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Urban Warfare

“Urban Warfare (world on fire)” pastel on pastelmat, 2024, 7″ x 9.5″

This piece is inspired by recent world events, global warfare, and the unsettling sensation that the world is on fire, which has begun to seep into my dreams. It’s not a coincidence that it is similar to “The Nightmare City”; it is a place I see often in my dreams. In my PTSD-fueled nightmares, I find myself on this street, looking up the road toward…what, exactly? The distance? What is beyond, I never quite find out, however long I walk – or run. Sometimes it helps to paint these images, sometimes it doesn’t.

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

Drone Strikes

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

This piece is a war-themed piece, inspired by the terrifying devastation of drone strikes in modern warfare, and specifically the successful attacks by Ukraine which destroyed Russian ammo depots in the summer of 2024. This piece is not for sale.

Starting Something New

I’ve got a number of pastels now, and the additional supplies I need to begin exploring what is, for me, an entirely new medium. I may have gone a bit overboard, as starting points go, but I dislike half-way measures, and I’ve reliably found that good quality pigments and well-prepared canvases or good quality paper selected with the purpose in mind gets a better result that “going cheap” – which can often turn out to be more expensive than investing in good materials with care.

Colors – and a starting point.

My pastels? I’ve selected Sennelier for my “basics”, choosing a variety selection of 40 half-sticks from a local art supply shop (to try them out and make damned certain I wanted to proceed with this exciting change), and the 80 half-stick landscape selection, which don’t overlap (as far as I can see). I added (very much an artistic “treat”) a selection of 12 Henri Roche half-sticks (their “vivid” assortment), less because I needed them – I just wanted them very much after seeing a video about their history and how they are made. It was this video that initially inspired me to consider pastels as an artist.

Inspiration in a box.

I found a nice Richeson “Roz Box” pastel case, used. I purchased a set of Rosemary & Co brushes and tools selected for pastels, and some Pastelmat in a comfortable size for “everyday work” as I take my first steps in this new (to me) medium.

Looks like it’s time to paint!

Every journey starts with a first step. Every painting begins with an idea. The Sennelier pastels came with a small piece of their sanded card paper, and I started there, exploring the colors, getting a feel for the medium, learning more about my limitations, my ignorance, and the nature of soft pastels (the dust! the smudging! the beautiful luminous hues!).

The very first pastel painting. 3″ x 6″, Sennelier Pastel Card, untitled sunrise, 2024.

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.

Time

I could say “my how time flies” and it would be an appropriate observation, if a bit trite and worn out. It’s true, though, whether painting or not painting, living busily or staying home during a pandemic, the time since I last posted has been full. Since my last post (two years ago), I’ve moved (again), and have a(nother) new studio to work in. I just got moved in, actually, and I’m facing my first creative project since the move.

For tedious real-life practical reasons to do with dry wall, flooring, and contractors still needing to get work done, I’ve been finding myself a bit stalled…

My big easel stands tucked back out of the way, waiting for other days, other creative impulses.

This new place inspires me and I feel moved to paint, regularly. It’s not yet time to haul out all the supplies for larger acrylic or mixed media work, and I found myself frustrated – until my stepson dropped in for a visit. He and his father are spending time together in my partner’s woodworking shop, and while I was hanging out chatting, watching, and handling various bits of scrap wood, admiring the various textures and grains, a more specific inspiration struck me – one that allows for us to work together, collaboratively, as a family.

Tiny wood “canvases” waiting for color.

We discussed the wee pieces of oak, and the vague images suggested by the grain of the wood, and the texture of some ragged edges, the result of being a bit aggressive with a plane (new skills take practice). My stepson built the tiny stand up easel. My partner shaped the pieces to make them square, and added a stand to one of them. Now it is my turn to complete the process of bringing these tiny souvenirs of my stepson’s stay to life as miniature art. It’s time for color. 🙂

It’s not a serious change of artistic direction, or any sort of large project or new series, just a sweet diversion as summer becomes autumn, a way of settling into the new studio gently, and a moment to connect creatively with my partner and his son. It gets me back into the studio following the move. A fun little celebration of the real joy to be had in creative work, too.

There’s been plenty of new work to document here. I’ve been slack about it. Better habits ahead, perhaps. 🙂

 

Kuwaiti Oil Fires

“Kuwaiti Oil Fires” 48″ x 20″ oil on stretched silk, 1991 was one of the last paintings I ever painted in oil. Soon after, I gave up oil painting in favor of acrylic.

I served on active duty in the United States Army. I deployed for Desert Shield. I participated in the ground war during Desert Storm. I will never forget the sight of the fires on the horizon, during the night, as we convoyed through a minefield during the start of the ground war, at the end of February, 1991. The terrible destruction, the ferocity of it, even at a distance – there’s no forgetting it. This painting hangs in my home, a part of my permanent collection, a reminder of what human beings make themselves capable of, and at what terrible cost it comes.

If we measure the worth of art by the weight of it’s meaning to the artist who creates it, this is one of my most precious works. It is certainly one that is heavy with the weight of its meaning to me, personally. I stretched the canvas for it myself, with the help of my partner-at-the-time. I used silk, in order to stretch it very tight, and for the exceedingly fine grain of the fabric. I prepared the canvas myself. I made use of unusual pigments, caput mortuum, asphaltic emulsion, and others now lost not only from the sales catalog, but also from my recollection. I painted it hoping, somehow, to communicate a moment, and an experience, to share the unshareable. It is a favorite piece with visitors to my home, and it struck me strangely, this morning, that I hadn’t written about it.

It’s very different than more recent work. It remains quite dear to me, and a painful reminder that there are no “do-overs” for some of the choices we make.

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Emotion and Reason

"Emotion and Reason"  24" x 36" acrylic on canvas w/ceramic details and glow 2012

“Emotion and Reason” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic details and glow 2012

“Emotion and Reason” is a piece of work that straddles changes in style, palette, materials, and inspiration. It was painted at a point in my life when the chaos of getting through menopause was wreaking havoc in my relationships, personally and professionally, and much of my experience of attempting to create order and make sense of it was complicated by the emotional side of my experience. Through it all, I had the support of my partner, who exists more on the rational side of life than the overtly emotional, contrasting my own experience at that time which listed far toward the emotional side. This painting is inspired by our shared experience of life and love – and of emotion and reason. (It’s also not for sale, being in the private collection of my partner.)

Detail of "Emotion and Reason"

Detail of “Emotion and Reason”

This piece is also lovely when charged, and shot in dim light (or darkness).

"Emotion and Reason" glowing

“Emotion and Reason” glowing

Communion

"Communion" 24" x 36" acrylic on canvas w/ceramic details 2011

“Communion” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic details 2011

“Communion” is a piece inspired by love and loving, and by both the effort and rewards in building lasting love between partners over time. Inspired specifically by my relationship with my partner Michael, it also speaks of a profound change in my own understanding of love and loving, intimacy, and what love demands of us as beings seeking fulfillment, value, and nurturing. A larger work at 24″ x 36″, it represents the way love looms large in the human experience, the emotion – as with the footprint of the canvas – being far more vast and encompassing that the enveloped figures seem to require to be visible. This piece is in my personal collection, and is not for sale.

Portrait of the Artist’s Tears

"Portrait of the Artist's Tears" 5" x 7" watercolor on paper 1986

“Portrait of the Artist’s Tears” 5″ x 7″ watercolor on paper 1986

One of my earliest abstractions, this small ‘self-portrait’ of the emotional climate of my life at the time remains a personal favorite, in my own collection.  On a more trivial note, it is also the first piece I chose to upload to the new site, although I have no particular ‘reason why’. Fondness? Sentiment? Hard to say; I know I continue to value the simple lines, and powerful colors in this small piece.