The Work

Birds of a feather.

Woodstork, (Mycteria americana). Oil on canvas. 48”x36”. private collection

I’ve been sifting through photographs of older paintings a lot lately as I embrace TAXODIUM. Interestingly enough, I find that I have been preparing for this body of work my entire life. As I see the candle quickly burning to the nub, desperation washes over me as if it is carried by a king tide. What will be my legacy? How will I be remembered?

I met a new friend the other day, one I have known all my life but didn’t realize it. That’s the way art-world circles are drawn. Region, media, academic institution, style, subject matter all present a complex Venn diagram. Fish-shaped lines all over the place. He is a few years younger than I am. Not quite into his seventies yet. We commisserated a bit about feeling the reaper’s scythe helicoptering a few inches above our hair lines. We expressed a bit of joy and wonder about being allowed to live such a magical existence.

Artists, for the most part, get to live life on their own terms. One trade-out is a life dancing on the edge of poverty. Another is that relationships at all level are problematic. It takes a special person to suffer the day-to-day world of a creative. We are not easy to live with.

Creatives are the only professionals who work tirelessly, dawn to dark with little hope of short term gains. Our work is mandated, orchestrated by a higher power. Certainly not by any of the gods supported by religions. Something greater. Monetization of our callings is the last ditch response to the solicitor’s urging to settle a past due account. Money is a nusiciance more than a goal.

We live in a dream-scape full of characters of our own designs. Angels and demons drill into the soft tissue between our ears. Restless night sweats turn the sheets moist with drops of liquified energy. Ideas fill our starry nights with swirls and squiggles. Are they manageable? Will they happen? Practical? Hell no. They are fuel. The fires of fancy burn bright. We sift the ashes. after the embers fade. Add a bit of perspiration and model a solid project. A product distilled from the juice of dreams. A sculpture carved from an invisible mountain. A song whispered by the birds.

Even though much has been done regarding TAXODIUM, as a finished product is still in its infancy. The art at this point is more about curating and transfiguration than it is about about creating. I’m recording many of the steps. Making new paintings. Exploring new sites. Hearing new sounds. Writing new words.

Please join me on this journey. I’ll drop notes along the way. Stones and breadcrumbs for you to follow.

Kauai Jungle Fowl oil on canvas 2023 60”x60” Corporate Collection