 Drawing 10·01·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches  Drawing 09·25·2019 No.2 state 2, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches The largest hindrance to my success is my noxious ability to accept less than complete. You can see this happen in the second drawing I show today, but you have to go back to its original version to understand — see state 1 in this blog's post from 9/26/2019.
Yesterday's art-making felt wondrous, amazingly mindful. The drawing I made yesterday, from nothing but a white piece of paper, is one of my best. I lament my inability to reproduce it accurately, but that is nothing new. This drawing is new in its depth of confessional accuracy.  "Gunfire Across My Consciousness" (2019 No.5), oil on canvas, 47x30.5 inches {"My mind is just like a spin-dryer at full speed; my thoughts fly around my skull... Images gunfire across my consciousness... I jump in awe at the soul-filled bounty of my mind's expanse." -Christopher Nolan, Irish Writer of his reasons for writing "The Eye of the Clock", in November 8, 1987 "Observer"} Astute readers of my blog will notice the title of my newly begun painting has changed, from yesterday's intended title to today's actual title. I introduce to you, Gunfire Across My Consciousness. Technically it is oil on canvas. However, the drawing on the canvas is oil based markers, colors copper and gold. Never before have I used oil-based markers to begin a painting. Never before have l used the colors copper or gold. The thought is this: My inculcated ideas must be challenged. Hence comes oil markers, copper and gold, and the methodology used to begin this painting. The methodology is not simple alteration of technique, it is change in attitude. I challenge myself. My mind acts quickly, feels quickly. I made an effort to hang in there during its making, I allowed the marks to happen like gunshots hitting the canvas, straight out of the avalanche that is my mind's activity. (See below the full quote from Christopher Nolan's interview, published in the November 8, 1987 issue of the Observer.) "My real motive is to describe how my brain-damaged life is as normal for me as my friends able-bodied life is to them. My mind is just like a spin-dryer at full speed; my thoughts fly around my skull while millions of beautiful words cascade down into my lap. Images gunfire across my consciousness and while trying to discipline them I jump in awe at the soul-filled bounty of my mind's expanse. Try then to imagine how frustrating it is to give expression to that avalanche in efforts of one great nod after the other."  Drawing 08·27·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Over and over I have been asked to identify the artist who has influenced me most. I react different to two kind of Artist Influencers. There are artists whose splendid paintings I admire; Picasso comes to mind. There are artists who make splendid paintings, but I also admire their process, their methodology. This second category is more important to me, I have often referred to Matisse as a major influencer; of course the many discussions I had with my primary teacher and mentor, Philip Guston, will always influence my quest for truly satisfying process-methodology. Until yesterday! I have often looked at, often admired, the works of Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960-1988). Yesterday a friend of mine sent me a little book entitled, Basquiat-isms. This book is filled with splendid snippets of ideas, direct quotes from Basquiat. Here are three from that book; these make total sense to me: "I am trying to communicate an idea; I was trying to paint a very urban landscape. I was trying to make paintings different from the paintings that I saw a lot of at the time, which were mostly minimal, and they were highbrow and alienating, and I wanted to make very direct paintings that most people would feel the emotion behind when they saw them." "I feel if I work randomly, I come up with a more interesting narrative." Asked, "Do you think you are lucky?" Basquiat responded, "Talented, too." I began yesterday's drawing with as much randomness as I could muster. My intense self-educated skill took over; I worked as thoughtlessly as I could muster. Look what happened!  Jean-Michel Basquiat, "Pork Sans", oil & pencil on wood door, 211x85.5cm, 1981  Drawing 08·04·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches Even to me, yesterday's drawing sings a radical message. It conserves Western's Art's intrigue with perspective, yet creates a room-like environment inhabited by a form of many forms. It has little comfortable references to reality. This is pure three-dimensional abstraction, simultaneously conservative and radical. Viewing discomfort abounds! Is it good art? It is what it is: a test, a proving ground, research, and profoundly articulate. This drawing is filled with finesse of touch and of pencil marks. It exudes elegance in form-creation and in composition. Yet, it is disturbingly different; it is different than anything I have imagined prior to its existence. My role is not to judge, but to make, then move on to create some more.
 Drawing 07·20·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches Mysterious are the travels that reveal. Always new, always old; both! I drag ideas from the past, I disclose ideas in the present. Yesterday's drawing summarizes, questions, solidifies, and declares. It is a restrained revelation. I do not know its entire meaning. This is me in the act of self-discovery. I am making my oeuvre. This drawing feels important, like reading a poem that makes total sense because it elegantly discloses archetypal ideas. This is visually prototypical, peculiar to me.
 Drawing 07·07·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Purification is occurring, but is it right and good? There must be a middle ground that makes sense. I do like intellectual answers brought upon the viewer by asking a complexity of questions. I enjoy darting around an image, looking for sense in nonsense. Open negative space is exhilarating when handled well, when breathtakingly emotional in design. Complexity within the darkness that is shadow and form can also be emotionally breathtaking. Yesterday's drawing is a huge question. I do not pretend it is anywhere near a definitive, archetypal answer.
 Drawing 05·07·2019, pencil on paper, 16 x20 inches As wonderful as this drawing is, it is NOT all I want. I have been looking; I have been staring at my past drawings. I look, then pick out the ones I find most appealing. The more insistent the 3D spatial introduction the more I feel their emotive power. Today I will make an effort to draw from this need of mine. The 3D space you see in yesterday's drawing is minimal, it is not as robustly 3D-animated as I wish. I want the viewer to be pulled in; I want the viewer to drop into a place filled with interesting and emotive forms. The journey I am on to satisfy this need of mine is endless, but it is my journey.
 "The Doctrine of Liberty" (2019 No.1, state 9), oil on canvas, 66x59.5 inches {"I believe there is a golden thread which alone gives meaning to the political history of the West, from Marathon to Alamein, from Solon to Winston Churchill and after. This I chose to call the doctrine of liberty under the law." -Anthony Sampson, "The Changing Anatomy of Britain", 1982} Is it better to have a good dog than to make paintings? I lament not having a wonderful dog in my life; all of them gone. When they were here they helped me be calmly satisfied. Making art is rarely calming. The best it can get is where I am now! This will not last. Soon I will move to my next worry, the next problem to solve.
I feel good today because yesterday I successfully problem-solved my way through a painting. The "The Doctrine of Liberty" is good. It speaks to my ability to solve. Solutions such as this painting have grandness of spirit. The result is this moment, me feeling fulfilled and worthy. Unfortunately this satisfaction is momentary. Having the constant companion of a good dog lasted longer. "The Doctrine of Liberty" is grand; it is an imposing painting. It talks boldly and subtly. Its details and its overall composition are both interesting. Simultaneity of the emotive quality of big and small are important to me. This painting is doing it!  Drawing 01·30·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Insight comes in many varieties. Sometimes it is self-induced. Often it occurs because I see something in my environment that indicates there is a better way. My environment includes people and books and history and magazines and blogs and reproductions of art and memories of the art I love. The drawing I show today is me reacting to the forms in my painting "The Doctrine of Liberty". This drawing is insightful. It occurred because I was seeking a means to muster maximum strength from the forms in "The Doctrine of Liberty" — particularly the major letter-G-like form in the left half. Yesterday's blog post referred to Pablo Picasso. Picasso once remarked that he had tried so many disparate means to make a painting that generations of artists would use his loose ends. This has happened to me. Yesterday I showed Picasso's painting "Figures at the Seaside". In it the forms are not simply rounded, as some of my larger forms tend to be; the forms in "Figures at the Seaside" have hard, soft, and rounded edges. This painting gave me insight, as do other works by Picasso that deal with abstract forms that resemble the kind of forms I tend to generate. You can see it in the drawing I show you today. Below I attach a couple other works by Picasso that investigate the means to animate three-dimensional forms.  Pablo Picasso, "Seated Bather on the Beach", oil on canvas, 163x129.5 cm, 1929  Pablo Picasso, "Bather", 1929  Drawing 01·13·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Here and there I have done drawings that speak more loudly to me than others. In plastic sleeves they are placed upon my work wall. I look at them, day after day, over and over; slowly, v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y, I comprehend the reason the few speak more potently than others. I like yesterday's drawing very much. Yesterday's drawing does speak potently to me. Yet I cannot judge it well so quickly. I have placed it upon my work wall, in a plastic sleeve next to the other drawings I have found lastingly potent. It will take some time, slow contemplative time, before I know if it is powerful enough to be placed in my pantheon of most influential drawings. Yesterday's drawing is excellent; I know now it is excellent, but does it have lasting emotional and intellectual qualities. I seek tunes that forever sing deeply upon return upon return upon return. This one calls deeply to me right now. Yep, it is emotive. Yes, it is powerful in intellect and in strength of feeling. Will it remain one of my most meaningful works? Slowly, over time and many looks, I shall know.
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November 2019
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