Solitude

Clouds slide left and right and can't make up their minds.

A black bird travels in one direction: forward.

The elusive goal of solitude; it's an addiction for some.

A white noise metronome lulls the gods to sleep. The mischievous Universe expresses itself.

This randomness adds up to the meeting of two individual birds in the vastness of their individual lives

Noah's Ark?

Every day the news is filled with heartbreaking stories about people making arduous journeys into the unknown. They are leaving a bad situation and hoping to find something better. It may not be much better but perhaps, their children will benefit.

I am part of the broad American middle class. I live in a place and time where journeys like this are unthinkable. I am thankful for the comfort and stability I have luckily inherited. Yet… ? The imbalance and unfairness of Life befuddles me and makes me ashamed of my comfortable and predictable situation. This contradiction finds its way into my pictures (another privilege!) where some story is leaking out:

1. two birds on a colorful container ship out on the high seas. They wonder what is inside the steel containers.
2. What if  they were filled with other creatures? Animals who have perhaps lost their freedom and are being sold into servitude or the circus.
3. Or could it be a modern Noah's Ark full of hope for resettlement and the future in a new Promised Land.
4. Without hope, the journey is a despair filled Middle Passage. With hope, it's a desperate race against time to find that land that barrel bombs cannot reach. How nice!
5. Which story will emerge from my mind? I do not know yet.

03-05-16a
Two birds on a Container Ship

03-06-16a
possible cargo: animal prisoners or Noah's Ark?

03-05-16b
Prisoners

Art & Illustration Thoughts

I started drawing Crystal Cities in 2009 and always come back to the series when I'm not certain what to paint (which is almost always the case). I wouldn't have it any other way.

Before I seriously set out on my peculiar artistic path, I always sketched my ideas out first. Then I would build a stretcher and staple my canvas on it. The sketch would be transferred to the primed canvas and then I would finally get my brushes dirty.

I must acknowledge Caroline Gerardo, a fellow student several lifetimes ago in Claremont, California who made it abundantly clear to me that all that premeditation wasn't necessary. The spirit needn't be mediated and if one actually paid attention, it resisted being tamed --if we would but listen. I think I got the message. I hope I did.

It's odd then that I gravitated to illustration as a profession (magazine, children's books, newspapers, etc.) which is so dependent on the sketch. It takes many sketches to develop a concept and help the client understand what they want. I don't begrudge the sketch, the client, or illustration. They are essential and make sense, but as an artist when I require the most direct path between my thoughts and the support that must contain them, there can be no separation between the sketch and the final work.

Thanks to all my teachers!

02-26-16a
colored pencil, tusche, collage

02-24-16a
paint stick, watercolor, pencil, chalk

02-21-16c
ink, watercolor, crayon resist

02-19-16a
ink, collage, acrylic, watercolor

02-17-16a
paint stick, ink, acrylic

The Confused Angels

Above the citadel, a flock of angels descend

(Which is quite a feat in itself).

They argue: Love him! Smite him!

They hover

They swoop

They go loop-the-loop

Call headquarters! The commandment comes:

"Love him"

But the varmint is long gone by then

And the angels retreat to the bar

for a seminar.

To smite!

To love!

They raise their glasses to Love

and toast to the work before them.

"Tomorrow is another day!"

The Confused Angels
02-10-16
mixed media

The Old Church

"Inside the Old Church"
01-31-16
mixed media

Countless, needle-like leaves stole bits of stained glass sunlight and spun them into sugar and roots.

The tree was becoming mature. Each season its leaves sifted down to the marble floor, dried out and decayed and became a thin layer of soil.

A sparrow found something interesting to investigate.

Who would think of looking for acorns in this strange place?!