So easy to get lost amid each and every brush stroke. Adding new color or shape to what stands before promotes a tension-there is a balance here (even if that balance is a white, untouched canvas)-you gonna upset it or continue to walk a thin line, retaining the symmetry but keeping the rest moving. Almost impossible to move backwards to regain a feeling, once you lose the gesture of freshness. Erasure is a friend to me in my other work-not so here. As with infidelity, there is very little real forgiveness.

The successes or failures here make for either a loud triumph or a whimpering, pitiful withdrawal. The continual tension produces real fatigue, hard to wish away or drown with caffeine. It is easy to work on several paintings at once, switching over to temporarily change the subject-but there is always an insistence on returning: postponed doubts or ineffectual solutions haunt this painter. For better or worse, "sleeping on it" is rarely satisfactory-for me, it seems less painful to just white the canvas out and completely "destroy" the problem.

Spose it's obvious, but I'll say it anyway. This work with brush and paint is so very different from my work as a sculptor.

As I mentioned before, I started making these heads in December, using the wood from a fallen willow tree as a base to nail into.

Practical advice for non-canines

1. Buy Fabriano brand watercolor pads-27 X 35 cm-I paid $20 for this pad of paper-75 sheets of approx. 10.5 X 14" HEAVY (140 lb) watercolor paper-what a deal! This paper is the thick stuff.

2. If you have to wear glasses, try Zenni optical-I just bought regular (single focal length) glasses for $20. As long as you have yer prescription, you can get these glasses on line for (and I repeat) $20-they have a ton of styles-well, at least several hundred!!!

3. Buy used books offa Amazon-you pay $3.99 for shipping, but most paperbacks are cheap as hell used-if you need to find specific titles, used is the way to go (if you don't have the toniest library, that is!). I wish that there was an easy way to trade stuff (let me know if I can borrow yer copy of "A Magic Stronger than Death", ok?).

4.Reuse paper coffee filters-as long as they aren't torn or ripped, they actually get stronger with each use-Imagine that!

5. Reuse anything you can, for that matter. Used plastic bags are actually better than new ones-this is true for (many, but not all) used cars as well.

6. Start a "free" pile at yer library: magazines and books that you want to pass on will feed this pile very nutritionally.

Now that you know all about my "hippy" tendencies, I'll shut up for a while.

Happy Holidays and all the best for the new year: Let's make it a good one!

Prostitution?

I've decided to market myself a bit more boldly in the next (rapidly approaching) year and have come up with a line of "wholesale" pieces. I tried this a few years back and wasn't too crazy about it, but have decided that it might be worth another shot.

I'll make about 6 pieces for this effort-all priced around $200. I realize that this might be too high of a price point for many, but it's in keeping with the range I'd like to be in.

I have three or four pieces almost finished-I'm going to go to Dave Coulter, who helps me with in photographing my work and get the pcs shot as soon as I feel I'm ready. What I'd like to do is to produce an online line sheet, which will primarily be emailed out. Any business requesting a printed version can print the thing out for themselves. The end of January is my goal for the line sheet.

Earlier in the year, I requested info for a wholesale show (in order to show new work) and was knocked over by the prices of the booths. It seemed to me as if they had doubled since I'd last been there (and that was just not THAT long ago). At that point, I decided that I'd use my old mailing list and see what kind of interest I could drum up for my work.

What I don't like about the idea (I had a hard time with this when I tried it before) is the notion of selling two types of work: one-offs and "multiples". Especially hard for me is "educating" potential buyers. I hate to go through my litany of facts: that each and every thing I do is by hand and when I say this, I mean MY hand. Since this is true for the "multiples" as well as the one-of-a-kinds, it makes making the distinction between them somewhat tougher.....and more annoying to me, since I see people totally happy to throw money into Giclee prints or work done by anonymous "others" and signed by the "artist". But I won't wake this dog up.

Interesting to talk about commoditizing my work, as I feel as though another part of me is drifting off artistically to areas unknown. I'm not sure that I could give a name or description to my new direction ("Let's Get Lost"comes to mind). In looking through my CD "archives" the other day (I was searching for a high-res image of a favorite piece), I realized that I'm pretty satisfied with the work done in the past few years. It certainly has a look all of its own. But this only gives the question a louder voice: "Where to now, Columbus?"

My painting (which, truth be told, is almost as much in my mind as it is on actual canvas...as they say on TV, not that there's anything wrong with that...) has led me to some interesting places-almost mirage-like in that their substance exists partially in concept and partially in reality. Maybe it's the physicality of sculpture or (probably) the fact that I sell my work, but substance-or let me put it in another way-saleability has become a habit for me. It may be a soft leash, but it's a leash nonetheless. It's a good thing to be aware of, but quite another to break out of-or even to decide to break-the ego and the pocketbook both need to be fed. There's irony here, too. I used to work part time so as not to have to think about selling work, but, of course, this diminishes the time and energy you have to put into your work. The life of the artist-what luxury!

This piece is called "Industrial Pull Toy." I made it for Bobby Hansson's book (in its tenth reprint), "The Fine Art of the Tin Can."

Where the Old Willow Went

Some time ago, we had a willow collapse in the yard-of course, this happened while I was away at a show, as bad things always happen when I'm not around to take care of them.

I cut the willow up into smaller pieces with the exception of three four foot sections. These I (paraffin) waxed on the ends (so prescribed by an old wood carvers book). It's been about two years since I put these aside to dry in the furnace room of the studio. Cutting into them yielded a nice soft, yet consistent wood, not unlike pine. I started cutting ovoid head shapes (with a flat back to facilitate hanging) from one of the logs. Thereafter, I nailed rusty tin and bits of old wire into the surfaces. Now it seems as though I have yet another version of Shakespeare's weird sisters, with more to follow.

Open Studio and Pinched Nerves

Da Studio Show
Thanks to everyone who showed up (so far) for my studio show. I count all of these folks as friends as well as supporters. Maybe that’s a necessity in the relationship-the two twined together. I hate the business part of it-the money exchange and all that, but this does help to assure me that I’m on the right track and not lost somewhere in the forest.
Had an intense period of bustle and busy -and then everything dropped off entirely: like the water got shut off, the light switch flipped. Seeing some of the pieces go brought only a slight twinge-I had more remorse in NOT feeling badly about their departure than I did in seeing the back of them. Makes me wonder if others feel this way as people do expect me to say “I’m sorry to see this one or that one go…” In a few cases, however, this is true, but there is much more sadness in seeing certain components go. I can replace the work that I do, but some of the found items are unreplaceable treasures. Much like the dog that I always have believed myself to be, my hunger exists only for the next sculpture. I seem to have no time or energy for sentimentality with my older work. Although I think that this is a good trait which I’ll accept gladly rather than question, it does seem out of character with the rest of me-which , if nothing else, is sentimental to a fault!

Pinched Nerve
I’m a virgin when it comes to pain: this pinched nerve in my back is horrific-in the morning the pain can be so bad as to make me sweat, yet I know that this is only a tiny wedge in the full spectrum of agony. It’s also an inspired kind of torment-any creative twist or turn can lead to a brandy new shooting sparkler of new pain…or to nothing at all. They say to protect your back, but how is this possible when simply lying in bed means ever-increasing bouts of misery? Much like many other illnesses, I find that waking up and getting the body reused to motion is the toughest …either I heighten my threshold of pain with motion or the sharpest of the feelings actually subsides in warming up.
As the doctor pointed out yesterday, I’m holding myself more and more in a closed, crouched (and guarded) position-always expecting a painful spasm. He sez, “STAND UP STRAIGHT!” But how easy will that be? It’s damn hard to reprogram what we do so automatically-very frustrating. What d’ya do when you catch yourself slumping? Smack yourself with a ruler? Not talk to yourself for a couple of hours? Hopefully, as I get older, this here body will not turn into a burden. I have too much that I want to do-remember that artist thing-a blessing and a curse rolled into one.

An advertising piece from some sort of a snuff product carrying good ole Mr. Punches' endorsement.

Painting

On Painting
The time I have with brush and color is spent doing empirical exercise: this works, this doesn’t, this works, this doesn’t, etc., etc. I’m not overwhelmed or depressed (yet) by the fact that there are trillions of combinations of shape, color and form that could produce a “good” or a “bad” painting. On the contrary, I’m still in the stage that gives me great excitement just doing it. I’m good for a few hours of this when I sit down to paint: I leave (the painting studio) pretty much exhausted. I work on many of the paintings I’ve already started -some get only a little bit of rework-others can suffer total repainting. And then there are those that get whited over-s’pose many might consider this a relief-for me it constitutes a failure of this boy’s system!

Something that I’ve learned: NOT to solidly over-paint areas, but leave bits and pieces of undercolor to poke through-there’s a part of me that believes that this is pussyfooting but another part that believes that I’m adding complexity to the work (which doesn’t always add up to be good, but definitely adds layers-literally-to the “meaning” of the work). This mimics the human brain, seemingly fixed on an apparent issue, but underneath the surface working on other thoughts, many of which are half-formed and untranslatable. Sculpture has a harder time at “speaking” in these areas as much of what is created there is physically hard and distinguishable-two or three different planar surfaces do not seem to speak on the same topic or even in the same language. Here is a good argument that sculpture could never have the subtlety of painting. I admit it-I'm a traitor.

Reducing coarser variations.
In what degree do I want to pull away from the dimensionally variable with my newly adopted subject of heads? Thinking through the surface of the head in a painterly way makes subtle variation possible, if in fact not even more variation (being less limited by the mechanics of negotiating terrain). Yet, I can’t imagine giving up the sculptural (and, too true, I’m a painter with little experience) entirely.

But wait, there’s more!
After this is all said and done, I realize that I’m most attracted to sculpture that offers aberration or strangeness: specifically, Terry Turrells’ heads have bits and pieces of wire or metal stuck, nailed or fixed onto them. Bacon melts the head and smears the eyeballs in such a clinical, believable way. Just saw an anonymous artist at the Visionary Museum in Baltimore who’s done ceramic monochromatic heads-many of the features of the head were hinted at, but never quite revealed, adding a pretty disturbing quality to the clay.

*A side note here-
I started this a week ago (right after a painting session), then went away to a show (Baltimore) and was not able to finish my thoughts in a timely manner. I feel like I started these paragraphs with passion, but ended them somewhat mechanically. On a more positive note, while in Baltimore, I had face time with both Turrell's work (don't tell the folks at the museum, but I actually handled the work) and the anonymous ceramicist's heads.