Drawing Board

The basis of any great painting is a great drawing. My skills are so circumscribed. My talent so cocooned. The ideas in my head are  an infinite ocean of breezes & currents. How can I crystallize them in a drawing? Once I have the drawing I have the seed. From there I can grow the tree. The canvas with a drawing on it is a blueprint for a city of the future; for an ancient ruin; for a map of the universe before the big bang. Oil paint is  rainbow lava. It flows out over the form of the drawing, fills in the grooves & hash marks, the banks & avenues that I have decreed. I go fishing with my pencil... fishing in the cool brooks  of my mind... I wish I could leave the silver trout alone in the cool shadows of the mossy rock... alas... they become visible when the graphite smooths onto the fabric of the canvas... now you see the taxonomy of my mind.

Whales, Volcanoes, & Ships At Sea

 

The artist wants to paint everything. The joy is seeing if the world can be captured as it is. If he has a vision can he get it down on canvas... or in his poem... or in a song? I want to be as good as Picasso. With one swirling line... to contain the shape of an Aspen tree or a woman combing her hair. In this surreal painting I have attempted to capture a portrait as seen in a dream... to use the old technique of painting a landscape with the person in it... this goes back to Roman times... certainly to Renaissance times... check out the portraits of Giuseppe Arcimboldo. I felt delight painting the details of my friend’s face with the ocean, the clouds, the moon, the islands in the stream, the howling wolf, the third eye moon, the breaching whales, the erupting volcanoes, and the ship tossed in the angry sea.  Painting is great delight. Whimsy abounds.

THE GAZE

In medieval times, it was thought that not only did eyes receive light they emitted spiritual energy. Spiritual lighthouses. One looks into the eyes of the true love. A beam of purity strikes the soon-to-be-beloved. Thus smitten, love blossoms. “The eyes are the window of the soul. We accept this as true....  we can see into a person by looking into their eyes. I go with the first theory... a light shines from within. We show the world who we are. My friend Jordan has powerful, sad, soulful  eyes. He has seen too much but he is not afraid to show the world his dark understanding. When you see the darkness but allow it to sink into shadow the light becomes transparent...luminous... numinous. My painting is finally a painting about the gaze. I gaze at the painting... a painting of those sad, mesmerizing dark eyes of my friend... gazing back. I paint the gaze. Can you hold the gaze? It is in that holding of the gaze that all art, all love lies.

LONE WOLF

The cure for loneliness is solitude. The lone wolf on the edge of the cliff chanting at the moon.... that is an image of who I am & who I have always been. When tragedy happens... the sudden death of a beautiful girlfriend... the death by suicide of a troubled son... finding that someone you trusted & loved has committed a horrible crime... one finds oneself alone, isolated. That is when the dark becomes unbearable. Then, miraculous,  the moon rises over the open sea. Once, I knew a Welsh girl named Olwyn. She told me her name meant ‘the path the moon takes over the open water’. The dark clouds glow with silver. Scintillation. The surface of the sea scintillates. I don’t know if wolves sing the blues. I wish I could sing the blues. Can beauty cure us of our sadness?

BUT A DREAM

Pull slow, pull slow on the sounding line.

Tiller man taps the tabla seven eight nine.

The lady of silks in the bow is blind.

But-a, but-a dream, row & row

The river merry flows… it’s time to go

You know me now… you know you know

Elbow to elbow in the river hall

Do you recall, do you recall?

White water... the roar of the fall

I slipped you a letter in moonlight sliver,

Beneath the cellar door -  an invitation of whisper

Potatoes white… grew eyes that winter.

It floats in the lilies it floats in the mist.

Old red slipper from the foot you kissed.

Do you do the rumba, do you do the twist?

But-a, but-a dream, row & row

The river merry flows… it’s time to go

You know me now… you know you know

Elbow to elbow in the river hall

Do you recall, do you recall?

White water the roar of the fall

Throw your pebble at the vortex wheel.

The glassy flow it draws the slender keel.

Round & round the darkling teal.

I have come to collect what’s due.

The ivory boat, the night, the falling dew.

Step lightly on the ribs,,, the sails set true.