Untitled Proof, 2019, Linocut on Newsprint, 12″ x 12″
It’s 9/11 today and the scorched memories return as always a few weeks before until they are fully formed on the anniversary of that awful morning and its aftermath. I have been working on a linocut series all year but this weekend decided to take a rest from it and do some other plates which were more severe and geometric. This one was the first. It pleased me. This morning, though, it looks to me like a memory of that day and those maimed towers.
Nasturtiums in the Sun, 2019, Archival Digital Print
The nights this week have started to be cool. I’m starting to think about preparing the plant shed as I try to keep the annuals alive through the winter. Some make it and some don’t. It pleases me when they survive to bloom another year. The Geraniums blossom all year around and nothing is nicer than walking into the shed in the dark of the winter and being greeted by pink and red Geranium blossoms, full of smiles and hope.
The Fall term begins next week and a new group of talented painters will begin their year of exploration and discovery. It is yet another example of the built-in renewal and development of the creative force. In a time of Trump’s darkness and evil it’s essential to be reminded that Life is always there.
Adolescent Turkeys, 2019, Archival Digital Print
The first whiff of Autumn came last week. Now in spite of the high temperatures and the violent thunderstorms and drenching rains on many nights, the summer’s end nudges at us. Another sign is the young Turkeys who long ago fledged and are now long-necked and adolescent. The flock is big. Here are a few stragglers. Their sibs already crossed the road and were safely hidden in the grasses. These two had attitude and risked the on coming car.
Field of Sunflowers, 2019, Archival Digital Print
On Saturday I saw thirty acres of Sunflowers just coming into bloom. I was reminded of the moving scene in the film Everything Is Illuminated when the three travelers find their destination. She is an old woman living in a small house surrounded by blooming sunflowers. How radiant is our world if we can See.
Beautiful Weeds, 2019, Archival Digital Print
Yet again, more innocents have been killed urged on in their ignorant racism by the Spawn of Satan in the Oval Office. The inaction of Congress continues, mute co-conspirators in this monstrous civil war. It will continue. It will grow worse. More killings. More people personally hurt forever. More vulnerable and unhappy young men who haven’t a clue how to handle their personal troubles will find a support group out there on line who will urge them on, give them a target and promise fame. Soon they will be offering seventy virgins.
What trouble we’re in.
Morning Magic, 2019, Archival Digital Print
What a strange experience to watch the Democratic Debates tonight and the flashy production of the set, more Jeopardy or a World Wide Wrestling match than the serious process of a debate for the highest office in our democracy. We have become so accustomed to visual overload that few may have noticed. It’s all part of our pinball-light-up-and-win world.
Here, though, I can bring a slow eye to what I see. This photo, another fortuitous find, was shot in the hours of early light.
Saturday Flowers, 2019, Archival Digital Print
No words necessary
The pleasure of seeing
An odd shape a shadow makes
Dark against light
Love against hate
The dance goes on
Night Blossoms, 2019, Archival Digital Print
A terrific studio visit yesterday. Thank you, George T., for your sensitive eyes and insight. When an artist admits a trusted viewer into the studio it is the opportunity, by the presence of an enlightened observer, to see with new eyes. Yesterday I saw connections I had forgotten about that reached back in time. There is a thread of inquiry that continues to be wired and live. There’s so much to do.
Morning, 2019, Archival Digital Print
The temps have dropped.
The heat is a memory.
Brooklyn had it bad last night.
Place determines everything.
The pin on the map is destiny.
Tree in Overcast Light, 2019, Archival Digital Print
What makes this current hot spell strange, is not the heat, but the oppressive air. It feels as if all the Oxygen has been removed. The Eastern Catalpa on my front lawn dropped many of its leaves yesterday. They cover the lawn, brown and spent. The march to fascism comes closer suffocating our values. The evil that Trump has loosed and nurtured continues its malignancy and our politicians are pretty much silent so eager to be re-elected they will sacrifice nothing. This is how it happens.