Intersections, Collisions, Coincidences, Fate, etc.

When I lived in San Anselmo, California, in the late 70s, I became good friends with Rick Wheeler, a fellow painter. We showed together at a suspicious gallery appropriately named, "The Guilty Bystander." That's another story.  At some point, we designed a set together for a modern dance performance. We also had a show at the "Blue Sky Gallery" in Ashland, Oregon in 1981. During the few years in California, we had many interesting conversations about art, physics, travel.  I lost the connection with him after he helped me move to Oregon in 1981.

Yesterday, I thought about the Blue Sky Gallery. Following whatever instinct kicks in when the latte hits the brain, I searched for and located Rick. And, coincidentally, we have already arranged to meet up again when I'm in Arizona in a few weeks. This road trip was already planned a month or two ago will include Monument Valley and the Grand Canyon. I am very much looking forward to sharing perspectives again with a painter whose vision was always so unique. 

I first started painting watercolor on my last trip through the Four Corners - 1980. I am posting a few of these as I look at them again myself. And I'm wondering how time and space has altered my vision and my ability to render it. Or better yet, how to speak through the visual language of pigments, water and paper to express the heartbeat of the earth.

The Art of Dreaming

Echoes from a Dream --

Dreaming is a great source for impossible ideas. An interesting thing happens when you permit an obvious impossibility to exist in your active imagination without judgement. Instead of dismissing it for being illogical, let it linger. The longer you permit this to exist, the more you begin to understand it. And, sometimes, you realize it's not impossible after all. It's just not what you expect or accept as reality.

I've been exploring a series of ideas - illogical, impossible, unreal, other worldly, not ordinary ideas. The project began as a storyboard. I wanted to create a series of watercolors all centered around a central narrative. It began months ago with the understanding that this could take months or years to complete. So far, I've painted a half dozen character studies. I carry on conversations with these characters. I try to understand who they are. Where they've come from. What they need. What archetype they represent. Who they want to become. Then I try to paint them into a scene for the storyboard.

I'm in no hurry. It's an interesting journey that has brought me to a higher awareness and appreciation of my dreams. The characters appear nightly to audition for a part in my grand plot.

At some point, hopefully before the Open Studios Tour next month, I will take a few characters and scenes I've created and assemble them into a short animation. Experiments to date have altered my perception of how this story is going to unfold.

It's a journey. I don't know where it will end. But, I'm enjoying the impossibilities.  I don't always understand what I'm painting. I have an idea. The paint and paper each seem to have their own ideas. The characters have ideas. Somewhere along the way is a negotiated outcome. Sometimes, it's controlled my me. Sometimes, I simply follow and respond. And a few hours later, the painting seems to have finished itself with me acting as a witness more than a creator.

You Never Find What You're Not Looking For

As the Crow Flies - Watercolor on paper: 14x11"

I worked for years as a creative director. The goal: help others invent, nurture, expand ideas they hadn't thought of before. Part of that process is to challenge people to see the invisible. It's a real challenge. How do you see what isn't there? You stop believing everything you see and start believing the impossibilities suggested by your imagination.

The series of paintings I'm working on currently combines what I see with my eyes and what I see with my imagination. What you see with your eyes is usually a projection of what you expect to see. It's a reflection of what you believe is possible based on past experiences. What you see with your imagination is completely different. If you can suspend what you know or think is real long enough to let impossibilities exist, you may be surprised by what you find.

This is one of the common traits shared by many of the most creative people. When you stop looking for something specific and let your imagination show you illogical alternatives, you venture into the realm of unique perspectives.

On October 11, 12, 18 and 19, Portland Open Studio Tour will expose local artists to the public. Artists will be displaying and talking about their work, their processes, their inspirations and their obstacles. I'll be among the 96 artists featured this year. I'm honored to be included with people like William Park. .

How a Writer Defines Painting

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Wahclella Creek, Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area

I was first introduced to author David James Duncan’s work through The River Why. Fly fishing, as he defined it, is a metaphor for so many relationships. In a more recent writing, God Laughs and Plays, Duncan has again succinctly defined relationships. This time, through a critique of writing, he has defined painting:

“As readers are asked on page one to lay our hand upon the back of an author’s as he or she paints a world. If the author’s strokes somehow repel or betray our trust, if our concentration is lax, or if we’re biased or closed in some way, then no hand-in-hand magic can occur. But, when a great word-painter is read with reciprocally great concentration and trust, a wondrous thing happens. First, the painter’s hand disappears. Then so does our own. Till there is only the living world of the painting.”

With every painting, I hope to feel the hand of an observer on my back as I try to manipulate paint to create a living world.