I dream of painting figures dancing with goblins and wolves. And so paint barns instead. Landscapes, like still lives, are easy to mock but I love them both. Fueled by a vacation to sunny and warm Seattle, with another deadline looming, I painted hill, grass, tree and building.

Island, 48" x 36", Oil on Canvas


Sinking, 24" x 24", Oil on Canvas


Amity, 40" x 30", Oil on Canvas


(the photos...

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Included in a show opening tonight, along with a half dozen or so other pieces, is this, the final version of a painting I've posted several times recently:

Pennsylvania, 48" x 36", Oil on Canvas


I may like it a little too much - It's looseness coupled with a strong geometry, the fairly subtle shifts in color between planes of the buildings against the strong contrast of the buildings...

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Pennsylvania, 48" x 36", Oil on Canvas - work in progress


By late morning I'm on my way to the studio. I scrape the palette clean, admonish myself for never cleaning brushes, move solvent around from jar to jar (removing the sediment), and wonder who convinced me that I had any talent or skill or whatever. Someone with talent wouldn't be scared of a little patch of white canvas.

I...

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Yesterday I woke with a jaw aching from habit and stale useless worry. I woke remembering that I didn't need to clench my way through another day. The big project that I'd worked on for more months than I have teeth in that sore jaw was finally complete. Since the holidays I'd poured countless hours into it. Many a night the past year was interrupted with anxiety over whether or not the finish...

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My wife is laughing at me right now. I'm staring at my computer with too many thoughts. What does she know? Does she know that abstract and representational work are flavors of the same beverage? Does she realize that when DeKooning was throwing paint, he was on the same path once walked by Velazquez? The path may be well worn, but I might need a better machete to clear the brambles (those...

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The rain hasn't arrived quite yet. The air is crisp and the sky is unpaintable blue. The wind plucks at the last golden leaves clinging to trees hunkering down for our brief winter. Listen to the quiet noise of fall.
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Does the name of the child determine its personality? Not if it's name is John or Jill or even Jesus. But if you name it "Untitled #5" or "Infidel fallen angry into the mouth...

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I hold onto a few illusions about what it is I do. Whatever value art has, I'm not curing cancer or unclogging toilets*. In the midst of the economic turmoil we're all hearing about or living, for more than a moment it seemed almost inappropriate to share new paintings and prattle on about my latest existential angst or successes. But what else can I or any of us do? At best, we can try to be...

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I know I should be fussing over mailing lists.
And mighty landscapes and introspective figurative narratives.
But right now, at this moment, I love paint.
At some point the thought creeps in, "I can do anything I want."
And so I paint another piece of meat.

Lamb Chop 4, 8" x 8"


This piece, some other new portraits meat, as well as some other work is now on display at BICA. We're having a...

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