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| 2006 |
Ah, the year that was: I survived, always a plus, less significant in the moment than in hindsight, especially re-reading the news! Here's a selection of image and text highlights from a year's cycle of painting, including some occasional living. It was interesting in editing this to realize how much the year was about a cycle of solving a few select issues, both technically and in terms of the relationship of this work to commerce, and to watch the text portion evolve. There are also several sterling examples of unreliable first-person narration: many ideas or directions that seemed fertile simply died on the vine, and I seem to have come up with the perfect new medium about twice a week. There's also an ongoing tension between more classical or thought-out work and an alla prima approach: which is still going on. And I did finally complete the medium quest begun on the tenth of January. But, I'm giving the plot away! Have fun, and expect the unexpected. You can download a printer-friendly version for those long winter nights.
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| december 05 |
 12-6-05: Made this copy of Corot's Crecy and Brie Road yesterday to test a new ground, spurred on by my last outdoor painting. Very interesting on several levels: the mix of green and brown is very subtle and unexpected, and the real key is an orange ochre. I used some cobalt green in addition to terra verte, but this might not be necessary. Shadow was cobalt blue and trans Mars brown. For the last year I've been working on the medium, but oops, many things appear to be possible with the ground as well: this is a look I've been trying to get for many years, and it's just straight paint. Kind of embarrassing!
Had a dream that seems appropos to what's been going on. I was wandering along a dirt road in the afternoon when I saw a big game in progress in a field surrounded by trees. Lots of people were playing something very involved using apples as balls. It was slightly chaotic, but had a kind of rhythm. The apples were flying! They were very colorful and attractive apples, it was all sort of Yeatsian, and as they were all over the place I picked one up and bit into it. But it was very strange inside, utterly rotten, not really food at all. I picked up another one and tried it, same thing. Someone turned to me and said, "They're all like that."
The apples, of course, are the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. That is, duality in its myriad forms, the mental idea of judging one aspect of creation as more or less worthy than another. And it does seem true that, fascinating as they are, these ideas are all the same and just a game. Food, however, for thought?
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 12-31-05: My friend Jill lived in Alaska so she'll paint in any weather. But even she said it was cold this morning, low teens and snowing, really damp. We lasted two hours, thawed out once in the car, traded holiday yarns. Used Eminent oil from the formulas page as a medium, it gelled in the cold and this gave a dense, Barbizon look to the paint. It was hard to make any detail, but my glove system worked, two thin pairs. The fun part was getting the cars back turned around on the ice. This is Snake Mountain looking east towards the Green Mountains.
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| january |
 1-6-06: Went to Montreal yesterday with some painting oriented friends and saw the Provence show. Hard to describe, lots of different styles. Saw paintings for the first time by Monticelli, who influenced Van Gogh significantly, and Olive, a very interesting later painter of more realistic landscape with great technical and stylistic range. Monticelli used tons of paint on what looks like pieces of furniture, dark varnished panels, have to investigate that. Painted this morning at Button Bay with my friend Jill in the snow. It was fun, not too cold, a little snow falling. Then it started snowing harder. (Foreshadowing: a sure sign of quality literature). This became slightly bit frustrating because so much snow fell on the painting that the paint began to get very granular, almost as though it had sand in it. Then the snow began to stick to the painting, which was cosmic and fun because there were many incredible perfect hexagon shapes of amazing complexity and this is one thing my unaided eye can see clearly. Jill and I talked about various designs for snow-hoods for painting outside to avoid the granular problem. Finally there was so much snow on my painting that I couldn't tell the difference between unpainted parts and snow very well, so I moved under the pine trees where Jill had wisely set up to begin with and did a little one. The painting above is the first one, cleaned up in the studio after the snow melted.
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 1-10-06: Had a long interesting talk with Robert Doak this morning, Brooklyn paintmaker of strong opinions. Robert thinks mastic is bad, actually, evil might be more appropriate: I'm not using it yet but I ordered it. Why does he carry it if its so evil? Forgot to ask in the fray, darn. He also thinks it's not possible to make a medium with a hard and a soft resin, something I seem to do all the time. A bit of two-dimensional logic applied to a three-dimensional process: pretty common in this territory. I recommended the Tate book on Pre-Raphaelite Technique to him because most of the PRB used a mastic-copal medium, and we agree that the Tate folks are smart. He hadn't read it: score, not easy to do. But I paid big time in terms of hearing about lots of other technical stuff: sorry, I don't want to paint like Bougereau. What I want to try next is a mastic-amber medium, because I wouldn't need very much mastic in the formula I'm working with now, and the look of the Pre-Raphaelite paintings (many of which were made a mastic-copal medium) is overall so good. Anyway, its fun to talk about painting with a dedicated person even if he thinks I'm trying to get "just a little involved" with dangerous and addictive drugs. An interesting, puritanical image. But perhaps people misinterpret Robert's intensity: he wants to help and believes in what he's figured out. Its a bit inquisitorial but I always learn stuff and he'll never have any idea who I am artistically which is endlessly entertaining. He's sending me a leaded glass-sun-thickened oil medium he's worked out called Cristallo (sounds like one of Carvaggio's buddies) based on the Raphael research from the Tate.
Above, this morning's study, an image from Barga in Tuscany. This level of gunky completion would be impossible without a rich thixotropic medium. It also allows a great deal of freedom: no drawing, because you can move everything, no mistakes, because you can either go over them or carve them out. So I feel like I'm on the trail of the 17th century type medium here, using 100% traditional ingredients. But it might be necessary to start doing these bigger and in layers, rather than ala prima. I'm also realizing there are several ways to make this type of medium, so that will probably be this years's technical project. Whew! Glad I'm not done yet.
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1-20-06: A few years ago I made a painting I thought was very interesting, a close-up enlargement of a red zinnia in a jam jar I'd painted from life. It was 24x32, and the zinnia petals spilled out over the edges of the frame in a relatively modern composition. I thought so much of it that I made another one before it left the studio. But, they've both languished over the last few years in spite of copious admiration and reasonable prices. This week, within twenty-four hours, I sold both of them. Very wacky, but, I'll take it.
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1-26-06: Waning moon, working on old stuff using No. 7 and offspring No.7a which might be better, this is tricky. Left, a peony in progress, 12x16, begun from life eons ago. A little intense now but I'll tone it down a bit. This is my favorite part with paintings, the part where I get really interested again: the ending. All the effort is redeemed, it all counts, each layer makes it a little deeper, more meaningful.
Making new and re-cycled panels, making tests of glue-oil gesso on stretched linen, looking good there too. Went through a Wodehouse addiction earlier in the winter, things were a bit thick, but I've returned once again to serious literature. My default here is Anthony Powell's long but amazing Dance to the Music of Time which I used to read from one end to the other and then start again, like painting the Golden Gate Bridge. What great prose. Its often compared to Proust, but seems as much to me like a giant Great Gatsby written by a more evolved writer with an amazing tragi-comic gift and a unique sense of narrative distillation. Alas, I know it too well now and have to give it a rest. So I've been exploring the NYRB series of high-class neglected novels. But these so far have all been about grueling seiges or long and pointless voyages to nowhere: just what I need! Say what you will about Wodehouse, he understood that the average reader wants less grim reality not more. I guess this is why I've read Powell to death: he provides a great balance of high-brow concept, middle-brow readability, and low-brow (or should we say, Elizabethan?) comedy.
Puzzling about landscape, I seem to know better how to push and pull still life. Still want a style that somehow finds a still point between structure and observation, with landscape I want more plastic, more sense of paint. This is problematic because so much of the subject matter that interests me is moody and weather specific. But it seems that a problem identified is a problem solved, so we'll see. (That is, this solution will create a new problem. Don't think I didn't see that one coming!)
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| february |
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 2-6-06: Back to semi-winter here, I'm doing layers on images in progress, always fun to see the next step. Started a large version of this last summer on a hollow core door, worked on it on the north side of my house, really a riot and excellent local publicity. But it became somewhat stalled, that is, it kept going around in circles, so I started this smaller one (about 10x20 inches) in slightly less vivid colors. This was an unusual morning, fog turning to sun, and an unusual place, an unpruned orchard that has become chaotic in a way I really like. And, it was an amazing year for blossoms. I'm looking for a place here between Monet and Corot, this is tricky because once you reference Monet in an image you're up against everyone's sense that Monet was GREAT, or AWFUL: Dali gets off some great stuff about Impressionism in his Fifty Secrets of Magical Craftsmanship. Either way, they're not really looking at a painting, just an opinion: their own. But this was a good layer, I'm solving the issue of the dots and the contrast bit by bit. It helped to think about the motion in the trees, rather than trying to maintain discreet values.
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 2-7-06: Cold and gloomy, needed to do something stupidly happy. (Haven't plugged Andy Partridge in a while.) I love the blue-sky landscape because its such a tightrope. Summer of 99, incredible stretches of glorious days which I foolishly took for granted: hey, landscape is easy. This is on stretchers, rare, but I wanted to see how a certain gesso with a little oil in it would perform without a panel behind it. Kind of like painting on a drumhead. Used a slightly hotter palette, added a little extra amber to the medium for increased gunkoloscity. This is 10x14 but might look good bigger as well. Something kind of Hopperish here that I'd like to develop. Farr Cross Road, looking west, July.
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 2-10-06: I've been given a copy of the Van Loon biography of Rembrandt. Written in a meandering philosophical way by a contemporary and friend, its a complex and heartbreaking book, a window back into a different yet strangely similar world. Started this study of Lewis Creek today, made several technical changes, some of which worked but some of which didn't. Its small, 10.5x14 inches, might be worthy of a larger one.
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 2-11-06: Howard Johnson's called. Just kidding, this is an underpainting, vermilion and green earth with a little manganese blue. It never rains but it pours: two years after I thought it was genius my zinnia idea is taking off among the local cognoscenti, now I'm making number three. A good example of the practitioner being naturally somewhat ahead of the curve. Wasn't sure I could do this at first but realized it could be made very differently now -- my only criterion it seems. There are four image versions to work from: the photo of the original painting from life, the photo of the first larger painting, the postcard of that painting, which is very different, and the photo of the second painting. Yikes. There are things about all of them I like, but doing this I realized yet another way it could be done, oh no! Kind of fun though. I need to look for someone who can make these larger panels for me, in my crammed little house there's too much inertia involved in getting set up. I'd love to get a portable table saw but that Rembrandt book has me feeling very cheap! 24x32 inches, good to do something goofy and bigger again.
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 2-12-06: Getting close to the full moon. And winter has returned, gray on gray on gray. Decided I needed a little high summer so did this painting of West Road in Addison County, small, 10.5x14 inches. Tweaked the medium for more thixotropy/gunkoloscity, and was able to make lots of adjustments both bold and fine as a result. (My goal in life is to be able to paint swathes of Queen Anne's Lace.) But used a relatively smooth surface so ran into issues in the sky, fixable, just not today. Between this one and the other small summerscape below, have learned something of value: this morning's medium would make a great second layer, and will begin that career after lunch. I like this simple style but will probably try to make this a bit more complex in a week or two.
Had to stop reading the Rembrandt biography. Although one could say he brought it all on himself through endless financial mismanagement still there's something kind of gruesome about it. Instead I'm reading We Think The World Of You, by J.R. Ackerley, whose prose I've always really liked. Its a modestly harrowing and very English book, a class-morality-sexuality tightrope told by a petulant yet honest first person narrator in a fascinating minimalist style, a kind of literary figure-ground exercise where what he doesn't say is just a focal as what he does. But I've also got The Amber Spyglass -- the third installment of the Philip Pullman series -- for some pulse-pounding neo-Zorastrian escapism.
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2-14-06: I spend a lot of time trying to figure out what to do next. With painting, I've figured out over the years how to turn my mind off and just go with what wants to happen. This was at first a humbling experience because I thought I was so smart. But it seems to work because my fevered plans always come from my mind, and always have predictable -- not quite creative -- results. So I try to let the creative thing happen, which is often more chaotic but invariably more interesting. Even if it leads temporarily to disaster, there's a silver lining in the form of new possibilities. I started working with this energy around the time I was fifteen, and if someone asked what I feel best at, it wouldn't be painting specifically but the relatively dormant but quite ancient art of purposeful prognostication. That is, looking at a set of possibilities and chosing a direction based on what looks responsibly fun and interesting. At this point I really BELIEVE in this method, and encourage anyone who's open-minded to give it a try. How? Don't do the safe thing, don't do the "smart" thing, do the thing that feels best. Scarey. But, if you do this, and you're in a quiet place, you'll be able to feel the universe smile. There's a response, it isn't slow.
So, for myself, I've figured out a way of dealing with time that incorporates a cycle of creative impetus that certainly seems infinite and offers a corresponding dialogue of puzzle and solution that has relentlessly focussed my attention and given my a lot of joy. So far so good, and maybe that should be enough. But I'd love to figure out a way to help more people understand that creativity isn't the province of a "chosen minority", its a universal human birthright. But I guess its a matter of personal choices, and I'm underestimating the value -- to others -- of what I've happily surrendered in exchange for this life. Its true that there's no safety, but I feel safe. Its true there's no money -- well, a little, sometimes, but don't count on it -- but I feel rich and to make the other kind of money I'd have to live in a big city or become a Vermont Artist and they're both just totally out of the question. I'm not rabid anti-success or anti-materialist but it does seem pretty much impossible to go just a little bit down that road. So, as I look out on the year to come, as I try to prognosticate in a larger venue, there's a sense of moving further and further away from everything except my relationship with the Muses. Do I want a gallery? Do I want a house? There's just nothing else there that I can feel yet. And that's interesting, because when something does happen, it will be a complete surprise. But there's a kind of desert to cross still, a lot more faith to put into painting. And that's fine, who wants to arrive just yet?
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2-17-06: Very strange day, pouring rain, high winds, huge piece of an old roof in the road to the north, then clearing seering Constable skies and now bitter cold snow and wind from the south. Ordered a Bosch table saw, couldn't stand being hamstrung that way any longer. I'm not exactly a tool guy but boy is it cute. And, importantly, I figured out where to put it. An act of faith considering what happened at the easel today: too embarrassing to put up! It's all moving again inside, something else wants to happen.
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2-18-06: Cold clear day with opalescent creamsicle dawn and dusk, back to hallucinatory real winter. If only it would snow seven feet. Well, even seven inches.
Took a huge swipe today at the bonepile, all the semi-done larger landscapes from, er, well, a while back. This was Very Noble because these were all painted by a much dumber painter and it would be much more fun to start new work with the right kind of structure. But there's something about putting linen on a panel that makes giving up almost impossible. And there's a lot to be learned in the resurrection process. Sometimes they just have to go backwards in order to go forwards again. A big help here is my trusty pile of 400 grit sandpaper: I'll oil the painting lightly, grind away a bit, then wipe with a rag and clean with turpentine. So got through layers on four larger paintings and a few smaller ones. Everybody went forward this time, whew, and there's a simpler medium on the horizon. Simple is good, America.
I've been working with a new framer for about two years now who's, well, kind of a genius. And humble too, imagine. This person just has a great touch, and is genuinely interested. It always takes a while to figure out what's possible, what the interface is, but really interesting things are being made now for my work. Kind of like moms dressing up their kids in fun ways, we're getting the hang of it. But a while back I got a frame made that I loved, except it just didn't work with the painting the way I'd hoped. That's okay, make another one, but this frame was a 22k gold leaf Florentine, very clean and bright in the high parts, a bit splotchy and mottled on the field, elegant and kind of French in feeling. So, I've been trying to make images for this great frame for a while now, but haven't been able to figure it out. It requires a throughly vivacious high key painting, something along the lines of one of those spunky effervescent Wodehouse heroines: sigh, easier said than done on more levels than one. Wheels within wheels, as Monty Bodkin was wont to say. But today I think I finally found something that will work. We'll see of course, always a puzzle. But its an interesting way to work, from the frame first, and a frame that challenges the status quo to boot. Also I'm really glad I ordered a tablesaw, foolish economy department, it will help immensely. But opening the purchasing floodgates always presents the problem of closing them again. I need all those great funky alternative CDs!
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 2-20-06: Went back to the bonepile today, did okay, my holiday seems to have loosened things up. But finished is hard to define sometimes. I've been working on this painting for several years, it was slated to be a wedding gift for a couple who are about to have their first child. Oops. I've been given a nudge to get it done. I'm trying. I made it better today. But done, no.
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 2-21-06: This is an image from a trip I made to Maine several years ago in the fall. Its on Schoodic Point, pink granite covered with lichen, crimson blueberry bushes and pines: felt like walking into a Sierra Club calendar, smelled amazing. The intense combination of colors in this has always puzzled me but this time I was able to lock in the shift to purple that has caused problems in the past. Even so, I used three different reds. The other issue here is the amount of detail, how to start a painting like this with the masses. It'll get a few more layers and become brighter but for me this is a good beginning. About 11 x 23 inches on linen.
Also, my tablesaw has been shipped. Many frames will be arriving from the framer soon. A bit of momentum seems to be building, March might be interesting. Still, I'm very glad to have gone back to the drawing board yet again. Is it possible to make viable commercial product and still evolve? I find the tension difficult.
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2-22-06: Taught today, made mediums in the afternoon, a few small shifts. Lots of errands and infrastructure stuff coming up, probably good way to use the waning moon: I'm seeing several potential directions but nothing feels quite locked. Have been debating getting together with a gallery, or making my little hovel more presentable downstairs. The latter would just be possible. Both have advantages and disadvantages. But neither solution feels right. So, as usual, I'm picking door number three. But I don't even know what it is yet. So its interesting to wait. It reminds me of that Kafka story, Before the Law. I read it in German in high school, it was quite compelling. The narrator is waiting for the door to open before the law, but he doesn't know when it will open so he has to stay right there. As with a lot of Kafka, there's a subtle wit in the original that gets lost in translation. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that this waiting is always about honing one's attention to the decision-making process. What's really important? Why? Should one wait for the boat to A or take the available boat to B hoping from there to get to A? Augustine said that the fruit of patience is patience. But this seems to be an example of the false charisma of aphorism. At least, I find patience to bear much more complex offspring. Perhaps this is because, in my case, patience has mated with fury.
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 2-23-06: Little study from this morning, hunting for a more simplified style using as much paint as possible. As usual, some things went right, some things went wrong, but I learned some stuff about working this way which is good. Next time I'll build in the compositional pieces more firmly rather than developing them as I go. This seems to be in a funny place with regard to color as well: not that vivid, not that real. 11x12 inches, Upper Tuscany, September in the rain. I've got a great fondness for this image because while I was there an older gentleman apologized to me for the weather being nuovoloso. Tablesaw arrived, a very big box in a very small house.
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 2-24-06: Another bonepile day, its going well, finishing layers on lots of different older images. As of yesterday, I now have all my unsold paintings for the first time in many years. (Can you believe that no one has bought this peony? I mean, words fail me. Imagine! Maybe the price is just too low.) Decided I can't stand waiting around any more. So I'm going to fix up the front room of my adorable hovel -- amazing what having a tablesaw does for one's outlook, even if there's no room to actually operate it -- and do some local advertising in the next few months. Ulp. But I think I'll look good in that black cashmere twinset and seed pearls.
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2-26-06: Very nice snow, powder, about six inches, lots of drifting. Went out for dinner last night to some friends, and then watched TV. Well, PBS, but still! I'm kind of an indigenous person these days around TV. Is it magic? Is it evil spirits? Saw some old Monty Python, they seem to be wondering the same thing. But, late night, waning moon, not much wanted to happen today. So I'm cleaning up, making soup, thinking about how to be a more genuinely patient person. I'm wondering if the equation works both ways: if patience creates attention, does attention also create patience? Perhaps its time to de-caffienate, global warming or not it won't be spring here for real until the middle of May.
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| march |
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 3-3-06: A complex few days. Got a speeding ticket on a backroad, always a thrill, ran out of heating oil, not so coincidentally ran out of steam. Got covered with kerosene on several occasions but most especially learning about the bleeder valve, learned a lot about my oil burner generally, a simple, sturdy, no-nonsense contraption. Thought a lot about what to do, the great survival with honor puzzle continues, worked on this painting this morning, 24x32. Not done, but this was the definitive layer, it'll get easier now. May this become a general trend. A big and long overdue update is about to begin on the site, there may be some chaos, please bear with the plumbers. There's a new studies gallery, it'll get images when the sun comes out...
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 3-4-06: This morning, second layer, 24x32, an image of wild apple trees I've always loved. Feel good with the sky progress, am finally approaching the brilliance one feels from this type of sky. Had a small, real-time revelation about working in warm and cool layers: that they should each be exaggerated somewhat to be more efficient. So, the first layer of this was quite warm, this layer was too cool, the next will be warm but not as much: a pendulum moving towards the center. But it seems that if you really knew what you were doing the third layer could complete it because everything had been set up so well in the first two. I would've said this was true before, but in the last few days I've started painting it, which is different.
Picked up some framed work, they came out well, put a large hole in cashflow. Am re-thinking idea of doing something with my downstairs and selling paintings here. I've thought about this so much at this point that doing it is going to be an immense relief and much easier than continuing to carry it all in mind. But not quite yet, need more finished and framed work. This might time well for the beginning of decent weather here if my luck holds selling in the meantime. Wrote something in Op-Ed about success, its pretty left of center.
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3-5-06: Worked on lots of different things. Almost got tablesaw ready, started putting final -- ho, ho -- layers on some of the work I had framed. Got a little sidetracked and started tweaking studies while taking photos for the new gallery of that name, a place very influenced at this point by the Corot outdoor work in Italy. It's fun to putter this way sometimes, I've got quite a bonepile; after a certain point it just doesn't matter anymore and that can be very freeing. Something still wants to happen in the way of a simplified, more atmospheric landscape style, came as little closer to understanding what that is today via the bonepile. Its interesting to watch this idea develop, that might make a good series of photos for process, a style is born.
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3-6-06: For the past few days I've been waking up at dawn, so today I finally got
the message and was working by 6:30. Had a really good morning in the
bonepile, worked on seven or eight stalled images. I love the sanding
technique: 400 grit, creates a receptive surface, out with the old.
Then made a big chicken soup with leeks and parsnips and some white
beans. Then kind of crashed but did a little more good work in the
afternoon. I've got two of these thixotropic mediums going now, one for
the earlier layers and one to finish up; the finishing one offers some
really interesting possibilities that I'm only beginning to understand.
Tablesaw is now ready, oh boy.
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3-8-06: Taught
today, no work. Did some cutting with the tablesaw yesterday, found out
many things! I'm used to much less sophisticated equipment. But its
going to be good, think I've made the major mistakes without ruining
anything, and the sawdust is manageable. I like the idea of making work
with flexible borders, on unmounted pieces of gessoed paper or linen,
several painters have done this. But then I have to mount the painting
on a panel for framing. This is straightforward in theory but often a
bit hairy in practice: small changes in procedure or humidity can
result in large surprises. In some ways the goal is to abandon smaller
work because larger work is more forgiving and can be made directly on
panels. But I like making smaller studies in order to get away from the
photograph: the larger painting is then made from the study. Does one
need an efficient process? Now mine is efficient at growing but not at
completing. I have a kind of phobia about being one of those painters
who crank out the same thing over and over again; it seems like there
should be more exploration involved. But getting better at the endgame
would be good. Painting outisde in the morning, oh boy.
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 3-10-06: The
weirdness continues. I agree that April is the cruelest month, but
March is number two so its trying harder. Had yet another close
encounter with arbitrary authority yesterday, this time in the guise of
two game wardens who told my friend Jill she couldn't paint where she
was painting in Dead Creek because it was violating the wildlife
habitat. We were off the road, at the edge of the ice. They ignored me,
probably thought I was a heron. I'm always very careful to hold my
temper in these situations, but it did make me disproportionately
angry: it made me deeply embarrassed for them as well, that they would
think this was their job: the new breed of articulate academic
eco-nazi. I'm also fascinated that they intrinsically ingored me,
knowing that even looking at me would be difficult, let alone handing
me their line of egregious nonsense. The letter of the law is true, but
the spirit of the law is wise. Of course we don't get this distinction
from people who seek out petty officialdom and its unique ability to
inflict the death of a thousand cuts on the citizens. Somehow I have to
stop this, though, and I've realized that I have to learn to use my
words. I'm sure I'll be given another petty offical as these things
come in threes. So my next petty official is in for an interesting
surprise, a discussion.
This is the painting I did,
10.5x14 inches. Not bad for an hour, I was just getting going. I feel I
do need to inform the concerned public that no waterfowl were harmed
during the making of this painting. No waterfowl were even observed
during the making of this painting. I do confess to stepping on some
dead reeds, and my feet melted some innocent snow.
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3-12-06: Had
a quiet, productive day yesterday, lots of finishing layers, no
encounters with Authority. Had a good morning today as well, but now at
1 pm its too dark to work, I messed something up before I realized the
light was gone. I'm updating the images in the galleries bit by bit,
they've become pretty out of date. Have put up four pages of studies in
the new gallery of that name. Finished The Amber Spyglass, last volume
of the Pullman trilogy. A bit conflicted: liked aspects of it, felt a
bit manipulated by others, felt that the narrative became too complex
for the way in which it was handled and set up several expectations
which were unresolved. Also, hasn't he confused the God of religion
(and specifically of the Roman Catholic Church) with God the Creator of
All That Is? I'm not a religious person -- which means I won't try to
kill you if you disagree with me about spiritual matters -- but I
believe strongly in a benificent Creator and in matter as embodied
meaning. Pullman talks a lot about the meaning of creation in these
books but can't attribute it to the Creator because the Church has
co-opted and perverted the concept. But there's a failure in the logic
here that I'd just like to point out to the assembled multitudes. (Mom
wanted me to be a lawyer).
I don't believe
Creator wants anyone killed in its name. But Creator is also willing to
allow us this error as part of free will. Its a big one, the biggest
one remaining in our education: the holy war. But I think its a mistake
to assume that Creator is flawed or non-existent because Creator has
allowed us to be flawed. This is in fact the greatest gift of all, the
possibility of redeeming negativity can only occur by experiencing it.
Which is why, if you're one of the few people on the planet who can
navigate these waters with equanimity, you might check out the apple
story in Genesis sometime: the snake is not the bad guy in this story,
its someone else who's off-camera. The story is pre-Mosaic in age, one
that left Egypt with the Hebrews, and is oddly analogous to the
Prometheus story in Greek mythology. And this reading is much more in
line with the classical and also Biblical alignment of the snake or
serpent with wisdom. But, see for yourself!
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3-13-06: No
work, dark and pouring rain. Odd but good day, think my renovations
have begun. Had a visit today and sold a painting, always fun, but my
visitor seemed to feel the re-make was possible. Went out and got a
vacuum cleaner -- huge psychological breakthrough, I loathed my
mother's Electrolux, symbol of endless domestic martyrdom -- and then
re-arranged the whole downstairs, as predicted, it just happened. So
this could get done in the next few days. Have had some new thoughts
about bigger and brighter landscapes, its funny how the style goes
along for a while in a certain place but then jumps into something
different. I see or feel how to do it so that's a good sign. I've
always thought a crockpot would be a good thing for some of my
materials experiments so I got a tiny one today and I've got some
walnut oil percolating away at low heat. One of the few prepared
materials I still purchase is sun-thickened walnut oil. Its imported
from Italy and is slightly pricey to say the least. I can make it
during the summer but it takes quite a while in Vermont, lures
countless bugs to certain death, must be cleaned, strained, etc: my
hope is that this very low heat method can create a similar product
without darkening the oil. The sun, however, is magic, and my tiny
crockpot, while obviously full of noble intentions, may fall somewhat
short in this regard. Also, made a big panel this morning with a new
idea to keep it from warping from the tension created by the linen
shrinking. Even though I'd thought about it for weeks there was still a
surprise: the oops moment when you've got to think fast. I realized
that I really enjoy these, they make me laugh a lot. Would working with
a high-end gallery be nearly as entertaining? I have a feeling I'm not
going to find out.
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3-15-06: Taught
this morning, last class, a very good bunch, I love the energy in a
room when many people are painting. Am doing massive cleaning in
preparation to set up a gallery space, urgh, but a plan is emerging.
Also am making lots of materials: panels, mediums, sizing and gessoing
Tiepolo, my very favorite paper. On and on it goes. Made Eminent Oil
tonight but something new happened. Why? Larger batch, same
proportions, went a little more slowly with the heat, but it looks
different. One thing about this life, I'm never bored.
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 3-19-06: Worked
on several things, including layer two of this larger study of the blue
creek theme. Its about 16x21, again drove my camera nuts but I'm
getting better at making it look normal by editing it. Four colors and
white, I'll just keep augmenting it until it looks really fun and
painterly up close. Is this Impressionism? Once I get this one feeling
safe, I'll start a large one at 30x40 inches. Had planned on getting
some hollow core doors this week to set up as a gallery in a more
formal way, but now I'm getting cold feet. Argh! Not sure what's at
issue here, something is saying stop. So I'm stopping already. There
sure is a lot of work here. But maybe its not supposed to be sold here.
Have to be patient, the right decision feels right, not forced.
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3-20-06: Got
up early, had a pretty good morning doing various layers. I've got
three of these blue paintings going now and its interesting because
they're really nailed: not done but I look at them and think, okay,
this is right. I feel that so rarely, perhaps the biggest issue in
fact, but I seem to know what I'm doing with these. But this isn't a
trend. Oh no. I mention it merely as an alternative to listing all the
other things that are perplexing me on a number of levels. But don't
you wish you had a way to get real answers sometimes to life's bigger
mysteries? Like, who made the first noodle? Or, did Rembrandt think it
was worth it? I can get answers in dreams but they're always quite
oblique and cosmic, never something straightforward like "The Great
Pyramid was in fact simply materialized by the sixth dimensional
population of the planet Venus who were just trying to help." I want
some kind of Cosmic Wikipedia to go to for some genuine truth. But that
would be too easy I guess, spoil all the fun of the labyrinth of lies.
Anyway, felt the great weight this
afternoon, had to stop and re-group: it gets physical sometimes, just
hurts. Realized that there's still a massive amount to learn about this
new -- ie, old -- paint technology. This is typical, I go along for a
bit thinking I'm smart, then realize there's more with an unpleasant
jolt. Since crossing the Neutral Zone into the Forbidden Realm of Old
Master Materials I've had these jolts -- like phaser blasts -- pretty
often. And they always signal the beginning of something new, a
discovery. More and more I'm convinced of a certain thing too technical
to get into here: it fits in with all the other pieces so far. I just
have to apply it with more faith. So, we'll see. Made chicken soup with
carrots leeks parsley sage garlic and rice.
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3-22-06: Got
new frames yesterday, a couple with gnarly goldleaf, they're really
interesting. This whole issue of augmenting paintings with frames is
fascinating, complicated: I thought one thing yesterday when they came
home, and now I think something else. And tomorrow...? Ordered hollow
core doors for making a gallery of sorts downstairs, they'll be here
Monday. I'd sort of like to paint them with homemade gesso, it would
take longer but look really cool. Did more cleaning, cleaned studio
even: plenty of room down there, plenty! Did some cutting with the
tablesaw outside, we're bonding. A relief not to be creating sawdust in
the studio, that really bugged me. Tried another even grittier
underpainting idea, making the paint with a different type of drying
oil: one of these new frames might need a chunkier image in it,
something with more oomph, less detail, so I started a candidate. This
paint dries so fast that it can't be put into tubes, has to be ground
daily. Which seems kind of logical to me, isn't that hard to do. It
felt very OM while I was using it, had a lot of boing, looked right. So
this might be a new wrinkle.
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3-23-06: Very
big day in the breakthrough department, did something small with all
homemade paint and worked on it all day. Took some breaks, its not done
of course, but I've never been able to get quite so much paint going
and in control. (I didn't really know how to handle it, became sort of
mesmerized). The reason this could happen is the increased density and
thixotropy of the paint when the inherent softness and slipperiness of
commercial paint exits the equation. I knew this was true but hadn't
explored it until today with the most recent medium developments. So,
as always, many small changes suddenly become one big one when applied
in the right way. It wasn't a pretty process, had no idea what was
happening and had to make paint several times on the palette during the
day. And its not a great painting, well really I don't know what it is
but it is a breakthrough painting and that's good. Took a walk this
afternoon, first time in a while, some intense crimson creeping into
places, willows getting gold. Think I found a spot to paint near here,
way up on a ridge in a park looking out at the lake, there's a good
composition looking south, so its not all so horozontal. I love the
strange play of color in the Adirondacks, the mist and recession, the
sun-cloud patterning, it'll be fun in April before it all turns into Oz
again in May. s
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 3-24-06: Worked all day on this small painting using the new ideas that worked yesterday, the combination of paint and medium enabled pretty much endless layering. Made a concious effort to keep the color clean and bright as long as possible, I think this shows, put up a larger image of this in the studies gallery. Its still a little crude, but better results, learned a lot. This is probably too big a jump, though, or maybe this image is just too amorphous a composition to wing it with. Made paint three different times again, much more than I'm used to using, need to develop a better system there. Think I'll need to do a bit more work on the image after the underpainting before committing to major amounts of paint. Not a technical issue so much as an issue of how these things really are going to be organized: what's the style. Beat, but it was fun. The one I made yesterday was dry enough this morning to put into a frame. That was an unusual and interesting experience!
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3-25-06:
Thinking a lot about what to make this summer, feel like all this learning of new stuff technically should be applied soon at a larger scale. Got the hollow core doors this morning for my gallery to be, afraid I'm going to have to paint on at least one of them after covering it with canvas. Fiddled with an older study I'm trying to finish that suffers from too much color and too much detail, then made this little one in reaction, with the idea of using the new spontaneous paint even more spontaneously. Easier to wing it with a more graphic composition -- see comment below.
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3-27-06: Boy, strange day. For the first time in a while I woke up with pretty much nothing left. I'd guess partially waning moon, partially dinner out the night before. I find social stuff to be fun and challenging but deeply exhausting: who wants to talk about stuff I'm interested in? Wrong country, wrong century. The other thing that makes social stuff hard is the way its relationship to truth is so oblique compared to working on my own. I'd like to develop a P.G. Wodehouse-like alter ego who could effortlessly create that world of blithering savoir-faire, but its not going to happen soon. It makes me realize how much I've been able to accumulate focus on working when its suddenly vaporized. Also, there's an issue du jour: I seem to keep attracting people into my life who talk about painting in terms of dollars. Once again, as with the authority confrontations of a few weeks ago, it's as though the Universe is making a concerted effort to provoke me. All this attention is incredibly flattering. But in this case I'm confused. Am I supposed to continue to develop deeper patience with this as well or simply start throwing the money-changers out of the temple? I did give somebody a very small piece of my mind once about this issue and all witnesses have reported the event to me as "scarey". This makes sense: the truth scares most people to death. Too bad the the truth is life. This must be endlessly entertaining to somebody somewhere but I'd like to go on record as being weary of humanity's obvious genetic disposition to materialist delusion.
So, tried to work this morning, made an exhausted looking beginning but did learn that leftover handmade paint can't really be used the second day. Tried to work again after a nap, had to leave the studio, felt weary to the point of almost ill. Made chicken soup in the course of all this to take to another dinner tonight, but couldn't find the house and didn't have a way of getting the information: everyone was already there. Yikes. One of those days. (I think I need The Complete Works of P.G. Wodehouse. And a brandy and soda, stiffish). Here's what I want to do: make beautiful paintings that honor the infinite spiritual genius that resides just outside our concious grasp. In this pursuit do I need to protect myself even more? Or do I need to somehow renew what I used to be so good at in high school -- making other people pay for their unkindness with commentary of my own? Something has to happen, I can't process the sewage as fast as its arriving.
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3-29-06: Some lovely days, went out yesterday afternoon, made something bad but had fun. New moon today, I was ready for it this time, but its playing possum. Lots of layers on various paintings, starting to prep a large panel from a hollow core door. Continue to think about a method, need to back away from the all-at-once approach of the last few days but not too far. That paint works, gives a finished broken surface I like, but should be applied over something a little more developed than just an underpainting.
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3-30-06: Lots of middle layers that went well, holding back a bit on quantity of paint, keeping it loose, somewhat transparent. The handmade paint has a nice tooth to work over, not slick. Then lots of tablesaw, mounting and gesso stuff in the afternoon. I'm going to be doing the show at Shelburne Farms this fall for the first time in many years: my gallery never liked its people to do it so I didn't. Because of the size of the show its nice to have work that hangs together as a group, so I'm thinking about that.
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 3-31-06: A day of surpassing zaniness, cut a huge piece of canvas wrong for a panel and realized without too much trouble that it was too nice to do anything but run around. I had to go to Home Depot -- I know, I know -- and got some slabs of marble from China: they were too cheap! Got the hardest one, much harder than say, Vermont marble, and roughed up the back some more with carborundum grit to grind green earth, the most important pigment in my landscape palette and the only one that really needs to be ground both for the final texture of the paint and to bring out the color. So, it worked, but I may need to get a couple mortar and pestle sets too. Yipes, it's just too nice out, must be low 70s. People in Vermont aren't used to this, out and about today everybody was in kind of a daze. A nice daze, though.
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| april |
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4-2-06:
Made an adjustment to my medium, this is the tenth recipe since starting on this, what may be the final idea after a prolonged snipe hunt in the murky swamps of older technique. But since No.7 the changes have all been small so this is 7c. At first 7c didn't look promising, looked like I'd overshot the mark from how it felt in the tube. But I used it for the first time today, and it was a step forward. A Certain Painter in the 17th century was able to paint with a kind of charismatic abandon, with a medium that allowed infinite layering, movement between dark and light, and held crisp edges. (And I'm really interested in this!) 7b had the first two, but 7c gives the third as well. So now I have no excuses whatsoever! It was interesting to realize, as I doubtfully started working with it, that I'd had the wrong idea of how the paint should feel: this paint is lighter, more mobile. Of course, that makes sense. I was able to spend about four hours working on a small canvas this morning, a long time. This afternoon I added a quick layer to the painting pictured here, about 10x24, study for a possible large one this summer. Its a bit crude and you can't see the paint detail but there's something happening here that feels correct: that this is painting, and, in fact, my paintin
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4-6-06: Cold overcast and moody days, back to normal after a bizarre week of warmth and sun, but kind of a let-down. *Sigh* I'm sort of re-tooling, trying to work out a better way of using this medium, 7c. I'm used to a method of locking the darks in a warm tone but today tried a study where the beginning wasn't so dark, with the idea of being able to play the value scale more like an accordion from a less dramatic start. This worked pretty well actually, shadows remained transparent and zippy, put it up as the last study in that gallery. My cheap mortar and pestle set came, I of course wanted the really good ones from the labware supply place but these do just fine, enable me to grind small amounts of pigment in a drying oil at the palette. So then tried this out as an underpainting technique using just a few handmade colors and also some ground leaded glass in the paint. Don't know about this glass, it really tightens the paint up, but it does act like internal sandpaper for the next layer. That turned out looking kind of like an old fresco done on a budget by somebody quite myopic: don't think it would've played well in the Quattrocento, but I'm happy. The problem is, I've been running into the dreaded dead darks. This is the danger -- as Eastlake would be only too happy to tell you in great but elliptical detail in his endless discussion of procedural pros and cons in volume two of his great meandering opus -- wait, where was I? Oh yes, the danger of too much initial force in the darks, they can become opaque in subsequent layers and this shatters the great illusion of depth created by transparent darks and opaque lights. So, its good to have a solution underway. Cleaned the studio YET AGAIN to accomodate lots of jars of pigment more comfortably -- ie without stuff crashing all over the place if I move one centimeter the wrong way -- and then made a giant gob of white lead paint so stiff I had to knead it in my -- gloved -- hand. This gets put under water and always relaxes significantly as it ages, so I wanted to see how tight it could be to start. I've been learning about this new paint made with 7c, it can be made so its dry the next day, or made so its still workable if its thick on the palette. This second option produces some interesting viscous detail and texture when used on the painting of the day before. I shouldn't tell anybody about this, of course.
And what you've just read illustrates why I usually write this stuff before its late.
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4-9-06: Musically, I'm sort of an omnivore, like lots of different things, it just needs to be melodic and positive, but don't know any genre particularly in depth, except perhaps 60s instrumentals but I'm understandably a little shy about that. So, when I got a chance to go to the Takacs Quartet concert in Middlebury, I said sure, not knowing exactly what was going to happen. It was last night: a little intimidating in the way it drew the local cognoscenti, I'm more comfortable in my overalls. But it was a brilliant, complex, and passionate performance: inspiring but confusing, a deep stirring of the inner pot. They played pieces by Mozart, Bartok, and Schubert, all of which contained sustained bravura moments although in very different ways, and explored, in total, an immense emotional range. Each piece also set the stage very well for the next in a series of oppositions. The Mozart Quartet amazed me by its nimbleness and the juxtaposition of melodic simplicity with complexity of invention and tempo: perhaps the physical analogue of the way Mozart is psychically both soothing and unsettling. Bartok, Number 3, was by contrast a direct creative tour de force of intense mood changes and tensions propelled by "ethnomusicological" -- i.e. pretty zippy -- rhythms and perhaps every non-destructive sound a stringed instrument can make, going from the most Job-like plaintive chords to staccato group whispers, and bouncy pizzicato from cello and viola. It felt like it was being played by Gypsies, Fates, and Furies at once and was yet never dark or forboding in spite of its tonal complexity and often madcap pace. To think that four instruments could make so much intensity and variety of sound. The sense of consummation, catharsis, release, after the comparative formality and restraint of the Mozart work was amazing, very shrewd. Intermission. And I thought, "Now what?" because anything more intense would have necessitated the collapse of the building. (Which, if you are serious about architecture, or in this case, the nearly eight-figure lack of it, would have had its merits, but also, from a purely personal perspective, its dire and egregious consequences). The Schubert was No. 14 in d minor, "Death and the Maiden." It began with a realtively formal and deceptively "Viennese" Allegro. But the second movement contained an amazingly sustained example of the cosmic-pathetic sublime, it seemed as though time itself were being magically opened up and unfolded to reveal a different sense of the universe entirely. Mesmerizing. Then, in the Presto of the ending, they created a tension and intensity I've never experienced except in knowing that I was finishing a painting but as usual not knowing how, a kind of sonic transfiguration. It was quite a conscious tour de force: just when you think it can't get any more intense Schubert seems to have the piece take a moderate breath and illustrate a way that it can. Yet in no way arch, and all somehow occurring within the sense, at least, compared to the Bartok, of a "traditional" quartet. Astonishing. Humbling. But it made me happy for the achievements of humanity, which has been a recent rarity of the last six years. And it made me think about paint and notes, texture and tension, internal movement, bass and treble, and all kinds of things that I have no idea how to talk about except that I feel really stirred up. Did some work today, but didn't achieve the cosmic-pathetic sublime. That's okay. Just you wait.
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4-12-06: Unseasonably warm. Made some panels out of a hollow core door yesterday afternoon, ripped it into quarters and filled the edges, it worked, was a little hairy but not bad. Did this with the basement door open and this led to an unexpected alteration of the local eco-system. Now, I try to respect all life. And certainly all non-human life. Usually I do pretty well: co-habited fine this winter with a bunch of wasps -- my fate, apparently, in spite of leaving Philadelphia. They hang out under the light at night and clean their feelers, watching me knowingly with their compound eyes. They're adventurous about this enviornment and mind their own business as long as I know exactly where they are, they even co-operate when I move them around. But I did spend till quarter of one last night actively destroying dozens of mosquitoes as they came after me, an incredible number had come in. Then dealt with the stragglers until 2:30, then got a wake-up call from a high pitched survivor at 6am. Yikes! Not the usual Vermont mosquitoes, a new breed, smaller, faster, higher IQ, nastier. But predictable: like all type A predators, they can't help but attack. I used my copy of Eastlake to get them, there's no end to the uses of that great book. But I spent most of today flinching when I saw anything move out of the corner of my eye. Made a small study early in a bright but oblique palette I used to use years ago, fun to go back there. Then started a larger version at 18x40 on one of the panels that I'd covered and gessoed. It worked out, made a couple good early technique decisions, but is very different. Not sure about it, trying to wend my way out of the 17th century and feel a little perplexed by more personal color, although it was everything to me twenty years ago.. What is my relationship to this time period? I know most people think of this as "reality" but I think of it as something else. Hard to say in a word: a loud AM station type wavelength we've stumbled onto as a culture. It seems like we are living our own shadow, a complex experience of the worst in order to understand it completely. There's no escape from this, to everything a season, but I'll be happier when we begin to evolve again.
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4-14-06: Went out early to paint. Beautiful morning, slight haze and a great time for colors before the onset of Oz. This is on Otter Creek Road below Vergennes looking north across the entrance to Farr Cross. Small linen-over-panel piece, an awful lot of paint, didn't work out that well but learned some good things about this year's system-to-be.
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4-17-06: April continues. This lunar month has challenged my theory about the waxing and waning moon: its been uniformly challenging and relatively difficult to work. So perhaps there's a lunar cycle within the solar cycle, each moon having a purpose. But that drops us back to the 16th century mindset, when everything below was an analogue for something above. Which I of course believe, doesn't everybody?
I've been working on a round of bursitis and tendonitis, in my left shoulder and elbow respectively. It gets a little worse, I alter my diet and it gets a little better. I've had good luck using fresh tumeric as an anti-inflammatory; the positive research on this just continues to grow. But I've got to get a little more serious about it or I'm going to not be able to work at all in a while. This is where April is tending in any case, so this might be the best time return strictly to the basics.
Its interesting to observe the way the relevance of working ebbs and flows: sometimes I can look at an unfinished painting and see all that has been accomplished, but now I see all that is missing. Given that there are dozens of unfinished paintings, this can add up to a strong sense of deficiency. I don't think there's any option but get through this to the other side. Although it would be nice to become a little clearer on what finished is again, and find a simpler path to that seemingly unattainable state, I'm not sure I want anything all that different. Sometimes there are thoughts about a return to one or another of the color field styles I went through long ago, executing them with the paint I can make now, but when I get even into the study stage of this, it seems specious somehow. But that's all good to know, there are times when one is just parked, when the fields need to be fallow. I'd like the work to move back towards color and extroversion a bit, and this has begun, but I'm not sure there can ever be a functional interface with the art world beyond simply those who are interested in buying my work. (This is, of course, the old way, before galleries: if you wanted to see what Rembrandt was up to, you went to his house). Usually I'm comfortable with this sense of distance but today I began to question the level of alienation du jour that has become standard in the last few years. In some ways this has been political, in some ways related to the aftershock of my parents dying, in some ways to Vermont slowly but surely succumbing to affluzenza, and in some ways to the sense that the search for a nurturing context, either culturally or personally, is a joke: I do know the issues. But as I did errands today, I saw a place that made no sense to me at all and thought, unemotionally, "Why am I fighting this? I can't possibly win." So, this is new, the realization that maybe I'm just wasting my time in America, period, and that what I thought of as a worthy struggle is, in another perspective, maybe just stupid. (It's hard to read Emerson, his level of thought makes the language strain at the seams, but if you can just take a little dip into some of his essays, you'll get a feeling for the road this country could have taken: the high road). I used to feel that if I could just wait out the current political climate it would change, but now I'm realizing that the issues are deeper. America is so willingly a prisoner to a host of outmoded institutions and their self-serving power structures that it is in serious danger of losing its grip on reality: this seems the inevitable consequence of considering the truth to be entirely optional, of looking on life itself as a form of retail theater, of relentlessly pushing anything deeper than a dime into the great bloody maw of religion.
So, as with most things once they're understood, its simple. The level of psychic struggle I've been involved in is unsustainable. I need to push less and allow myself to be pulled, or a frozen arm is going to look mild. And I know the first step is to be able to envision a place to be pulled towards, some sort of positive goal to replace the negative struggle. So I think I'll be working on this for a while instead of painting.
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4-19-06: Its official, there's something wrong with my elbow. Don't know what yet, a build-up of toxic deposits from reading too many lies? Can't work, would be maddening but I'm too exhausted to do anything anyway. Sold the big white peony, strange timing but makes the enforced lay-off feel less stressful. But I'll have to see somebody about this.
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4-20-06: Boy its hard not to use your arm. Didn't paint but made some Eminent Oil and Lead Paste and, well, you have to stir a lot! My regimen seems to be on the right track, but its going to be a while before I can work again. It makes me sad, but it makes me appreciate the ability to do it, not take it so much for granted. And stopping is always a good remedy for tunnel vision, just beginning to see some new possibilities, a remote glimmer in the distance.
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4-21-06: It's really hard for me to do as little as I need to do to get this arm to heal. I'm trying to use this time to catch up on my housekeeping, but squeezing a sponge seems to be the worst possible thing. Ah well. I tried. Very lovely set of days, the trees began to leaf out today, many flowering trees in bloom, tulips, daffodils: this is unheard of, I've seen snow here as late as Memorial Day. On another level, I'm trying to get back to a place where I can feel the Universe unfolding exactly as it needs to, a place where I won't worry from 3 am until dawn or get so angry that my body starts to malfunction. I don't quite know how to do this yet.
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4-22-06: Trying not to do much, learning more about what foods mess this joint up. Thought I could get away with non-fat yogurt, but feels like all dairy better be history for a while. Made a variation on Eminent Oil today, added some ground leaded glass with the idea of having the end product clarify and settle out faster. Looks good so far, but might also try quartz or silica as this might be darker, although that may not matter as it does loose its color pretty quickly. Made a batch of the medium I'm using last night, then thought of a wrinkle so made a test tube of that today: it didn't do what I thought it would at all, very interesting. I'm trying to get a certain amount of depth and broken, sculptural paint handling both at once, the recipe is about 90 percent locked, but changes in the remaining ten percent can make much larger differences than I thought. The remaining question is whether to add a soft resin to this or not; if so, which one; and whether 5 percent is too much. The other possibility here is to try the medium with uncut amber, the way it comes out of the pipkin, which is quite thick. (This medium has seven things in it, five of which I make first.) So there's more development possible there for a while. Whew, I'd hate to be done.
This rest is making me realize how much I'd acquired tunnel vision: the more I worked, the less I liked what I did, so the more I worked. This isn't a good idea, I was losing perspective. At the same time, the development of style and the research into the materials both need a certain drive behind them, an element of dissatisfaction. Otherwise, why not just get it all from the art supply store and work in the local hallucinatory landscape-as-geometry style? There needs to be a balance but that's easy to lose: it's a given of this situation that I'm going to fail a lot. But its also a given that I'm going to grow a lot. So I want to be more aware of that aspect of the process, letting it continue to change rather than trying to mold it into my own at least somewhat more evolved but nonetheless stupid version of product.
A new lunar theory is coming together, I'm wondering if the odd moons are better for creativity and the even moons are better for consolidation, or even if it goes further into the numerological area of meanings. Fifth moon of the year begins on the 27th.
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4-23-06: Rain, pretty sore arm, very quiet day, nice visit from a friend who's as puzzled by the general insanity these days as I am. Made another test of my medium in the morning, up to 7G, the seventh son of the seventh son, so I have high hopes. Switched one ingredient, at a level of less than five percent, but that made the difference I've been looking for, its just a little longer. The nice thing is now I'm back to all 17th century ingedients, I'd strayed into the 19th century a smidge. Bit by bit I'm getting some fun new concepts about painting, but I'm not going to push it until I can heal my arm. What I want from this rest is to begin to recover a sense of belonging. I know I can improve painting, but really, I need to look at improving life.
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4-27-06: New moon, moon five. Have to admit I've been waiting for this one. But when I woke up I thought, Gee, I don't feel anything different, sort of an anti-climax. Then, around quarter of seven, it started. Chaotic day of small experiments with color and mediums, lots of really different energy, blam, felt like being in a Bartok piece. Even I'm not showing any of this stuff! It feels like a shift is happening away from outer eyes towards inner eyes. This makes sense since all of this has been cyclical, a helix, in fact, and I started many years ago with work that was very colorful and abstract. Some elements of that are beginning to show up again, but in oil paint and lots of it. I'm able to make more conscious decisions about how something evolves, but, yikes, beginning all over again, again! I overdid it, my arm will probably not be good tomorrow. But good to see the lunar cycle kicking in right on schedule with a whole new continent to explore. Hard to explain, but I want more intuitive or natural work. Also, how about some happy work? Not stupid happy, but maybe cosmic happy, above and beyond this egregious mess? There were some of those once upon a time. So, I'm dazed but psyched: moon five looks like my kind of moon.
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4-29-06: Worked on several different ones this morning, one almost done, one just started, and this one above, layer two, a conscious attempt to put on less paint in each layer instead of my usual more. This is a bit larger, 18x40 inches. The idea here is to take some of the compositions that have worked out at a smaller scale and execute them in a more colorful or perhaps -- cringe -- modern way. Mostly I'm looking to get a little more emphasis on feeling. We'll see, but I like this one, a palette I used a long time ago.
Made a new material, a cooked oil varnish from manila copal resin. Manila copal is soluble in alcohol and this was once the vehicle for the paint for toys, dried very fast, was bright and shiny. Its classed as a soft copal and it did melt quickly, becoming a glurpy, gummy mass. But then it stayed there swelling up for a very long time, belying its classification a bit, should have melted way before it did if the table in Massey is right. But this table has been optimistic before, perhaps because its so hot in El Paso to begin with... It eventually dissolved into the oil, stunk to high heaven in the process, and isn't that dark. I guessed at a proportion and came out with something very thick but usable as is: that's what I wanted. I'll try it in my medium as the soft resin element. Its very long and stringy, which I think will be good. I don't know, of course. That would be boring!
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4-30-06: A little bit confusing this morning, but realized something different wanted to happen so just did that. Made five small studies using the copal varnish and copal-augmented medium I made yesterday, 9x10 inches, oil on gessoed paper. This is the third one, I put up the series in Process. They're all the same palette, but different variations and emphasis on geometry or more organic forms. The medium was very dense and enabled a lot of sculptural adding and subtracting, it was good to work with a material I'd made that was performing right to the task. I'm trying to figure out what feels natural, what feels happy and fun. I've reached a point where there's no choice. This way of painting isn't new, its old, from the 80's. Odd, not sure where this will go, but there was a large amount of energy behind it.
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5-1-06:
Amazing day, went to this spot near my house and did a bad painting for a few reasons: there are lots of things to keep track of when you change technique around as much as I have and sometimes I get tripped up by it. Too many balls in the air and one of them hits me on the head. But I'm becoming more innured to this as I keep trying new things, which I like: just have fun, be the land. I think the real problrem outside is that I'm torn between making a methodical record of what's there and making something that's more like art. One ideal, of course, is both, as in many of the Corot paintings outside from Italy. But I worked with this assiduously for many years, would love to find something new. So, uncertainty there, may need to make conscious experiments one way and the other. Long walk in, great to be out, this is a good time before the onslaught of heat and Oz-like greens.
Thinking a lot about the small series from yesterday. It filled the bill in that it felt natural and was fun. Also, it didn't bother my arm. So I wonder if this inflammation has an internal aspect: that I need to just let things evolve, whatever the consequences there in terms of consistency. There certainly isn't much of a career at risk! Also, I've been hitting the land so hard, night be a good idea to let it go fallow a bit. Apple orchard tomorrow.
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5-2-06: Overcast and moody morning, rain coming, went to a big overgrown hillside orchard with my friend Jill. No blooms yet, but close, red tips. It was very spikey, like being in an Ucello painting. Did something bigger and even worse, although, like the day, it had a few sunnier moments. This is why outdoor painters find a system and stick to it like a lobbyist to a limosine. The composition is okay, may go back after the rain clears out and re-do it with blossoms.
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5-4-06: Did another set of small color oriented studies today, this is the third of five. They've got a gallery of their own now called colorscape. Did them the same way as the first series, a little bigger. One of the problems I used to get into with this type of work was changing too many things at once, did all these with the same five colors and white. There's a lot to think about with this idea, and I probably will. But I've also realized it doesn't matter: the important thing is to just do them because they want to be done. The second set is more complex except for this one, which simply happened. I'm slowly getting the hang of the type of decisions that work: bold and nutty ones, even if they don't work, they create new situations. Will probably start them on panels soon, cut those today, again just a little bigger. I'd hoped to make studies at this scale for much larger panels but I'm not sure that will work. It seems like the best thing to do is to just get comfortable with the process and use bigger panels bit by bit. I don't know if this is a vacation or a departure, a bug or a feature. It occurred to me today that it would be pretty straightforward to take this way of painting back into realism. But not yet, there's a big vein of these to explore for a while. Its interesting because this style has come very close to coming out in force a few times in the past, but it just wasn't ripe enough. I knew it had potential, but couldn't develop it consciously. It was developed by the work with realism, learning how to mix color, how to make an area advance or recede .
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5-6-06: Made a set of three smaller colorscapes yesterday, then two today, slightly larger, on canvas covered panels. Made a few adjustments to the medium and paint that enabled more control in the way of carving and layering, parts of this look woven. Fun, and interesting from the point of view of really exploding and loosening up the way I paint. My arm seems to be getting slowly better, we'll see, I'm being pretty pure.
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5-7-06: Worked on just one colorscape today, started it in the morning, then altered it a lot in the afternoon. Tried a system of drawing in several possible compositional avenues first in thin paint with thin lines, something I used to do. This created a very locked situation which in turn made for a false security that wasn't good. I was reacting to the loopiness of the painting below, but considering where I ended up today, think I should go back to winging it. Too much order. But I'll un-order it bit by bit.
Started another batch of copal varnish, a few changes based on what I've noticed so far working with it. Feel a little confused about what I want. Sometimes it feels like there are too many options, but right now I seem to be allergic to realistic painting altogether, there's a kind of force-field around it. Its interesting to apply the craft in reverse and make zany paintings with personal color, but this kind of work makes me nervous in a way. Having grown up with abstract painting -- I loved the Kandinsky watercolors at the Philadelphia Museum of Art -- it seems natural, and I do believe that any kind of painting can be valid, contain truth. But there's an urban, pointy-headed quality about abstract work that alienates some people, and that bugs me. I'd hoped to find a way to make realistic work that had soul, and I don't think the still life work has too far to go in that department. But, for that reason, I became tired of it, and turned to the landscape work as a challenge. And the landscape work has a long way to go. One thing I've been able to test more freely with the colorscape work is the idea from Hoogstraten's book via Eastlake that older painters didn't do too much precise mixing on the palette: the mixing happened on the canvas. This makes sense because the maximum visual oomph occurs from minimal or very localized realism balanced by a great deal of strong "abstract" form. As in Vermeer's "Girl With a Pearl Earring", and countless Rembrandts. Anyway, I'm hoping that this excursion will allow me to return to the landscape work with more freedom of movement.
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5-8-06:
Tried to get enthused about a small landscape in a different style, couldn't. Tried to do a small colorscape, got this far. This illustrates the issues with this style pretty well: it has zip, it has color, but there's a tendency for the composition to get locked and stuck as I try to keep the color clean: its unresolved because at a certain point I stopped taking intuitive chances. The paint on this will be more workable tomorrow, I'll see if it wants to get finished then. My arm hurts significantly again, might be time to stop for a while again. I still haven't seen anybody medical, might do that. Herbs, not chemicals: we all have our little prejudices.
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The rest of the text for May, June, July, and August was lost, following are some of the better images from the period in chronological order.
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 5-21-06: Early colorscape done from a composition generated by a piece of a painting that didn't work out as a whole. Oil on canvas over panel, 12x13.5 inches.
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 6-1-06: The best smaller one, three colors and white, the grid but not the grid.
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 6-9-06: If these ever start up again, this is a good example to begin from: not too fussy, a few strong decisions, then done.
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 6-10-06: I loved this one, felt like a real development but not too fussy.
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 6-12-06: Getting more detailed, possibly the most finished image of the group.
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 6-13-06: The pastoral best of the series, quieter but a favorite of mine.
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 6-16-06: I used to love the colors of Chinatown growing up; several of the colorscapes referenced that palette.
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 6-28-06: Last of the series: the old kimono nebula. My brain felt very peculiar after doing this, stretched beyond known boundaries. In a way that was great, but didn't know how to develop the idea further from the heart and decided it was time to stop.
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Below is a selection of landscapes I started, with the exception of the larger Owl's Head painting these have had significant issues, but they were solved in the system used for paintings begun in the fall.
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 7-13-06
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 7-21-06
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 7-30-06
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 8-1-06
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 8-8-06: Beginning layer on a larger landscape, about 15x32 inches. Designed this to go into the show at Shelburne Farms but couldn't finish it in time. Maine, on the way to Owl's Head in late October.
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 8-12-06: Something I did outside with an immense amount of paint, an early attempt to emulate the Constable approach more. A lot to learn.
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 8-31-06: A more careful outdoor study from the Dead Creek Waterfowl Preserve in Addison County.
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 9-6-06: Outside, an impossibly beautiful and changeable morning, with Snake Mountain appearing and disappearing in the rain and mist. Very fun, the kind of experience with the weather which created its own style.
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 9-9-06: Another painting from outside, 12x24 inches, the top of a large orchard on a hill with the Adirondacks peeking through in the background.. Gave it another layer or two
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 9-16-06: Did some layers yesterday, then had to do something different and made the study below, about 8x10, using the transparent/opaque triad idea from a couple days ago and a finishing medium I made that seemed a little on the rich side but worked well in an alla prima situation. This was all paint I made from pigment combinations except for Golden Ochre, co-pilot of Corot, and a couple whites I'm working on that are transparent. The idea is to use the opaque pigments to modify the darks somewhat so that they have a sense of both color and value detail without fussiness. This is a good prototype for how I'd like to start working outside but I was surprised that the medium could be even richer for that Constable style swoosh. More swoosh!
Still warm and humid today, couldn't work on the show project, enough already, tried a larger and more developed image using the trans-opaque triads but it'll take another pass at least; hopefully still be wet tomorrow. The photo shows some of the paintings I've been working on for the upcoming show at Shelburne Farms, drying outside in the sun. I'll put a coat of Olio d'Abezzo on them tomorrow and deliver to the farm on Monday. And then? Well, I really need to clean the studio, you can't do it with wet paintings around and that's been the case for weeks. Then I've got a few commissions that need to be finished up. That should take me into the new moon and who knows what that will be about? After the first day's chaos I've usually got an idea. I'd love to go out and start working outside on a regular basis but it may be necessary to give the landscape aspect a rest. Tough call, this is getting to be prime time to be out: not too hot, not too cold, good color.
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 9-18-06: Delivered five paintings to Shelburne Farms, got five more ready to go to the framer. Made amber varnish using some more advanced technology and it worked out very well, much lighter. A little tired, but really glad this project is done, lots of other projects need to get finished for people and lots of new things want to happen. Image shows another painting that didn't quite get finished in time -- ah well!
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9-19-06: Rainy and strange. Delivered paintings to framer, picked up last set of frames that were ordered: I've got a great deal of almost finished work, always a good feeling. My framer and I always have good talks about the life of the hands, its fun to share insights that way. Picked up a case of walnut oil I ordered, then started to clean up studio/house. But realized that both need a serious overhaul, some movement of major masses, so I'll start that tomorrow. Trying to figure out how to get more light on my easel without putting mirrors on the ceiling. I mean, it would work, but anyone visiting would have an irresistible opportunity, and somehow that's not okay with me in this context. New moon on Friday, I'll work on cleaning and fixing until then, maybe make some sandarac, which is getting low, and some Eminent Oil. The craft is a great respite from both the aesthetic issues and the modern world. People think its just making stuff, but really its participating in a different order of time. I'd like to write a book about this someday: looking at both the inner and outer aspects of the older craft. But not soon, too much to explore.
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9-21-06: I get a kind of warning dream when I 'm exhausted, they always involve my car dying somewhere or going off the road. Had not one but two of them last night. Nonetheless, tried to continue the cleaning project, didn't get too far. Got obsessed with getting more light to the easel, interesting, rigged a bunch of baffles and reflectors, kind of goofy but got through it, its brighter. Decided not to use the table saw, maybe tomorrow. Just have to hang on here, its been a while since I've been this tired. Hard because there's so much that is ready to happen: the real fruit of this project has been a sense of being much more sure of how to take a landscape to completion. But to everything a season: last day of the moon, time to stop.
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9-22-06: New moon, more deep cleaning, . It seems to be a psychological need right now. Beginning to feel a little bit of movement in the background as far as new work, but I'm still so tired it kind of hurts, just need to be patient.
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 9-24-06: Cleaned yesterday. More cleaning today, I am after all my mother's child, then started some linen, then noticed some very interesting things happening in the sky. In my old house, I could tell what was going on with the weather very easily. Where I am now, it's harder, but I'm getting better at it. Anyway, felt it was going to be good and it was, watched one front depart and another arrive over Farr Cross Road, really interesting, the new front ultimately shut down the sun and brought much cooler air after intense dramatic light against dark stormy clouds. This image is from earlier, the type of image I'd love to be able to transform into paint, maniacal pastoral lyricism, drive all the intellectuals insane. Not really the goal, just a bonus. Maybe this winter.
I've been pretty tired but I'm getting better. Beginning to try to analyze why I worked so hard for this show, getting some interesting results. Sold a painting there, but I'm actually doing better selling work myself this week. Commerce, what a tangled web.
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10-3-06: Things are improving bit by bit, actually went into the dun-- I mean studio today. Started some copal varnish, made some paint, looked at a lot of different still life set-ups, did the drawing for a new painting. Went and saw the show at Shelburne Farms a few days ago, it was a little hard because I saw some stuff in my work that made me realize just how tired I was at the end: I just wasn't seeing right, very interesting to have such a clear example of this phenomenon. Thinking a lot about what the next step should be, I'm going to try to finish the outstanding commissions but beyond that I need to give the landscape work a rest for a while. Except for painting outside, which is great fun.
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10-4-06: Made a big batch of Eminent Oil and did the underpainting for two still lifes. For many years I was the victim of the method of underpainting in those unfinished Leonardos, which made the darks too dark in the end. Now I'm making a light value underpainting with soft edges and a palette of black, transparent red earth, a very hot school bus yellow I make from the nickel Indian yellow and a smidge of quinacradone rose, and a transparent white made with zinc and cristobalite. This lets lots of mood and development happen with little paint but lots of working that paint. Its pretty OM except for the yellow, which makes everything zippier, gives quite a glow. So, not much, still feeling my way back into this.
For many years I ran kitchens, and they're often the setting for dreams. Last night, I was overseeing the expansion of a small restaurant into a larger one. But I didn't know just how large, I kept finding more, or that a kind of preview had been scheduled for that day: people were coming in and sitting down! If you've ever cooked you know what a bizarre and horrifying situation this would be. So I was running around in a panic trying to find the owner but only finding more and more people and more and more dining rooms I hadn't known about: yikes! But then I started finding kitchens full of people who were making food, and lots of it, none of which I had known about either, and realized with a kind of thud that it was all taken care of and all going to be fine. The last image was helping one of the cooks take out a bathtub sized steamtable tray full of mashed potatoes.
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 10-9-06: Had an early appointment and sold a painting. Theoretically good, but, alas, a favorite fell, possibly the best thing I ever did outside. Hard to explain: a place I know well, not too tight or loose, very limited palette, chose the right moment to do the clouds. Everyone knows what the best one is, and as soon as I showed it, the sale took place. Argh. The price was decent -- for here and now, wait till I'm dead -- but I was trying to think about a price that would have made me feel less loss and it got pretty high before I began to feel any better. I wonder if this is why painters who succeed are so remorseless about the money: revenge for the years of loss. But there's got to be a way to avoid that: I remember reading an article years ago in which Jasper Johns was talking about how painters should get residuals based on the increased value of their work and feeling just nauseated. This issue became a little focal today because next up was an impromptu outdoor painting invitation. Lovely day, faced with the prospect of the clammy basement or bucolic vistas, who could resist? So, went out and was again very beaten up by the autumn light and colors. Partly this has to do with the location, partly about thinking about too many things: I know what makes a good outdoor painting and its not a cloudless blue sky day with lots of brilliantly lit orange and yellow trees everywhere. Or rather, this type of day requires lots of invention, diminution. But I'm thinking about still life work, landscape work inside, etc. and just went out and did something disastrous...again. Of course, all this makes me want to try to make something great within these limitations: like the dog who wants to get back at the porcupine. So, we'll see, thank God it'll be November soon, I can do great mood indigo stuff in November and no one will ever buy it. But the events of the last few days have made me feel that maybe the painting above isn't that bad. Button Bay, last week, 11x14 inches, materials I made, a great deal of oil on linen.
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10-11-06: ... Had another warning automotive dream: was driving a car whose steering wheel was just two opposed triangles. A very zippy car that kept going too fast. Kept trying to go home, outside the city, but became progressively more lost, inside the city. Hmm... What could this mean? Anyway, I seem to be borderline ill, so might be forced to stop for a while. I usually try to make the changes I need to make on the fly, and consciously, but often this is disallowed by some higher power. I think I get too involved in doing and forget about being. Also, was reading Burton the other night and wonder how involved I've gotten in the curse of Ambition, about which he and his favorite authors from the Oxford library circa 1640 are much more consistent than they are about the dietary causes of melancholy! My guess is that there's some form of larger change in the offing that I need to prepare for by some disengagement. As always, today will be clearer tomorrow.
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10-12-06: Almost got sick yesterday, staved it off with the usual herbs and supplements but couldn't do much otherwise. Looked through old work, threw a lot out, found a few things of interest. Read Burton, it's hard at first because he's writing in 1630 or so and has all the time in the world, but I'm getting used to it and its very therapeutic. Made a few small stabs at new directions today but nothing wants to happen, its as though the big cartoon foot from Monty Python has landed on me with that lovely juicy sound. I'm okay with it, dark and rainy day, good time to be fallow: made my Tuscan chicken soup with sage and cavolo nero. It used to panic me not to work but enough of these rounds have happened that I know its not possible to think or effort my way out. Just a time to wait. I always liked Ecclesiastes, really well written, deep and bitter yet strong, energetic.
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 10-13-06:
Cleared up yesterday afternoon, great crisp day today. Began to break down my resistance to starting over a little, did one of the bright fall color disasters over: it couldn't get worse, that always helps. Then did a layer on this still life, third layer, from life, in the past I always did them alla prima but this seems to be going further. A perennial subject I love, for some unaccountable reason these sell as well. Trying to keep it light in value using a medium that's thinner, might finish it tomorrow depending on how much it dries overnight. Its interesting to try to peer into the shadowed red values when so much of it is so bright. The thinner medium allows a more of that Chardin evanescence with the edges, I'm just beginning to work with it, always feels like I have paws where they had hands, but should actually be able to make this less brut than usual, somewhat more traditionally finished. Would love to get going on the work for which people are waiting patiently, just don't want it to go backwards, need to get some confidence again. I'm in a good part of Burton, he's talking about curing one's discontents, its pretty funny to hear the familiar litany of self-inflicted woes coming from almost five hundred years ago. He's an interesting example of a classical stoic blended with faith and New Testament ideals, sort of a Quaker prototype, and turns a zesty phrase: hard to feel melancholy for long under the circumstances.
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10-14-06: Got a layer on all the outstanding commissions, a great relief, I seem to see the next step at long last. Tried a new way of making amber varnish but couldn't really tell if it was done and guessed wrong. But that can be finished tomorrow, and will definitely be better. Yipes what a process, but I've almost got the next step. Doing the work for the farm show caused a new medium to be developed pretty quickly. This process is a lot like a pendulum swinging back and forth between proportions of oil and resin until the right balance is achieved for a certain style. I'm using the latest version now and its pretty interesting, sort of like Roberson's medium only made with the older ingredients and no mastic. Made a white I like last night using zinc, lead, and cristobalite, really transparent, great for the effects I like.
So it feels like I'm back a little bit, had the first normal day here in a while. What did I learn? To never, ever, ever, put the process in the service of commerce again. Amen.
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10-15-06: Concentrated on a layer on the two cans below, didn't rush it, just made lots of small corrections, its pretty close. Interesting to look at it for several days in many different lights: its actually easier to see it all on an overcast day like today: I'm fascinated by the moody range of reds in the shadows, but they get obliterated by the brightness of the highlights on a sunny day: that is, my eyes can't find them anymore. Finished the amber from yesterday, it was close too, the best so far, nice because I seem to be guessing right with the changes in process. This batch featured a long pre-cook at low heat, which made the actual cooking much less violent. Had a take-out lesson in the afternoon, someone who wanted to get started painting again. Made some guesses about what would work; enthusiastic response, always helpful. Reading Burton, seem to be on a role with him, he's most well-known for incredible serpent-like vituperative sentences that manage to rail and tumble on and on to the point of burlesque, but there's also a gentler side. He was talking last night about the virtues of moderate poverty over excess wealth, and about the peaceful acceptance of one's situation, and did it sincerely and simply. Which only makes sense, I guess. Anyway, a unique and fascinating book.
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10-16-06:
Started out working inside, did okay but felt antsy, too nice a day, sort of that perfect postcard day where its not too cool, not too warm, lots of good smells, won't be too many more in the next six months...sigh...so went outside and worked on this orchard, hung on the north side of the house. Did about four hours worth: 30x80 inches, started it in the spring of 05, haven't worked on it much this year but some people saw it a while ago and were enthusiastic so that gave me courage to begin to dance through this minefield again. My friend Jill stopped by and she liked it which is very complimentary because Jill went to Art School! It's a little daunting because you can't be nice in a situation like this, you have to attack and be relentless, especially in the middle of the layer, to push it through to some level of further development. A good change from my stoic layers, and I was kind of excited about the way the process worked out: started with uncut color and worked towards more moderate color, using paint with lots of quartz in it to make the shifts more subtle. Its not as done as it looks from this photo but its fun to be on the right track with this one -- the next one in this scale will go much faster.
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10-17-06: Dark, then rain, I'm held up finishing some of these paintings by a combination of the weather and a medium change that works well but doesn't dry as fast as I'd like...yet. Like how the orchard below is drying, but still puzzled about how to complete the shadowed portion: I have a photo with plenty of detail but that isn't the answer. Did a little bit on the two cans below, its getting a personality of its own, more finished without seeming slick, I hope. But today's major project was re-washing all the brushes that hadn't quite been washed properly this summer by the harried underpaid brush washer. They looked clean but resinous residue lurked in their inner recesses, resulting in redundant rigor mortis! Never mind how many. They're clean now.
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10-23-06: More rain, very moody but pretty day. Brought work back from the farm show, don't feel good about what happened on a number of levels, but blame it on myself for having participated when my instincts strongly said not to. So, one wrong decision, several months of consequences. I would've learned the lesson I think with about a month of consequences. I mean, it would've been enough... Worked on my two cans, ground it down first, its about as Job-like as I am right now, so we're getting along. No real sense of a new direction yet, several ideas but they're not generating much enthusiasm, I'm circling, hovering, resisting the urge to commit to materials for one thing or another just yet. The work I'm doing isn't bad, all the adjustments continue, its just not easy to work. This may be the way it goes for a while still. People thought I was being funny when I said my process was mad at me for getting detoured by commerce. What I'm realizing these days is just how mad it really is, how long it will still take to get things back to normal. What a dummy I was not to trust that it would take care of me, when it was.
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 10-25-06: Cusp of winter, dark and overcast, did a few layers this morning. The two cans, somehow I can't take a decent photo of this, working on making a more evolved image technically without getting elegant: Massaccio: yes, Botticelli: no.
Below is a painting that came back to me because it had been damaged by movers: my responsibility because, well, who else can fix it... This figure is perhaps the most snake-bitten image I've ever made, an unbelievable concateny of ill fortune has dogged its every development: why oh why? And when I finally let it go, back it came in a matter of months, trashed. I'm trying to come to terms with this and get it truly finished, its frustrating because I've learned so much in the interim that starting from scratch would be more efficient. Got it out today and realized that it just needed to be ground down and started over. Became so angry about the whole situation that, yelling all the while, I really changed it and may have actually made it better. Good grief, what do the neighbors think about the strangled litany of fury coming from my basement? No weirder than the alembic in the yard belching acrid smoke at intervals... A tangled web, no amount of anything would make this particular situation seem less preposterous; acceptance becomes the only recourse as the Pre-Socratics advise. But I need to learn more about the Post-Socratic use of the words "enough" and "no". As in, I've had enough and no, I'm not doing that. But I did want another pass at this image. Are they ever really done? Reminds me of that great story Bonnard having Vuillard distract the guard at the Musee d'Orsay so he could touch up his work. Drying down or sinking in is of course a classic problem of oil paint used without resin: I have other problems...
In The Anatomy of Melancholy Burton has gotten beyond philosophy to actual "physic" and, after a rousing condemnation of physicians as a species, is talking about all the "simples" that help the condition: borage, hellebore, bee balm; a very long list. As well it might be.
Made what may be the definitive OM egg emulsion medium tonight after about three years of development, fun after a slightly chaotic day. Thought it would be a good based on what I've been doing, but got an unexpected rheological bonus, can't wait to try it out. It'll of course get tweaked but I'm in the final round with this one. Its nice to work with -- for me at least -- holds the stroke but can be built or blended, soft shine, all older ingredients yielding a quietly broken surface capable of what seems like infinite development, can work on it day to day. Final layer will probably be somewhat richer, a couch with more resin/oil allowing for more blending, but this is fast without feeling gloopy or too glutinous. I'm fascinated by the way these mediums are able to do anything I want as long as I know what it is I want. The permutations within a short list of processes and ingredients seem endless. What I'm learning is that, while the ingredients stay the same, the processes actually do very strange things as I follow their lead. Well, not strange, but they also follow the universal law of opposites by sometimes reversing field. How to explain this accurately without giving it all away!
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10-27-06: Sun! Went to the lake this morning to paint with my friend Jill, thought we'd freeze but it was balmy. Then we went to Vergennes and had Lunch and talked about The Painter's Life: an indulgence. It's very good and special to have friends. If people wonder about me at all they wonder what I'm worth per square centimeter: quite the woeful commodity. Jill says, "Hey, what's that!?!" referring to a gelatinous, pellucid mass of quartz medium or perhaps the mixed blue du jour...and somehow, I feel better about it all in the cosmic sense: there's another painter. Glorious clearing sky this morning, later color holding in the trees, four or five different kinds of clouds at once including the wacky dirty vermilion drier lint end-of-storm ones backed by high cirrus... global warming has a good side? Started a set of panels in the afternoon, many small panels for painting outside, and completed a batch of amber varnish made with sunflower oil. Couldn't resist this, very 16th century: the mutual solar connection. And, its very different, darker than I thought it would be and seems less gelatinous than when made with walnut oil. Also moving on from my latest "perfect" egg medium, its fine for developing work but I want something for outside or alla prima that is quite firm, enabling layer over layer in one sitting, figured out a new recipe I'll try tomorrow. Went through a complex period in April where nothing quite seemed to gel: this time feels similar, going over a lot of material looking for a way to re-synthesize it. May was quite active, so perhaps December will be as well. Don't mind what type of time it is, just mind not knowing.
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10-28-06: Poured rain last night, light rain and pretty dark off and on today. Finished up half the panels and concocted another "perfect" egg medium: decided to make it grippy and really succeeded, even mixed with tube paint its like cement. So the optimum is between the two I have but I can mix them for now, which actually worked out pretty well: did a small study and was able to put paint on it until zombification set in: its the beginning of the next step I've been looking for if still pretty inchoate. (Favorite word!) This seems to be the way I work best outside, very additive, lots of paint and chances. Before I used straight paint on an absorbent ground, but these dried down: resin is needed at least. But of course any change changes everything. In the last few years I've been experimenting with other ways outside, but realized this summer that I need to return to the original natural method but with more enlightened ingredients. So that's what this particular snipe hunt is about, being able, one fine day, to go outside and make work that really seems like art to me on a regular basis. There's a lot of chaos to a process like this, it illustrates how craft-oriented painting naturally becomes conservative: in order to avoid the chaos and remain efficient. But I kind of like the chaos, in reasonable does, who knows what may turn up? Its also a great way to keep yourself paying attention, by introducing an element of the unknown so that execution doesn't become automatic. Perhaps I'm unusually restless this way: the system that evolved out of the farm show crisis this summer has already been left behind. But at least its now clear what the next step will be about: a broken surface but more spontaneous paint, which means less oil, more other in the medium.
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10-29-06: Dark, reasonably gloomy day, tried to clear up a couple times but failed: seems like a seasonal lowering of expectations is in order. Not sure how I feel about any of the attempts I've made to get the landscape work re-started, it may be time to just give it a longer rest, still feels both beat and tainted by commerce. It always seems that what wants to happen is natural and spontaneous and has therefore an effortless quality: doing and being combine and something new arrives. Had this experience a bit today re-doing some of the colorscape work from earlier in the summer: the best ones have been sold for the most part, there's one I'm trying to hold onto, and as I look at the others I feel they don't matter anymore: a good time to do them over. It was fun to revisit spontaneous color, feel what's changed internally and try to use but develop the original paint textures. These mostly went awry with the issue of composition, if I were to do another series I'd probably do them bigger and include a first pass that was just about form. But this time seems to be about consolidation, looking back, rescue. Which is good to know: I'm realizing the extent to which I've become addicted to figuring out the next step as a kind of security blanket and not sure its such a good thing. The last few weeks have generated many new ideas for a next development but they're all in my head: fixing colorscapes was something that really wanted to happen, and felt much better than the current circus of potentials.
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 11-2-06: Getting closer to completion, but decided to give this a rest.
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 11-19-06: Test of a gel medium using amber, mastic, and leaded oil. Ther mastic kept it tight until I got to a certain degree of paint, then was able to do lots of interesting stuff with the onions.
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 11-25-06: A painting that happened pretty quickly a few years ago, kind of the apogee of a style using a Canada Balsam-Sun Oil medium. No one seemed to like this painting but me until today. Kind of sad, I'll miss it, the personal quality of the stiff life work makes it subject to some unusual feelings.
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 12-1-06: A small alla prima study that went on for three days.
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 12-2-06: Possibly the most interesting thing that happened all year, a copy of one of the Constable studies for The Hay Wain: learned an immense amount rom this, it really stirred things up.
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 12-6-06: Had an idea that I'd start in on work in progress today, but ended up trying to get a handle -- again -- on the Constable palette from the Hay Wain study I copied. Its a fine line between loose and goopy, not sure how I feel about this but was able to find a sense of the light of the day. For these, looser feels better but there's a middle period where all seems lost. Didn't feel careful at all today, want to keep trying more of these studies, for their own sake but also to define a new way of working outside. But we'll see what tomorrow brings, now seems to be a pretty unstable period in this process. Which is only bad if I fight it.
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 12-7-06: Called early on account of darkness: impending snow. Started this using the same drill as the Hay Wain study, but it was too large -- 9x18 inches -- even though small, for that more abstract treatment. So it went part-way to Corotland before it became too dark to see. No detail as yet, big blocks of color as pattern, you can see that I took out a cloud in the upper right: might take out another one there too. I'm learning a tremendous amount about landscape these days, just need to watch it evolve into a new style as all of these experiments begin to form a pattern. This was made with a slightly unusual palette again, I'm trying to see if I can actually do this without a green but it means that the shade of the blue becomes very critical. Perhaps the biggest breakthrough with this painting is there's a degree of comfort using black, it feels more integrated into the whole.
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 12-10-06: Sold the first version of this a few weeks ago, felt so bereft I had to start another one. This happens sometimes: this image was the first cheese that I really felt broke through to a new level of balance between older and more modern painting; referencing Morandi without derivation. It also seemed somehow funny to me, a serious panting | |
Modifying the modernist malaise.