Last week I said goodbye to a few of my paintings, including my favorite which I had until recently kept stored in my personal collection, Projection in Bear Arms. It was a painting I had worked on through three studio transitions until I finally finished it in my fourth and current studio, here at Borough, in 2007. It was the first painting I finished in Vermont, actually, and one of its details provides the image for this website's homepage. "Projection..." has always been magical to me, and it's also huge. By the time I finished framing it it met my eyebrows. It was going to a great new home, though, so off we and a huge rental van trucked, down to nyc through lots of rain, lots of lightning; many friends, many, many late night laughs. The first photo looks kind of funny reflected in the new yoga mirrors (the new entrance to Borough is a yoga/tai chi studio...entering and exiting is so awkward now; without fail, I almost always time my arrival right in the middle of a class), but you get the idea.
In the spirit of farewell, here's the writing that went along with this, my most sentimental painting, which was all about whimsical l-l-l-love and goodbyes. Every time I looked at this painting, I still felt the words, "...and moments that make you want to crawl inside another as every one of their breaths is a promise of feeling so vivid forever". Read it after the jump (Read More).
I ALWAYS have my best thought when I'm driving from "here" to "there", so I love these chunks of time (in general, most of my "here to there time" is about 45 minutes long) but it also annoys the hell out of me. I wish I could be my own passenger so I could document these moving thoughts and ideas free of disruption. Not possible, though, so I'm always either scribbling blindly in a moleskine-wasting lots of paper, pulling over in some sketchy rest stop, or rushing to my destination, roaring through the door to unload all my stuff and get to my pens as fast as possible before the moment fades. It's never the same, though. Never the same as that initial, organic experience of the thoughts and vision combined with the blur of moving landscapes. I'm sure I'm not alone in this.
This experience, however, is so perfectly mirrored in my actual painting process. When I'm painting I'm moving around like crazy-not just pacing around the studio, no-but movement when putting paint on canvas is wildly important to me. Without action, nothing happens for me, my mind becomes stagnant, too. This is why I prefer large canvas that's somewhere around my height and arm length: the physicality of moving my entire body up and down to make a single palette knife smear, reaching further than one arm can extend to blur a line...my mind comes alive and I'm pulled into my inner world when I'm able to incorporate my body's action and lines into my body of work. It's the energy...it's the energy that makes the paintings come to life. They become completely intuitive, response based, aggressive, joyful and reflective of my immediate psyche when presented with certain thoughts and emotions. Essentially, I'm able to hash through things in a direct way that's not always easy for my in my life outside my painting time.
So satisfying. Always. Like breathing again after not realizing I've been holding my breath.
ART HOP! It was great. As Always. Such a delayed post, but better late than never. It was the first show our new studio mate Haley participated in, and I pulled my friends Ian Burcroff and Phil Hardy over from New York to participate as well. Our show was called Riddles and Lies: Charged by Desire check it out. Art's Alive came by on Saturday to do short film interviews with each of us, asking for a description of how "Art Supports Me" and why the hell we're artists, anyway. What a question. Click the photo below for images of the all-night marathon installation Phil, his brother Rowan and I enlisted ourselves in the night before the Hop (the best part of any show, if you ask me...always the most exhilarating, fun and caffeine-crazed time), the opening itself, and interviews. Enjoy!
 'FETTER', Eleanor Darling, crocheted wool, variable size  clearly an outdated poster  interior view of the gallery
ROUTE 7 (a Vermont literary magazine who so graciously published one of my poems and an image of my painting BIT LIP this spring) 's premiere edition is still available at select stores! Be sure to visit their website to find a location nearest you; indulging in Vermont fiction, non-fiction, poetry and prose is never a bad thing. Here's a L I N K to my contribution  'Bit Lip' as it appeared in Route 7's premiere edition.
S.P.A.C.E. Gallery, one of Burlington's finest art resources, is hosting an " AUGUST ART AUCTION" to celebrate their first year (and keep them going strong for another!). Funds from the auction will also go towards supporting "Back Space", S.P.A.C.E.'s newest addition. I've donated " Awoken (window lit words)" to the auction, so put your bidding gloves on and co check it out!  'Awoken (window lit words)' Oil and charcoal on canvas, 60' x 52'
closing reception: August 26th, 5pm-9pm
S.P.A.C.E. Gallery, 266 Pine Street, Burlington, Vermont
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