OK that’s a bit lofty (and probably influenced by the book I am listening to about the French resistance), but I have reached my limit…
My webmaster called it a “brute force attack”, something to do with blacklists and hackers, alls I know is that for the last year I have been flooded with bogus blog comments. Seriously, daily dozens of ridiculously worded ersatz appreciations of everything from content to spelling of blog related matter in an effort to get me to “Approve” them and allow entry to the inner sanctum. And today… I have pulled the plug on those brutes.
If I unchecked the correct button, comments will no longer be allowed on my blog. Not really a big deal except for the handful of loyal readers, you KNOW who you are, and the two or three others who occasionally wish to be heard on a given matter. This shouldn’t affect any of you who look and lurk and generally like what you see here, and it won’t apply to all the facebook readers, but it hopefully will free up my emailbox for the countless other legitimate spam which tries to lodge there for my considered approval.
Meanwhile, life and creativity and many happy hours of painting continue on here in the studio. I’m working on a special commission which allows me to bring some blue skies and bright light into the last of these winter days. No sneak peaks since it is surprise !
But there is a whole lot of new work burgeoning on the spring horizon and the hint of an exciting new show to announce soon. Stay tuned and stay frosty out there…and…all you attackers…
keep your comments to yourself !
I feel better already.
Above painting, with flags at the ready, is Trinity and is currently waving it’s tri-colours over the hills of Santa Fe, at the Sugarman Peterson Gallery.
This one goes a little deeper… and as the Painter’s Notes reveal even deeper than I thought.
I’m listening to Paul Winter as I write this.
His song, Belly of the Whale from his Earth Music Album.
If you were here and we were both sitting in front of this painting listening to it together… I wonder if it would expand your thoughts about it, the painting that is, too.
His saxophone is tilting in a graceful arc above the water while a clear soulful whale song bubbles up from the ocean deep. They meet a hair’s breath below the surface in a gentle but haunting cello solo…and dance.
There is darkness and pain which flows into a brilliant blue tenderness. A compassion that makes me weep, and one or two notes that are all I need of joy.
I never would have chosen any of those words to describe this painting. I’m not sure why I’m including them now. But I do know that this painting was a mystery from day one. It does not appear in any form in any sketchbook I’ve kept. The objects are as far apart from each other in the studio as it is possible to be.
I remember picking up the clarinet in order to adjust the string that was holding it askew on the wall. Then taking the painting of Ted, which hangs facing the easel, off the wall so I could hang it there. Seeing the yellow of the whale oil strainer from across the room… and then noticing the morning light catch the tip of the seagull feather in the driftwood. How I got them all to stay like that on the wall and how that window got there I don’t know.
During the weeks I painted this Pat was away caring for a critically ill Uncle and his wife. We weren’t expecting it and the separation was disconcerting. I suppose the muses knew I needed a meaningful distraction. And so they brought me to the edge of this latest in the spirit vessel series.
And I suppose they are at it again…
choosing tonight, as I write, to have Paul Winter’s Saxophone to fill the studio, my heart, and my spirit