My Beloved Mentor
Along the way, I was lucky to find an extraordinary painting mentor, Philomene Bennett. She encouraged me to do what felt most authentic, allowing me to push past my own confines and delve into what felt most true and aligned.
Early on when attending her studio class, I was working on a large painting that was getting worse and worse the more I worked on it. Something welled up in me and I slightly mixed magenta and pyrrole red oils, stuck a big brush in it and drug it across the middle of the buttery wet canvas in a sort of thrilling rebuttal.
Philomene said JANE, that magenta LINE! Do you see that line??? It is extraordinary, can you SEE what just happened?
I said What what? You mean I can do THAT (that intuitive movement that wasn't analytical, that was so juicy and real and impassioned)??
Right then, somehow, she had knocked a hole in the dam of restraint that was keeping me from developing a more truthful and intuitive way of working. With that line, with that comment and discovery, my work began to become an extension of me, flowing from and beyond me, through a larger dimension. That one day changed my life, entirely. I began to paint with fervor; painting became akin to air and food and love.
Many years later, our teacher/student relationship has become a treasured friendship. Recently I dragged an old, shot-full-of-holes Oliver combine into the field by the studio to create a painted sculpture, and invited Philomene to come over and work on it with me. I had a bag full of spray paint and Philomene brought a bag full of Burger King breakfast biscuits, and she sat on the golf cart sipping coffee, offering thoughts and pointers. As she would speak, I could feel what she was going to say, sort of like lifelong canoeing partners who knew how each others paddles were going to strike the water and which way they were steering the canoe. In perfect unison, with me running the spray paint and her long jeweled finger pointing this way and that, occasionally an uh huh or OH, we worked on the combine nearly wordlessly, some kind of energetic communication flowing between us. It was a heavenly experience.
Recently, I kidnapped Philomene and brought her to the studio to share some wine and look at art. When she looks at art, she settles in quietly, taking some time to really wholly look, reading it carefully from side to side, up and down until she really sees it. From this place, speaking philosophically, musing about distances and pull and feeling and place and memory and what's in front and what's the atmosphere, and from her few studied comments, her words acting like the strike of a match to a fuse, allow me to hear deeply and translate for my own, and with a few washes and marks, the paintings came into wholeness. I captured some of it on a time lapse camera:
Of all the teachers in all of the world, I happened to run into Philomene. I am deeply, profoundly grateful.
Getting a Few Things Off My Chest
I've been rattled by events of the world, and wasn't able to let the angst go in order to work in the studio, so I invited the misery in and pinned up a canvas to get a few things off my chest. It was very helpful, and while I softened some of the initial output with more marks and washes, the cacophony of words and imagery were pleasing. In this video, the painting is nearly complete.
How Paintings Begin Sometimes
Paintings don't begin with paint. There's canvas to unroll, size, dampen, colors to mix. Even then sometimes it feels good to simply be in the studio for awhile, checking brooms and brushes, watering the plants, opening the windows, staring out at the landscape, until there's not a sense of time, but rather of being aware.
I usually start a painting the day before I'm going to work on it - getting the basics out of the way, and maybe laying down atmosphere, pouring thinned pigments and mediums into the raw canvas, letting it dry completely. The second day, it may get pinned up on the wall, and internally driven mark making process begins.
Sometimes, however, there's a piece of fabric or a form, or a line that had been seen on a Grecian urn, that ignites something inside me. This painting began with a begonia leaf, and later a pink bloom from a geranium. Usually the actual form is simply a catalyst, but this time the mark making came directly from these items.
Working in the Studio, and a Fresh Coat of Paint
I worked on many canvases over the last few months, many of them pinned up on the walls at one time.
It really helps the process to move from canvas to canvas, sometimes getting stuck and moving on to freshen up my eyes. When the canvases are wildly varied like these, it keeps me untied, and in a mode of discovery. Having many to work on at one time with no hurry to complete, felt so luxurious, and allowed them to unfold naturally.
Having completed most of the work, it was time to document, photograph, inventory and notify galleries - the nuts and bolts of the business.
Having done that, I decided it was time for a fresh coat of paint:
A fresh start! It seems so quiet here now. Imagining the stillness could be reflected in the next body of work.
Saturday Painting Frenzy
Saturdays have long been my favorite studio day. Even though I work every day, the luxuriousness of a Saturday from my corporate days lingers. The phone rarely rings, my favorite radio station has good music programs, and it feels free and unfettered.
Yesterday was wild - fast and furious energy, I pulled some older canvases to rework (always free-ing) and kept the camera going to watch the progression of some narrative work. When watching them all together this morning, these time lapses seem to capture the frenzy. Mozart's Symphony #25 sets the perfect pace.
The work is unfinished.
Photography Day May 2017
It takes a team to shoot extra large paintings. Since the canvases are not stretched until consigned or sold, they have to be perfectly pinned to the wall for a smooth flat surface to photograph. We color correct as we go.
Photographer: E.G. Schempf
Reclaiming Space and Form
After a long period of photographing completed paintings, preparing for shipment, inventory and buying materials, it is at last time to reclaim space and form, and begin to paint again.
Music by Taj Mahal - M'Banjo
Immersion - Working in the Morning
It works best for me to immerse in the studio, without weaving anything else into that time. Getting to work early mornings and watching the light move from dark to first light to brightness, is exhilarating and focused. Occasional breaks to simply sit quietly, reintegrate body and soul.
I've been running time lapse videos to watch the progress, slowing it down to see if I am leaving a better painting under the one that it becomes. This one picks up the energy of the morning, especially when accompanied by Mozart's variations on "Laat Ons Juichen, Batavieren".
Beginning Again
Projects have been completed and shipped or put away, the studio is swept clean and there are blank canvases on the floor. The light is beautiful, a large flock of bluebirds who are wintering here dot the hedge tree just outside the studio's glass door. There's a sense of spaciousness internally and externally. It is time to begin again.
Prairie and Painting, a Process View
Working on our land and working in the studio seem to me to be two sides of the same coin. Both are connections to nature, rooted deeply in earth and sky, both feed the soul, one reflects the other reflects the other.
This week we burned the prairie, and while it'll remain charred all winter, in the spring, the wildflowers and native tall grasses will flourish. The painting that arose from the experience carries the feeling of the day.
Upon Awakening
Upon awakening, there was a sudden and urgent need to paint something fresh and innocent, and hang it in the living room.
Photography Day - October 2016
Photography Day: a 2 minute view of an 8 hour photo shoot.
with E.G. Schempf, Cassie Rhodes, Jane Booth
music by the Count Basie Orchestra - Oh, Lady Be Good
(Re)Working Large
I fastened together a group of old canvases with an acrylic gel medium to form two gargantuan canvases, and began pouring paint into them outside on a concrete pad, then hauled them in and pinned to the wall. Some of these repurposed canvases date back to my beginnings as a painter, so I've titled the piece "My Life So Far" and am working on it freely, no mind for selling, just for exploration and discovery.
Sky
I watched the sky through long afternoons this summer while recovering from an injury. Sometimes tall billowy thunderheads built up in the indigo blues of midwestern July skies, sometimes it was deep blue and crystal clear, sometimes wafer thin sheets soundlessly skated across the high sky from one horizon to the other.
This long recovery became transformative, spacious, deeply informative as to the ever-changing nature of the world.
The first day that I was able to pick up a canvas and a bucket of water, I began these paintings outdoors, under blue skies and high clouds. So close was the experience to the work, the paint seemed to mix itself to deep indigo, the paintings seemed to appear as I observed.
Sky - Noctilucence 64x56
Sky - Water 66x84
Sky - Polar Clouds 66x84
Sky - Night Shining 64x56
The series is titled "Sky", and references noctilucent clouds, which are polar clouds in the upper atmosphere, visible in a deep twilight. They are made of ice crystals. Noctilucent roughly means night shining in Latin.
Modern interior in minimalism style 3D rendering
Photography Day, June 2016
This minute long film is from a time lapse that spanned 8 hours. Surely we walk five miles plus on Photography Day.
Music: Mozart Sonata in D for 2 Pianos, K 448, Molto Allegro, Murray Perahia and Radu Lupu
Photography Day - April 2016
With EG Schempf and Cassie Rhodes, respectively, Photographer and Studio Assistant extraordinaire.
Music by Beethoven, Piano Sonata #21 In C, Op. 53, Waldstein, 1. Allegro Con Brio, played by Emil Gilits
Photography Day
Photography day is always fun, with E.G. Schempf - photographer and Cassie Rhodes - assistant.
Music: Beethoven: Piano Sonata No.21 in C, "Waldstein"
A Short and Poetic Film About Building a Sculpture (the Studio), with Cello
While I've been in the new studio for nearly a year, the collaberative design and construction remains a memorable project, yielding a giant, functional sculpture. I recently swept together all of digital miles of video taken during the construction, and asked Gigi Harris, a talented young filmmaker, to make this piece.
Starring roles:
The general contracting (and construction) by Leon Morgan, construction and electrical by Keith Meeks, framing and roofing by John Ediger and crew, sheetrock by Ray Williamson crew, concrete by Dave Rockers and crew, Polygal installation by John Davis crew, water work by the Kenny Sloans, HVAC by GK Smith crew. Combine moving by Leon and Keith. Bin moving by Leon M., Keith M. and John H. (bin and combine events were spectacular). I worked between shifts.
The visionary architect: Steve Bowling, Hive Design Collaberative
Back to Tree Skeletons and Monotones
It's shocking to be back in the Midwest. The north wind blows through wool layers, the trees are bare and there are only the palest hues. There's been one hoary frost, that reminds me of winter's beauty.
Usually cold weather elicits a warm palette in the studio for balance, but right now, maybe just in the transition, it feels insincere. The monotones are reflected in the studio.
A trip to the Bloch Building at the Nelson-Atkins Museum, offered a quick transformation. Walking into the building is to be enveloped within a many hued white sculpture. As always, spending time in front of William Baziotes' Crescent, reaches deeply into the warmth of being. The tag describing it, is pure nourishment for a cold February day. https://art.nelson-atkins.org/objects/4685/crescent ,
The next morning, a little shadow and light feels like a visual ballet.
The beach is the barest memory...