The Turning of Seasons: New Paintings

Sometimes in late summer I won't touch anything, not
the flower, not the blackberries
brimming in the thickets; I won't drink
from the pond; I won't name the birds or the trees;
I won't whisper my own name.

One morning
the fox came down the hill, glittering and confident,
and didn't see me— and I thought:

so this is the world
I'm not in it.
It is beautiful.

—Excerpt from October
Mary Oliver, New and Collected Poems, Beacon Press 1992

...so many times I've thought these very thoughts while observing all that is around me, just being in the world, feeling life brush against my cheek. Life goes on, all around: fall brings changes in colors of leaves, whispers of frost, turning thoughts in the heart. Over the weekend I worked on finishing up a couple of new paintings; as the weather grows colder, I'll have to move my paints inside. When leaves are gold and scarlet, sky blue, sun out, I'll be back outside with paint brushes!

New Paintings

Between forest and field, a threshold
like stepping from a cathedral into the street—
the quality of air alters, an eclipse lifts,

boundlessness opens, earth itself retextured
into weeds where woods once were.
Even planes of motion shift from vertical

navigation to horizontal quiescence:
there’s a standing invitation to lie back
as sky’s unpredictable theater proceeds.

Suspended in this ephemeral moment
after leaving a forest, before entering
a field, the nature of reality is revealed.

Crossings ~ Ravi Shankar

Once again, the wheel of sky turns to the impossible blue skies of October, fall bringing subtle changes in air and earth, leaves starting to turn, squirrels scurrying with nuts, a subtle slowing down before winter. Mornings dawn like tender pearls here in the mountains, a soft veil of blue mist lifts in the day, springs to the sun. I love these tender mornings; gather them close to my heart, for they don't last. Nothing stays, all changes, it's a reminder to take that moment, to be.

New Paintings

“Cherish your solitude. Take trains by yourself to places you have never been. Sleep out alone under the stars. Learn how to drive a stick shift. Go so far away that you stop being afraid of not coming back. Say no when you don’t want to do something.”

– Eve Ensler

It's hard to believe I've been posting my artwork and thoughts on this blog for several years now: time flies, doesn't it? More and more, I'm thinking about a change in life, maybe spending some time in the desert, although I have a deep love of these mountains. It's the call of trains to places I've never been; the promise of bright stars in a velvet night sky. My innate love of stick shifts. Life goes on here at the Art House: and I've been busy cleaning up, and producing new work. When I'm not MAKING art, I'm THINKING about what to make! The wheels continue to turn, as does the wheel above in the blue sky. For September, I'll have a painting at the Chapman Center in the Spartanburg Artist Guild's juried exhibit featuring 58 artists from many different areas. This painting detail is from my latest series "Songs of the Earth".

Waterfalls: New Painting

This is a painting of famous "Pearson's Falls" from a spring visit I made one chilly morning as wildflowers were beginning to bloom in the quiet glen. Blue sky overhead, there was such a sense of peace and beauty there. Area artists were asked to create an artwork featuring Pearson's Falls for a fundraiser event which will end August 10 at the Tryon Fine Art Center with a silent auction. I worked on this painting on and off for a long time, it evolved slowly into what you see now. Like the seasons, we do evolve and renew.

If you like a particular painting of mine, I will gladly work on one for you on commission! Over the years, I've done commissions for people who like my style of painting and just let me do my thing. Those are the best: I have artistic freedom and will work gladly with your favorite colors. The best of both worlds--win win!

Summer Painting: New Work

“The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider's web. ” ~ Pablo Picasso This painting evokes summer: while still in progress, it appeals to me with color, mystery, softness. A summer dream, a pause for fleeting memory and hope.

Art Trek: Open Studio Tour April 27-28

"This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green, wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes, thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes. I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration, faces of people streaming across my gaze. And I, what fountain of fire am I among this leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed about like a shadow buffeted in the throng of flames, a shadow that's gone astray, and is lost." ~ D.H. Lawrence, The Enkindled Spring This painting will be one of many I'll have at my home studio at the "Art House" for the upcoming Art Trek Tryon open studio event. I'll have work on display also at the Upstairs Artspace gallery during the tour and for the month of May.

April: Open Studio & Art Trek

"I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes." ~e.e. cummings ...Spring whispers on April breezes here in the mountains: ready to shuck the vestiges of winter off, I paint outside on those precious sunny afternoons. Soon, it'll be warm enough to work on clay/sculpture projects again. Hyacinths peek out, and of course, I have to bring one or two inside to the kitchen window. I cannot tell you how much those little gifts of nature mean. For the month of April, I'll have open studio Saturdays here at the Art House from 1-3 p.m. Other times by appointment. On April 27-28, I'll also be in the Art Trek Tryon open studio tour: over 35 area artists will be participating. A gallery show at the Upstairs Artspace featuring us will open with a preview party on April 26, from 5-8. Please come!

New Work: Landscape Painting

"What could be more interesting, or in the end, more ecstatic, than in those rare moments when you see another person look at something you've made, and realize that they got it exactly, that your heart jumped to their heart with nothing in between." ~ Robert Motherwell

Sculpture: New Work

"The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance." ~ Aristotle ....This is a new sculpture in the works: from my "Fragment" series. This piece, a male torso, is kiln fired terra-cotta, milk paint and rusted found objects mounted on steel rod and spalted maple pedestal. I took a hammer to him then put pieces back together with Bondo, an automotive filler. Such is life: we reinvent ourselves along the way: wired, fragmented, and yet knit together in new ways. For me, painting and sculpture are metaphors for life itself, and I symbolically knit myself back together time and time again, as the art is knit back together. Add, take away, add, change, evolve. I've since added a distressed plaster wash over the existing finish: this photo shows the latest variation. It's fun to experiment, learn, and enjoy the ride. If I don't like the results, hammer time again.

The Landscape: New Work

“In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.” ― Rumi......This painting has taken me almost two years to finish: although I'll admit I let it sit for months on end during that time, and would return when it called me. A few minutes ago, I applied the final layer of cold wax as the final finish, gently buffing the painting with a soft cloth and love in my heart: knowing it was 'there'...the place it was meant to be. I'm just the conduit. Paintings and art transcend to higher places when they're from the heart and soul....... OPEN STUDIO: I'll have open studio here at my 1895 Art House, Saturday, February 16 from 1-3 p.m., open to the public. Lots of parking available across the street at Saluda Fire Department!

The Landscape: New Work

"Flocks of birds have flown high and away; A solitary drift of cloud, too, has gone, wandering on. And I sit alone with the Ching-ting Peak, towering beyond. We never grow tired of each other, the mountain and I." ~ Li Bai........... This painting of mountains is still evolving: you can see the differences, the nuances and layers added, subtracted since last post. Like life itself, all things change and nothing is the same day by day. I'm using oil paint, cold wax, drawing pencil, and dry pastel powder in the layers...somehow as it changes, I find it's getting more beautiful...one of those pieces that draws you in to a quiet, serene place.

The Landscape: Mountain Dreams

Like life, paintings evolve: sometimes slowly, sometimes taking twists and turns. This painting has been in progress (on and off) for several months. Many layers of paint and cold wax, some wiped away, some added. I'm beginning to love the colors, the nuances whispering through the mysterious mist. It's a place I want to be........ The Poet Dreams of the Mountain "Sometimes I grow weary of the days with all their fits and starts. I want to climb some old grey mountain, slowly, taking the rest of my life to do it, resting often, sleeping under the pines or, above them, on the unclothed rocks. I want to see how many stars are still in the sky that we have smothered for years now, forgiving it all, and peaceful, knowing the last thing there is to know. All that urgency! Not what the earth is about! How silent the trees, their poetry being of themselves only. I want to take slow steps, and think appropriate thoughts. In ten thousand years, maybe, a piece of the mountain will fall." ~Mary Oliver

A New Year Ahead

Another year has come, and new roads and horizons loom in the soft blue horizons ahead. Silver winter skies and a steady cold drizzle bring another New Year to the small town of Saluda, twinkling lights crossing over the railroad bridge toward town's charming old buildings. New Year's Day, I drive along a quiet mountain road, winding my way over to a lake for brunch. There's no traffic at all on my tail, so I don't feel any guilt over driving slow, looking at moss, branches, vines, mistletoe clumps growing up high, an occasional empty hornet's nest dangling... the creek rushing along the roadside over rocks and fallen trees. It's peaceful, and I enjoy the solitude of the drive and time to think about the New Year and life. After a delightful brunch, I take another scenic slow wind home through the Green River cove. This drive is even slower, and the majestic river is devoid of tubes, kayaks, and people today. Wild turkeys stroll through fields and roadside, their dark iridescent feathers quietly shimmering in the haze. I like that, how quiet it is, the crowds of summer gone: the river both fierce and peaceful. I recognize spots from my tubing adventures one summer, and remember the rocks and rapids, the sand bars, the tree roots, the rock walls looming at the roughest parts. On the ascent home, I hit switchbacks, my humble Volkswagen was made for this...she swings hard around those hairpin curves, delighted to climb up, up, up. Through the trees, silent mist hangs low over the sea of mountains, it's a winter day, the first of a whole new year. Like the twists and turns of the winding road, life has swung me hard back and forth along those curves, yet like the old VW, I keep hanging through them, determined to make it up. Metaphors seem to find my thoughts, that twisting drive very much like life indeed...and the view along the way worth it all. * Note cards available from this painting