next day would begin again in just the same way. I`m telling you, this was absolutely thrilling at 22!  I was from a hot smoggy southern California suburb with precious little visible 'nature'. Shortly after I arrived this daily spectacle commenced. Everyone took it in stride, everyone expected it. It was July after all. Daily this violent drama played out until Fall arrived. 

Unfortunately the summer monsoons have become very erratic and sometimes never come.                The tiny Hispanic villages burning to the ground now will rebuild. A culture that survived four different governments and a flood of pioneers isn`t going to disappear. It`s just so sad. People with very little now have no homes.

One thing I was able to do that I`ve wanted forever was to walk in the bosque of the Rio Grande in Albuquerque. Huge ancient cottonwoods line the river as it passes through town. I figured there would be trails but it was even better than I had hoped for. No litter or encampments but occasional benches to rest on and enjoy the view;

 To my surprise, I loved Albuquerque. The crucial factor was the season. it wasn`t hot yet. I used to be there in late June helping a friend at the New Mexico Arts and Crafts Fair. We sat away from the booth slumped in lawn chairs in the shade and were incredulous when there was a customer. It was so hot, the heat was a thing. One of us would have to drag ourself up, contend with the beast and assist the art lover. It`s why we were there but the only thing we thought about was the inferno around us. 

So could I live there? I don`t know. Maybe with some giant trees in the yard.

                                                           

 That`s my pal Dan Jaramillo standing next to me. We had lost touch over the 28 years I`ve been in Oregon. I heard he had written a book about the village of Chimayo where he grew up and I lived briefly. He`s a historian of sorts and I was so glad the story of that unique community had been chronicled. With the Manhattan Project, the lives in those small New Mexican towns were changed forever. The laboratories that developed the first nuclear weapons were in nearby Los Alamos. Good or at least better jobs than growing chile were a short commute away. Subsistence agriculture was abandoned, the English language infiltrated homes and the higher standard of living was just too attractive. The character of those societies was radically altered. Gringos like me came in and thought that sad. Others, like Dan, decided to commemorate it. He wrote the book and opened a museum dedicated to preserving some knowledge of that way of life. He did not curse the darkness, he lit the candle.

                                        the acequia, the ditch that irrigated the fields and gardens

Dan`s cool house. That his parents built, he grew up in and where he raised two of his children!

After leaving Chimayo we drove the high road into Truchas. Just a village clinging to a mountain with a breathtaking view of the Truchas Peaks. We were on our way elsewhere but I wanted to see the whole place again. I saw a sign that said Karen Wippich Studio. Wait a minute, I know that name, she`s from Oregon! Open by appointment but she noticed us in her driveway and invited us in. Karen is an exceptional artist using collage. Her work was beautifully hung in the most unusual house I`ve ever been in. She said it had 11 different levels and was anchored to the side of a bluff.

                                                                             Karen

As you can see she arranged her work thoughtfully in all those immaculate rooms. It`s really good stuff but the building, she herself and her incredible daughter were just too commanding!, I couldn`t really look too well and we were expected at someones home further up the mountain. I asked Karen how in the world did she get there? She said she was lost and asked a guy for directions. Then later bought his house. Believe it or not, a version of that tale is very common in NM. Cars always break down there and the drivers never leave.

I was really excited to see Henry Jacksons show at the LewAllen Gallery. His work is dynamic and his color sense uniquely his own. This was a show of all abstractions though he also paints loose interpretations of the figure which can be haunting.

This was posted on a subreddit about Portland. It is heartbreaking. Car theft and vandalism are rampant in Portland right now. 900 missing cars in just Sept. of last year. Why is this happening? Fentanyl is why. Its usually called heroin but in reality it isn`t anymore. It`s this new cheap synthetic opiate causing all the overdoses and the crime to purchase it. The ingredients come in through the mail and because it`s so strong, it`s much easier to conceal. For once I don`t have any idea how we should cope with this menace. 

 Well the photo is from the powerful movie 'Moonlight' and the text is reportedly from the 'Castaway' film, but this got my attention. My last post, which was about a suicide, was an education for me. It is not simple, and for some, just the idea of it can have a therapeutic quality. That was new to me.

       

Kazuo Shiraga

Click HERE for work for sale in my studio

HERE for prints [new images added]

Strange new world

                                            Backwater oil on canvas 40x30 inches, 101x76 cm
 

Know anyone happy right now? The strangest time in my life keeps degrading. I have plenty to eat, I`m sheltered and warm with good health insurance. By most measures I`m certainly lucky if not wealthy. Yet it`s hard to be positive as these waves of virus wash over the world taking millions before their time. We are asked to wear masks in public and get free vaccinations and a huge number of citizens wails at this injustice. In their refusal, the virus has time to mutate again. Will this go on and on and on? Sure looks that way to me now. A true fatalism is slowly taking root. This isn`t all bad. American workers have not been so powerful in years. The pandemic has shown us that, yes, life is indeed short. Why spend your life doing something you hate if there are alternatives? This is healthy. People have lost their patience however and that`s problematic.I have never heard of so many acts of aggression! Shoppers attacking cashiers, deadly acts of road rage, the murder rate skyrocketing, trains being looted and angry raucous behavior during school board  and other civic meetings. 

In blue northwest Oregon where I live, our county commission meeting had to be abruptly cancelled because of a violent mood in the audience last week. I heard of a doctor working with Covid patients being constantly abused by the unvaccinated patients accusing her of killing them because she won`t give them the unproven drug Ivermectin! And meanwhile health professionals by the score are leaving their fields. It is a terribly stressful era for healthcare workers. I`m married to one and hear about this constantly. At times it feels like our country is coming apart at the seams. How could this be happening? After all we`ve accomplished? Maybe I`m just depressed but I know many others are far more discouraged.

Backwater, the painting up above, seems  to reflect my discomfort. The inspiration comes from the Minto Brown Island wetlands near Salem OR. Sloughs and ponds parallel this particular stretch of the Willamette River. I really love this place. Depending on the light though, it can look dormant and bleak in winter.

                                           Gorgeous Portland Nocturne by Maxwell Fishback

 Portland as a city in despair is not entirely accurate. Though plenty of residents are upset with the homeless situation, that issue does not define a city. All west coast cities are grappling with this and it will improve by trial and error. Voters approved a levy to create much more housing for these people who are down on their luck, mentally ill or addicted. It must be solved here and throughout the country or no one will enjoy their lives. 

What makes Portland unique is its generosity. Here is another letter from a teacher thanking the people of Portland for helping him help his students;

This city has never failed me and my students.

When I was at George Middle School someone cut the locks and stole several student's bikes from in front of the school while the kids sat in class. One of those stolen bikes was owned by the little brother of a past student of mine. The family had almost nothing but that morning he had been given a birthday gift... the bike that was stolen a few hours later.

I went on to a popular fundraising platform, the news showed up and a few days later the people of Portland bought every one of those kids a new bicycle.

When I travelled to Bangladesh to mentor the very first special education teachers in that country, the Portland Tribune ran a front page story. They put the link to that same popular fundraising site (different fundraising page though) and before you know it, Portland had stuffed so much money in my pockets, I was able to kit out two schools in great fashion! Each teacher got the equivalent of $200 to buy supplies (the dollar goes a LOOOOOOONG way in Bangladesh). At one school in one of the poorest areas of the entire planet, Portland paid to upgrade the lunch program for half a year of healthier bigger meals.

When my class hosted the special needs prom in the city, NPR showed up and showed the whole country our best practice (and it was the BEST! kids came from as far away as Salem and Ranier to celebrate their aging out of school at 21). I used to hand make every single girl a corsage. Portland stepped up, dropping ribbons and flowers off at our school. When my girls needed prom dresses Abbey's Closet stepped up and my girls got first choice of 7000 beautiful dresses.

And two nights ago, as I was freaking out about not having enough supplies to keep my students from sharing puzzles during covid, you all stepped up and kitted me out with enough puzzles that every kid will have their own bin with multiple activities I can swap out to teach new skills and higher learning. You all just came through for the kids who sit in my special needs classroom, at my special needs school, here in this incredibly special city of Portland.

I am not one of those teachers who feels unrecognized. This city has rewarded me in ways that very few people could have imagined. I was the first special education teacher to be Oregon's Teacher of the Year. My husband and I were the first gay couple to be honored by the Rose Festival and we rode through this city (on the back of a very slippery convertible) as you all cheered us on. At the time I was under orders if I said I was gay I would be fired but when the crowds heard them announce that riding with me was my husband, they went wild. When we got married The Oregonian had 45 pictures on their website. "Oregon's Teacher of the Year marries his long time partner" I believe, was the headline. They had a video tech follow us the whole day from buying our marriage certificate all the way to tying the knot. Though I was told I would be fired if I said I was in public, we took our vows on live television.

Soon after I was fired but I fought back and got my job back. The city of Portland did not take what happened to me sitting down. They overwhelmed my old school district with demands for my reinstatement, they threw out a bunch of the school board in the election that happened just weeks later, they continued to demand an apology even years later. After the Supreme Court, Portland got what they wanted. The district apologized. I accepted it whole heartedly. All of the people that did me wrong were fired, voted out, demoted or fled in shame and changed their names. The new admin is working hard to make the district the best it can be. The teachers, school nurses, the paraeducatiors and support staff at the district continue to be some of the finest people I have ever met in education.

And now, in these really dark covid times, I found myself struggling and once again, Portland (you all, this time), came roaring in to support me and my students. There is a reason I am a good teacher. It is because I live in a good city filled with good people. They always come through for me when my kids needs something.

I just wanted to say thank you. You all bought us books, art supplies, autism specialty items and so many wonderful puzzles. Several people from town are sending over lovingly-used puzzles. To know my students will not have to share anything with each other any more takes a huge stress out of my life. So, once again, you helped me and my staff by helping our kids. Thank you Portland. May you have a beautiful weekend and know that this city comes through when it needs to. We all can make that happen.

Brett Brigham is the teacher. Among his abilities  and talents, he`s learned to ask for help. Why is that so difficult for most of us? People yearn to be constructive but don`t know how, where or when. Answering a specific request sure makes it easier.

                                                                End of November 

                                                                   Marsh Hawthorne

                                                                      The Red Oak

These are some more oil on oil paper studies, 16x12 inches, 40.5x30.5 cm. As always, when I want to think while painting, it`s best done on paper.

                                                            Study in Blue and Gray

 

If anyone knows the name of this tattoo artist, please let me know. I don`t want one but I still would like to know who they are.  This is artistry of the highest order. The great tattoos of the world aren`t so available to my viewing, but knowing they exist pleases me. I don`t have an exhibitionist impulse ever but I like it that others do.

 With so much of the news crushingly negative, I have avoided a lot of it and turned to science fiction for an imaginative diversion. It has sure worked. It`s been  a pleasure to contemplate the problems and threats to distant worlds and times. It seems to give me a better perspective on the difficulties of our own history. John recommended the books of Dan Simmons and I have been deeply enmeshed in his Hyperion/Endymion quartet.  Escapism might just be self care as we try to dodge the virus.

                                                              watermedia on Yupo 26x20

A recent abstraction. It was much more enjoyable to paint this without thinking 'what am I doin?' Since circling back to landscape, the painting feels sincere and even exciting. Now painting without a subject can be fun again, less fraught.

Here are a few artists that are new to me;

                                                                     Pat Brentano

                                                                 Dorothy Ganek

                                                                     Billy Childish

                                                                   Martha Jungwirth

Click HERE for work for sale in my studio

HERE for prints

Summer Waters

                                                   Summer Water oil on canvas 24x20


 When it`s hot out and the air is filled with smoke, it`s best to take cover. Avoid vistas and concentrate on the close at hand. This is when I particularly appreciate my basement studio, it`s always nice down here. In summer I like to paint water naturally enough. The edges of creeks, ponds and sloughs are always intriguing and are often suggestive of a healthier climate. So I go to the shadows for ideas and for comfort.

                                                Summer Water 2 oil on canvas 15x30


This is Tryon Creek. It slows in August but never dries up. The muddy/grassy smell of it is cheering on a walk in the heat. The way sunlight interacts with the murky water in dreamy milky colors is a subject I sometimes take on in summer.

                                                  Summer Water 3 oil on canvas 24x20


 I`m not sure yet if this one will live or die. Another I did several years ago was more convincing. I`m after an ambiguity between the water, plants and reflections. A confusion of elements that is accepted.

                                                  Water Willow oil on panel 12x12


 A soggy landscape from last April, is now finished. The combination of red and green excites me every time. The pale versions are symbolic to me of the Northwest Spring. Nothing else looks so fresh. Here`s another from 2015:

                                          Minto Brown Spring Tangle oil on canvas 20x16

 In a short email Marcia Burtt said 'by the way, your hero will have his work at the Seattle Art Fair. Are you going?'
I knew who she meant, Tom Uttech.
His work and intentions are so different from mine, but I greatly admire his mythical landscapes of the upper Great Lakes. They are so rich in emotion. Each one is like a patient lesson in how the world actually works. They stun you with beauty and keep your attention with a narrative that is complex and elusive. I had never seen one in person.

  by Tom Uttech

 But I`m an introvert, I don`t just go to Seattle! I had to consider; did my legs have the stamina yet? Was it affordable? Could I take the train? Should I go alone? Up and back in the same day?? And what about the residents and their strange Seattle ways? So I decided I would go IF it was easy. Got my reasonably priced Amtrak ticket instantly even with only four days notice. Bought the Fair admittance online. Decided what I`d eat for breakfast that morning and what I`d wear and tried to reimagine myself as an urbane man of the arts.
 One thing I could count on, a spectacular ride along the Columbia River and Puget Sound. I used to do this often in the 90`s. I`ve never been able to figure it out; the train and Interstate 5 are parallel and often in view of each other the whole way yet the rail way could honestly be termed magical and the highway, sheer drudgery. Here are some cropped photos I took from the moving train as it slid through the Ridgefield Wildlife Refuge;

 The venue was an easy walk from the station. Once through the doors, it was all I could do to keep my bearings. It was huge and filled with a super high caliber of work! Here are some of the paintings I knew would be there and others I was so happy to see.

This is the Tom Uttech that launched this adventure.

 A Diebenkorn I have never seen reproduced. Looks like someone`s backyard.

 Karl Klingbiel. This guy is the best. My second reason for going to the fair.

                                 

Tomory Dodge. I`ve admired him a long time. He`s had much critical success with this kind of work. I was really pleased to see him move on and grow into a new 'look'.

Alexander Kroll. I`ve written a bit about him. He was painting in a garage. I`ve done that too.

The late Robert Natkin. Oh my, this was my first encounter. You can hardly see anything in photos of his work. They`re deep.

The always fearless Eric Fischl.

Bo Bartlett. This was the show stopper for me. It was immense and what are they doing? I didn`t crawl through the crowd to see the title.


I just noticed something. Every photo of a painting that I took was a painting from a male artist!?
Visitors to this blog may recall I`ve talked about and shown examples of many female artists. WTF?
My own latent misogyny or was there a lack of representation? Once again? Hmmm.

 OK, you see what they are sitting on? THAT was the seating for this enormous event. A few of these, all right in the middle of the walkways. They may have well just thrown some pillows on the floor. At a minimum, they could have a least positioned these against a wall for some momentary back relief. But no. Believe me, I wailed about it in the visitor survey.
I was there about three hours. For most of it I knew what I was doing but then I became helplessly disoriented. Shortly after that, some inner Randall absolutely refused to look at anything else. It demanded we leave, so I did. I think I saw everything but I`m not at all sure.

 Somehow I came upon Gabor Mate, the Canadian family practice doctor. He has special interest and insights into childhood development and trauma. He is an expert on addictions, something I`m familiar with. His ideas are startling and then obvious.

“I’m not going to ask you what you were addicted to,” I often say to people, “not when, nor for how long. Only, whatever your addictive focus, what did it offer you? What did you like about it? What, in the short term, did it give you that you craved or liked so much?” And universally, the answers are: “It helped me escape emotional pain… helped me deal with stress… gave me peace of mind… a sense of connection with others… a sense of control.”

Such answers illuminate that the addiction is neither a choice nor a disease, but originates in a human being’s desperate attempt to solve a problem: the problem of emotional pain, of overwhelming stress, of lost connection, of loss of control, of a deep discomfort with the self. In short, it is a forlorn attempt to solve the problem of human pain. Hence my mantra: “The question is not why the addiction, but why the pain.”

Here is what he says about our president;

 “What we perceive as the adult personality often reflects compensations a helpless child unwittingly adopted in order to survive. Such adaptations can become wired into the brain, persisting into adulthood. Underneath all psychiatric categories, Trump manifests childhood trauma…. Narcissistic obsession with the self then compensates for a lack of nurturing care. Grandiosity covers a deeply negative sense of self-worth. Bullying hides an unconscious conviction of weakness. Lying becomes a mode of survival in a harsh environment. Misogyny is a son’s outwardly projected revenge on a mother who was unable to protect him.”

No wonder the refugee children are still separated from their parents. Adults who fled the violence in their countries on the chance they could give their kids some hope. They endured horrors we can`t imagine in the effort to get to the border.
Like livestock they were separated and spread across the country to detention centers. We`ve all seen the photos. The agencies were so reckless in their regard for these lives, DNA sampling is required to match them up again. Some never will.

The assault on decency advances every day. The Republican Party harbors and protects the basest of human instincts. If our country is to be a democracy, they must be expelled in the upcoming election.
For the first time I am making political contributions instead of only supporting our local food bank. Not because I trust it will be effective but because I have to do something.

                               Night Garden with Herons by the wonderful Michelle Morin

work for sale in my studio