My search to paint Heaven in earth...

\Dry Wash, Tombow pen, 4x5"

This week I had the unusual opportunity to paint in an undeveloped wilderness reserve on the last family-owned ranch in California. Ranch staff provided three vans to transport the 14 artists out to sites where we could fan out to paint unspoiled nature. Live and scrub oaks were massed on the golden hillsides, quarried reservoirs with deep blue-green water were carved out of the slopes, tall reeds and wavy grasses undulated in the ocean breezes. Two coyotes had succumbed to the pressures of living in the great outdoors, and turkey vultures were just finishing their cleaning of the carcasses as we stopped at our first painting site.

Mark Fehlman and I set up along the stony curve of a creekbed, next to renown illustrator and fine artist, Ray Roberts.

                                                                                        RAY ROBERTS, artist extraordinaire 

Ray has a way of working with color and design that is simply phenomenal. Invented color, but compositions and atmosphere that are true to the site are characteristic of his color sketches outdoors. And he moves quickly and efficiently--he did three color sketches in that area as I was just completing one. That's what makes him a master: experience, effective decision-making, and a heart for the essence of his subject. You can view more of Ray's work here, and that of his talented wife, Peggi: http://www.krollroberts.com/  .

Everyone in the group that day had the opportunity to see this first-hand, when Ray volunteered to give a ten-minute demo at the end of the day. The vans drove us to a dry wash shaded by a giant oak that Ray had been drooling over on our way past to our first site that day--now he was back to paint it, apologizing to all of us for indulging him in his desire to capture this place in paint. He quickly went to work, without words, and whacked in all line and darks that were the foundation of the composition. Mark F. served as the timer, and at 5 minutes reminded Ray he was halfway finished--which Ray proved by laying down some quick mid-tones and indicating plane changes. And VOILA, at 10 minutes Ray had color notes on an 8x10 linen mounted on gatorboard that he could take back to the studio to guide him in the creation of a larger work. TEN MINUTES!!! It was one of the most amazing demonstrations I've ever seen.

Wow, it's time to step it up!

    Ray's 10-minute painting

  "The Third of May," Francisco Goya, 1814

Any American would have been shocked by it: the senseless murders of three spectators in the bombings fifty yards apart at the finish line of the Boston Marathon on April 15^th; over 250 injured, at least eight of them children; the death of an eight-year-old boy; the amputations of limbs for ten others.

It was one of the most violent terrorist acts on America’s soil in recent history, at the world’s oldest annual marathon. Thousands experienced it locally and firsthand, as the event traditionally draws over 500,000 spectators. Millions viewed it on TV, replayed in shocking detail on every major national network.

Film showed runners who had just completed the race running back into the course to help the injured. Police and first responders rushed to the aid of the wounded with blankets, gurneys, and medical assistance. Viewers at televisions across the nation could only sit or stand transfixed as they tried to comprehend the carnage of the

innocents who had suffered the shrapnel of a death-dealing blow. In living rooms everywhere, far from the smoke and violence, we were unable to think, breathe, or even lift a hand, transfixed by the horror of an ultimately cruel attack.

I have had the privilege to run the Boston Marathon three times. The highlight, for me, was The Hundredth, or Centennial Boston Marathon, in 1996, that set the record for the world’s largest marathon at 38,708 entrants and 35,868 finishers. It’s properly called the “Boston Athletic Association Marathon,” and is begun and run in cities largely outside Boston—in fact, runners don’t even see Boston until five miles after Heartbreak Hill, at 24.5 miles. In fact, in the early days of the marathon, what was printed on the finishers’ medals was the name, “the American Marathon.”

                                              Long Beach Marathon

Marathon running is a thinking-person’s sport. Like painting, it allows you to think about anything and everything, but the need to focus is ever-present. And like painting, one needs to have a goal, a plan to reach that goal, and the skills, mindset, and conditioning to go with it. It offers victory to those who persevere.

But there was to be no victory that day, April 15^th, for those runners on their way to the finish line at 2:49 p.m…. even for those who were turning that final corner onto Boylston Street to finally realize their dreams of completing “the Boston.” The bombings destroyed those dreams of the finish line in the same instant that they devastated the crowds gathered around that line. It was hopeless to go back, to wish it hadn’t happened. Only one question remained: “What can we do now; what should we do?”

That brings it all the way back, to each one of us. As artists, what can we do in the face of this disaster, and others, that threaten to destroy even the survivors?...that threatens to overwhelm all the good that exists in society, in any works of man and art, and which is powerful enough to reduce our creative morale to rubble?...so powerful that we might ultimately consider that the arts are nothing in the face of real evil, and that the artist and his/her artwork has “head in the clouds,” and is standing in front of tragedy without real weapons, or even an answer to man’s inhumanity to man.

Should we continue to stand, or run? Shouldn’t we feel defeated, then get angry, and seek revenge? Should we abandon our principles? If we do that, then we fall prey to the very behavior that we condemn in those who try to steal and destroy that which is good. In the wake of senseless acts like the Boston bombings, I feel all of those emotions—but that’s all they are. As an artist, I would rather attempt to do something positive, than to believe that there can be no response or action that is worthwhile, and helpful. So once again I have been considering the power of Art in light of this question: as an artist, what can I do to counteract this violence that exists in the world, this evil, this threat to all we hold to be true?

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              “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” 

                                                                                     --  Romans 12:21

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 “Blessing,” 24x24

 Artworks have the capacity to convey a positive message, to reveal the truth of the unseen, to describe beauty, to define the good that still exists, to communicate between cultures and without spoken language, and to heal. Perhaps that is why occupying armies frequently seek to destroy first the artworks of those they wish to vanquish—to immediately banish beauty, order, and hope in the good from the oppressed.

But each working artist that believes in the power of Art to convey the good is like a Florence Nightingale on the battlefield, among the tents where the wounded lie, going from one victim to the other and ministering to the spirits of those who would otherwise lose hope. Grace and strength will always win out over malice and wickedness. There is power in benevolence, and hope in the sight of the loveliness of a creative spirit. Art that expresses the truth in kindness and gratefulness will disarm the rage, and advance the welfare of all who see it.

As artists, we can do good, and strive to create great artworks. To create at the highest level is a victory over all who would strive to destroy.

   What is the true” market value” of a painting? How does a potential collector know that a fair price is being offered? After all, the price can be negotiated…It’s not like a car, a stereo system, or a suit jacket that contains technical components and can be shopped between stores. It’s only paint and canvas, right?

   Lines, colors, shapes, usually on a flat rectangular surface: that’s how we most often define “a painting.” As an objet d’art it has perceived value, both inside and out of the marketplace. Often paintings contain little or no moving parts. Precious metals may be employed, but not usually—it’s simply canvas by-the-yard and pigment. The materials of which a painting is made today are not much different than they were thousands of years ago, when early man painted and engraved  shapes of animals on cave walls, with crushed plants and vegetable matter for paint, and animal-fat crayons and fingertips for brushes. The technology of paint-making and the variety of painting surfaces have significantly improved since then, but paint is still made of pigments and the surface of a painting is still usually flat. Doesn’t’ sound that impressive, does it?

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“The synthesis of truth and beauty…is the highest and deepest reality.”  Ovid 

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  Let’s consider the work of those early artists, at places like Lascaux and Altamira: they were the agents of man’s first recorded history. Their wall paintings speak to us through the millennia, even though their materials were elemental. Those artworks still communicate human ideas, perceptions, the very milieu in which early men and women lived. Those paintings today give us an insight into a culture, basal psychology, and the soul of early man. Those artworks were--as all artworks have been since those first paintings were created—visions, thoughts, dreams, and an exploration of what it means to be human. Those paintings in sedimentary sanctuaries were not—and are not now—simply colored dirt on stone: they are the reality of a time gone by.

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“ We keep our eyes on the things we cannot see: for the things which we can see are temporal; the things that are unseen are eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:18

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   It’s the vision encapsulated in those ancient artworks that give them their true value, not the materials with which they are made. Then as now, it is the material that gives the immaterial form and meaning, and which gives any painting its value. How well a contemporary artwork does that for each viewer or potential collector in today’s marketplace, how deeply the painting establishes a personal connection, is what gives the work its significance and worth. Paintings enable us to see more than the obvious, to break free of our prejudices, to elevate our thoughts. The author Charlotte Bronte expressed this ability of the artist to help us “see” on a higher plane:  “I try to avoid looking forward or backward, and try to keep looking upward.”

   The artist is the catalyst in this process of Imagineering and revelation. It is through the artist’s eye that new possibilities can be discovered, and comprehended.  In fact, former President John F. Kennedy underlined that creative significance: “I see little of more importance to the future of our country and of civilization than full recognition of the place of the artist. If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him.”  The painter does what the director does for a film, or the composer for a symphony. He or she draws unrelated concepts together, instills pattern, variety and unity, and discloses the essence of an idea. If we look through the painter’s lens, we are treated to a new perspective on reality. The visionary artist is a conductor on the journey to an exotic destination. We begin to understand that here is something higher in that artwork, than just paint and canvas.

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“An artist is not paid for his labor, but for his vision.” James Abbot McNeill Whistler

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   For a painting, it is the experience of the artist expressed therein that is of utmost value. The material nature of the work is quite secondary. A painting that conveys the power of emotion to the viewer is more than “just paint and canvas.” It is the description of a heartfelt concept that has been forged into tangible excellence through a creative process of envisioning and technical facility. It even has the power to change lives. “(Art) has the capacity to penetrate even the most callous skin and to ignite a revolution from within,” as musician Benjamin Moore so eloquently reminds us. Pursuing art with our whole hearts and minds is probably the most civilizing undertaking we can do as artists. “What a privilege it is to be able to take brush in hand and put paint on paper in this troubled world,” is our encouragement from artist Veronica Stensby.

   A painting’s value is not in its material nature, as “just paint and canvas.” Rather, it is the vision an artist expresses with those materials that is of value: that slice of heaven, the best of the Best, that idea of the Ideal,  that is the central core of both the material and spiritual worth of an artwork.

The Festival of Arts is over. Laguna residents this week are reclaiming their front yards, parking spots, driveways, crosswalks, and storefronts. The world that descended on the downtown has receded with the tide, back into the job market and reality of Fall.

But what a great event it was, to be a part of the 80th Anniversary of an exhibit venue where Art is King, and Education is Queen! The place has changed quite a bit since the five years of 1985-90 when I was formerly a part of it, exhibiting large-scale watercolors of coastal life.

The talented company is even more talented, the staff supportive, the guests from all over the globe excited and pleasant. Good weather, music, some great food, sales, making artist-friends, and exposure to a new appreciative audience. As one of four artist-docents, I was treated to the reactions of folks seeing the Festival for the first time, or with a new perspective. Kudos to the Festival for making this kind of artistic opportunity for both artists and visitors.

It was truly a blessing to be invited to participate in this extraordinary event. I am hoping that the excitement of this summer will be projected into the work that I will be creating throughout 2012. Thank you to everyone who supported me, acquired new paintings, and blessed me with their friendship.

“As a man thinks, so is he.”  --Proverbs 23:7

After having been painting professionally now for over thirty years, it appears to me that there are two major facets to the career of a fine artist: the professional and the personal.

The “professional” is about how the paintings get done. The personal involves how the artist represents them afterward. Those that view the artwork publicly will wonder about who the artist is personally. Why did he create this? What would he say about it? What are his attitudes and philosophies behind it?

The answer lies in the priorities that the artist chooses for himself or herself, what he or she decides is important in life. Artists create for a variety of reasons, and for every artist there is a list of priorities that causes the work to look like it does, and causes himself to behave personally as he does. At some point, everyone needs to choose how to select those priorities, because it is a natural fact that we all only have so much time. Time is running out, whether or not we choose. But we could prioritize those choices most clearly if we can W.I.N., by deciding ‘What’s Important Now.”

Yesterday there was a memorial service at a local church for well known surfboard shaper Terry Martin. It was was attended by over a thousand people. But in the testimonials from the pulpit from those who knew him, it was not his shaping, or the fact that he has created more hand-shaped boards than anyone else, or even the quality of his art that was the subject: it was the quality of his life. That kindly gentleman was interested in everyone, in the goodness that he knew exists within us all somewhere--and he was able to listen. Terry put people first. That’s how he won the Race of Life. I am sure he is in heaven now.

A pastor in our area so concisely defined the precious opportunity and limited time that we all have to make a difference: “Yesterday is a cancelled check; Tomorrow is a promissory note; Today is ready cash.” I can live my life. And I can make my art. What I need to know is “what’s important now.”  May I create quality artworks by living a life of quality, despite my own shortcomings—and may those works glorify the Lord and the giver of Light and Life Who makes them possible.

One of the significant elements I look for in selecting a subject is an interesting shape: something about the model's silhouette or the shapes within it that exude variety, uniqueness, and stimulates emotion. I found it in Dana Point Harbor as I was painting for the Laguna Invitational--the bow of "The Spirit of Dana Point" practically leaped at me from across the water. The carved figuredhead and prow formed an interesting ellipse of blue-green water between them that was enough to initiate the day's painting.

I could see those interesting and semi-elliptical shapes repeated in the rat lines, spaces between the furled sails and the boat, in the anchor and metal workings. In every painting I am seeking a 'thread" of some type that will unify the painting, and visually "tie it together."

That thread could be a color, a pattern, a line, or a shape. As I blocked in the painting, and developed it, I paid attention to those ellipses and negative spaces throughout the design, in both the shapes of the ship and the water.

Whenever a painting seems to be spiraling out of control, I try to back up and find the "simple reason" that attracted me to the subject in the first place, and return to the elements and principles that are the foundation of successful design.

  Just got back from the "6 Squared" Exhibition at the Higbee Gallery in Costa Mesa, CA. Imagine being in one gallery and being able to view 500 paintings from fine artists from all over the United States--and all the work is only 6 inches by 6 inches!

I say "only" because we normally think of ANYthing that is 6 inches to be rather dimunitive, and perhaps even not worth noticing. But think of the atom relative to its nuclear power, a mosquito trapped inside a camping tent (your tent!), the pupil of the human eye, the speed of a hummingbird's wing: nature is replete with examples of the Small Yet Powerful.

And that's what you have, as a viewer at the 6 Squared showing: paintings of industrial plants, bridges, flowers, birds, cattle, portraits and figures, landscapes, seascapes and sunsets from all parts of the United States. It's a veritable treasure trove of subject, style and techniques, all represented in the same lean, muscular format of the tiny square. WOW! What an explosion of beauty inside the gallery, like elegant shrapnel from the hands of those who know how to fire a gorgeous guided missle...

Fortunate and honored am I to have four of my little paintings in this excellent show, over which Randy Higbee and his staff sweated bullets to put together. The company of painters is esteemed, with many of the finest plein air and studio painters of today represented in those 500 frames. Those little squares reveal the versatility of that format, focus the possibilities of what can be done into the excellent reality of what has been done, and require that the viewer step in closer to view the artists' loving touches within every inch of the winning works: that dash of orange where the sun goes down, that golden-white gleam of light on the dusky water, that particular alizarin color of the flower petal that reflects the warmth of its neighboring leaf. Some of my favorites: Bonnie Zahn Griffith's pastels; Elaine Hahn's "Wekiva Springs," John Baumlin's "Sunset, Cancun," Sandhya Shetty's "Sunset Glory," Tom Balderas' "Woman and Child with Pink Umbrella," Erin Purcell's watercolors, Ken DeWaard's "After the Party," all of Greg LaRock's works, Jeff Sewell's ephemeral landscapes, and Sally Shisler's abstraction entitled "Clyde's Cattle." Wonderful, all!

"To see a world in a grain of sand, And a heaven in a wildflower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour..."

Perhaps the artist-poet William Blake would say the same today about the "6 Squared" show. It's worth an hour--or two--to see for yourself the wonder of these works, and experience simultaneously the power of the moment and Eternity in a 6-inch painting.

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Randy Higbee Gallery, 102 Kalmus, Costa Mesa, 92626 (800) 506-7624. Exhibition closes May 6, 2011.

Near Trail Two in the San Onofre State Park and Beach Trails system.

Oak Creek Tributary, 10x10, acrylic on board, plein air at Sedona Invitational 2010

Just returned from two plein air invitationals, both in October: Laguna and Sedona, California and Arizona.

As always, it was challenging, educational, and spirit-reviving.

Challenging? Subject selection, finding the right light, tuning my palette to the week--parking!

Educational? More experience with value, color, temperature. More airport taxes for rental car. More artists to meet and learn from. More learning about pacing, creativity, organization.

Spirit-reviving? Every time I paint, I go deeper into myself. I find the weaknesses that I need to grow into strengths. Again, I encounter God's creation in nature. The sound of the ocean breakers in Laguna, the tumbling waterfalls in Sedona's Oak Creek--it's musical, soothing, and wonderful.

And again, it was the painters who dedicated their all to the events (to their paintings!) that both humbled and inspired me. When you are around the best of company, the best rubs off, is felt in the air, is seen in the paint. Though there were many artists that created amazing works, I felt that my own understanding of my calling was especially deepened by two artists.

I met John Burton at Laguna, among the 50 artists invited from across the US. His work can be viewed on his website at www.burtonartstudio.com. John is professional in every way. His opening presentation of three works were consistent in quality, color, masterful composition, and sensitive in edge treatments and atmosphere. He is a painter's painter. (And he was elected as "Artists' Choice" for the event, a compliment from talented and accomplished peers!).

Carolyn Hesse-Low has participated in both Laguna and Sedona each of the past three years I have been invited. Her work may be viewed on her website at www.carolynhesse-low.com. She is another professional: I would even say that she is "academic" in her approach, in the sense that her drawing is flawless, compositions well-planned, and color combinations subtle and tonal. Carolyn approaches each painting with care (usually seated), and strategizes as well as empathizes with her subject. "Thoughtful" doesn't completely describe her approach as it appears to me, but it is a characteristic of her work that I would like to own in my own painting.

There are so many artists who are painting at the top of their game. It was a privilege this past month to be around some of the best, to learn more about how I can strive to be the best I can be. As it was, I was happy with my work, met collectors, had the honor of several purchases, and gave thanks for the blessing that is my profession.