See the Gallery for some exciting detailed images of some of these paintings.
Sunday, March 21, 1999Today I finished the painting of the white porcelain kettle, the coffee cup and saucer and the nice green apple despite the dismal, dark and raining day. I'm becoming well versed in digging for color within the gloom and darkness.
I'm looking forward to having a model for next weekend, and hopefully sunlight, too.
Read on...to Spring of 1999
Saturday, March 20, 1999Today I started a painting of the white porcelain kettle, the coffee cup and saucer and a nice green apple.
Sunday, March 14, 1999The day started with a dark and slivery hue. The sky then grew dark and snow did fall.
Everything inside the studio turned dark as well, and though I grappled with carving out another layer of form from within the darkness, the painting was just too large to completely rework new colors and still have time to resolve the relevant issues of likeness and gesture and form and composition. I recall what an art school teacher had once taught me, that at certain times a painting just goes out of control, and the best step forward is to stop working on that piece. Today I put that lesson to practice, and as the snow fell heavier and the day grew darker, I wiped out the canvas to recycle it for another session. It's important to realize the willful nature of this decision, and view it as an educational yet painful step forward.
In a perfect world I would have continued again tomorrow, but instead I will be joining the workforce for another week.
Saturday, March 13, 1999I struggled. Ah yes, I did indeed struggle.
At times I wanted to slash the painting with my knife, to hurl myself bodily against it and beat it to the ground. By day's end I felt as though I had been through a virtual trial of pain and tension and frustration. As I looked over the day's work, I realize that I took serious steps forward, yet I must seriously review my plan of attack for another day in this godforsaken battlefield.
Friday, March 12, 1999I started a huge, life-size portrait of Jodie. I dusted off one of my stretched canvases and started slugging out massive amounts of paint, only to see them swallowed by the vast and arid expanse of fabric. I forgot how daunting it is to attack a giant piece, the biggest brushes look so insignificant against the sprawling dry surface, it was like embarking on a trek through the endless desert. At one point I felt as though my head was going to explode, the pressure was so intense. Standing in front of a huge canvas is overwhelming, at arm's reach the surface area almost completely covers your entire field of vision, you could almost fall into the painting. I was getting dizzy, trying to gauge the proportions of the subject and transfer them without the distortion of foreshortening that occurs when you crowd in on such a large piece. At day's end I am almost seasick.
The most I could have hoped for was to have covered the entire surface with paint. I did succeed. I look forward to the onslaught of the next two days with this painting, it will be a great challenge for me to achieve an acceptable resolution of focus and gesture.
Jodie is, as always, a virtual pillar of support and encouragement. She watched with wonder as I tackled the canvas, and she shared my frustration with the sheer magnitude of the task I had set before myself.
For some reason, I could not attain ftp access to the website today, so nobody could bear witness to the momentous struggle. All seems to be working now, I will attempt to display my throes of anguish and consternation again tomorrow.
Sunday, February 28, 1999The day remained dark and rain fell continuously in an insidious drizzle. I still attempted to finish the painting of Jodie, although digging furiously in the darkness for color and form proved to be, for the most part, fruitless.
I am not at all satisfied with the finished piece, but it is adequate as a stepping stone of education and insight.
Saturday, February 27, 1999Ah yes, today I started a portrait of my little Jodie.
I decided to relocate the painting area into my main studio for a varied multitude of reasons. After a late start and with the sky growing gradually darker with each passing minute, I threw down a fairly solid foundation. Schwartz the Cat decided to also become involved, and without warning he reached up and grabbed a handful of cadmium yellow off of my palette. We then spent the next 15 minutes washing his little paw with ample soap and warm water as we have great concern for the health of the little fellow. Needless to say, it was not one of my more productive sessions, and the final image is not worth posting on this update. I can say without a doubt, however, that Jodie is quite a joy to paint, and I look forward to many studies of her lovely countenance in the future.
If the sun shines tomorrow (Sunday) I will have something worthy of public view.
Monday, February 22, 1999As some odd form of luck would have it, the temperature plummeted to well below freezing last night, and the job site was deemed "too cruel for human existence and happiness". And so there I was, armed with only one single day of sunlight and no advance warning and decided to set out to execute yet another entry into my "food and drink" series. I chose to further explore the blueish-green glow in the shadow of a Perrier bottle, this time accompanied by the orange that Jodie left behind with the rest of her lunch as she ran out the door to school this morning.
I'm getting some ideas of what food to serve for my opening reception. Maybe I shall attempt to paint some bread and cheese next.
Sunday, February 21, 1999I executed another quick still-life today. I look forward to the day when I can hire a model; in the meantime I will sharpen my skills yet another setting of food and beverages. I did have some interesting moments as I explored the colors that resulted from the sun shining through a full Perrier bottle onto the wall, creating a blue glow within the shadow. I worked with a new and exciting range of colors. The Guinness bottle, tomato and lemon made return appearances as well.
Saturday, February 20, 1999I started and finished a painting today. I did indeed attempt to paint a sprig of flowers in a small glass vase. Next time I will next attempt a more robust plant, as this little "sprig" did not lend itself to what I would consider a painting that encompasses both space and substance. In order to give the composition some richness and solidity I threw a beautiful ripe tomato into the setup (at the risk of radically throwing off the balance of the composition), just to see if I could make it look like a tomato and not an apple. I could probably spend another day attempting to carve out some more detail and depth on this piece, but I believe I have learned enough from this session to justify moving on to another setup. I am not thrilled with the outcome of this session, but I am adequately satisfied with the results. At the very worst, this painting will display yet another way how I struggle pitifully with this medium.
I will attempt another one-day execution tomorrow, as I will be returning to the day job on Monday.
Thursday, February 18, 1999I started a restoration job today. Not much to report, my hands hurt and I'm exhausted. I'm looking forward to painting this coming Saturday and Sunday. Unless I can arrange a model for both days, I'm considering attempting to paint a potted plant or flower, something I've never done before. I'm also starting work on several interesting musical projects that have potentially presented themselves.
Sincerest apologies to Cheryl and Tammy that I won't be able to liven up their desktops for a little while. You'll have to log on this weekend to keep Darren updated.
Wednesday, February 17, 1999 Ash WednesdayAfter a beautiful sunrise, the sky became dark and rain did fall.
I did not paint today.
Tuesday, February 16, 1999 Fat TuesdayI finished this self-portrait. I feel good about this one, the execution was simple and the finish was solid. I especially enjoyed finding colors within the white cotton of my shirt and the backdrop, I found great luminosity in the fabric and thoroughly enjoyed exploring the different colors that they yielded. I took a solid step ahead in my abilities to shape my head and face compared to the self-portrait of this past weekend, this second attempt was well worth the extra effort.
I worked in silence today. Tomorrow, I will attempt to execute a painting in one day's session, as I might be starting a day job on the following day, Thursday.
We shall see.
Monday, February 15, 1999 President's DayI started another self-portrait today, wearing a white shirt, in front of a white sheet hung on the wall. As usual, I started with gusto and bravado, applying ample amounts of paint, slathering ripe and succulent brushstrokes across the paper with a passion and vivaciousness that rivals the very act of love itself. I am finding myself carving shapes out of darkness, rather than building them out of light, possibly as a result of my face being the very darkest element of the composition. This feels more like drawing with paint as opposed to actually sculpting with color, and it feels as though I am discovering elements of depth and definition that had previously eluded me. Typically I would have avoided this approach, but it seems to have served me well in the final stages of my last endeavor.
I listened briefly to some music, but lost interest in having distractions from the brilliant light which the day had granted me.
I am starting to hear the music in my head welling up louder and louder, growing with definition like the articulation of brushstrokes in the shadows. I shall be engaged in the thrill of exploration in the music studio in the very near future.
Just like coming home.
Sunday, February 14, 1999 Valentine's DayI finished the self-portrait, which is not to say that I feel it is complete, only that I have stopped working on it.
The strange sense of agitation on the finish of a painting is compounded when the painting is of the painter, it's almost like saying, "This is how I see myself, and it's WRONG". I know how foolish this sounds, but I want to immediately start another self-portrait, delve back into the mirror for answers to all of these questions, I want satisfaction, I want resolution, I want peace within myself. I feel like I'm just been knocked down in a fist fight, and I know what I might have done to be in this position, and I want another chance, I want to get back up and fight (not that I've ever been in an actual fist fight, this is all just conjecture). I feel that I might prove something, that I might learn what has evaded me.
I don't know, I'll have to think about it.
Jodie has been endlessly supportive of my efforts, I can only hope that she sees that this frustration is only one of the painful steps forward for myself as an artist.
Once again I painted in silence.
Saturday, February 13, 1999Today I had one of those odd moments that seems to overtake an artist from time to time.
I've always had great respect for the work of Vincent Van Gogh, his view of the colors and the lines of the world are like no other. To see the stars in the sky swirling with colors, to see flowers or a chair carved out of such bold and substantial strokes, these are the things that are rich in their life and splendor. I especially enjoy seeing his work in person, and I'm always interested in seeing what areas of the painting were a struggle for him. Sections of the canvases are smeared and scratched, you can sense his agitation and frustration. I was looking at a portrait of a woman with a child at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, and the hand looked as though he were clawing at the canvas with his fingernails. What was going through his head? Was it frustration that the day's light was fading, or did he simply not like painting hands? You could almost feel him fidgeting and squirming as he tried to decide how to resolve an area that defied resolution.
Ah yes, now I know.
Today I was planning on resolving this self-portrait with a few deftly placed strokes of paint and voila! off to start another masterpiece. Instead, I had a revelation. If I removed my glasses, I could see a bolder, simplified view of my head. I could see where I was distracted by details and colors that had been working against the carving of shapes and depth within the space of the painting. A few well-thought steps back toward simplicity seemed in order, but instead I started a cascade effect of revelations, the more I could see, the more I had to undo. Quick, lose the glasses altogether and put on contact lenses. The sun was swinging low, threatening to flood the room with direct sunlight, which typically signifies the end of the day's painting. Instead, a few clouds tumbled across the sun, granting me a reprieve of a few more precious moments. I started laying in bold strokes of shadow to simplify what had distorted out of the darkness. I started finding another layer of depth within the colors of my gleaming skull, I finally carved out the cheekbones for the very first time. I actually could see lines of definition from the passage of time that I hadn't noticed before; I could now see my face, as though for the first time in years. I stepped back and could see in the strokes a kinetic frenzy of thrust and parry, of temper and angst. I could feel my blood rushing, I could see the color of the blood in my ears and my cheeks.
Something had occurred to me in this moment. I'm not sure what it was, but I have been humbled.
I can hardly wait until tomorrow.
Today I worked against a backdrop of silence, to accompany the sound of my own blood rushing through my head.
Friday, February 12, 1999Another good day of painting. At about 3:00, however, the delightful spring like temperature gave way to a blast of cold wind and a heavy blanket of clouds, in a matter of minutes the room was dark. Rain spattered the windows as I cleaned my palette for the day. I shall continue tomorrow and hopefully finish.
I've never found myself using the word "hope" so much as I have in reference to the next day's painting. So much for planning on a powerful and controlled endeavor that smacks of direction and intent.
Thursday, February 11, 1999Today I started a self-portrait. It's odd, looking into the mirror, painting the same face that has changed so much over the years, yet at the same time hasn't changed at all. This is the first time I've ever painted my shaved head, it's interesting to find so many new colors across my naked skull. It was an exciting day, a good strong start, I moved a large amount of paint. I'm excited to hopefully finish this piece tomorrow.
The musical selections today included Pete Townsend's White City, The The's Infected, Jethro Tull's A Little Light Music and an extensive amount of silence, as I listened to the familiar roar in my head from painting yet another self-portrait. Rembrandt outlived several wives and a beloved son, yet still looked into the depths of the mirror for a subject. Very profound, what legacy are we all leaving?
Also today, I enjoyed a dark brew of Starbuck's Espresso Roast coffee for an exciting change. Sleep will probably attempt to evade me tonight.
Thanks to everyone for stopping in today. You'll never imagine how much your support means to me, you all know who you are. Thank you.
Wednesday, February 10, 1999Ah yes, I did finish the still-life. I'm not thrilled with the outcome, but these things happen. I had some exciting moments, but in the end I grappled with the balance of the gently curved white enamel of the kettle set off by the bold shapes and colors of the tabasco sauce and Guinness bottles. I don't like merely stopping a painting while still in a state of question, it feels like such a resignation to happenstance as opposed to the embrace of a decisive resolution.
It is a beautiful day, and I promised Jodie we would take a walk. Tomorrow I might start a self portrait, which should lend itself to some interesting camera angles. Hopefully I can place the camera in such a position as to view both my reflection in the mirror and the painting side by side.
We shall see.
Tuesday, February 9, 1999The first day of the Monkeybox Live StudioCam was a success. I started a painting of a tabasco sauce bottle (an encore appearance), an empty Guinness bottle and a white enameled kettle. Beautiful sun, excellent day of painting. The camcorder's image started deteriorating at around 3:00, horizontal lines within the image. If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears. Thank you, brother Darren for the support and encouragement throughout the day, and everybody else that tuned in and became part of the experience. I shall hopefully wrap this painting up tomorrow.
Sunday, February 7, 1999Still no sun, no sun for 2 days, it's dark and raining right now. So tragic and poetic.
On the up side, the painting studio cam is now up and fully operational. I can hardly wait until tomorrow, when we're going to learn one of the greatest spiritual warfare breakthrough secrets that will enable us to face anything....
Tuesday, February 2, 1999 Groundhog DayHere I am at the crucial crossroads of the life of a painter. I am in the middle of a job that provides me with actual money. Actual money for actual bills for the actual expenses of an actual consumer. To embrace this lifestyle for any extended amount of time with surely prove to be the demise of my quest for truth and beauty in the dappling of sunlight across the dusty tables and benches of my studio. With strength and perseverance, I shall overcome this.
I have a morning off, but this unfortunately coincides with a dark and rainy Groundhog Day, so the painting studio remains cold and empty. I spent this past weekend visiting the legendary Henry Philip Lauer in the Brooklyn office. Food and drink was enjoyed, we also attended a performance by the Old 97's at the Mercury Lounge, I enjoyed a fine Montecristo with a frothy pint of Guinness. I am hoping that on Friday the 5th the painting studio camera will be fully operational, and that I shall also have my first day back in the trenches of paint and sunlight, my personal Holy Grail as it is proving to be.
Saturday, January 23, 1999Ah yes, the sun teased me in the morning, the overcast sky growing slowly brighter, until by 1:30 the sky had lightened enough that I thought I would have a chance to finish this godforsaken still life. It can be said that some paintings merely die, and others are allowed to die, in this case, I will find comfort in knowing that I had a choice and with mercy I gracefully finished it off. Did I have fun? You betcha. Was the painting a success? Geez, get back to me on that one. The finished piece will be posted in the gallery in the next few days, assuming this sun ever makes an encore appearance.
Friday, January 22. 1999Today, for instance, I thought I would be starting an amazing day, wrapping up the still life with coffee cup, lemon and tabasco sauce bottle, but ah yes, the day had other plans for me. For one thing, the sun never came out, acting in the same manner as it had for the past 2 days. A virtual mockery, as it danced merrily across the skies above a lovely low lying cloud of fog and drizzle. Not that it was only cloudy, but the sky barely lightened above the glow of the streetlights in the fog last night.
Needless to say, the painting that once writhed and breathed with life is now starting that long slow death that has driven painters to madness since the beginning of time. I did have several interesting moments attempting to find color in the gloom. Schwartz the Cat gave his limp assistance by lying flat on his back on the floor and watching me, smiling as it were. The coffee cup is coming along nicely, although the lively and sweeping strokes that compose the tabasco bottle and the lemon are seeming more and more like preliminary sketches, as the development teeters from a brisk and lively study to a pretentious and polished rendering. Such is the life and death of many of my paintings.
Tonight, I will attempt to set up the remote studiocam for the painting studio, so I can share my ludicrous struggles by day with the rest of the world. Everyone will then silently wish I would sense their decisions, unconsciously respond to their suggestions in a way that would expedite what would otherwise appear to be a ridiculous struggle with materials that were not meant to be handled by mere mortals.
That's me. Always up for a challenge.
