ihet – special issue
This Monday, September 17th, 5:30 – 8:00 pm – I’m showing paintings, drawings and objects . . . and I’d love to have you join me. Eric Fischl Gallery Phoenix College, 1220 West Thomas Road, Phoenix, AZ 85013.
ihet – may/june 2018 – issue #233
In the pantheon of quotes by well know artists, Auguste Rodin’s “You must always work” is one of my favorites. It’s not a warning, promise or path to enlightenment, just a simple directive . . . do what you do and don’t stop. So while I’m not in the studio, I collect the ephemera that influences my work and at the moment, during an early summer road trip, it’s taking pictures of Utah Juniper and rock formations on the Shonto Plateau. Inkjet printed black and white, soaked with water, sun-dried, re-photographed and printed. They come out wrinkled and blurred, with the quality of graphite drawings. Taped above where I paint, they’re ideal studies for the canvasses. The studio is crowded with work in various stages of consideration, impatiently awaiting forward movement rather than sideways dithering. These two ended up next to each other and while I’m not ready to call them a pair, for now . . . an entertaining prospect.
ihet – spring 2018 – issue 232
Gladiolas are a favorite flower and this was an exceptionally beautiful bunch, and while past prime, the richness of its color is still amazing. No they aren’t from my garden but a perfect segue . . . to being in the garden. My spring garden project this year was growing one of my botanical nemeses, wild flowers from seed. I lavished my attentions on garden endeavors providing a welcome distraction from the fits and starts that momentarily defined my studio efforts. This one took its bloody sweet time and having survived my relentless attacks, earned naming. Long Shores Meddling Beast #181After all that, back to something a little less chaotic, some space to breath. It’s inspired by the memory of a tranquil afternoon, backpacking in the Grand Canyon, watching the sun set on The Howlands Butte. The butte is named after two brothers killed in the canyon by Shivwits Indians in 1869. I’d started work on this canvas over a year ago then promptly ignored it. Now its mood fit mine and so back to work. Figures pirouette crimson in a misty field of ghostly white . When I set a Trap for You in an Appropriate Floating Reflection #151 .Pieces. I’ve a list of criteria guiding how and when I cut and reassemble, and #151 checked all the boxes. Take a photo of the painting. Print several copies. Cut into pieces. Paste together. Photograph. Print. This is what I got. A six inch by seven inch image, and a ledge to jump from.Landing here. Sideways on top. More pieces. Pieces of then. Pieces of now. This amalgamation driving the work forward. A synthesis of experiences molded by the passage of time and finding the words to name it. At the moment it’s just canvas #7. Thirty by thirty inches. In development.The process. Something to use. This time it’s pictures of the twisted, bent and knotted. Shot in close and tight, capturing the language of circumstance with a story to tell. And this is where they end up. Taped to the studio painting wall. A methodology authenticating belief. Images manipulated, themes extracted, geometries applied, perceptions tuned to desires needs.
Thanks for reading.