A Little Chat

Red. And three. And what's this? A confection? And a green shadow under the raspberry on a red tart. What's going on here? And how dare I ask so many questions in a row? What's in all this for you? Am I teasing you? Delaying the point? Asking you to look a little closer at three simple, or maybe not, little forms and color? Maybe follow the shadows and look for shifts in the light. Am I there or somewhere else again? Maybe thinking of the lucent glimmer of waves on a coastline, some mangroves, a Carolina skiff? Am I back on the island, in the wetlands looking again? Chasing the light, the glimpse of form and shadow that speak magic to me? Is that leaf of the berry enough of a palmetto, that blue near the choux close to a gulf blue? And that green shadow? Is that an after image from looking hard at things while in the sun? Or are they pastries, painted for show? Sometimes MR. Freud, a cigar is not just a cigar. Again, what's outside the frame? Or within the artist? And what are you bringing to it yourself? In looking at art, making art, collecting it too. Something shimmers, vibrates, something speaks to you, and there you have the beginning, a glimpse of truth. Need I say it? That call and response.

Back To The Garden

My friends, old and new, love the "garden parties" that I have been painting. Like any good party, garden or dinner, lively and interesting conversation, a refreshing beverage and some variety help make it memorable. The whole is so much greater than the parts. The flow between, as I have said before, the juiciness of the paint. The thing that enters here, in this internet venue, is the arrival of new friends, former strangers that are suddenly like sunshine to me whenever they arrive. A ready smile, enthusiasm and a common love of all things good comes across in all the words I get from them. And the enthusiasm of their collecting. This little experiment is gaining ground much quicker than I anticipated and in ways I had not fully known would happen. My little original pieces are traveling all over the country and across the ocean to good new homes with fabulous, interesting people. So are art collectors, as a group and as individuals just cooler, keener people? I love boxing these up and sending them off to their new homes. Suddenly there is this extended gallery and lively new friends. We love treats. We love sparkle and color and joy. And like a good party, everyone comes away with something of value that lasts again long after the trays are put away, the leftovers are in the fridge or the brushes are cleaned and put away for the night. First and foremost an artist must paint for him or herself, the tickle of the inner muse. I have always likened it to looking for the heartbeat of a piece. But more, much more fun, is when there is that wonderful call and response between artist and art lover, between artist and art friends, between artist and old friends and artist and new friends.That's when the party gets going in full swing. I thought of you all when I painted this one. Can you see the smile?

Opera Bastille at Amis

Simple. Direct. Even has corners, which for me is rare. In my painting life, I am drawn to organic shapes, round, ovoid, irregular, odd. Things Fibonaci would like to count. Except there are doodles in my sketchbooks of rectangles of color standing alert with shadows cast and lines marking their place on the page. All of my years of technical and architectural drawing rise up occasionally and demand some time. My urge is to make them softer, rounder more welcoming. But right now, I long to straighten edges, cross hatch value, measure angles. Codify with measurements and topography. Quantify. And yet, I see tuxedoes here, gowns and smell perfume richly wafting through the air. The orchestra warming up, the audience hurrying to their seats. I need ruffles and flourishes, spaces to dream. Wiggle room in the measure, a soft edge or two.Possibilites unexplored, not quantified or fixed. Paint not yet tamed.There is perfume in the purple and a dance in the blue.

Raspberry Tart, Deux

Today marks the Deuxieme Anniversaire for me. A Sunday two years ago that I thought I could share. But it is way too personal and I am still too close. This series is about reconnecting with my work. Seeking an ease with a medium that I use to use only as an alternative. Finding a way in the studio while I am away from my home. Trying to find that joy and spontaneity that I used to find walking the wetlands, exploring barrier islands. I love exploring. I love Santa Fe. And all of the areas I have visited these past two years have something of interest to note. But today there is a tug, a tug on my heart that will always be there. Wanting to be there, with you, in that sliver by the river. Wanting to walk my bricks beneath the oaks down to the corner for café au lait and a visit with a friend. Chatting at the bookstore, catching up on the news, grabbing Ace's new book, or Doug's or Randy's or Tim's, or John Ed's. But instead, I will have cake here. In a Texas town. And make it alive as if I were walking my island again.

Chocolate Nun, Deux

These fascinate me. Ladureé has a whole group of Religieuses he makes. All very regal. This nun is everyday. Very posh and proper, but is comfortable about town getting it done. Do nuns wear the traditional habits anymore? I painted loosely and freely. Sometimes the paint just flows. Jumps right on the piece. I like to paint the impact of things. Somehow this kind of pastry connects me to the body of all art history, of ritual, of choices we make as painters. Reminds me that in the end it is the work, the doing of it that stands at the end of the day. Not intellectualizing it, not fitting a type, a genre. It all comes down to being out there and getting it done using the moment of looking to inspire, to drive us to pick up the brush. To put ourselves in that moment and capture it once again.

Little Grapes and Fig

Can you tell I would love to be in Provence? Light is important to a painter. Some of us are heliotropes while others seem to thrive in the shade. Living in a semi tropical place affects one's work. Walking down old brick sidewalks through the dapples of light from live oak trees and magnolias past above ground tombs to get a daily cup of tea or coffee, the newest story or just a good book, well that light and rhythm and sense of place seeps into your bones and resides permanently in one's psyche. Walking on a barrier island, chasing wetlands dreams, it is all sun drenched unless there are clouds, or storms. Lazing within the alleé of pines and cypress of Audubon peering out across a lagoon, dapples, deep shade under some oaks, but again southern light. So my shadows and fruit are bits of all those places and the places I long to go. They are here and now as well.Looking at abundance and summer in a Texas town. Provence will come in its own time. Paris and Barcelona too. And of course all those islands. But there will be light and dapples and a little bit of shade. Beverages and breezes and plenty to paint.

Tarte Aux Pommes, Deux

Definitely Van Gogh.Simple shape. High key color. Generous tarte. Eternally comforting.I have always been drawn to light. I am a zone system photographer by training as well as a painter. Ansel Adams developed the system. Basically the point of it is that one sees and captures all ten zones of light values in an image without losing detail at either end. Your darks and your lights and zone five grey are all there. Your film, camera and lab are calibrated so that when you decide to click the shutter you have
the impact rendered as completely as you technically can. What this discipline really teaches you, besides patience, is how to look. But more, how to see. So when I give props to Harold Baldwin for teaching me how to paint, it is because of this intensive work in seeing light and form. The impact of relationships there. Relationships. Very important in painting. It is back to rhythms, form, color and light. Toss in line and texture too. It is the impact that calls so dearly. That elicits the response. In film or paint. The eye must eat, the head and hand pass it on.