Category: Exhibition

Today Last Day at Bromfield

6/30/2019

Drawing 06·29·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

Funny it is, I find this, the last day of my solo exhibition at Bromfield Gallery (Boston), a Good Thing! I just want to get back to my daily routine of making art. I am almost there. Next week my last solo show of this summer begins at Lyme New Hampshire's Converse Free Library (opens July 8). The library will exhibit mostly drawings, and a couple paintings. The Summer Juried Exhibition at AVA Gallery (Lebanon, NH) will exhibit my painting "How's It Gonna End" and a drawing (opens July 12).

Yesterday's drawing is massively worked. It took three days! This complicated manner of working on drawings is a new thing for me. Intuition is driving my steps. My path is revealing itself, surprise by surprise.

My Olive Trees

5/18/2019

Drawing 05·17·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

I continue to struggle to keep thinking, to keep making art in the midst of manufacturing. I am making stretchers and wood panels, putting my paintings upon them. For my drawings I am cutting matts, placing them in frames. Within the discomfort of my current situation I made this drawing. It is a good one. It triumphs over my struggle. Right now I feel this is my plight. Perhaps this is always. I believe, if I just keep doing it, I will triumph. I stick-in there, keep thinking, keep doing; I have not found a problem I cannot solve. My ideas pull me forward. The first limitation is the quantity of my ideas. The second is the amount of time I have to research, to solve these ideas on paper and canvas. I have many ideas, more than I have time to follow. Ideas just keep spilling out of me. I worry about time. It is the limitation of time I worry most about. In his poem, On Living, the Turkish poet, Nâzım Hikmet, wrote, "You must take living seriously that even at seventy, for example, you'll plant olive trees — and not for your children, either, but because although you fear death you don't believe it, because living, I mean, weighs heavier." My paintings, my drawings, are my olive trees; I plant them because my ideas weigh heavy. I must nurture them, make them real. I do not relish looking forward because, although I fear death, I do not take my time to believe in it because living overwhelms me, is heavy upon me. Yes, I take my moments one at a time.

On Living   --Nâzım Hikmet (1902-1963)

I
Living is no laughing matter:
   you must live with great seriousness
       like a squirrel, for example--
   I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,
       I mean living must be your whole occupation.
Living is no laughing matter:
   you must take it seriously,
   so much so and to such a degree
   that, for example, your hands tied behind your back,
your back to the wall,
   or else in a laboratory
   in your white coat and safety glasses,
   you can die for people--
   even for people whose faces you've never seen,
   even though you know living
   is the most real, the most beautiful thing.
I mean, you must take living so seriously
   that even at seventy, for example, you'll plant olive trees--
   and not for your children, either,
   but because although you fear death you don't believe it,
   because living, I mean, weighs heavier.

II
Let's say we're seriously ill, need surgery--
which is to say we might not get up
           from the white table.
Even though it's impossible not to feel sad
           about going a little too soon,
we'll still laugh at the jokes being told,
we'll look out the window to see if it's raining,
or still wait anxiously
       for the latest newscast. . .
Let's say we're at the front--
   for something worth fighting for, say.
There, in the first offensive, on that very day,
   we might fall on our face, dead.
We'll know this with a curious anger,
but we'll still worry ourselves to death
about the outcome of the war, which could last years.
Let's say we're in prison
and close to fifty,
and we have eighteen more years, say,
before the iron doors will open.
We'll still live with the outside,
with its people and animals, struggle and wind--
I mean with the outside beyond the walls.
I mean, however and wherever we are,
we must live as if we will never die.

III
This earth will grow cold,
a star among stars
   and one of the smallest,
a gilded mote on blue velvet--
      I mean this, our great earth.
This earth will grow cold one day,
not like a block of ice
or a dead cloud even
but like an empty walnut it will roll along
      in pitch-black space . . .
You must grieve for this right now
—you have to feel this sorrow now--
for the world must be loved this much
   if you're going to say "I lived". . .

From Poems of Nazim Hikmet, translated by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk, published by Persea Books.
Copyright © 1994 by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk. Used with the permission of Persea Books. All rights reserved.

Feeling Better

5/2/2019

Drawing 05·01·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

Yesterday it felt good to be back; I am making art! I felt insight and glory. Nice! This is the stuff I was born to do! That said, I need to prepare to deliver paintings and drawings to Bromfield Gallery in Boston, due June 3. I cannot rest. I must make both art and frames.

Yesterday's drawing examines my recent interests and ideas. It has a central pyramid and two side panels. This frontal design invites the viewer to enter. Then the wandering begins. Consequently it is a highly successful drawing. As I said earlier, it is good to be back!!!

Delivery & Return

5/1/2019

Drawing 04·30·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

When did I last make art? On Friday (April 26) I delivered my paintings and drawings to AVA Gallery. My solo exhibition at AVA opens May 10. Nine paintings and twelve drawings will be shown. Below is the AVA Exhibition Announcement card.

Yesterday's drawing made me feel rusty. It did not come easy. For the next month I will be making art, but I will also be preparing paintings and drawings for my upcoming solo show at Bromfield Gallery in Boston.

Ready or Not...

4/24/2019

Drawing 04·23·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

I would like to sit here and chat with you, but I got to get ready. In two days I deliver 11 paintings and 12 drawings to AVA Gallery for the June 10 opening of my one-person exhibit.

Yesterday's drawing explores some of my recent ideas, but fails at exploring others. I am trying to put ALL my ideas together in one drawing. I will get there, but I must admit this to myself: The distraction of getting ready for an exhibition is heavy. I know I must accept this distraction as real and necessary, despite my wanting to rebel against this outside-of-myself organizing influence.

The Confusion of Getting Ready

4/21/2019

Drawing 04·20·2019, 20x16 inches, pencil on paper

As I made yesterday's drawing I felt rusty, a little out of touch with my present ideas. But here it is, and here I am. I continue on the labor of readying my paintings and drawings for the AVA Gallery exhibition; my works will be delivered this coming Friday, April 26.

In making yesterday's drawing I had to wrangle with myself; I had to force myself to focus on my two most present interests: (1) Full frontal composition akin to the means Pablo Picasso used, and (2) A greater involvement with the emotional subtleties that are available when negative space is used effectively. Yesterday's drawing approached both of these interests, but became dark and menacing as it was worked and re-worked; I hit it with an extreme amount of pencil marks. This drawing did not come easily.

Today, I finish touching-up the last two paintings going to AVA Galley, and I framed two of the four more drawings I must frame for the AVA exhibit. Perhaps I will get a chance to draw. I very much want to keep in touch with my current thoughts.

Pablo Picasso, "Three Musicians", oil on canvas

Pluggin'

4/19/2019

Drawing 04·17·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

Currently my studio time is 90% "getting ready" and 10% making original art. I much prefer doing the latter, but the former is necessary. Exhibiting new art is very important to me; I want to interact with viewers. The batch of drawings and paintings for the AVA Gallery exhibit are almost ready. I am framing drawings now, and I continue touch-up paintings on canvas that are now stretched on wooden stretcher bars OR mounted on wood panels.

The drawing I show today was executed two days ago. It is a good one. It will mostly likely be shown at Bromfield Gallery in Boston. I will not be delivering work to Bromfield till June 3 (by that time many new drawings will have been made; this one may not make the cut).

For the Better - Revision Coming

4/5/2019

Drawing 04·04·2019 (state 1), pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

As good as yesterday's drawing is, I believe it can be better. There is a thrust of darkness that begins in the upper middle and moves diagonally to the lower portion of this drawing. The clarity of this thrust gets a bit vague in the lower portion of the the drawing. I believe, if I enhance this movement it will enhance the drawing. The proof will come in the doing. I will post its final state tomorrow.

FYI: I have been busy framing works for the first of my Spring/Summer exhibitions. I deliver works to AVA Gallery (Lebanon, NH) on April 26 (opening on May 10). I will neglect my new paintings till the older paintings are framed, cleaned-up, varnished, ready to go to AVA. I will continue to make drawings. Making Art is ingrained in me, rewarding to me as necessary to problem solving life and living. Art to me is an indicator of Life; I cannot stop doing it. I believe my recent drawings are excellent, perhaps the best I have ever done. This reward of quality keeps me involved, day by day, relentlessly.

Announcing!

3/13/2019

Drawing 03·12·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

I apprenticed for four years with a wonderful artist, Seymour Leichman. One of Seymour's first decrees to me, his apprentice and art student, was this: "A work of art should be an announcement, a performance, similar to one by a great actor on the stage; it should speak clearly and grandly, it should exude quality and strength of purpose."

Today I show you two announcements, both with clarity and purpose. My first announcement is yesterday's drawing. It is a head-on classical composition. I enjoy its insistent compositional motion which forces the viewer to wander left, right, up and down; this is grand classicism, reminiscent of Pablo Picasso's best work (e.g., "Guernica").

My second announcement is a reproduction of the postcard for my upcoming exhibitions this Spring and Summer (see below).

2019 Spring & Summer Exhibitions – Announcement Postcard

Getting Nervous

2/17/2019

"The Doctrine of Liberty" (2019 No.1, state 11), 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}

I am beginning to wake up earlier than usual. My anxiety is increasing. I have begun to worry about my upcoming exhibitions. I need to plan well. I need to get all my ducks in a row. There will be an overlap in two exhibits: AVA Gallery, Lebanon, NH (April 29 thru June 14) and Bromfield Gallery, Boston, MA (June 3 thru June 30). The overlap in timing is nerve-racking because I want to show my most recent works at both galleries. During the last week of the AVA show I will swap a few pieces out, moving them to Bromfield. The best of my most recent work will be at both Bromfield and AVA for their openings.

I will begin to plan both shows today. This will relieve some of my anxiety. Trying to insure my best work is seen everywhere, whenever and wherever it is shown, is a big anxiety maker. Yesterday I nicely brought the painting, "The Doctrine of Liberty", to near-conclusion. This is reassuring. However, making art is so important to me, so imbedded in my psyche as necessary to balance and quietude, that I get anxious when I think about giving up the making of art in order to mount an exhibition.

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