WHAT AM I DOING HERE?

“What am I doing sitting on a pile of trash in an empty city lot behind Fourth Street?”

It was 9 AM on a Thursday morning in the mid 1970s. I should have been attending Medical Grand Rounds, a presentation by the medical residents of interesting cases to the house staff and attending physicians. It was a weekly ritual that I had attended faithfully for the past 6 years.

So why was I sitting on a stack of empty mattresses in the middle of an empty lot? I was drawing the back of a row of dilapidated houses, fascinated by the texture and gritty nature of the composition they created, totally unaware that this would mark the beginning of a 5 year process to reveal an artist tucked away somewhere within me. To say it was pure pleasure would be less than true. Guilt and insecurity were right beside me, asking me “what are you doing out here? You should be at Grand Rounds. It’s ridiculous to think that you’re an artist, or could become one. All you can do is draw small sketches with a Parker fountain pen. Hell, you can’t even paint!” There was no shortage of guilt, doubt and self-recrimination, but not enough to pull me away. Art – pencil and pen and ink drawing – was becoming more than a casual hobby; it was something I felt driven to do. It’s not like I was bored and looking around for something to keep me occupied. This interest in drawing simply crept into my consciousness without any forethought, and once it was established proceeded to grow until it became more of a need than an option or choice. This wasn’t the first time I experienced something like this. In the spring of my first year in college, without my conscious input I suddenly decided I wanted to be a physician and not a pharmacist. Ironically, I was now engaged in a process that, albeit much slower, would take me from medicine to art. But that’s another story. I would end up painting and drawing the backs of buildings throughout my years in Wilmington, and over 25 years later would do the same in Paducah.

The backs of so many urban buildings often stand in stark contrast to their fronts, and are frequently far more interesting because of the nitty gritty texture and disarray. In 1984 the Wilmington News Journal moved their headquarters from downtown Wilmington to a new suburban industrial park, and asked me to do a painting of the old headquarters for a poster to give their friends and employees. Of course I did the back, which was far more interesting to me that the boring façade in front. They loved it, bought it, and then asked be to do the front for the poster. Here are the two paintings – you can decide for yourself.

I originally considered calling this post – By Their Backsides You Will Know Them. But then I wasn’t sure how people would interpret that.

MUSIC & THE VISUAL ARTS

Last night we attended the Paducah Symphony Orchestra’s last concert of the season.  I have absolutely no knowledge or understanding of classical music, which puts me at a disadvantage when it comes to appreciating the scope and the nuances of the music.  But I can appreciate the passion it evokes in the listener and even more, the passion so clearly obvious in the musicians and the conductor, especially the conductor. 

The musicians were, for the most part, limited to facial expressions imposed upon them by their instruments of varying bulk.  But the conductor…his every emotion was betrayed by his body movements, and when visible, his face.  First he stood very still, and the orchestra was quiet, then his arms began to move gracefully in purposeful arcs and the music followed.  Suddenly the baton, an extension of his right hand began to bounce and gyrate, pulling his body along with them, and the music kept pace with every movement.   Here was an artist immersed in his work with such physical and emotional passion, and I was envious.

I can be engrossed in my work, sitting or standing; I may walk away momentarily and pace, which I do quite often.  But to be able to experience the sound and the physicality of my work… that is something else.  The best I can do is to have music blaring from a CD, Johnny Cash, Luciano Pavarotti, or maybe the Beatles.   OK…I have a confession to make.  On rare occasions when I am especially moved, I will actually dance (I insist on calling it dance) around the studio, but not until I have checked to see if Patience, or anyone else could see me.

That is the difference between a symphony conductor and a painter.  The conductor can let it all hang out in front of his audience.  The painter must be devious and sneaky.  That is my opinion and I’m sticking to it.

WHY?

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 Why do I make art?  Why do I write?  I suppose I could ask, why do I do anything I do?  I am willing to try answering the first two queries, but the last one is too overwhelming for me.  Then again, it may be foolishness to think I can answer the others. 

I have struggled with these questions for years, hoping to understand what compels me to do this work.   I did not choose art; it chose me.  Art reached into my almost perfect world, placed its hand upon my shoulders, and against all odds pulled me into its breast.  Tenacious and unyielding, it would not loosen its grip, determined to overcome all obstacles I placed before it.  The desire to be an artist and live an artist’s life inserted it self into the fabric of my thoughts, overwhelming everything else.  Eventually it transformed from something I wanted to do to something I had to do.

Almost 35 years later, I’m still doing the work, which now includes writing as well as painting and drawing.  I have learned how to explain why I paint the way I do, and how I choose my subjects, but why I paint at all remains a mystery.  At least it did until last year, in the fall of 2013 when I wrote the following in my journal:

“Why it has taken me this long – 74 years – to see myself so clearly is beyond comprehension.  While most of my “ah ha moments” occur in the proximity of my morning shower, I can’t recall when this one poked me in the head; it happened about a week ago.

I cannot let things simply “be”.  I have this unrelenting need to act on things, to make them more than an experience or knowledge.

Ideas, thoughts, or feelings must be put into words, spoken, written, or both, and more often than not, they must be shared, quietly and personally through conversation, or publicly through writing (blogs, facebook, etc.).

In my encounters with the world around me the same phenomenon occurs.  When a particular scene, natural or manmade, inspires me, I am driven to re-create it on paper or canvas, directly or via a photograph.  Living with the experience and memory is not enough for me.  I have to make it into “ something” that I can see on demand, and, as is usually the case, share with others.”

For the lack of a better term, I think of this as “materialization”, an act of expression as well as recording.  I am archiving the moment, the vision, the emotion, the revelation, so that it can be revisited as well as shared.  Something in this act of “materializing” provides the validation of the experience that I seem to need.

It happened it Boston in 1976 just as it is happening as I write these words.

BALANCE

Balance, a principal that should probably apply to most, if not all of our endeavors to navigate a life.  I suppose the critical point, the one each individual has to determine for his or her self, is where to place the fulcrum.

As an artist I have faced this question repeatedly over the past 30 years.  Artists who are dependent on the income from their art must find the balance between creating for the market and creating for one’s self.  Even though the art I paint for myself is also popular in the market, I have had to deal with this issue from time to time.

It is only now, late in my career that this issue of balance has become more prevalent on a day-to-day basis.  Exposure to the work of other artists is often inspiring and educational, and has the potential to send my work off in another direction, one I would not have encountered on my own.  I never felt the need to tamper or lessen these encounters…until now.  At this stage in my life, I’m a few months away from my 75^th birthday, I feel a growing need to carefully choose my encounters with the world around me, while increasing the focus on my own work.  More than ever before I want my work to arise from a wellspring within me, hopefully refining a lifetime of labor.  I am not announcing my imminent demise, indeed, I hope to be around for a long time, but I am facing the reality of the tenuousness of my position, and thus the need for balance – to mine the work that is within me, while not allowing the work to become old, stale, and tired.  All that I have to do is figure out where to place the fulcrum.

THE ARCHIVIST

I find myself racing in opposite directions.  The future excites me with the promise of new work and new horizons to a degree I have not experienced in recent years.  At the same this excitement is duplicated as I review and organize my work from years past, putting digital files into hard copy books using software on my computer.

I am looking forward to using the experience gained from the yearlong project, the Paducah Portfolio, on a similar endeavor, with the specifics yet to be determined.  I enjoy being engaged in projects of this size and nature that offer a variety of creative challenges.

Even as I’m mentally planning and exploring new work, I have been busy reviewing and editing the photos of my older work, looking at ways of archiving the slides digital files into hard copy.  As far back as 1978, when I first began painting, I photographed all of my work.  The resulting slides were far from professional, but after having them commercially scanned in high resolution, I’ve been able to preserve reasonably accurate images with a little tweaking in Photoshop.  I’ve created the following photo books using online software:

 Contact me if you are interested in any of the above books.  I have them printed on demand and shipped directly to you.

ALEX

We were seat mates on the flight from Rome to Chicago, and as seat mates often do, we engaged in the usual exchange of civil pleasantries: are you here on business, where is home, what do you do, etc.? When I mentioned I was an artist his eyes brightened, and he proceeded to tell me all about his love of art, at which point my eyes brightened. I soon learned that he had a broad and deep understanding of art and had visited almost all of the major art museums in the world (his work requires him to travel frequently and extensively.) At this point we had all that was needed to establish a good 11 hour transatlantic relationship. But there was more. I explained my transition from medicine to art and he responded by telling me about his younger son who is almost finished his medical studies (wants to be a neurologist) but whose real passion is music and his fantasy is to write critical reviews of jazz music. The fact that we shared the same political and social views was simply the icing on the cake.

Somewhere over northern Europe or the Atlantic I showed Alex my portfolio and pics of my work on my laptop. He took his time looking at each piece of art, and dismissed my feeble murmurs about boring him assuring me he was thoroughly enjoying himself, and for the next several hours I sat and listened to his far ranging comments on my work....he told me which ones he liked, or really liked, and which ones did nothing for him...which pieces reminded him of another artist or another artists style and always taking the time to tell me that it was not meant as a criticism or to diminish my work...he described his reactions to a piece of work and what it was that evoked the response. He gave me a critical response to an extensive body of my work that was unlike anything I ever experienced. It was both informative and affirming, and quite simply an amazing experience.

Alex “knows art”. He is well grounded in many of the fundamentals of composition, color, etc., and has an extensive knowledge of art history, artists, and their work. He is someone who lives art, who emerges himself in a painting, probing to understand the work and his response to it. He is capable of talking intelligently and personally about a painting.

This is in sharp contrast to myself. I have little knowledge of art history, and give little thought to why I like of dislike a particular work of art. I am impatient with art, and when visiting a museum or gallery walk through it at far too brisk a pace. I am aware of my attitude and view it as a serious shortcoming. I find it difficult to talk about or to explain my own art and have given up trying to understand why I create the art that I do. I just do it, and that is all that really matters to me. I especially dislike the artist’s statements that many galleries and dealers ask for. I have made them, always feeling that they were insufficient and somewhat superficial.

Perhaps this is why Alex’s comments on my work, the good and the not so good, were so fascinating and delightful to hear. They were thoughtful and they were honest. I truly believe that he enjoyed looking at the work as much as I enjoyed showing it. The 11 hours wasn’t nearly as long as it would have been without this encounter.

I think I have found a friend.

TO BE THE BEST...

Rocco's ink and markers circa 1978 sold

Six years ago I moved to Paducah, this small river city in western Kentucky on the Ohio river, to be part of a soon to be vibrant arts district. My primary goal was to become the best artist I was capable of becoming. To understand this, let me go back just a bit.

In 1981, and again in 2002, I left medical practices, each of nine years duration, to pursue my art. From 1981 to 1993 I worked part time, about 20-24 hours per week, while I launched a new career. In 2002 I retired from medicine completely. In both cases I left behind an office practice full of patients, many of whom had become my friends. These were difficult and painful decisions to make, in spite of my confidence in the choices I made, and thus I promised myself I would pursue art with the same seriousness and commitment I made to medicine. I owed that to the people I left behind.

To be the best I could be was all I wanted. For almost 30 years I had to share my passion for art with medicine, both very possessive and demanding mistresses. For many years I felt I was only working at the periphery of my potential, not having the time to fully explore and develop. This was especially true in the years leading up to my ultimate retirement in 2002. Suddenly, well it felt that way even if it wasn't so sudden, I was free to devote all of my time and energy to art, and I have done just that. For the first few years I was like the kid in the candy store, frantically creating an abundance of art, losing the focus on my goal. In retrospect I see it as a necessary stage in my growth and development as an artist.

To reach one’s fullest potential is a noble aspiration, and yet so easily lost in the demands and problems that every artist experiences. The desire, maybe even need, for critical approval, the need for financial security, and a host of other stresses of daily living all act to obscure even the noblest of goals. I have had to remind myself repeatedly to keep my focus on my promise to my patients even though that goal is unattainable. Our fullest potential is always one step ahead of us.



Betrayed acrylic 36x36 2008 $2500 sold

Ninth St. Italian Market in Philadelphia

Ninth St. Market acrylic 12x36 $900

I have taken the liberty of combining various store fronts from the market which is 5-6 blocks long into one scene.

On a totally unrelated note: Six years ago today, at approximately 2AM, I arrived at 803 Madison St. Paducah in our Subaru Outback pulling an 8 ft. U_Haul it trailer full of paintings and misc. studio stuff!

SAD REMAINS

Sad Remains acrylic 36x36 $2500

Completed to mixed reviews yesterday. Today, after I rearrange the gallery walls (changing the paintings on the wall, not the walls themselves.), I will try to finish the market scene that I've been avoiding for the past several days.

OLD FRIENDS AND NEW FACES

It has been a long day...a lot of standing around, small talk, and wine, but worth all the effort. This reception is sort of a homecoming for me; the gallery is located a few miles from our former home, the farm where I spent 17 years painting and practicing medicine. I was delighted to see several former patients and old friends, and even more delighted when, at the end of the evening 4 paintings were sold.

Someone purchased the three oil paintings: "


Summer, Fall, and Winter Oil on canvas, each one 6x36'

And another couple bought this acrylic which I recently posted on this blog.



I have photos of the gallery and will show them when I return home and can download them into my computer. (I lost the camera usb cord)
Up Stream acrylic 16x20"

HELP!!!

I am in danger of painting myself out of working space. Yesterday 3 large canvases from a recent exhibit by Lowertown artists were returned to the gallery. They are still in the carton because I don’t know where to put them; my options are quite limited. I also have work in two other shows that will eventually be coming home to roost, unless they all sell, which is highly unlikely. Adding to this is the work that I continue to produce, at a rather proliferative rate. I have been entertaining the idea of taking a “holiday” from painting, or at least slowing down significantly, but the simple truth is...I won’t because I can’t. Painting is what I do, it is who I am, and it cannot be denied or turned off. The most I can do, the most that I want to do, is to slow down a little bit, and even then, when the muses call me, I will respond with all my energy.


From the opposite diredtion...paintings on the walls and floors, some of them stacked behind others.


Looking into the studio...paintings in bins and boxes.


As for the space problem, I’ll find a way around that. It has never stopped me before and won’t now.

SKY SCAPES

Here is the latest in this series, the fourth one in the 30x24 size. I've enjoyed doing them and may have at least one or two more hanging around in the "idea" compartment of my taxed brain.


SKYSCAPE IV acrylic 30x24 $1200

FOR THE BIRDS

This past week, while working on the 2 "upstream" paintings and rehabilitating the NYC piece, I started work on a 4th canvas. It is a rather simple concept and composition but I'm fairly pleased with the result. It felt good to be back into the work once again after several weeks of ABP - anything but painting. I plan to start another canvas so I'll have something else besides the NYC piece, which is a real struggle for me.


For the Birds acrylic on canvas 30x24" NFS

FINALLY FINISHED

Upstream #2 is completed. The horizon has been lightened to add more depth, and the foreground water darkened a bit. The last touch was to add some yellow to the reeds in the foreground of the marsh. The difference in the overall value of the paintings is the result of my less than outstanding photography skills.


INITIAL RENDERING

FINAL RENDERING 16X20 SOLD

HOUSE PORTRAITS

I've been painting houses throughout my entire art career, both on commission and on speculation. If you enjoy the visual delights of architecture there is no way to avoid this enterprise. I am most comfortable working with watercolor when painting architecture, although I am slowly gaining more confidence using acrylics.

This next series of posts will be devoted to some of the house portraits of the past.


Wilmington Delaware Patience and I lived next door.


Dover Delaware


Wilmington Delaware

MY WATERCOLOR PALETTE

Linda asked about the pigments I use in my watercolors. When I first began I used Winsor Newton paints, and because of my comfort with them have continued to use them almost exclusively. I am far from being a purist and will select any color that I think will work, often mixing them on the fly as I paint. Over the years the following palette has evolved, and I continue to use it, with only occasional variations.

Not shown here are Indian Red (for brick work), Blue-black, and Indigo which I will add to a mixture when I feel it is needed.

I will frequently mix green directly on the paper, adding indigo or blue black for the very dark greens.

For architectural work I will often highlight and/or define edges with colored or pastel pencils.


Buck's County Playhouse

And to answer the person who asked if I ever paint anything besidesw buildings.......

FOR THE LOVE OF WATERCOLOR

Today’s post reflects the power of the internet and its ability to bring people and the world together. I’m not referring to anything more earthshaking than artists finding community with one another via the world of blogs. We view each other’s work, read their laments, and offer our comments and encouragement. I have been fortunate to find myself in such a sharing community, and especially so to find another artist who loves old, urban architecture for the subject of his watercolors.

The relationship between Colliervisions and myself has culminated in an exchange of art, a visual manifestation of our mutual admiration. We decided to barter and exchanged photos of a subject of our own choosing. The completed paintings to be posted today on our blogs.


Friendhip Church Watercolor by Colliervisions.
This small country church and cemetary, surrounded by apple and peach orchards which you cannot see, was a favorite stop for me and my friends when we were out with our bikes or ponys. The fruit was plentiful, the shade cool, and the pump water even cooler. It is the resting place of my parents, grandparents, and many aunts, uncles, and cousins. Julio has captured the spirit and mood of the place.


Julio's church watercolor on 300lb arches paper
I decided on a very architectural approach to this subject, focusing on the lines and the overall lightness to the roof and stone and presenting it as two elevation drawings.

CAPE MAY NJ VICTORIAN - II

During my many visits to Cape May I met Roman, the owner of the Washington Street Gallery. We talked about art, and the possibility of collaborating on a limited edition print of a CM scene. The result was "Hughs Street", which was the first of a long series of CM prints and the beginning of a long friendship. (Many of these prints are available on my website.)

The format is the same...each original watercolor measuring aproximately 18x45" and each print 12x37"


Hughs Street watercolor


Columbia Avenue. watercolor


Stockton Place watercolor This is a wonderful street. The homes were obviously identical when first built, and over the years their appearances altered slightly, but not enough to hide their shared origin.

VICTORIAN CAPE MAY NJ

Cape May sketch

OK, it is time for a break from the political narratives and April's fools and to get back to some fun travel art.

For those who don't know, Cape May NJ is one of the nations oldest seashore resorts (may in fact be the oldest.) Located at the southern tip of the NJ shore line - in NJ and Philadelphia it is the "shore" and not the coast - this small town is home to an endless number of Victorian structures. So many that it is the town's identity theme, and all new construction in town has to adhere to strict architectural guidelines preserving this heritage.

Living less than 2 hours away from Cape May, my love of the architecture made me a frequent visitor with my sketch book and camera. Today I will post the first in a series of Cape May paintings.


classic Cape May home. watercolor aprox 20x16 Until about 30 years ago all of the homes were painted white with black or green shutters. Then the move to origingal Victorian colors began.


Windsor Hotel one of many old hotels from the early 20th century watercolor

CLAY MONO TYPES...UNADORNED

At Linda's request, here are several examples of unadorned clay mono types.


Nocturnal landscape aprox 12x5" $100


Hilltop 30x14"$600


Utter Chaos 30x15 $600


Color blocks 30x15 $600