Thursday, April 6, 2017


tavasz means spring in hungarian.  I don't know its etymology, but I know it's in there.  Just as I know in my bones that the spring deity is upon me here.

My family sat in the concert hall to watch the magic flute.  At intermission I hear magyar from the couple in front of me.  I ask them if they are hungarian.  It's an encounter I seek out nearly everywhere.

It's a touching.  Just enough said that quickens my step.

A flurry of creativity, in the wild mind as well as the loins, the center of being.  

Savor this, I say to myself, it won't last.  No doom in this.  Simply, I know heavier clouds and dust, and they return.

Shipping work off to NYC momentarily.  Show opens June 1 at George Billis.  

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

what if

My workspace is currently tight.  So, I have chosen to work smaller.  Interesting things happen to me when I challenge myself to seek out the effects in less, in set limitations.

I'm visiting Santa Fe again soon.  A trip I've made a couple other times, skiing and visiting galleries.  I'm older, yet still interested in showing my work there someday.  As a solitary artist, I feel I've absolutely no connections to its scene.  Share your suggestions with me.

Friday, February 10, 2017


In a Q&A I am often asked about the places I paint.  I describe them as places I visit frequently, places that are already there on my path that I'd be traveling along anyway, regardless of my watercolor ambitions.  I try to be honest at the risk of sounding uncolorful, undescriptive, unimpassioned.  I know painters who choose to not even show up at Q&A's, out of protest perhaps, and I understand this decision.  

Is painting the only way I know how to express myself?  Do words not come easily?  Are colors my only voice?  No, quite the opposite:  I strive to make colors a mode of expression. I wasn't born as I am now, stubborn and mute.  It's a protesting of my own easy way out, of resorting to explanations.

Is this a watercolor or a painted photograph?  How do I see this?  Why paint this image, this photograph, in watercolor or oil at all?  What does watercolor lend to the photograph?  Why was the photograph not better left alone?  Why don't I paint more people, people with ice cream cones?

If there has been a theme over the past year it is NYC.  But from that point on I disintegrate.  The paintings are based on photos from NYC's various parts, not just Manhattan or midtown or any one thing that is collectively agreed upon as NYC.  

I ask myself what I'd want on my wall.  Do I want to collect images of antlered animals?  Do I have a preference for paintings that only describe aspects of my hometown, as I currently am or am not in my hometown yet want to be reminded of it for sake of my own identity?  

Or, what's my relation to sadness and do I wish to stomp it out or do I wish to know it? 

Thursday, January 19, 2017


Living room, as in space for living.  Surprised I was not familiar with the concept.  Read about this in a book gifted to me by my wife, not this year, last year.  A book that is dark history and that I read and discuss really only with myself, or those whom I know won't judge me.

Germans needed more space, like, you know, for an empire.  They at least thought they did.  In fact, Germans prefer intimate spaces.  Low ceilings, breakfast nooks, tight pants. If you're German and you do not, then you are rebelling, which is ok.

I've been crouched behind my computer for three days straight.  Writing.  In a hallway within a small house.  It's a cave for my withdrawal.  And I feel a need for such a hiding place.  But I feel it's served its purpose as I near this assignment's end.

Last weekend in Houston's Hooks Epstein was wonderful.  My kids are old enough to want to attend my openings, if only for the last 30 minutes.  They are hoping to join me in NY for June 1 opening at George Billis.  We'll see.

Thursday, December 15, 2016

weightless on the inside

Bank statement from Hungary yesterday.  Once a month.  On the outside of the envelope is something in hungarian about making the best decisions blah blah.  Nothing at all that one reflects on too deeply before reviewing the unthrilling numbers inside, if the envelope is even opened at all.  But I glance again.  This wisdom is a quote from the Buddha.

My bank quoted the Buddha.  

I'm trying to imagine a financial institution in the US quoting a master of the immaterial.  Hard going.  But it occurs to me, now as I'm moving my belongings in boxes and reflecting with a great deal of melancholy over my material possessions, that maintaining any sense of mobility while dragging the weighing burden of my belongings requires time and effort and stress.

Immaterialism is the new luxury car.  I want it.

Solo show of new work at Hooks Epstein Gallery opens January 14th in Houston.
Still waiting to hear about George Billis date.

Monday, November 28, 2016


"We value certain buildings for their ability to rebalance our misshapen natures and encourage emotions which our predominant commitments force us to sacrifice."  page 121 The Architecture of Happiness by Alain de Botton

We are moving this month.  Out of a home my wife and I developed from thin air.  

I drew up this one in 2006 on paper, modeled it in foam core.  

Now, onto the next but with auto cad.  Concrete in January.  So excited to put the above concept to the test, to observe how different spaces really can affect us.  Such a busy month.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

open studio

This Saturday, October 22nd, I'm hosting an open studio.  You are welcome to visit Sunday if you cannot make it on Saturday.  All day.  I wish to let go of old paintings and will offer discounted prices in order to free up needed space.  

What is my studio?  What makes this room a studio?  

I need a room that is not for entertaining.  It is for working and for me alone to work.  It is a control room.  A recent visitor commented on its Tetris feel, in regards I imagine to the maximized use of space.  I have shelves that are full of boxes, jars, and books.  I know where everything is.  The paints are arranged in a way that I can reach for cobalt behind my back while blindfolded.  

This need for control has one purpose:  to lose control.  Personally, I need great stability before I can lose myself in the project before me.