 "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2, state 9), oil on canvas, 59.5x32 inches {"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's it going to end?" -Tom Waits}  Drawing 03·07·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches One day comes, I believe I know how to do this. The next days comes, I feel awash with more questions that are without easy answers. Nothing is obviously right or wrong. I wander as if in a desert. I am contemplating. I am alone. There is doubt. I am working. I am brainstorming. I am seeking. I find; I question everything I find. Am I being successful? I do not know. Such is the process of making-art.
Two days ago I believed I had made a breakthrough drawing. I tried to repeat the process. No two days, not two drawings, no two acts are identical. Nothing can be repeated. Each activity stands by itself. The path is evident; the next step lays before me, but the place I am going is not known. I accept this. This process is lively and mysterious. I trust it is worthwhile; I believe it will reward me with more: more knowledge, more ideas, more questions, more results. I will possess a lot of more!  "Chaos, Stillness & Prayer" (2018 No.9, state 9), oil on canvas, 54x36 inches {"Art has something to do with the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos. A stillness which characterizes prayer, too, and the eye of the storm.... an arrest of attention in the midst of distraction." -Saul Bellow, "Writers at Work: Third Series", 1967} Almost, but not quite — the painting "Chaos, Stillness & Prayer" requires today to make real its possibilities. Today it will transition to full reality. Angst is taking over. I need to begin a new painting. I have new ideas that need to take shape on canvas. There is hunger in me to self-discover forward. My success rate, as measured by the quality of my paintings, is greater than ever before. My new works always speak more accurately to me than my past works, thus adding to my angst. Time is limited, now and in the future. I choose to maximize my ideas.
 Drawing 01·19·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches Never perfect! Always failure! Always a modicum of success! The next is always better. Examining work is good. Examination informs; it helps me see necessary adjustments; it makes clear the difference between proper notes and those out of tune. I learn. There is a lot to like in yesterday's drawing. Learning is endless. I am on a path; a faithful path to better work.
 Drawing 12·15·2018, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches The risk is this: Going it alone is lonely. I am following a path that is purely mine; therefore not treaded by anyone else, not ever. I am educating myself to see my way. This means I am alone in my endeavor. No one else sees my way; no one else has ever seen my way. Why would I expect anyone, except myself, to understand my means of communication? Yes, I am doing a good job of communicating to myself. I am revealing important information pertaining to myself. This journey is full of self-satisfaction. Yet, what I fully want and what I get are not quite the same. I want my work to have two levels of communication: (1) Revealing and discovering myself, and (2) Communicating to others so I can dialog about existence and universal human concerns. The risk, therefore, pertains to No.2. I have yet to get the response to my art that assures me I am succeeding at communication to others. This is failure. My success is me growing my self-knowledge; with every work I make I know more about my intuition, driving force, and reason to live.
 Drawing 12·01·2018, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches So, a nit is the egg of a parasitic insect. What does that have to do with art-making? A nit sounds ugly and disgusting. Making art can be involved in ugly and disgusting, but I do NOT think of my art that way. I do, however, believe my many disparate efforts, especially in drawing, are parasitic by nature. After I have produced them (e.g., yesterday's drawing) they cling to my intellect like a parasite. They are there; they have invaded me. Going forward I will be aware of these parasites of ideas whether I want to or not. Yes, some of these nuggets are squished; I do try to discard them if I believe they are useless to me. I am never fully successful at denying their presence — thus the nit-likeness of them! All this is written because I am unsure if yesterday's drawing has a lot of helpful information for me. I define "helpful" as instructive in my movement toward self-realization through art-making.
 "Burnt Norton" (2018 No.8, state 23), oil on canvas, 63x66 inches {"What might have been is an abstraction remaining a perpetual possibility; Only in a world of speculation what might have been and what has been point to one end, which is always present." -T.S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"}  Drawing 11·28·2018, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches The painting, Burnt Norton, is complete! Is it OK for the creator of an artwork to call one of his works a masterpiece? Burnt Norton is full of mastery. In making Burnt Norton I was constantly surprised at my ability to solve its many problems. One after the other, as they presented themselves, I solved its problems. No matter public opinion, I declare Burnt Norton a Masterpiece!
Yesterday's drawing also surprised me. It too had many problems to solve, from go to finish. I was enormously prepared. One problem after another was solved. I have always wanted my work to be so completely skill-based that only I could pull off the activity required to problem-solve my artworks. This desire, to be masterful in my definitive skills, is a product to my athletic past. I also watched my son become a masterful baseball player. There is the routine of practice, a repetitive practicing of the necessary skills, an athlete must do to act correctly, with authority, in the moment a problem presents itself. In baseball the batter must make a split second decision on the pitched ball, i.e., is it hittable? What kind of pitch is it? Do I to need adjust for the ball's movement? Do I want to it hit left, right, or up the middle? Hard? Soft? Yeah, in making art I make similar immediate decisions; well honed skills are required for quickness in decision-making that come moment by moment during the artwork's creation. The big difference is time. A painting is made over weeks; a drawing is made over hours. Athletic skills are callable on a more immediate time frame. In art and athletics enormous practice must occur to achieve these kind of callable skills.  Drawing 11·14·2018, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Approach can swing from fully intellectual to fully emotional. The sweet-spot must be somewhere in-between. The sweet-spot is not-too-soft, not-too-hard, but just-right; yes it is something Goldilocks would enjoy!
Yesterday's drawing consumed my entire studio time. That drawing is intricate and it is thoughtful, but it felt dry in-the-making. This drawing was born mostly from my intellect and less from my emotions. Does it fail the viewer because it is not fully human? This is my worry. Living well, making art well, both are not fully intellectual nor fully emotional. Art, if done well, contains a balance of intellect and emotion. So how do I do this in a way that fully represents me? Perhaps, if this drawing were a bit different it would be more emotionally successful. For instance, if the form on the bottom right were larger, would its contrast create emotional stress through a dramatic emotional juxtaposition of forms? Instead it is so well balanced as to be comfortably numb. I do not want to represent this drawing as poor, or inadequate. It is an excellent drawing; but it just does not speak with a striking amount emotional energy. I want more. OK, I know how to put together a nicely balanced composition, one that is intellectually satisfying. Again; I want more! I want to see the stresses of existence in my art; the push and pull between my intellect and my emotions. The quest is truth and representation of the authentic consequence of living. I am getting closer. Writing, as I am today, is a call for my instigating a great effort to move closer to full satisfaction, me delivering a performance that fully and completely represents all I feel and know. (Beethoven's Ninth Symphony come to mind!)  "Burnt Norton" (2018 No.8, state 21), oil on canvas, 63x66 inches {"What might have been is an abstraction; Remaining a perpetual possibility; Only in a world of speculation. What might have been and what has been point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory." -T.S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"}  "Chaos, Stillness & Prayer" (2018 No.9, state 3), oil on canvas, 54x36 inches {"Art has something to do with the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos. A stillness which characterizes prayer, too, and the eye of the storm.... an arrest of attention in the midst of distraction." -Saul Bellow, "Writers at Work: Third Series", 1967} Perfection takes time. I must not let perfection distract me from advancement. Improvement comes by avoiding the lure of perfection. Improvement means knowing when I must move to a new endeavor. The lessons learned from my inability to achieve perfection will be used as instruction during my next effort. Betterment is slow and steady work. The endeavor to reach perfection must come with acceptance; perfection will never be achieved. Thus is human reality.
Burnt Norton is so darn close to completion. I have been tweaking and altering, each change coming with its sense of necessity to the fulfillment of the piece. Simultaneously I have been working on Chaos, Stillness & Prayer. I am going to limit myself to one more session on Burnt Norton.  "Burnt Norton" (2018 No.8, state 12), oil on canvas, 63x66 inches {"What might have been is an abstraction; Remaining a perpetual possibility; Only in a world of speculation. What might have been and what has been point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory." -T.S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"} Transitioning toward success is a murky activity. Returning, back and back and back, returning until success presents itself; this is the necessary discipline. This activity bolsters confidence. I can do this. I can succeed. I have to keep returning in order to succeed. I can see Burnt Norton becoming a great success for me. It is about a painting, but it is also about my spiritual enthusiasm. Believing I can do this is 90% of the battle. This is the way I will win!
I am allowing the painting Burnt Norton to take its time. I have always felt in a hurry to get things done. Not now! At last I have learned the benefit, the resource, the merit that is Mindfulness!  "Burnt Norton" (2018 No.8, state 6), oil on canvas, 55.5x66 inches {"What might have been is an abstraction; Remaining a perpetual possibility; Only in a world of speculation. What might have been and what has been point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory." -T.S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"}  Drawing 09·23·2018, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches I worry when the going feels slow... Are my good days gone? Have I lost my intensity? Have I lost my energy? Am I too old? It takes initiative to step back and make sense of these feelings. Difficult it is to see the slow development of the painting Burnt Norton as due to personal revelation rather than personal foundering. Yesterday's drawing is insightful; it is me stretching to find robust, personally sensitive compositions. Vincent van Gogh would understand me. He would understand my fears. Vincent was relentlessly experimenting. The drawing reproduced below below was done by Van Gogh in the last year of his life. It is sanely experimental.  Vincent Van Gogh, "Wheatfields", ink on paper, 1890 |
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