Wednesday, September 13, 2017

The Forest is My Cathedral

 

The Forest Cathedral

Digital image, 2017
 
 
I have a deep need for nature.  Walking in the forest gives me an elevated feeling.  Petty concerns melt away and I feel a reverence for the earth. 
 
A tree has a million leaves.  Each leaf has a beautiful design of branching veins.  If you look at the leaf microscopically there are a million perfect cells.  How can this happen?  The detail is staggering.  I find it difficult to explain this rationally and must resort to metaphysical wonderings.
 
 
 
 


Thursday, August 24, 2017

Weather Report





 

Morning Glory

Acrylic on paper, June, 2017, 18"x24"
 
  
 


Down to Earth, Weather Report


Recent work, these past six months, year of 2017, continues the landscape series, "Down to Earth."  Each day I work in the studio and in the garden.  If we have guest here, then I sometimes miss a few days.  I am blessed with living in a very beautiful deep country area of Louisiana. 

(I know that without nature I would shrivel into a fetal position.)

I paint, I do Photoshop, I garden and I stroll the woods.  These creativities weave together like braided hair.  Each informs another.  A theme emerges and plays out in concert.  I plant wisteria and morning glory, they grow and flower. I pull the glory flowers into paint. 

A few acres of land, bordering on a riparian corridor, is left to Mother Nature's devices.  Trees grow.  Trails are carved down to the creek.   I harvest the visual of forest.  Repeated attempts to do painted representations of the creek, keep me aiming for glory on a flat surface. 

I walk the trail down to the creek, where nature proliferates in tangles of trees and vines and herbs.  I stroll from the relatively civilized area of the house to barely tamed wildness in but a few minutes.  Beyond the lightly used area, there are areas that are impassable due to super thick growths of vegetation.

Deer, coon, squirrel, armadillo, possum, various turtles, reptiles, fish, an embarrassment of bird song.

 I watch were I put my hands and feet, because water moccasins love damp creeky areas.  Another dangerous, occasional forest inhabitant, is the wild boar.  Two hundred fifty pounds or more of potential ramming fury.  (Climb a tree?) The dangers are not great, most of the snakes and boar, along with other wildlife shun humans, but the aggressive critters are threatening enough to increase  my respect.  Add a dash of adrenaline to the mix.



 

Flock Flying

Acrylic on paper, 24"X18", 2017





 

Weather Report

Acrylic on paper, 24"X18", 2017
 
 

The Spring Creek corridor connects with the Pearl River corridor, where there are rumors of the Honey Island Swamp Man, Big Foot.  These mysterious rumors, which I entertain as possibly true, add another layer of meaning to the land.

Ambling from the house, a primarily human area along the short trail, to the border of wilding area,  I can feel my spirit lift, I can feel the nurturing energies of nature.  I humbly attempt to pin this,  all of this spot of earth reality, down on a small piece of paper. 



July 29, 2017
I started this blog entry in early July.  Between this time July 29, 2017, and that, I suffered a terrible tragedy, about which, I am unable to go into detail.  This morning I awoke at 3am.  Set myself a goal of posting a blog entry.  I had not loaded pictures, I had only written words to this blog.  I loaded some pictures, and here is the blog entry.

August 24, 2017
I hope to get this blog entry posted today.



 

Beaming

Acrylic on paper, May, 2017, 18"x24"






Thursday, April 27, 2017

Ruby Rose

Ruby Rose

Oil on canvas, 36"x48", 2003




Cardinal

Photoshop, 2011
 
 
A rose and a cardinal bird, both red and showing centrifugal movement.  Kinda dizzy, head swimming.  A bit like entering a daydream, or a trance state.  One is from 2003, the other 2011.  This gentle swirling disequilibrium, which stirs our thoughts and seeks a new, reorganized, equilibrium, has been a reoccurring theme in my art practice.  The grey brain jelly, streaked with miniscule rivers of red blood,  this soft, almost fluid organ in our skull pan is capable of many different states of consciousness. 
 
Our TV gets more than 100 channels.  The black box in our living rooms flickers with lights and screams at us to buy, buy more. It pounds fear into our being.  It is impossible to ignore.  There it jiggles with compelling light images in the center of our lives.  Nailing our attention to the 100 media channels and distracting us from our potential for myriad inner channels.