Category: Mystery

Slow Going

11/5/2022

Drawing 11·02·0222, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

Getting there without knowing how, nor do I know the whereabouts of "there." The majesty is in the mystery. Such if the making of Art.

0 Comments

Looking for Me, Myself, and I

12/19/2021

Drawing 12·18·2021 No.1, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

Drawing 12·18·2021 No.2, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

Selfish it is, but it is what I do. I am a mystery to unravel. I am endlessly fascinated by unknowns. I have many unknowns. Once a Scientist, for many years I have been an Artist. I do the same thing in both professions. I seek to find. These two drawings are as different as are my mysteries. I will continue to seek.

Not an Easy Life

7/15/2021

"Gonna Speak to the Crowd" (2021 No.5, state 8), oil on canvas, 62¾x57⅜ inches, {"I'm gonna spare the defeated — I'm gonna speak to the crowd. I'm gonna spare the defeated, boys, I'm going to speak to the crowd. I am goin' to teach peace to the conquered. I'm gonna tame the proud." - Bob Dylan, "Lonesome Day Blues" (2001)}

Yesterday I was flying. I destroyed much of the earlier version of the painting, "Gonna Speak to the Crowd". Here is its replacement. However, today I am in quandary; I am following a mystery... where is this painting going? This is not an easy life. I return to actively follow clues, despite my being clueless. It is simple work, like opening a window when it is hot in the studio. I may need a day away from this painting to regurgitate and ruminate. Where did it begin? Where does it want to go?

Fool's Dilemma

7/2/2021

Drawing 07·01·2021, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

"Fool's Cap Too Long" (2021 No.6, state 2), oil on canvas, 63x57¾ inches, {"We swim, day by day, on a river of delusions.... But life is a sincerity. In lucid intervals we say, 'Let there be an entrance for me into realities, I have worn the fool's cap too long.'" - Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), "Use of Great Men," from the collection of essays, "Representative Men" (1850)}

This is going to end well. Getting there is the mystery that is defeating self-foolery. My dilemmas are many. I am going to kick the out, one at a time, perhaps several per day. Follow me and you shall see.

How's It Gonna End?

2/21/2019

"How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2, state 1), oil on canvas, 54x34 inches

The painting "How's It Gonna End?" (2019 No.2) begins as usual for these recent times. I have a feeling. I don't know where it's going. How is it going to end? Thank you to Tom Waits for helping me verbalize my consistently mysterious process. I relish this path. I accept the step by step as exciting, a murder mystery unraveling. I killing the white canvas, replacing it with marks, paint and color. "A tree born crooked will never grow straight. She sunk like a hammer into the lake. A long lost letter and an old leaky boat. Promises are never meant to keep. And I want to know, the same thing everyone wants to know, How's it going to end?"

How's It Gonna End?
-Tom Waits

He had 3 whole dollars
A worn out car
And a wife who was
Leaving for good
Life's made of trouble
Worry pain and struggle
She wrote good bye in
The dust on the hood
They found a map of Missouri
Lipstick on the glass
They must've left
In the middle of the night

And I want to know
The same thing
Everyone wants to know
How's it going to end?

Behind a smoke colored curtain
The girl disappeared
They found out that the ring was a fake
A tree born crooked
Will never grow straight
She sunk like a hammer into the lake
A long lost letter and
An old leaky boat
Promises are never meant
To keep

And I want to know
The same thing
Everyone wants to know
How's it going to end?

The barn leaned over
The vultures dried their wings
The moon climbed up an empty sky
The sun sank down
Behind the tree on the hill
There's a killer and he's coming
Thru the rye
But maybe he's the father
Of that lost little girl
It's hard to tell in this light

And I want to know
The same thing
Everyone wants to know
How it going to end?
Drag your wagon and your plow
Over the bones of the dead
Out among the roses and the weeds
You can never go back
And the answer is no
And wishing for it only
Makes it bleed

Joel Tornabene was broken
On the wheel
Shane and Bum Mahoney on the lamb
The grain was as gold
As Sheila's hair
All the way from Liverpool
With all we could steal
He was robbed of twenty dollars
His body found stripped
Cast into the harbour
There and drowned

And I want to know
The same thing
Everyone wants to know
How it going to end?

The sirens are snaking their
Way up the hill
It's last call somewhere in
The world
The reptiles blend in with the
Color of the street
Life is sweet at the edge
Of a razor
And down in the front row of
An old picture show
The old man is asleep
As the credits start to roll

And I want to know
The same thing
Everyone wants to know
How it going to end?

Roar and More

7/19/2017

"2017 No.11" (state 3), oil on canvas, 44x50 inches

Out-loud thinking is becoming obsolete. Processing never dies. Telling the truth is mandatory, albeit nearly impossible. Verbal truth is more difficult than visual truth. Words are like nails. Images, not so much. Images are full of nuance. Nuance is required to communicate clearly, precisely. Deeds are a test of veracity. Images can be good or images can be bad. I am uncomfortable looking at yesterday's visual activity. That is helpful. It leaves me wanting more. The unravelling mystery calls me back. It's like a good mystery novel, the ending is obscured because of factual insufficiency. I must return to unravel that which is known yet not apparent.

Drawing 07·18·2017, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

Over and Yon

7/13/2017

"2017 No.10" (state 11), oil on canvas, 50x63 inches

I am over this one. I am done with the painting 2010 No.10. Yon I go. This painting was a long time coming, but it came. Yonder is a mystery, but I am anxious for the perceptive unknowing that leads to realization. There is here. There means a new painting will begin. The genesis of a new work is a mystery I enjoy. Look at yesterday's drawing! I did not see this one coming. There are times in my artistic life that I simply allow without vigor. This drawing represents me being there, immersed without critical review. I followed it where it wanted to go. Does this make it good? No, but the meditation it represents is mindful. There is some there, there.

Drawing 07·12·2017, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches