Word Salad

Served with moral soup

Bye Bye Birdie. 84”x60” oil on canvas. 1995-96

I made this painting almost thirty years ago. Don’t worry, I won’t inflict a re-do on the masses. But I see it and try to remember why I made it. When I started my painting career in Jacksonville, Florida, during the early nineties, I painted birds. This was a theme that chased me since graduate school. The linear angles and gestural curves of water birds render calligraphic marks. These graphic gestures animate the waters and air of the southern coastline. I studied birds. My exit exhibition from University of Georgia featured a dozen monumental paintings of swans. They were not gracefully gliding on idyllic ponds, instead they were awkwardly clomping on the shore. Out of water swans are uncomfortable. Mean. They hiss and honk. Bite if you get too close. The bends and arcs of their necks spoke to me.

My bird paintings were popular. Orders filed in. “I want to see your birds.” First words from the studio visitors.

“Is this all there is?” I asked myself. Artists are more-often-than-not pigeon-holed. One can easily become a one-trick pony. “Need a break from birds.”

The painting above, Bye Bye Birdie, was made as the center panel of a huge three-part self portrait. No idea where I thought it would be exhibited, certainly no one would want to wake up to so much ME and sit through morning coffee with all that paint.

The meaning of this painting should be fairly obvious. For some reason I hold a machete in my left hand and a paint brush in my right. Directional markers follow the arrow of the brush to the face of the machete up into the slightly abstract unfinished painting behind me. The partially obscured text in the painting surface offers a clue to the meaning of the painting. Readable? I think so.

University of Georgia. 1977. My graduate seminar class was taught by A. Graham Collier. I wish I were mature enough then to understand how lucky I was to meet this intellectual giant. He was a character, not doubt. Ascot. Thermos of martinis for lectures. But, brilliant, nonetheless. My main point of consternation then was a statement he made during class. “Words are our primary symbols.”

He went on to explain if one wants to communicate a conscious thought words were the most accessible vehicle. Visual images only take the audience so far.

“Wrong.” Those of us who were to dense to understand the depth of our ignorance. “We make paintings. They are full of meaning. It’s up to the audience to come up to our standards.”

At seventy, I learn how wrong I was. Yes, Words are our primary symbols.

Shadow with Mayflower. Book of Shadows. ongoing.

Images are delightful. No doubt. Full of mystery. I find myself in museums and galleries spending hours looking at pieces of art. Questioning intent. Form. Procedure. And outcome.

But, as they say, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” or better “Meaning is in the head of the viewer.” We bring ourselves to art. Esoterica breeds indulgence. Visual art is open to interpretation.

Word pieces, on the other hand are often more direct. Yes poetry offers room for audience collaboration. Fiction has holes in it for the reader to hide. Essay is more straight-forward. A good essay gets to the point. Little room for interpretation.

Tar Flower oil on canvas. 48”x48”. 2012. Collection of Jake and Pam Ingram

The painting shown above is one of a lovely native shrub. Tar Flower, Bejaria racemosa, is a woody evergreen often spotted in the margins and sandy woods of the deep southeast. Not only do I adore the pale-pink-to-white abundant flowers I also love knowing about the character of the shrub. It is called Tar Flower because of the sap-covered stems and foliage. The interesting message in its botanical make-up is that it is considered passively carnivorous. The sticky surfaces combined with the showy flowers attract all sorts of insects. The weak ones stick, die, and fall to the ground offering sustenance for the plant.

“Ain’t nature grand.” Should be the title.

Not many understand that this seemingly sweet and simple floral offers a more dynamic message. A violent death to some unsuspecting passersby.

Now, after three-score-ten of cogitating and figuring out a change-the-world practice, I think maybe it’s time to change myself. Quit relying on obscure messages in visual art to get a point across.

Not that I am giving up on painting all together. I’m not ready to grab my machete and cut off that thing I love. But I find that amplifying my visual practice by adding words might be a good path to end my days on. (NO TIME SOON)

The last few months has certainly been a war with words. I think maybe it’s time to explore some of those words and meditate on them.

Culture

The top definition of this word is as follows:

All the ways of life including arts, beliefs and institutions of a population that are passed down from generation to generation.

Culture is considered the way of life for a society and includes codes of manners, dress, language, religion, rituals and art. I think we have a pretty good understanding of the word.

Another definition of the word is used in medicine. It refers to growth of cells. When we wait for a report on a “culture” we are usually nervous about a possible bacterial infection or something worse. Microorganisms slated to do our bodies harm.

Reflecting on the past week I think about the word. I have never hidden the fact that I am a “liberal lunatic” and now am targeted as “the enemy within.” That being said I think about the culture of this America. I think about the way I was raised in rural central Mississippi. Good caring people taught me that it was paramount to treat all people with respect. Religious teachers preached the words of Jesus. Give. Love. Be kind. Help. Heal. Don’t Judge. Feed. Clothe. It was part of our culture.

A lot has been said lately about the Culture Wars. I was not so sure what that meant until this week. I realized that the culture which raised me has lost and been taken over by a culture of disrespect, hate, fear, deception and brutality. Many words are thrown back and forth.

This is where I come full circle. Words are our primary symbols, for sure. But if you want a good picture of what the meaning of the words are we must open our eyes. Look into the petri dish and see what microorganisms are growing. Is that culture benign or is it toxic. Is there a growing malignancy that is eating our nation alive? Is our national body breeding a monster that will turn on us and devour us?

Maybe it’s time to read words. As many as possible from all pages. But it is also a time to look. Watch out for unspoken visual clues. Maybe we paint a painting using all the colors available. Maybe our mind’s eye can say, “this is good.” Maybe we grow a culture of respect and kindness in which we all can flourish. Images and words together.