Category: Nuance

Two There or Almost

10/8/2023

"2023 No.7", (state 13), oil on canvas, 52⅞x42⅝

"2023 No.10" (state 07), oil on canvas, 51½x40½ inches

Small Concentrations make Big Differences

1/25/2023

"Reclamation" (2022 No.12, state 18), oil on canvas. 53⅝x56⅛ inches

Reproduction Sucks

8/17/2021

Drawing 08·15·2021, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

"Honorable Terms" (2021 No.7, state 10), oil on canvas, 52x59⅞ inches, {"The roots of reason are imbedded in feelings — feelings that have formed and accumulated and developed over a lifetime of personality-shaping. These feelings are not a source of weakness but a resource of strength. They are not there for occasional using but are inescapable. To know what we think, we must know how we feel. It is feeling that shapes belief and forms opinion. It is feeling that directs the strategy of argument. It is our feelings, then, with which we must come to honorable terms." - James E. Miller, Jr., "Word, Self, Reality: The Rhetoric of Imagination" (1972)}

You have to see it to believe it. Reproduction does, indeed, suck. Reproduction cannot represent the fine quality of a fine work of art. The more nuanced my work becomes the more my effort at adequate reproduction fails. The drawing I show you today took me three days to complete. That is long time for me. It is a complex drawing; it is subtle and nuanced. The painting, "Honorable Terms", has not changed since last I showed it here. I photographed "Honorable Terms" a second time, it remains in state 10. This reproduction of "Honorable Terms" is much better than last I showed here.

The Darkness that is Light

8/13/2021

It takes darkness to make light. This is true for canvas and paper. In the real world, the actuality of light is electromagnetic waves from an energy source. Paintings and drawings have no energy source, except the intellectual and emotional energy of construction. Thus comes the painting "Honorable Terms".

A note about reproduction: There is nothing so difficult to reproduce as subtlety of nuance within the darker values of a drawing or a painting. I am intrigued with gradations of light found within darkness. So was Albert Pinkham Ryder.

Albert Pinkham Ryder, "Jonah", oil on canvas, 1885

Intrigue!

1/24/2019

"The Doctrine of Liberty" (2019 No.1, state 3), 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}

Just when I believe I know what I am thinking about — thinking I actually know something — along comes the loop. I am circling, using my body of knowledge to find a little truth by moving a blank canvas to something filled with intelligible marks. My target keeps adjusting itself; it looks different today than it did yesterday! I am in a problem solving loop, looking for answers that make sense. It is the classic two steps forward, one step back, two steps forward, et cetera.... I believe this process is better described as spiraling toward an answer. There is a lot of brainstorming; trying this, trying that. No answer is ever absolutely correct; no absolute truth is ever found! I will be making a lot more paintings. This is a mystery novel, full of intrigue!

There is joy in Mudville. Casey did not strike out, but the endings keep getting better. "The Doctrine of Liberty" is becoming an excellent painting. It speaks more truth with every working session. I am becoming a better artist. My paintings are singing more clearly, with greater volume. This loudness is not about contrast; it is about subtlety. Nuance speaks more loudly than differentiation or incongruity.

Casey at the Bat
BY ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that--
We’d put up even money now with Casey at the bat.

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey’s getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile on Casey’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped--
“That ain’t my style,” said Casey. “Strike one,” the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
“Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted some one on the stand;
And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.”

“Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clinched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.

Return & Prepare

9/7/2018

"The Intervening Tick" (2018 No.6, state 7), oil on canvas, 49x33 inches {"Is that where wise men want us to live; in that intervening tick, the tiny slot that occurs after you have spent hours searching downtown for that new club and just before you give up and head back home?" - Billy Collins, "The Present", from "New Ohio Review" 2017}

Drawing 09·06·2018, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

I am a man of intense nuance, questioning each and every stroke of color, form, and light reflectance. Yesterday I completed my last pass upon the painting The Intervening Tick. Regrettably I also looked again at Along for the Ride; I have to call that painting done too! I always see nuances that could be better served. I should move on, so I will, decisively so! Tomorrow I will strip my last two canvases from my work wall and begin new ones. Lessons learned must go somewhere; that somewhere is now, not looking back. This is me counseling myself to begin new paintings.

Yesterday's drawing is me trying to find the next step that makes sense. This drawing is helpful as preparation for the nervous leap I will take tomorrow on newly hung blank canvases.

The Almost but not Quite

2/1/2018

"2017 No.14" (state 16), oil on canvas, 63x63 inches

Drawing 01·30·2018, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

After sixteen efforts, the painting 2017 No.14 is on the edge of being finished. It is in these moments, just prior to completion, that my excitement runs highest. I having been chasing this game across the savanna; I have caught up. There it is! With skill the kill can be had. It is time to be careful and bold. It is time to pay attention to nuance and detail.

The drawing shown was made on January 30, 2018. It is claustrophobically clogged with rock-like bolder-like forms. Relief from this clog of forms occurs at the top of composition. It is masterful. I am beginning to accept my mastery as authentic.

Impinge by Reverb

12/15/2017

"2017 No.14" (state 4), oil on canvas, 47x44 inches

Drawing 12·14·2017, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

The world of my pictures wants to impinge upon the world of my living. Immediacy calls for reverberation. It brings attention. There is intimacy in my request. Yesterday's drawing is a surreal blend of ground and sky. They don't mix well. This is different from the reverb seen in state 4 of the painting 2017 No.14. I know, despite our inability to see it, there is commonality of approach. The drawing and the painting ask for attention using surface junction versus surface disjunction. Vocal disturbance enhances the nuance of a signal's meaning; this is called reverb. I am using its visual equivalent. Of course my analogy is impure. The idea is not. I hope you are looking because you are disturbed by my visual means and intrigued by my visual content.

The Dunder in Wunder, or not?

9/15/2017

Drawing 09·14·2017, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

I often worry I am too much into detail. I agressively search to find, thus I am overwhelmed by the activity of seeking nuance. Do I enjoy it? I do. Yesterday's drawing is full of finesse. It surprises me with its clarity of forms, its clarity in shadows cast (both by the forms on ground and on the surfaces of the forms themselves). Spatial play is animated by light. The forms are positioned by their surface values as well as by the shadows they cast on the ground. (We all know the white paper is actually as flat as flat can be.) Am I a dunderhead because I wonder too much? No, this is the intricacy demanded by sophisticated problem solving.

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

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