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Portraits of the Artist

I’m working on a commission, presently. A long-time friend who appreciates my work recently commissioned me to do a self-portrait. An interesting commission, and I undertook it enthusiastically, without giving the matter any hesitation at all – now I’m mired in it. lol Self-reflection is deep on a thing like this, but it’s not as if it is the first time I’ve done a self-portrait. They’ve changed over the years.

“Rage” acrylic on paper, 1985, my first self-portrait, at age 22. 12″ x 16″

In the 80’s and early 90’s, when I was still “finding my artistic voice” (still a work in progress, as it turns out), and painting in both watercolor and acrylic, I found emotional safety in abstraction for self-portraiture.

“Portrait of the Artist’s Tears”, 1987, acrylic on paper, 5″ x 7″

I didn’t “stay in that place” indefinitely, things sometimes felt better, sometimes they felt worse. It was a complicated journey, artistically, and I often found that painting was a way of saying what I did not have words for at that time in my life.

“The Night Before Christmas”, 1990, acrylic on paper 8″ x 10″

Some of it I still lack words for, and I’m happy to be in a very different place in life now. My feelings about these works, and the experiences they represent, remain very complicated.

“Marriage” 1991, watercolor on paper, 8″ x 10″

When my first marriage ended, in 1995, I fought hard and went through much to keep a small painting that remains one of my very fondest pieces, and it hangs in my home even now. I’ve never managed to take a decent photograph of it, and I guess I’m okay with that.

“Joy” 1994, watercolor on paper 4″ x 6″

By 2000 I was painting exclusively in acrylic, and doing a lot of 3D mixed-media work, abstractions and pieces that used a lot of glow, glitter, ceramic adornments, and often working quite large. There were certainly pieces I could call self-portraits in the years between 1995 and 2014, when this next piece was painted, but they weren’t necessarily intended that way. (I think art as a form of self-expression of necessity says something about the artist, one way or another.)

“The Price We Pay” 2014, acrylic on canvas with glow, glass, and ceramic details, 11″ x 14″ (the inclusion of the artist’s reflection intentional)

The last self-portrait I started on is still “work in progress”, and I don’t know that I’ll ever finish it. I’ve moved on from that moment. I don’t feel the way I did then, and I’m not sure I can finish it in an honest way because I have changed.

“Chained” acrylic on canvas with glow, ceramic, and chain, 18″ x 24″

So, here I am, now. This person, this woman, this artist, reflecting on self, and preparing to do one sort of self-portrait I’ve never done before; a work on commission for someone else. It’s an interesting project, and it is prompting me to reflect on details of the answer to a question in life that is simultaneously quite deep, and also quite mundane. Possibly one of the least useful questions one can ask oneself; because we already know the answer, however reluctantly we choose to acknowledge it. Self-reflection has value – but does it have hue? I chuckle to myself as I consider how best to portray the woman I see in the mirror every day.

Frenzy

Many years ago, during a difficult period in my life, and living (and painting) on very limited means, I found myself deeply inspired (and also very broke). It’s been rare to experience inspiration that overcame my senses to the point of painting “in a frenzy”, but there I was. It was an intensely creative few days of steady (mostly sleepless) work. I used up most of the paper and pigment on hand for three series of thirteen smallish pieces, varying a bit in size (I was in some cases working from scraps, but most of this first Frenzy series are roughly 5″ x 7″). I drank too much coffee, and washed my hands too seldom. It was, as I recall, 1997, in Fresno’s notorious Tower District.

I initially began with a notable focus on UV pigments, and interference colors, and any other similarly visually intense pigments I had on hand at the time. The series of work used a specific technical approach to creating the pieces throughout that resulted in a somewhat “Rorschach test” inspired set of images, which nudge the viewer to bring their own thoughts and impressions to each piece. I welcome your comments.

Frenzy I
Frenzy II
Frenzy III
Frenzy IV
Frenzy V
Frenzy VI
Frenzy VII
Frenzy VIII
Frenzy IX
Frenzy X
Frenzy XI
Frenzy XII
Frenzy XIII – “At the End, Whatever is Left Over”

These pieces are available for sale (each original, no copies or prints are available). Please contact me by email if interested.

Hard Times, Great Art

I am thinking about art, feeling inspired, but too sick to paint today. It’ll pass, it’s not a big deal, just a cold or virus, or whatever. The local “ick”. So I look over old work that has not previously made it into this blog that I might share, and look for some theme.

Trying times, culturally and politically, in the USA. Hard times often produce some great art – which is not any sort of endorsement of hardship or chaos, it’s just a thing that occurs. It often seems the world is burning (wildfires, warfare, social upheaval)… I guess I’ll need more hues of red, orange, yellow… maybe some organic hues, and hues of violet and magenta? I look at older works that reflect other hard times…

Returning from deployment (Desert Storm) took me awhile to “sort out”. It was strange and difficult to come home to civilian life.

“Don’t Remind Me, I Can’t Forget” watercolor on paper, 16″ x 20″, 1992

Emotional pain, physical pain, cultural pain, violence, warfare, and hardship; it’s not the same sort of inspiration as I feel when I am inspired by love, or a beautiful sunrise. Painting just happens to be the way I communicate what I don’t have words for.

“Mea Culpa” watercolor on paper, 16″x 20″, 1992

A lot of living, a lot of memories, a lot of inspiration – some of it quite personal, some of it less so, are reflected in a lifetime of painting. I have done most of my painting in times of hardship, sorrow, and pain, because I didn’t have language for those experiences (and few experiences of joy in earlier years).

“All I Am” tinted linseed oil on paper, 8″ x 10″, 1988

We grow, we move on, we experience more and different and other, and we live again. I’m grateful that there have been more moments of joy than of hardship, and I’m grateful to be able to paint when I don’t have words. Hard times come and go, the art remains.

“Be Like Water” acrylic on canvas with glow and India ink, 12″ x 14″, 2018

Hand of Fatima

A look back a piece from 2019.

“Hand of Fatima” 8″ x 10″ acrylic mixed-media on canvas w/glitter and glow

This piece still gives me a feeling of peace and hope. It relies on a lot of glow, and one prominent “googly eye”.

“Hand of Fatima” seen in darkness after being charged under UV light.

Hard Times Make Great Art

Some folks – maybe a lot of people – are hurting right now. Feeling angry. Feeling devalued. Feeling that their voice doesn’t matter. Feeling powerless. Hard times are… hard. Hard times make great art. Always have.

…The world feels like it’s on fire, and there is war and destruction everywhere…

When I came home from Desert Storm, my painting style had changed (rather a lot), and the things on my mind began to percolate up through my art. I painted the war. I painted the chaos. I painted the things I didn’t have words for. I’ve used art to give voice to the things I don’t have words for “all along” – at least for the whole time I’ve been an artist.

“Kuwaiti Oil Fires” 20″ x 48″ oil on stretched silk, 1991

Shortly after I returned from the war, I gave up oil painting entirely, in favor of acrylic and pursued an abiding fascination with abstraction, and the use of nontraditional pigments and mixed-media elements in my work.

… And events just kept delivering hard times and trauma to reflect in art…

“9-11″ 18″ x 24” acrylic on canvas, 2001

Hard times come and go. Trauma is inflicted and endured, and trauma heals. The art remains.

I guess I’m just saying inspiration comes in many forms. Sometimes a beautiful sunrise on a favorite trailhead is enough. Sometimes events and circumstances provide inspiration of a different sort. I don’t know what to expect of my work from here, I only know I’ll keep feeling – and painting.

“Drone Strikes” 5″ x 7″ pastel on pastelbord, 2024

Time Passes Quickly

It’s been more than a year since I last posted in this space. Life has been busy, and generally not artistically, just busy. I lost a dear friend this year, and with her passing I somehow lost a lot of inspirational fuel as well. Unexpected. Health. Aging. Mortality. Just the usual “human stuff” getting in the way of creative work, and here I am – more than a year later, with very little to show for it.

My last notable time spent in the studio was last November. I spent that working on an unfinished piece, “Toxicity”, and had this to say about it:

So this seems to be “the thing that’s been holding me back” in some subtle way; unfinished, and staring back at me in a mocking way, as if to say “you still can’t get past this one, and fuck you for thinking you could”. She’s the face of my chaos and damage. She’s the face of every abusive relationship, every stupid confrontation, every bit of seemingly senseless drama where my rather face-value take on things sometimes leaves me missing some obvious bit of imminent drama that plays to someone else’s sheet music. She’s the hidden agenda. She’s the pointless lie. She’s the temptation that destroys. She’s even the demon within me seeking more bad company to pull me from my better path. She’s the unaddressed past. She’s the poison we deliver to ourselves. She’s the pretty package that is empty inside. She’s “Toxicity”. 

“Toxicity”, acrylic mixed-media on canvas with glow, 2023 (unfinished)

She’s not yet finished. The distortions to the mask were a bit of work, and I stalled shortly after I figured that out – which was sometime ago! Seems so long ago now, and carrying this burden has been… heavy. I’ve quite a lot more to do with this one, but working on it takes a bit out of me every time, as if I am exorcising this demon as I work. She is entirely inspired by ______, although she’s come to represent so much more as I have continued down my path, taking my own internal journey, and working through my bullshit. 11 x 14, mixed media on canvas with glow, tiny coins, molded plastic… and eventually a crown of shards of glass (no kidding – but I found some suitable broken float glass that had been “wave tumbled” and I think it’s a good choice), and some metallic strands of tightly coiled fine wire for hair. Being patient enough to let the glow gel around those coins dry today is hard, but I still need to figure out things like attaching the glass and the wire, and also decide whether the assorted small keys for earrings is too much… but… she’s been a key to so many things, and truly holding me back…so… it fits, yeah? And also… fuck this bitch – and the one who inspired her.

I wrote those words to my departed friend, and it seems a lifetime ago, now. It has been a long while. I’d nearly finished the work on this piece, hopeful I’d exorcised this demon, when my friend passed. Suddenly, it was too late to share new work, too late for deep conversations about life, or art, or anything at all. I found myself entirely stalled and began sloppily using my studio for storage space.

I think I’ve gotten myself sorted out now, and ready to tackle new work. I definitely want to. The challenge? I don’t at all want to do what I’ve done before. I’m hungry for something really new, really different.

Going through boxes and things and getting the studio in order for creative work to come, I found an old cigar box with some odds and ends art supplies in it, tucked in a corner of a drawer, forgotten.

Pastels and colored pencils, barely used at all.

I feel inspired again…

A pivot to an entirely new medium is no small thing, and I’ve no idea where this will take my work. My studio needs an overhaul with this change in mind, so I’ll be taking a look at work currently in storage (unsold) and developing a plan to thin that out through some kind of sale, very soon.

Coastal Getaway

I don’t recall what specifically inspired this piece, painted after a stormy October weekend in Lincoln City, Oregon. Depending on the quality of the light in the room, it can appear as a stormy afternoon, or the twilight of evening.

“Coastal Getaway” 12″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas, 2021

Shot in different light:

Same painting, giving the appearance of a different time of day.

This is one of several pieces that I spent time on in 2020 and 2021, without doing much about documenting the work or sharing it; we’d just moved into our house in McMinnville, Oregon, and frankly life was pretty busy. lol

The Nightmare City

A lot of my work is inspired by things I find more difficult to put into words. Emotions. Profound joy. Deep sorrow. Painful memories. Nightmares.

This piece is acrylic on canvas, 8″ x 10″ with glitter and glow-in-the-dark. It’s a painting in my personal collection that has a fairly practical purpose for me; it anchors me in the here-and-now when I wake abruptly from a nightmare. It is my “nightmare city” – a place I frequently come back to in my bad dreams and PTSD-fueled nightmares. I charge the glow with bright light before I retire for the evening, and if I wake, the painting is glowing brightly in the darkness, reminding me where I am, that I am awake, and that I’ve left the nightmare city behind.

The Nightmare City, 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas w/glitter and glow 2010 (not for sale)

Charged, and viewed in red light…

A very different perspective on a personal hellscape.

Sunrises, Sunsets

I’m enjoying a weekend in the studio, and finding much of my inspiration in recent sunrises and sunsets. Quite a bit of new work in progress. Details to come, once pieces are finished, but here’s a sneak peak…

Not yet titled, 6″ x 8″ acrylic on wood panel with glow
“McMinnville Sunset 2022″, inspired by a recent sunset, 12″ x 12” acrylic on canvas
“McMinnville Sunrise 2022″, inspired by a recent sunrise, 8″ x 10” acrylic on canvas with glow
Just started on the cloudy sky background for this piece, very much still work in progress, 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow.

I haven’t made enough room in my life lately for long weekends painting. It feels good to be back in the studio working creatively. I’m eager to see how these pieces develop, and getting them up for sale.

Meta Luna

Funny title for a painting, I suppose. It has a backstory. Perhaps I’ll share that with a buyer one day. Perhaps not. This 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas piece has details that include glow-in-the-dark pigments and glitter. It was inspired by a brightly glowing luminous round full moon and the shimmering waves beneath it one mild October night in 2022.

Meta Luna, 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow and glow-glitter details, 2022