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She was so certain of her eye and what she wanted that on a visit to her house some years ago with my wife, she pointed to one of my paintings that I'd given her. Sweetly, with innocent pride, she said "Did you notice where I fixed it?" The air left the room as my wife stepped back not knowing what I would do. Grandma had "fixed" my painting, adding a highlight and a shadow where she thought...
For the next couple months, ten of the still lifes - including the pair of unmentionable meats, the new pork chop and drum stick - will be on view at Susan Maasch Fine Art in Portland, Maine. They are being shown in conjunction with a much bigger exhibition of work by William Bailey and Walter Horak. Bailey's work can be found in collections ranging from the MOMA to the Smithsonian. This is,...
I think I'll be greedy.
Bitten Apple, 5" x 6"  While in college, of all things, I painted the head of a Turkey. A few years after graduation I was showing an old professor some of my newest work. With hand on chin, a knowing smile and a glint in an eye shrouded by wild graying hair, he responded, "Do you remember that Turkey you painted? That was a great turkey." On my way to what I'd naively...
With the brimstone aroma of questionable meat still in the air, I chose the other white meat as my subject. If I felt good about the beef, I feel even better about the pork.
Lucky Pork Chop, 8" x 8", oil on panel  I've been painting and drawing and making things now for some number of decades. You would imagine that by now I wouldn't be so surprised when something turns out well. I don't...
The theme continues. I may not hit the first pitch, or even the second, but I'll find the ball eventually.
Rib Steak, 12" x 9", oil on canvas  With the larger subject matter, the smaller panels wouldn't be enough. I wanted to see how these still lifes, this approach to painting, would translate to a larger piece, albeit still modest in size. And, as I tackle other much larger paintings, I...
I painted a pepper yesterday, a small habanero. Actually, I painted four.
 As the first fell into a gloomy haze of brown and orange, I stepped back, cracked my knuckles and, said to a visiting friend, "Ok. Warm up is over. Now I bring it!" As the second crashed and burned, I swore and stomped. When the paint isn't cooperating, I know better than to keep going. Or so I thought. The hours were...
I keep thinking about a swatch of red against a scumbled green below a mass of tumultuous gray, warm and cool. It's the a cargo ship on the Willamette river, the clouds torn and low. It isn't the painting I first think to paint, but that red and gray begs for it. Perhaps tomorrow, but not yet.
In the mean time, I continue my digging. A turnip - rosey, upended and cut from the dirt. Turnip, 5"...
The potato is the new golden calf. You think about it constantly. The skin is rich and nuanced with color and blemish. The eyes are also nose and mouth. It's the man in the moon. The shape is forgiving and oh so earthly right. No one will notice a wrong curve. Give it weight, give it light and shadow, give it form, maybe even some dirt, and it'll be a potato - and we will like it. If, on the...
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