Tangled Kelp in a Box

Kelp entered my artwork years ago. I usually see mounds of it washed up on the shore, bunched upon Ocean Beach. Like the mazes I enjoyed drawing as a child the kelp is a naturally convoluted entanglement. It's a knot that can't be untied. In the sea it's a bustling ecosystem of abstract, twisted, labyrinthian cords of green and amber. If you scuba-dive you'll see that kelp exists as a marketplace for countless underwater creatures and fish. I draw it because of its perplexity. I paint it because of my life-long connection to the ocean.

My New Website is Up

www.jaymercado.com

The Yellow Legal Pad

A yellow legal pad is always in my bag. It's not quite a journal or a sketchbook. However it is a little of both and more. Perhaps it's a bridge between the two. It doesn't extract the confessions and observations that a journal might. It doesn't focus attention as a sketchbook might. But anything goes on the yellow pad. This should be true for the other books but the difference is the pad itself. Brainstorms burst better on a yellow pad and thoughts flow freely.

Crashing Wave of Cloth Continued

I'm still getting lost in this 4' X 5' crashing wave of cloth painting. Or am I getting found? Either way, this is my meditation lately.

Crashing Wave of Cloth

Crashing waves are everywhere.

Caribbean Red

The closest I can get to the Caribbean lately is to begin a painting inspired by the tropics. When on the island it's best to buy papaya from the guy who shows up sometimes with a truck full of edibles. Nothing is better sliced and stored in the fridge for snacking than the fruit of angels. Papaya. I found this beauty at a local market. Maybe it's from there. Maybe it's a variety of papaya that can be grown anywhere. Maybe it's named after a pirate. The sticker reads Caribbean Red. It tasted anything but rough and salty. The slice I savored was ideal. No maybes. My intention was to eat it all, not paint a papaya, but that's how it is sometimes. The papaya insisted and so it begins.

The Past is the Present

Lately the past has a way of becoming the present. Thoughts of my former days in Los Angeles have found new life in my imagination. I loved living in LA. It was so different. So big. So full of unlimited opportunity and the unexpected. Not only because it's the land of dreams, but also because it is quite literally endless. By contrast San Francisco is a great big small town. It's a village full of villages and I grew up in one of them, the Sunset District. I wanted to sample the vastness and contrasts that could only be found in the giant southland. UCLA was my gateway. Of course, I now live in SF, but I miss many of the feelings I associate with my time in the megalopolis. Feelings that I hope to bring to life again with a fresh perspective and open enthusiasm. One of the top reasons I moved north is illustrated in the painting above. I made this plein-air study on the fire-trail where I often ran to escape the urban madness and strengthen my resolve. It winds steep and wraps around the top of upper Mandeville Canyon off Sunset Boulevard in the westside of town. The lush canyon was at one point designed to be gardens for botanical research and exists now as a community of ranch-style homes surrounded by enough flora and fauna to make you think you might live anywhere else but LA. That's why I drove thirty minutes from my home to go running there. That's why I painted my running trail. That's why I left LA. There's just not enough natural beauty left to embrace. No places to run. I wonder what gems I might have discovered had I remained there but now I'm here. There's an abundance of natural beauty right outside my front door, full of unlimited opportunity, and the unexpected.

Today

On one of my easels rests this painting still unfinished. In this state the art is meditation that quiets my mind as I make it come alive. I lose myself in the rolling hills of drapery. I push, pull, plunge and pet.  I'm in a creative trance in my sacred space. This is my mandala. 

Plums

This Is Just To say

I have eaten

the plums

that were in 

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold.

--William Carlos Wiliams

The Neighborhood

Looking at the Overlooked

I saw this trio of dogs in front of Peets on Fillmore. The pooch with the cone was why I stopped to take a closer look. I like most dogs but one-eyed dogs, three-legged dogs and dogs wearing cones bring out the paparazzi in me. I believe they bring good luck. The same goes for cats. I noticed the cat above watching  people go by on 18th near Mission. I'm uncertain if it was a one-eyed cat but this cat was cool just the same.   

Bodegon: Sheet on a Stone Ledge at 4am

My sheet on a stone ledge at 4am is like an ocean wave. Not too far off, the sounds of pounding and slapping resonate.

Hummingbirds Happen

Just yesterday I came across a charcoal drawing I made as a study. The project was a private commission which only had one demand. The art must feature hummingbirds. This house already displayed one of my still-life paintings. The couple fell in love with one of my huge pomegranates. Then they asked me to create another artwork based on their shared love for hummingbirds. If only this would happen every week. The drawing above was the first stage in the process. I choose my subjects but sometimes my subject chooses me. Busy with the still-life and figure, I never approached birds before that time, however I saw the hummingbird painting as an opportunity to spread my wings. And that has made all the difference.

More Ocean Beach Wall

The Ocean Beach Wall

The wall at Ocean Beach here in San Francisco stretches out from the base of the Cliff House incline, all the way south to Lincoln Way at the west end of Golden Gate Park. It was built in 1916 as an esplanade with a lavish walking area. Since then the parking lot has eclipsed most of the original concept. But that hasn't effected its popularity as a destination. Run, bike, walk along the length of it. Wax your surfboard there. Watch the waves and break bread with a friend while sitting on top. I'm slowly including more elements from my life into my artwork. That's why I've introduced the wall as an element in some of my still life paintings (and also because it's there). 

Fruit of the Gods

Every year persimmons show up in my paintings. This one on the bench is waiting for a coat of varnish to take the glare off the surface and even things out. Other than that it's almost done. Usually I compose with the light source coming in from the left but not this time. This painting is a commission intended to hang in a spot with an ambient light source from the right. Both the real and imagined light are consistent. So until this piece is hanging on that chosen wall this persimmon painting remains unfinished.

Are you busy?

As I left home today I stopped to stare at the ocean before climbing into my pickup. Then I noticed them.  Dozens of calla lilies right in front of me waiting for me to pay attention. They seemed to have arrived overnight. How'd that happen? The truth is I've been too busy to look at the overlooked. The irony is that if I had more work I wouldn't be so busy. That's what I tell people when asked that popular refrain, "are you busy?" Somewhere along the road I heard a story about Monet. He was painting in his garden and his neighbor asked if he was working. He said "No, I'm relaxing." The next day the neighbor saw him sitting in his garden staring. He asked Monet if he was taking a break. Monet said, "No, I'm working." The result is that I took a cue from Monet this morning and spent some time working among the calla lilies and my day was much better because I did.

Quiet Mind

Yesterday I gave my journal a workout at the Village Market. So many thoughts racing through my head that I had to throw them down on paper. Life in these times has everyone I know thinking in new ways. Often it's necessary to go for a walk to try to clear the mind. It's said that a quiet mind is a creative mind. I believe that's true. The closer I get to that quiet mind, the more my imagination blossoms. Lately mine is anything but quiet. I fantasize about what that might be like for an extended period of time. Now that I'm fully back into the art studio I'm working on several paintings at once. I'll move paint on two to three main pieces and then go play on a small study. That's how it's been this last two weeks. I'm not sure if this is my preferred way of working but it tends to be productive. Or is it? Would I be better served to focus on one piece straight through to completion? I haven't allowed myself that option yet. Perhaps with a quieter mind I wouldn't feel the need to hurry through my creations. Why hurry? I have reasons. 

Below is a detail from unfinished painting:number two. A wave of cloth breaks on a shelf which also holds an unseen pear on the left side. The sky will be a midnight blue. The pear will be like the harvest moon. Painting the folds and fissures of cloth calms me down and for the moment I have a quiet mind. If what the great Ponca Chief White Eagle says is true, "the secret of strength lies in the quiet mind," then I have a way to go but a worthwhile journey ahead.

3 Persimmons on a Shelf (day two)

The prep-work is so important in my larger paintings. Fortunately, for this one I created small oil and acrylic studies several months ago when persimmons were in season. Color is always intuitive for me. This is clearest when I work with the immediacy of pastels. For this commission I'm channeling that same playfulness with paint.  I'm tackling the possibilities that exist within the gem-like beauty of Hachiya persimmons. At 2.5' X 6' this trio of exotic fruit are nothing but fun right now as I head into day three. 

Harvest Yourself

The beginning of a 16' X 2' 8" floor mural intended to be the mantra greeting as you enter the art studio. The colors may change but the sentiment remains.

Morning Sketch