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Reading and Writing

I love all art and culture, and I gulp it up ravenously like food, but when people talk about classic literature, or popular books, I am lost in those conversations.

I have a hard time reading. When I look at a page filled with words, I basically see a black and white wallpaper pattern, and my eyes want to wander all around the page. Moving my eyes from left to right, column by column, has always been a challenge for me since I was young. I am not sure if this happens because I have trained my eyes as an artist, or if I’m an artist because my eyes work this way. I can read short essays, and I love information, but even short writings cause me to skim the page quickly, looking only for the key words. I have never been diagnosed, but I feel confident that I have some dyslexia and ADD, and I also believe many artists have similar issues.

Writing occasionally has been a good exercise for me to combat my dysfunction, and I believe artists should try to practice using words as tools, as well as using pictures.

Take Care of Your Hands

A couple of months ago, I hyperextended my left thumb, or basically bent it backwards. This meant I couldn’t button my pants, unbutton my pants, remove a lid from a jar, or play the guitar. I was astonished at how many motor functions require not just the fingers, but most importantly, the thumb. The opposable thumb is one of the things that separates humans from chimps.

Not being able to play the guitar was especially frustrating for me, because playing music is a necessary part of my life, and this year I had been practicing more. My art and music are my bread and butter, my security blanket, and my joy in life. Fortunately, my hand is going to be better, after a cortisone shot where my thumb meets my palm, and I am starting to play guitar today, albeit rusty.

Maestro Guitarist, Julian Bream would put his hands behind his back and bow, rather than shake hands when meeting somebody. Artists need to remember to take care of their hands and their eyes. Use safety equipment when necessary: gloves, eyeglasses, respirators, etc. Take your time with physical tasks, and don’t put your art on hold, because you’ve injured yourself.

Let’s talk about artists taking care of our psychology some other time.

A Statement about Artist Statements

I am in the process of writing about my art, so I thought I would also write about writing. Creating artist statements can be a source of anxiety for artists, but writing them can also be a source of self-discovery and better articulation when speaking about one’s work. I have artist friends who can ejaculate adjectives about their work without hesitation. I am getting better at my verbal skills, but still recognize my limitations, so I have a method to activate parts of my brain when writing: I find that I write about painting much better when I paint for an hour just before I write. All my visual art synapses are still connected when I transition to typing on a keyboard.

I believe a good artist statement should be written as if you are speaking to a museum curator, your best friend, a complete stranger, and your mom. I like artist statements that are clear and concise. Statements shouldn’t be written with too much unnecessary vocabulary like a Ph.D. thesis. Statements shouldn’t try to explain everything, but give viewers a starting point.

I believe artist statements should lead readers by the hand, and point them in the right direction for their own personal discoveries.

Be Yourself

Part of an artist’s journey is to find one’s own individual art identity or style. Finding that identity often begins by copying other artists. In music, there are “cover bands”, who play songs that were made popular by other bands, and there are original songwriter bands. The cover bands will always have gigs, and be popular. The original songwriting bands will have more difficulty getting recognized, but they have the only path toward making it to the top of their profession, if that is their goal. The same analogies can be made for visual artists. There are plenty of artists who are like cover bands. They paint pictures that resemble Andy Warhol or Van Gogh, and will always be popular with audiences. It all depends on what an artist wants to do. If artists want to explore new creative territory, they have to build upon the great art of the past, but ultimately must break away from copying others, look inside, and ask themselves how are they unique. It's a cliché to say, "Be yourself", but it's the only rule artists need.

Artists are Everywhere

New York is unquestionably the art capital of America, if not the world, and many serious artists gravitate there to find their creative destinies. I came to Washington DC from Ohio in 1986 because I found that I could live an artist’s lifestyle here. We have free, world-class museums and an educated international community, while still having a small town vibe in many ways. Artists choose where to live for many reasons. They live where there are good schools for their kids, or where they have employment, or where they grew up and always wanted to stay. After living in the DC area for thirty seven years, I’ve met many artists here who have moved later to other parts of the country. Artists aren’t just in New York. Musicians aren’t just in Nashville. Actors aren’t only in Los Angeles. Artists are in every town and rural region of the country. Artists are right there in your neighborhood.

Windows in Art, and Planes in Space

I love painting and drawing for its metaphysical aspects. I like taking a flat piece of paper or canvas and making it appear to have space where there was none before. A commonly used vehicle that artists have used to define space throughout history is the representation of the window. Windows in art convey the sense of two spaces: the space on this side of the window, and the space on other side of the window. Windows in art can be everything from literal representations of an architectural element, or holes that are cut into a canvas. For me, the most satisfying exploration of the concept of windows is using abstract planes or veils in space.

In this quickie sketch, the two telephone poles are vertical lines that create a defined plane in space, or a “window” through which we see a space beyond. It can be argued that all representational painting is also abstract, because the appearance of realism in a picture is all an illusion. It can also be argued that even the perimeter of a painting is a metaphor for the opening of a window, like a proscenium opening of a theatre stage. Next time you look at art, look for the “windows”

#art #metaphysical #illusion #windowsinart

The Art of Guitar

The guitar has been a source of escape and enjoyment in my life, since I was ten years old. I have never been much of a singer, so eventually I found that playing more challenging instrumental music to be my niche, instead of strumming chords and singing along. There was a time in my life when I wanted to pursue the guitar seriously, but I eventually I realized that even though I could be a good guitarist, I would never be a GREAT guitarist. Visual art is easy for me. When I am painting, ideas just tumble out of my head. Music, however, makes me confront all of my learning disabilities in a chaotic, head-on collision.

While I was in the hospital, with lots of time on my hands, I transposed some sheet music into guitar tablature. This is one of the many ways I am able to overcome my dyslexia, and other mental blocks that get in my way while learning. Also, while I was in the hospital, I learned that one of the world’s greatest guitarists, Jeff Beck, had passed away. For some reason, it made me want to play again more than ever. Today, I am starting to actually practice playing the music I transposed in the hospital. I will never be like Jeff Beck, or any of the other top-notch guitar players. I will always be a visual artist who also plays guitar, but music enriches my art, and my art enriches my music.

Be Yourself

This is my latest painting, completed on Thanksgiving Day. If the best advice given to artists is “be yourself”, then this is the most honest painting I’ve ever made. I learned how to draw by copying cartoons long before I studied academic art in school. I have been on an exploratory journey, and looking backwards for the last couple of years, trying to connect with my own personal artistic identity. This painting just needed to happen at this particular time in my life. My intention was to give these cartoon characters validity as fine art by treating them as such. I labored for the last month, over many compositional decisions, even though the final result may seem simplistic. My Aunt Lorraine from Detroit used to visit our family in Ohio, and she would always bring two large paper grocery bags full of comic books. (I wish I still had many of those comics. I would have a small fortune, today) If you can name all of the cartoon characters in this painting, I will give you a hearty handshake. "Surrounded by Friends", acrylic on canvas, 48" x 60", 2022.

Where Do Ideas Originate?

The question came up this weekend, “Where do your ideas come from?” The ideas themselves come from looking at nature, from experimenting and playing, and basically, from everywhere, but the key is not where the ideas themselves originate, but in being receptive to them when they happen. Ideas are all around us, but we need to be tuned in to the right frequency. Creativity comes from being open- minded, to seeing everything, and to really perceive your surroundings, full-time.

Human nature is to shut out that which is considered extemporaneous, to concentrate only on the information deemed essential for one’s own survival and comfort. Creative people are able to see the relationships and connections between seemingly unrelated subjects. This only comes with opening one’s eyes to all of the diverse aspects of life, to become a sponge, and to absorb. Unfortunately, this way of life also can be a double-edged sword, and can make creative people hyper-sensitive to the bad aspects of life, as well as the good. This is the weight that artists must carry. This is the price we pay in exchange for the joy and wonder that life gives us, as a stock for the soup of art. Sometimes an idea can seem like it came as a gift from the Gods, or from outer space. The truth is that it came from inside of ourselves, we just were in the right frame of mind to accept it.

Art Book Reflections

Since I was a kid, I have always known I was an artist, and I have always wanted to be an artist. A cleaning chore today solidified that belief, and turned into a meaningful personal refection.

I have a modest selection of art books that occupy a couple of shelves in my studio bookcase. I noticed that the books have been gathering dust from not being used for years. I seldom look at them anymore, because all I have to do is search the web for an artist, or drive down the street to any of the free art museums here in Washington, DC. I decided today was finally the day that I would remove the books, clean them, and replace them on the shelf one by one.

I cleaned books that first taught me how to draw cartoons when I was just a kid. I cleaned art books that were textbooks for classes I loved, and for teachers I respected in my teens. I cleaned books that were my first introduction into the language of form, and what visual abstraction was all about. I have an art book that was a gift from an ex-girlfriend, who wrote a sweet dedication inside the dust jacket. My Michelangelo book was extra dirty, and took forever to clean. It probably took less time to clean the actual Sistine Chapel.

I was not college material, and I could not afford art school, but I found a way to get the best art education I could. I went to community college on and off, and took all the art classes they had, without getting a degree. I had one art teacher who always said, “Whenever in doubt, consult the masters”, so I bought art books of the master artists whenever I could . Every once in a while, I would drive some old jalopy from my home in Dayton, Ohio, to an art museum in Cleveland, Cincinnati, or even six hours away to Chicago, so that I could see the master artist’s work in person. I also have a few art books that I purchased at some of these museums.

Cleaning the dust from a stack of books today made me think of all those things and more. I actually enjoyed flipping through some of them, and have resolved that next time I am tempted to go down the internet rabbit hole, I will look at my art books for inspiration instead.

Heroes are Human too.

Doctors, nurses, and medical technicians have deservedly been called heroes during the covid crisis, but they are also normal people from all walks of life, and from all different countries of origin. During a recent hospital stay, I encountered a tag-team of medical professionals, who were all eager to help me get healthy. I met a nurse who, after learning my name, told me there is a Wilkinson Road, in her hometown of Freetown, Sierra Leone. I met a doctor who talks like the teacher on “South Park”, who always says, “mmm-kay…”. I met a gastroenterologist from Puerto Rico , who liked to make poop jokes. (He told me he trusts his gut instinct). I met a nurse from Taiwan who cried when she told me about how she will miss her kids, who are both about to go away to college. I met a nurse from Romania, who told me about life behind the Iron Curtain, before the fall of the Berlin Wall. My x-ray technician shared that she was also being treated for rheumatoid arthritis at the hospital. There were technicians who woke me up every two hours to take blood, and I began to know them all by name. I learned that all of these people were working twelve hour shifts, Day Shift. 7-7, Night Shift. 7-7: a 24 hour relay race, each team handing off the baton to the next.  Medical professionals don’t bat an eyelash when they empty out your container of piss, and they have no embarrassment about asking you about your last bowel movement. They don’t get queasy at the sight of blood. They are tough cookies, but they also worry about their own families, and are concerned about taking covid home with them. These are people who will get anything you need, in order to make you more comfortable, but they are not waiters at the Olive Garden. They are brave dedicated professionals, and they are also caring human beings, with lives of their own. They deserve our compassion, respect, and understanding.

#doctors #nurses #heroes #humans

Don’t Call Me Elderly

I’ve been fighting ageing with as much effort as I can possibly muster. When the letters from AARP first started arriving in my mailbox, I immediately threw them in the trash, as if somehow, my denial would chase back the years. I have especially resisted words like, “senior” and “elderly”, but I have come to realize that the word, “elder” also comes with real responsibility. Traditionally, an elder is someone in a village who has experience, and shows leadership and mentorship toward those less experienced. In recent months, I have noticed younger friends and acquaintances occasionally looking to me for guidance, and it really surprised me at first. (Who, me?) I certainly am no pillar of wisdom. I only have a high school education, I like to clown around a lot, and I’ve made more than my share of life mistakes. I have, however, been around the block a few times, and by sheer survival, and by building relationships, I’ve managed to scrape out a creative, artistic life for myself. If I can somehow help someone with less experience to move forward with their lives, by sharing my experiences, then I resolve to gladly do so, and to take the role seriously, with great concern and patience. You may call me an elder, just don’t call me “elderly”.

#ageing #elder #mentor

Capitol Memories of Better Times

When I moved to Washington, DC, in 1986, from Dayton, Ohio, I came here because I thought it would be a good place for an artist to live, and I decided that I wanted to live on Capitol Hill.

I lived at 800 East Capitol Street, eight blocks from the U.S. Capitol. I could look out my window and see the big white dome, and it became an imprinted symbol to me, of my geographic location. I regularly walked to the National Gallery of Art, and passed the beautiful grounds of the Capitol on my way. I saw the “Liberty” statue which regularly stands on top of the dome, airlifted to the ground by a Sikorsky helicopter, and lowered to the Capitol parking lot for restoration. I will always look at that statue from a different perspective, having experienced that. The Capitol grounds were always my “Central Park” when I lived on the Hill. In fact, the Capitol grounds were designed by the same landscape architect who designed Central Park in New York. Capitol Hill was my neighborhood. I shopped at Frager’s Hardware, and Eastern Market, and ate breakfast at Jimmy T’s Diner. Families walk their dogs on the brick sidewalks, and raise their kids there.

Thirty five years ago, I had moved to an international city, with an educated population, and I still had a lot of trailer park in me. I grew up in several different parts of the country as a kid, but as an “adult”, I feel like I grew up on Capitol Hill.

A week ago, I felt like my old Capitol Hill neighborhood was invaded. I felt violated and angry. This wasn’t only the “people’s house”, and the seat of government, it was where I lived during a turning point in my life, and where I evolved and grew.

I’ve since moved to Arlington, Virginia, across the river, near the Pentagon, and have been there for twenty five years. When the Pentagon was the site of terrorism in 2001, I watched the concrete barriers and giant fences go up at all the public government buildings, and the grounds surrounding them. Today, the US Capitol is surrounded by seven-foot-high riot fence, and guarded by the National Guard, for the upcoming presidential inauguration. The riot fencing will eventually come down, but I suspect the US Capitol will no longer be as accessible as it used to be, and more permanent barriers will once again be erected, and more drastic security measures will be initiated. I know these kinds of changes are unfortunately necessary, and inevitable. I don’t know if people will be allowed to freely walk the grounds of the US Capitol again, but I hope so. If not, I’m glad I have the memories.

#USCapitol

Talent: Don’t Waste it.

Artists who are sour and cynical have good reason to feel that way. There are plenty of artists with very little talent receiving fame and fortune, while virtuoso artists are struggling to make ends meet. It has always been that way, and nobody ever said it was going to be easy to be an artist.

However, there are artists who waste their God-given talent, talent which other mere mortals wish they could possess even a small fraction. Artists and musicians often get tired of banging their heads against the brick wall of popular success, and quit creating, and performing.

This kind of wasted talent is a tragedy. A tragedy because, it is emotion that will never be expressed, a connection that will never be made, an idea that will never be shared, and a seed that will never be planted.

Artist Portrait # 400

In February of 2013, I started posting photo portraits of artists and musicians on my blog, Artistportraits.tumblr.com.

Today, I am posting photo portrait number four-hundred. My intention is to show the DC area is an active arts environment, with creative people from all demographics.

The blog features photos of artists, in front of their art, and musicians holding their instruments, with a link to their websites. Each portrait has it’s own unique web address, so it can always be linked by the artist, or anybody who wants to share it. Artists are always free to use the photos for their own publicity purposes.

Being an artist, musician, and camera addict, who enjoys other musicians and artists, this project just made sense to me, as a small journal or directory of DC talent.

The photos are almost always shot in a hurry, under difficult situations: in brightly lit art galleries, or in dimly lit nightclubs. I will be the first to admit they aren’t always perfect photos, but they are always honest. Occasionally, I have also gotten lucky, and managed to capture a classic shot.

A college art appreciation teacher told me she used the blog as a reference for her students to write essays about local artists. Another artist got a solo exhibit, because somebody saw him and his work on Artist Portraits. I also share the portraits on my humble facebook page of 860 friends, so it’s not exactly like front page news in the New York Times. This is, however, the internet age, and searches, tags, and shares can lead to discoveries. I have started the snowball rolling, and I hope it can continue to get bigger, and better with time. It is also my intention to someday propose the photos as an exhibition in a gallery setting. There are still many notable artists that I want to photograph, and I’m looking forward to posting again, when I get to number five-hundred.

The Story of “Bathtubs in the Sky”

My latest painting,“Bathtubs in the Sky” is an adult reinterpretation of a drawing that I made when I was a kid.

When I was nine years old, and in the fifth grade, my teacher at Brantwood Elementary School, Mrs. Graham, took our class for our weekly visit to the school library.

I loved art as a kid, and always wanted to be an artist, so I naturally gravitated towards the art books. This was my first exposure to abstract expressionism, and all modern art in general. I remember looking at Jasper Johns’ alphabet paintings, and thinking that they were stupid. ( later, Jasper Johns would become one of my biggest heroes) I remember thinking abstract art was a joke, and that some artists were just fooling people.

When we left the library, and returned to our classroom, I drew a picture of bathtubs in the sky, as my own kind of art-joke, or satire of modern art. After all, I was nine years old, and knew everything about art. The drawing was ball-point pen on notebook paper, and the bathtubs had lots of pipes connecting the tubs together. I showed the drawing to a few of my classmates, laughed, crumbled the drawing into a ball, and threw it into the wastebasket.

Later, that day, Mrs. Graham asked me to please leave the classroom, and join her in the hallway. She wanted to talk to me, she said. I immediately thought she was going to reprimand me for any of a number of rule infractions, in which I may have participated.

Mrs. Graham said, “Buddy”, ( that’s what they called me, when I was nine ), “Why did you crumble up your drawing, and throw it away?” I said, “Because it was a joke. It wasn’t real art”. Mrs. Graham said, “Don’t ever do that again. You are very talented, with a big imagination, and you should think about becoming an artist”

Fast-forward to 2019, and I am now a much-older artist, and thankful for Mrs. Graham’s encouragement, all those years ago. I made this painting as a tribute to her, and also as a sort of graduation, a rite of passage, or milestone, marking my arrival at the place that I imagined, when I was just a kid. I wanted the new painting to be different from the way that I remember the original drawing. I wanted this painting to be dream-like, reminiscent of an old memory. It’s a weird painting, by a weird kid, who grew up to be a weird adult.

When I started this painting, I thought to myself, this canvas will be my personal art statement, not remotely intended for decorating someone’s house. Now as I look at this painting, in it’s completed state, I realize somebody, someday wil probably hang it in their bathroom, above their tub.

Artistic Evolution

One of the many reasons why I like following an artist's work, is to see the evolution of their art that takes place over time. If I have just seen an artist's work for the first time, I always look at their website, to see what their work looked like in the past. The art they are making presently, can often be a radical departure from the work they made previously.

Some artists also paint the same thing over and over for their entire life, exploring every aspect of the same theme, which is ok too. I try to always keep in mind, that when I see an artist's work, it is just what they happen to be doing now.

#evolution #artistic evolution #art #artists

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