Previous issues:
Fall 1999 Summer 1999 Spring 1999 Winter 1999
See the Gallery for some exciting detailed images of the artist's work.
Sunday, March 19, 2000I returned home today and immediately got back to work on the large painting of tulips. It was an excellent day. I moved huge amounts of paint while making adjustments for the changes in the flowers and leaves that seemed to occur even as I watched. This has been an exciting and potent painting, very lively and colorful. As I ended yesterday's session early I used my knife to quickly readjust some of the areas. This proved to be an excellent foundation on which to build the final layers of resolution today, as well as marks the end of a productive and unforgettable winter.
Click on the image to see a larger version.Today is my brother Darren's birthday. As I sit through each day's ritual of making my journal entries and sending this "message in a bottle" out into cyberspace, I always know that usually within a day or so Darren will be reading about my latest session. He has pursued the stability of the professional world and a family life with all of the challenges and triumphs that go with it, while I have chosen to spend my life in a frustrating and sometimes crushing debacle of struggle. I know he possesses a great appreciation for my art without being such an artist himself, and as a result he has become a brother Theo to bear witness to this humble optimism I have toward my uncertain future. I have always enjoyed sharing my ventures in painting with him, and I know he is always watching over my shoulder and checking on my progress with support and admiration. If nothing else should ever come of me and my paintings, I will always know that within this studio I have indeed built the vehicle to help us maintain a connection across all of these miles, and all of the years apart.
Happy birthday, brother.
Read on...to Spring of 2000
Saturday, March 18, 2000I continued work on the painting, although I had to cut the session short to leave for Philadelphia to see my younger brother Daniel perform in a stage production.
Daniel did a great job, he is a very talented guy. It was good to see him steal the stage in certain scenes with such efficiency and professionalism.
Thursday, March 17, 2000 St. Patrick's DayToday I started a large and lively painting of a pair of tulips. The nature of these flowers allowed me to arrange the blue vase much closer to the wall which should allow me to explore the brilliant colors within the shadow of the glass on the background. There is a powerful and energetic quality to the results of this first session; hopefully I can maintain and preserve these elements when I resume work on this painting tomorrow. As always, it seems that the key to keeping a painting alive and breathing is to mix big batches of paint and to make big decisions, big mistakes and big corrections.
Wednesday, March 15, 2000I finished the still-life. In the final minutes of the session the flowers lit up with the late afternoon sunlight, and I feel that I was able to capture the warmth of these colors while still maintaining a proper balance with the rest of the painting.
Click on the image to see the finished paintingI feel that this is a strong and lively piece, although the bluish gray of the background seems to evade my abilities to properly render light to dark within the almost neutral colors. I forced myself to use larger brushes throughout the painting in order to resist my temptation to spiral down to rendering unnecessary details with the smaller brushes. I know that some of my drafting skills are somewhat lacking, and I might benefit from taking some time to do some drawing at some point in the next week. That would at least provide a vital activity to pursue on those overcast days that are less than suitable for painting.
Tuesday, March 14, 2000I continued work on yesterday's painting. I've refined many of the colors, although I believe my next step should be seeing more accurately while painting more generally. There is a certain glow in the air that results from some of the brighter areas that I believe is intrinsic to the nature of the sense of light in this composition. The white of the flowers should create a glare that should wash out some of the adjacent darker areas. I imagine some of this "light in the air" actually exists, while in other instances I believe it is a shortcoming of my eyes. I guess it all adds up to the same thing either way. I should be able to resolve this piece tomorrow if I have a decent sunny day again.
Monday, March 13, 2000I'm finally back into the studio after too many days off. A quick start on a new canvas is done more to throw some paint around than to actually pursue making a painting. I will be fortunate if I can resume work on this painting tomorrow; I may have to wait until the following day. The new video camera arrangement is working well. It seems as though the image is just a little less in focus than it should be, although the colors seem to be far more accurate than with the old camcorder.
My time spent in NYC was terrific. Immediately upon my arrival Phil and I hit several key points of interest until well into the night. One of the more memorable places was a bar called Galapagos, a stylish little club in Brooklyn with a friendly crowd and an odd little vaudeville act on a small stage. Different skits were performed every 20 or 30 minutes throughout the night. Friday morning arrived too fast and before I knew it I was at the convention center. I'm glad I do the work that I do. What can be seen as obstinance to responding to the changing trends of subject, color and design around me can also be seen as a tenacity to preserve a selective and focused few of some brilliant details of my world. I feel yet more justified in my intent than the night before when Phil and I discussed the place that fine art can have in a world that seems to lurch ahead in the throes of an almost blind conceptual progress. Aside from making some contacts with various dealers and materials suppliers, I did see some notable artwork.
After returning to Phil's flat I managed to contact Ladislav Czernek, an old friend of mine from art school whom I hadn't seen in 7 years. After bidding farewell to Phil I drove across Brooklyn to Lad's apartment. His wife Virginia joined us at the dining room table while we caught up and finished a bottle of wine. He and I went out for dinner at a Cambodian restaurant where we continued to trade stories, and then back at his flat we broke open a bottle of vodka he brought back last week from the Czech Republic. His cousin had made the vodka from fermented plums, and apparently was reticent about sending the momento back to the states with Ladislav. I was amazed to see his portfolio of furniture and interiors that he had compiled from various projects throughout the years. Very impressive.
I remember the first time he decided to play his new saxophone for me back in 1982 or so. He doubled over and twisted around while blasting out a hideous and unnerving screech in a spray of spit, and then staggered about laughing and in pain, having pulled a groin muscle. That was the birth of jazz sax for Ladislav.
What a guy.
Wednesday, March 8, 2000Today I started and finished a very small painting of a bosc pear and a tangerine. The video camera is still almost completely unusable, and I have taken steps to replace it within the next week.
Tomorrow I will be heading to New York City for a short visit with the legendary H. Philip Lauer, and on Friday I shall spend the day at ArtExpo 2000 at the Jacob Javitz Convention Center. I'm hoping this short but stimulating break will help me to clear my head. It seems as though the rising wave of upcoming exhibitions is making it difficult for me to maintain the focus necessary to learn through the process of painting, and not just produce pieces of artwork.
Sunday, March 5, 2000I attempted to continue the work on yesterday's painting. Instead of a productive and educational day I found I could not resolve my dissatisfaction with the initial composition. The painting has been reduced to a blank canvas again, and I look forward to starting another painting soon. The weather has been perfect for almost anything other than staying inside and attempting to paint. I'm sure I would do well to take a break and get some fresh air for a change.
Saturday, March 4, 2000I started a large (24 by 30) painting today. I'm at one of those points where I wonder how I have ever been able to paint. Nothing feels natural, and nothing comes easily. I look at all of the other paintings that surround me and I get the strange sinking feeling that my best work is behind me.
I must keep painting.
For some reason the ancient video camera I was using seems to have died. Unless it mysteriously starts working again I must become inventive to find another way to broadcast from the studio.
Monday, February 21, 2000I started and finished a small painting.
I spent several hours last night reading through my old art school journals. While at the Maryland Institute I studied extensively under Peter Collier, who bridged discipline with insight and humor with exploration. I easily adopted his strictly structured methods of procedure and materials. The first semester was based on drawing from classical sculpture which developed our abilities to second guess ourselves through a constant critique with our own work and the work of each other. Everybody was responsible for having input, whether positive or negative, on everybody else's work for each week. We kept close tabs on each other's development, at any point we had to be ready to be called upon to lead the class in a critique of any other student's work. I took a second semester of this drawing class while also taking my first still-life and interiors painting class, also with Peter Collier. At this point I was excelling with this exploration of the real world, but immediately I was humbled with the deep technical issues of color and paint. My previous semester prepared me for the pace I was to undergo and I quickly learned this new language of the color wheel. The next semester I stepped up to Peter Collier's class in portrait painting, while acting as technical assistant for his drawing from classical sculpture class. Once again I fully embraced this method of disciplined procedure and thought. Acting as technical assistant gave me an opportunity to watch others stumble and crawl over the same pitfalls I had experienced the previous year. I learned to keep my thoughts to myself and have an answer ready if asked, but not to offer unsolicited advice. My second semester of portrait painting was when I stood on the very edge of enlightenment and insanity. At this point I was sleeping less than 4 nights a week, I had no money and was barely eating and I was painting furiously from early morning until dark. I was in such a hurry to race the sun one evening that as I wiped my palette knife in the rag in my hand I managed to slash my palm open. I finished the painting clutching the bleeding rag, my head was spinning. My youthful frustration was maddening, I was alone in a giant warehouse that overlooked the sprawling city. Every night the sky over Baltimore would come ablaze with color, in my state of fatigue and hunger I could see the colors rippling and vibrating. I imagined I could see colors on the edges of colors, like the halo of an optical illusion. Air and light became a tangible substance, it could be seen and painted, you could actually wrap your hands around it. With fear and respect I knew that I could go even deeper.
Sometimes I feel that I want to go back there.
Sunday, February 20, 2000I made a valiant attempt to paint today, but after several hours of struggle I wiped off the canvas in frustration. Some days things just don't click, and today is one of those days. I feel like I'm working in a vacuum here, time seems to be standing still. I will be foraging for subjects and ideas throughout this evening and hopefully by tomorrow I will be back on track.
Thursday, February 17, 2000I've been stuck working my day job all week, today was the first day I had an hour of so of sunlight. I started a small quick painting of some brilliant dark red roses. Once again I approached the subject as a tightly cropped composition to focus on exploring such dark and vivid colors. Apparently the brightest red is beyond what I can mix with my present palette, although I was surprised to discover some subtle variations in the darker parts of the flowers which helped to suggest a sense of light and mass.
Sunday, February 13, 2000I finished the painting today. When I look at it, me eyes are repeatedly drawn to several rude and quite rough areas, although I feel that each of these is a little gem of simplicity. I feel that I have stopped this painting while it still can showcase a certain purity of observation and exploration. I also feel that I've learned something about the halo of colors the eye seems to create around certain objects, although this could just be the result of the screaming headache I've been entertaining since early this afternoon.
Saturday, February 12, 2000Today I took a signed and completed painting off of the wall and completely destroyed it. The large painting of daisies in a blue glass vase from January 22nd has been haunting me incessantly and was starting to drive me totally insane. I thoroughly enjoyed scraping off the high spots and roughing in a fresh arrangement of daisies over the old ones. I feel that the mistakes I made previously were in painting only the painting, and not pursuing education through the overpowering size and scale of the image. I typically start larger pieces to add another element of energy to the marks, yet I found myself still using some of my smaller brushes and smaller approaches. I feel that the work has been reborn into a living and breathing composition, and no longer an uptight rendering encumbered by too much thought and calculation.
Tomorrow will be an exciting day.
Wednesday, February 9, 2000I believe I am finally finished with this painting. I feel that some areas are quite strong yet others threaten to spin out of control with unbalanced resolution and detail.
It is always difficult to stop a painting that exhibits a sense of experimentation and exploration while resisting the urge to pursue each of those avenues of self education to a higher level of finish. First and second sessions of a painting always have more of a sense of life and air than the third and fourth session, although to stop a painting too early in its development always feels like an easy way out of an difficult yet informative lesson. I am always torn between making a nice painting or actually destroying a perfectly good painting while I attempt to learn all that I possibly can. Typically I will work and rework every area until my eyes can easily glide over the surface without stopping at any one particular spot. I try to see each painting as somebody would see it for the first time, taking into consideration the way attention is drawn over and across the composition.
Aside from all that deep stuff, the Old 97s show last night was great. Such passion and angst coupled with amazing talent and showmanship added up to a positively riveting performance. I highly recommend that everybody run out and buy their albums and see them perform. Romance and heartache will never feel quite the same for you. Believe me.
Tuesday, February 8, 2000I still did not finish the painting, although I did have a somewhat constructive day of further carving out the shapes. I feel that the green vase will prove to be quite a challenge as it resides in the shadow of the coffee cup. I believe I must make a return to simplicity, as the dark green glass really doesn't project very much color and definition in the context of the entire still-life.
I will be cutting today's session short to go to Washington D.C. tonight with my friend Geoff to see the Old 97s. What's so fine about art?
Sunday, February 6, 2000I did not finish the painting, although I did further develop the space and color. I will make an attempt in the upcoming days to complete this piece.
Unfortunately, another of my previously finished paintings is starting to haunt me. The idea of displaying my work in the studio as a reference of where I've been and (hopefully) where I am going is starting to backfire. I keep thinking about the notion of everything that's on display being an actual body of work, not a series of individual pieces. I may make the decision in the next week to go back into the painting from January 22nd, unless somebody tries to convince me otherwise.
Saturday, February 5, 2000What a wretched and tortured existence is mine. Last night I paced about my studio while studying Wednesday's painting. In the throes of resignation and defeat I dug the withered and wilted flowers out of the trash and put them back in their vase. I attempted to resuscitate them through the night, and this morning I made braces out of masking tape to hold their shriveled little faces up as though I were some kind of a taxidermist making a mockery of death. I worked on some of the weaker areas of the painting for about an hour before finally yanking the canvas off of the easel and throwing it into a corner in disgust. I feel confident when I say that none of this comes easily to me.
I continued work on Thursday's painting, despite still not feeling well. My old friends coffee cup and saucer made an appearance to accompany a bouquet of daisies in a green glass vase. I don't know if it's the way I feel or the nature of the cold winter light, but everything seems dark and dull. I will attempt to bring this painting to a close tomorrow.
Thursday, February 3, 2000I started a painting today. I don't feel well, and I am lacking in self-confidence, even more so than usual. Tomorrow I will be working at my day job.
Wednesday, February 2, 2000 Groundhog DayI did decide to further develop the colors on yesterday's painting. It's amazing what you can do to yourself by displaying a work-in-progress where you can't escape seeing it. I am still not totally satisfied with the outcome of this piece, but I do believe I may approach the same setup again in the weeks to come. I feel that these muted colors presented just the right level of difficulty for me, and I can rest assured knowing that I will have days if not weeks of hardship and struggle ahead of me.
Tuesday, February 1, 2000Despite a gray and overcast day, I finished the new painting. I feel that I barely navigated the edge between subtle, muted colors and mud. It is always a challenge to dig colors out of a dark day, especially when the foundation of the painting was conceived in brilliant direct sunlight.
I may invest another day's session into further developing this piece. However, I do feel that there exists a strong possibility that this would be redundant as I believe I have sufficiently captured a lyrical dance of lost and found edges between the varying elements of the composition. I will make that judgment when I have sufficient sunlight in the morning. Although I feel that I've successfully created a drama between the boldness of the yellow centers of the daisies against the muted surrounding areas, I did struggle with the vase itself. Once again I had great difficulty with the translucent nature of the milky white glass.
Monday, January 31, 2000After another entire day of not being able to paint, I was finally able to get something started. Despite this being a quick and sloppy start, I feel that this is both solid and subtle. I hope that the flowers will last a few more days for me to complete this painting.
Saturday, January 29, 2000My canvases arrived yesterday, so today I set out to make a great painting. For some reason I struggled, and after a valiant and robust start I scraped off all of the paint, and started over on a fresh canvas. I will be curious as to whether or not this painting further develops tomorrow.
Earlier today, somebody asked me if painting makes me happy. Quite the opposite, painting is one of the most difficult and frustrating things I've ever done. To have spawned a painting is to only have come face to face with humility and defeat. The resignation I feel towards painting is unlike any kind of surrender I've known in any other element of my life. I typically refuse to give up on anything, but painting is the ultimate study in chaos and turmoil. The most pristine and delicate little flower in a vase casting a subtle shadow on the wall can turn into a cruel and maddening torment when I try to capture that essence of light and air with the substance of pigment and oil. Brushes become odd and clumsy utensils, the feeble attempt of my hand holding a brush to render a delicate vignette is almost laughable. I resign myself to only scrub in the barest suggestion of what my eye sees. As my mind goes into "the zone of creativity", my heart goes into "the zone of seizure". Everything starts to warp and distort in this elevated level of stress. I feel too hot, and then too cold, my skin itches and crawls, the air seems to burn in my nostrils when I inhale. Light seems to glare on my eyes, I can't eat enough, I'm always thirsty, my head usually pounds with pain as the day wears on. I guess I do see the merit in accepting such a challenge. The growth I experience through the trial of each painting brings me one step closer to my own salvation. Through this constant angst ridden cycle of struggle and triumph I will vindicate myself. Within this crucible of pain and passion I shall purify my intent into one single sparkling clear and true mission of exploration into the very heart of my own darkness.
Or at least I'll learn to enjoy myself.
Thursday, January 27, 2000I started and finished a small painting of the sunflowers. The brick-red background is a great challenge for me, it seems to be very difficult to render shadow within such a saturated color. Today's extremely bright sun also proved to be a challenge, as everything seemed to be shrouded in a glare, making it somewhat difficult to see the transition of colors within the flowers themselves. For the first time I feel that I've successfully captured the translucent quality of this little white vase.
Wednesday, January 26, 2000Thanks to the severity of the snowstorm I was able to finish the painting of the sunflowers. I am intrigued by the nature of such brilliant yellow, and the way it glows with such vibrancy in the sun.
I am looking forward to another session when I can further explore this colorful and interesting subject
Tuesday, January 25, 2000A dense and steady snowfall made it possible for me to have the day to paint. Despite the muted light I was able to start a detailed view of the sunflowers, although the second half of the painting session was probably executed without sufficient light to make accurate color judgments.
The chances are that I will have to resume my day job tomorrow, but if there is any chance of me getting back to this piece, I will bring it to a swift and lively finish.
Monday, January 24, 2000I finished the small painting of the sunflowers. I am not totally satisfied with the results, yet I do feel that it is a colorful departure from my past few paintings. I would like to execute a detailed view of the flowers themselves, as I believe that they would lend themselves to a simple and powerful composition based purely on the stunning nature of their bold shapes and colors.
I am supposedly going to be working on another project over the next two days, though I will do all that I can to be back here painting these sunflowers. I did order several more large canvases today, so I'm looking forward to embarking on some large paintings by this coming weekend.
Sunday, January 23, 2000Today I made a healthy start on a lively and colorful painting of sunflowers in a white vase. I believe that I will have fun exploring the odd contrast of brilliant yellow petals and the intensely dark centers of these flowers, and of course I can't help but feel as though I'm once again following in the footsteps of greatness by exploring one of the subjects of Vincent himself.
I have used the last of my large canvases, so I will be executing smaller works on paper for the next few days. I do crave the generous spaces afforded by a larger format and hopefully in the upcoming week I will be making a supply run into Philadelphia.
Saturday, January 22, 2000I did adjust a few small details on the large painting of daisies in a vase. For the first time I feel that I have successfully suggested a convexity to the petals of the daisies through the gradation of colors, without being reduced to rendering details that are not in step with the approach and technique of the rest of the piece. See the finished painting here.
One of the things I did accomplish today was to update The Gallery with all of the new paintings that were completed in this past month. I also was able to pick up some sunflowers at the Central Market. These are very odd and colorful flowers, although I was unable to get any further than mixing some colors before the sky grew dark.
Friday, January 21, 2000Today was an excellent day of painting, the brilliant sunlight reflecting off of the snow on the roof made the still-life come alive with color. I had a chance to play with some of the elusive colors that occur in the edges of objects, and I also learned yet more about the qualities of luminescence in the white petals. This painting may be finished; I will look at it in the morning and make the decision then.
There is a nice sunset right now, with all of the cold beauty of a winter sky. Last night I stood out in the howling wind with the feathery touch of the snow on my face while I watched the lunar eclipse play hide and seek with the clouds. At the stroke of midnight the sky cleared up, and the orange-red moon looked bizarre in the crisp black sky. Tomorrow morning I may head into Lancaster to look for another bouquet of flowers at the Central Market.
Thursday, January 20, 2000I continued work on the large canvas, bringing the surface up as well as further developing some of the colors. At this point I am curious about my abilities to push through the typical point of my final resolution of marks and explore some different avenues for suggesting the colors and shapes. I feel that I have always had a certain safety in these more sustained efforts, and I always wind up with a similar level of completion. The end product would still be the suggestion of space within a solid composition, but I know that within the shorthand of a shorter, faster painting I wind up discovering some exciting nuances of form and color. I would like to resolve this piece in the next session, hopefully tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 19, 2000I started a large canvas today. I will be attempting to sum up what I've learned from yesterday's quick study in a more sustained effort over the next few days.
I'm trying something a little different with this painting. I've always blasted into the first day of painting with generous applications of paint, only to come up against a somewhat distracting surface too early in the resolution of the piece. As a first day's effort, I kept the paint somewhat thin, and tomorrow I will cut loose with a more rambunctious approach to my material application. I always spend the bulk of the first day of a larger painting by mixing colors, drawing and defining the composition. I thought it would be best to start my second day with a foundation of the basic colors and shapes and have the entire day ahead of me for building up the surface with a little more deliberation than only to race against the fading sunlight. It should be an interesting day.
Tuesday, January 18, 2000Despite the day growing dark I was able to finish this painting. I will always be amazed at how rich of a study there is to be explored within the petals of a daisy. The brilliant whites fade into many rich tones, and even the dark side of the arrangement seems to glow with luminescence.
The sky is growing darker still as snow starts falling. I will not be starting another painting this afternoon as I had hoped.
Monday, January 17, 2000Today I picked up some daisies and began work on yet another small painting. I will finish this piece tomorrow, and possibly start work on a large canvas.
As I was writing a resume for a grant application this morning, one of the aspects of the artist's statement was to explore my purpose, or more specifically, what I would do if I were awarded the grant money. As an artist, it would seem that all you really need is time and, in my case, sunlight. The actual expenses of paint, canvas and paper are minuscule compared to many of the other expenses in life. I assume that time can be purchased, or at least the luxury of how one is to use one's time. I still straddle responsibilities of a day job helping to run this building where I live, and with money I could dedicate my entire day to nothing but painting. I could presumably rearrange my studio to have a morning setup in addition to my present afternoon setup. Without having to think about paying the real world bills of telephone, internet access, website hosting fees, not to mention vehicle expenses and food, I could really settle into the life of an artist. Did artists have as many distractions in the 1800s as I do today? My modem not connecting, the phone ringing, errands to run, sitting at traffic lights, obeying speed limits, all of these things really do feel like they are robbing myself and the world of my time and potential. But the question is, how do you convey that time is the only thing you would be interested in purchasing with the proper funding? If I were selling more work I would not wonder how I will have money for applications to some of the major shows coming up this summer such as Artscape in Baltimore, Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia, Penn State and Mount Gretna among others. What would be my artist's statement at this point? To only make paintings, or to make a work of myself? I am not breaking any new conceptual territory as I repaint the same little bouquet of flowers, I am not taking into account the ability to make socio-political commentary through the vehicle of my art. I am not interested in amazing people with the size or audacity of my work. I feel that my motives are fairly modest and humble in their scope, to only live my life in a state of intimacy with solitude, discipline and perseverance to which anyone could and probably should relate. Funding will not fill this void in my heart, the silence of the studio only reminds me of how alone I really am. Funding will not make my colors brighter, or my brushstrokes more lively. Essentially I am interested in following through with this personal sojourn that has eclipsed all else in my world and to put this entire process up for public scrutiny. Art is supposed to be a form of communication and at this point it seems the art is sort of a mantra, an aid in meditation while I actually make myself the work-in-progress.
The artist as art. What a thought.
Sunday, January 16, 2000I started and finished another small painting of the roses. This time I did a detailed view of the flowers themselves.
I feel that I struggle with the rendering of rosebuds. It is quite challenging to find shape and definition within the translucent nature of the papery petals. I will continue to explore these difficult subjects in the future, although I do feel that I am ready to explore something different in the upcoming week.
Friday, January 14, 2000I started and finished a small painting of the roses. This piece sums up many of the things I had learned in the past week while working on the large canvas. I still do feel that I have much to learn about simplifying the depiction of the rosebuds, and I also feel that the delicate gradation of color has still evaded me.
Hopefully I will have sunlight in the upcoming days to further explore these flowers as they continue to bloom.
Wednesday, January 12, 2000I believe I am finished with this painting, although I do feel that familiar sensation of resignation to stopping work only to move ahead on another piece.
I will not consider this painting a failure, although as it developed I can't help but feel as though I'd like to return to a more traditional approach to the flower arrangement depicted in a vase on a table in front of a wall. There are only so many cues I can decipher to show the spread of space from front to back, and the negative spaces between the leaves and stems are not enough to suggest the distances between the viewer and the subject. Essentially I have explored reducing the still-life into a graphic depiction of flowers, namely through the awareness of the edges of the canvas through the severe cropping involved in this series. There is indeed merit to exploring the more intimate view of these flower arrangements, but for myself I think I will pursue rendering a representation of space as suggested by the intersection of the planes of the tabletop and wall. When these basic skills of drawing are employed it provides a much more substantial basis for the depth of the painting. There is an element that I have always pursued which puts the viewer into the same space and light and "air" as the subjects in the painting. I strive to attain the illusion that one could pick up the objects in the painting, not through a rendering of details, but through the basic colors and treatments.
Tuesday, January 11, 2000The sun never came out on Sunday the 9th, and I had to work at my day job on Monday. Many paintings would have been difficult to resuscitate after several days, but this painting seemed to spring right back to life as soon as I started applying more paint. In addition, the petals of the roses are opening more with each passing day; this is helping to keep the painting alive. As always, I am grappling with the subtleties of the different greens, this is evident in the high contrast of the leaves and stems. I will still need at least one more day to properly resolve this piece, although I am interested in a smaller exploration of this subject immediately after the completion of this large canvas. I feel that there is an element to the lively yet subtle composition from which I should be able to learn even more with a smaller and more focused effort.
Saturday, January 8, 2000I had a fun day slamming out tons of paint, although it seems that my website was offline as I was wrapping up for the day, so I don't have a final screen capture of the day's session. The forecast for tomorrow is for clouds and rain, although I will attempt to continue work on this painting, hopefully to finish it.
Friday, January 7, 2000I dusted off a 24 by 30 inch canvas and commenced work on a fairly ambitious piece. I actually made it to market this morning and picked out some white roses, and set them against a background of rose gray matboard. I am always amazed with how much paint a large canvas can consume, although I was able to just stay ahead of the quantities I needed to completely cover the surface. Tomorrow will be an exciting day as I dig more color, depth and detail out of this simple and bold composition.
Thursday, January 6, 2000I finished the painting of two pears.
I am looking forward to possibly starting a large painting tomorrow. Maybe I will head into Lancaster in the morning to pick up some flowers at Central Market. This would be a good 3 day weekend to attack one of my larger canvases. We shall see. I have been putting off starting a larger work, namely because of the uncertainty of each day's suitability for painting. These leaps of faith shall be the foundation for the upcoming works.
Wednesday, January 5, 2000Finally, a beautifully sunny day. I raced to the local flower shop only to be let down by a fairly poor selection. The grocery store proved even less fruitful for flowers, but much more fruitful for fruit. I picked a pair of the ever colorful Bartlett pears. I always enjoy the subtle and sensuous shape of pears, and the colors that fade from green to vivid red to pale yellow is always an excellent chance to explore shape, light and color. I will resolve this small study tomorrow.
Through New Year's Eve 2000I had a chance to feel that familiar sense of being alone in a crowd at the stroke of midnight. A giant gold beer mug spilled balloons and stuffed animals onto the crowd while I felt as though I were being drawn into a vortex of time and space. This river of time has drawn some of us into and under its current, the optimism toward a bright future has been tinged with some deep and profound losses. There are several people deeply grieving on the eve of this past century, my thoughts are with them.
I drove up to visit the legendary H. Philip Lauer and the inimitable Brooke Pennington on the evening of New Year's Day. Brooke was feeling a tad crusty from his celebratory indulgences, but Phil and I enjoyed walking the streets of Manhattan until well into the morning. We spent Sunday kicking around the city again, drinking coffee in the sidewalk cafes and generally enjoying an unseasonably mild first weekend of the new millennium.
Wednesday, December 29, 1999I finally got back to work in the painting studio, just before the century draws to a close. I decided to warm up with a large and loose study of the ever-present Tabasco sauce bottle.
I don't have much to say about my work or myself on this eve of the 20th century. An overview of all things would be incomplete without taking into account my own personal development and growth. I have been humbled by the challenge of painting, of trying to make something of my work, of trying to make something of myself. As I always try to deconstruct the complexities of a composition to better understand the simple and subtle nuances of form and space and color, I have also begun a similar deconstruction of myself. In silence I reflect on the things this past year has seen. The thrill of discovery of the colors of glass, light, flowers and fruit. The reinforcement of my validity through the venues of the exhibitions, and the enriching contact with my new audience. The time spent in France gave me a sense of continuity with a tradition of artists that have lived and worked and left behind their marks. And most important, my time with Jodie, which has reminded me to occasionally stop and take in the beauty of the space and color that continually changes around us. I will strive to not forget, I can only hope that the mark I leave behind will remind others as well.
If you find yourself hungering for yet more dramatization of the angst of a painter, see Fall 1999 for the previous season's struggles.
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