Reclining Nude

The Village Market

Two blocks from my art studio is the Village Market at 8th and California Street. Drinking a Blue Bottle drip coffee while sitting at one of the window tables is a great way to fill a few pages in the journal and make a sketch.  It's also a good place to see people I know, say hi to someone I've never met or simply observe. There are many places but this is the spot.

La Candelaria Mountain Potters

Driving a convertible VW bug to the remote village of La Candelaria in Baja, Mexico is something I recommend. Highly.

 

Labyrinth of Amber and Green

Back in my twenties before I became a painter I spent a bunch of time exploring LA's galleries and museums. I don't recall where I found the photography of Aaron Siskind but I found it truly striking. His work unveiled a world of abstract compositions in the most unlikely yet obvious places. Elegantly cropped images of neglected walls covered with peeling paint and boulder mounds are what stick in my mind the most. He set the bar high when it comes to learning to look and I'm still learning. My front yard is a great place for channeling Aaron. I often find my inspiration in nature's debris. A pile of kelp that washes up on the beach after a storm will always fascinate me. It's a labyrinth of amber and green waiting to be entered.   

Fish Cup with Yogi Tea

I've been enjoying the multiple-personality weather we've been having each day. One hour it's sunny with blue skies. Then a sudden hailstorm almost knocks me off my feet as I go to move my truck away from the possibility of falling branches. The ocean changes colors as often as the waves change moods. I can relate. I'm doing all I can to remain grounded these days as I get my art studio back into shape as a place to create, share and receive artistic vision. Each day I'm closer and each day has a common start. A quick sketch in the morning brings me alive. So do streaming words in the journal. And exercise is my required meditation. Without this trusted trio I would be as unpredictable as today's skies. There's enough daily uncertainty that I don't need to add more. But there's never enough beauty. That is why I need a relaxed mind. Not just to be calm, but also to harvest myself and bring forth whatever ripe fruit is ready for plucking .   

Fish Cup and Papaya

Fish Cup

The Art Studio

I've been out of my art studio for around five months. The storefront I've been using as my workshop became ground zero for a long overdue construction project that was supposed to take a month. But old buildings are unpredictable and this one goes back to the 1890s. 

Once upon a time it was a brakeman's station for the trolleys that rolled down California Street. Now it is born again as an art studio.

The time away was awkward at first since it's been my habit to go there to make art. What I discovered is that the art studio is anywhere and everywhere. It's in the back of the truck and basement. It's in the attic and the dining room. It's in the backpack and anywhere outdoors. The art studio is wherever there is enthusiasm to create.

With that in mind, I intend to re-enter my old space with new vision, embrace uncertainty and see each day as another day in paradox.

A Shaft of Sunlight

I tend to start my sketch with something pleasing that catches my eye. Often it's a familiar shape, object or thing. My daily ritual takes place in the same spot at the same time lately and this morning I was greeted by a shaft of sunlight resting on my table. It wasn't there when I first sat down. But as I uncapped my pen it boldly appeared as if asking to be drawn. It's a trick request. The best way to draw light is not to draw light at all. Instead I sketched the welcoming committee of fruit that was illuminated by this radiant parade. Sunlight seems to bring out the best in everything. It certainly lifts my spirit and I'm grateful. I'm grateful for the warm bath of light I sit in as I sketch, the edible bounty it creates and for giving me a map to find beauty where I may not have seen it before.   

Embrace Uncertainty: The Ladder in the Hole

The White Tablecloth

I've been musing about the split-perspective. I seldom see it in paintings, but when I do it can be mesmerizing. The idea of dividing the picture plane into two different sections is playful. It's another puzzle. The areas can relate or not. There are no rules, but sufficient contrast is ideal. Busy and calm. Far and close. Inside and outside. I'm starting to see an emerging metaphor here for how I want to live my year. Here and there. On land and under water. Urban and remote. Perhaps my life will begin to imitate my art as I create more of these split-perspectives. I'd like that.

Box Painting: Persephone's Pomegranate

Still Life with Electrical Socket

The Great Square Has No Corners

Box Painting: Pear Tajitu

I've been painting objects in boxes for a bunch of years. And I've enjoyed the box as a visual constraint within which I've had fun solving a compositional puzzle. The organic shapes I find for my subjects have been the perfect puzzle pieces because of their elegant and figurative lines. I'd use anything as my model as long as it served my need for finding a pleasing solution. It's a game I invented for myself called playing with still-life. This year I've changed the rules. This year I've simplified the proceedings. Or have I?

This year I set out to discover the beautiful possibilities that exist within the regular quadrilateral known as the square. It's not my first foray into being a square painter. Actually I hope that by embracing the square I'll become less of a square painter and ultimately find new freedom within my constraint.  It will still take awhile to transcend the obvious before I begin to make the unknown known. That's why I've committed myself to creating ten 12" X 12" paintings per month. By the end of the year I will have made 120. It's not the only art I'll be making but I find it necessary to square off with the square this year. I fully expect to further my relationship with the unexpected. And who knows what else. And maybe I'll have a better understanding of what Lao Tzu meant by "the great square has no corners."   

A River Runs Through It.

Crumpled Cloth in a Crate

Now available for purchase is my 2009 oil painting, Crumpled Cloth in a Crate, which measures 24" X 24" on canvas. The price is $ 2100. 

Bowl of Lemons

Dish Towel

Vitruvian Wave

Fish On a Dish