tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71309797492187684962024-03-18T19:55:56.399-07:00vanishing pointopen air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-42337211022176802962020-07-10T09:11:00.000-07:002020-07-10T14:49:45.817-07:00turbulence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There is a technique in movie-making. Those scenes where the hero flies his craft into the sun, or where lovers embrace while the planet splits apart. Time seems to shift. Not exactly slow motion, but a hum. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Music replaces deafening sounds of crashing explosions. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Intense turbulence, but restful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Philip Glass, or the late great Ennio Morricone, they know it. It's why I listen to these composers while I work. As if to summon this technique.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yesterday I completed the third of three large commissions in watercolor. Three cityscapes of places that are dear to the client. They are divided in two because they will be framed as diptychs.</span> </div>
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<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-78353535076454077342020-06-12T13:29:00.000-07:002020-06-13T09:25:18.013-07:00house home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We use the word <i>house</i> and <i>home</i> interchangeably. As in, "they're building a spec home next to their house." But a home is singular to each of us, while we can surround ourselves with many houses. We build ourselves a home, mostly one that is emotional, while we construct houses for others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My mother points out the nice houses to me in mid-sentence as we drive to point B. "Now that's a nice one right there." A nice house to my mother is one that is neat and tidy. She also points out which ones need a lot of work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I would guess that altogether I have lived in 30-40 different places that I would call home. The number would probably double if I were to include those places whose couches I slept on for spans of weeks when I was younger (below). My house in Hungary (above) is for rent to others on Airbnb. ( </span><a href="https://abnb.me/FlcaYBAWh7">https://abnb.me/FlcaYBAWh7 </a>). <span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Though I have spent only a number of summer vacations under its roof, I have an emotional connection to it and think of this house as our true home. All I need to do is view a few photos of it from time to time. Pastoral ideas come to mind and calm me. Like I'm home.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5AbHmbYMoIs1HdCMQlNawoWJtWCj7l3-lCWJt8KmXGyhTl0TC18oNIRWZGiyxNrx4Nqaj532r2EpGQbISnvYXCcsfRj9HahTPIll3kSjwYz1X2bY8qs72CQbpX13WM_tj1jo9FxUFWCAZ/s1600/000003.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5AbHmbYMoIs1HdCMQlNawoWJtWCj7l3-lCWJt8KmXGyhTl0TC18oNIRWZGiyxNrx4Nqaj532r2EpGQbISnvYXCcsfRj9HahTPIll3kSjwYz1X2bY8qs72CQbpX13WM_tj1jo9FxUFWCAZ/s320/000003.jpg" width="277" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My son and my dad at the dinner table together. We're living together, all of us since Covid, just eating dinners together mostly. But life does seem to be one big dinner, either preparing for or cleaning up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sometimes we are given live performances on the patio.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYzzeBBP0jWRrxAASS5Vre4kigRcRZsEgc7VjeCu3m2qeYz6Q_U37LrkgQP9TrRq3RT2nfuVw_XIgz6NtOJ1754xwNb5o7Rz9IYrQZw8K9PQJaQx3Mxw_SAThSD_vYfSSRVp0wKVfizvQL/s1600/IMG_9142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYzzeBBP0jWRrxAASS5Vre4kigRcRZsEgc7VjeCu3m2qeYz6Q_U37LrkgQP9TrRq3RT2nfuVw_XIgz6NtOJ1754xwNb5o7Rz9IYrQZw8K9PQJaQx3Mxw_SAThSD_vYfSSRVp0wKVfizvQL/s320/IMG_9142.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-77204218705298952842020-05-12T15:52:00.001-07:002020-05-12T15:52:54.294-07:00sprinkler<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"Why are all the lamp switches in this house different?"</i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hear my family wonder out loud their observations about home. And we often shout to each other from different rooms. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"What about these donuts?!!!" </i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXZhITSdd9PzmEHwt2W-32zFSqUpR42FFRWNE_fWp8qMht2mwtb4j6cx7GOTWH646OjMRpQLqKoF8G22P9Kuo6styWVzynL6O_mjpZ_b1IhXq1yOy14hB6xPFvpASG0uO4Z3AX49nUBmy/s1600/200408b+western.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXZhITSdd9PzmEHwt2W-32zFSqUpR42FFRWNE_fWp8qMht2mwtb4j6cx7GOTWH646OjMRpQLqKoF8G22P9Kuo6styWVzynL6O_mjpZ_b1IhXq1yOy14hB6xPFvpASG0uO4Z3AX49nUBmy/s320/200408b+western.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have been organizing my inventory of artworks from over twenty years for a soon-to-be-printed book. It is data entry work that needs to be done. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"Has anybody seen my goggles?!!!"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"What can I have for a snack?!!" </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've also hired somebody recently to design and build my new website. It ought to be ready within the next few weeks. But it too has required time from me in the office and at the computer.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVfebEj-egqOAMcBfvaCfhyphenhyphenQU-c_GFa9ztR3ThRGTj7h0Eo0OnKRRguBRfiNhOGtBQ3yxXItQq33wau_LIDHN1Lr3-vHYK4HcFKh3k9faM59HDDWACMtsGcXbsCFK5JzA62Wh40xMwg0CS/s1600/200429b+straight+between+us.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVfebEj-egqOAMcBfvaCfhyphenhyphenQU-c_GFa9ztR3ThRGTj7h0Eo0OnKRRguBRfiNhOGtBQ3yxXItQq33wau_LIDHN1Lr3-vHYK4HcFKh3k9faM59HDDWACMtsGcXbsCFK5JzA62Wh40xMwg0CS/s320/200429b+straight+between+us.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Togetherness. We have new beds in the kids' bedrooms that are now full size. And the markings on their height chart have grown past the taped paper that I've taken from one home to the next. To them, still, height is the absolute proof of growth. </span></div>
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<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-46395971983075943332020-04-04T11:49:00.002-07:002020-04-04T11:49:56.846-07:00from my home to yours<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I imagine those of you who visit this blog are doing so now in a different light. The rush of our daily schedule has been altered by stay-at-home ordinances. Things we used to cross off, get done, might now seem less urgent. What's the hurry now? </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofJrTjueNpa95soU5GHHRRO91S-Oebqqv8Rvg7dRMedvHhyphenhyphenSqsOVthMnW7qwpSWCIW2FQzKmL1UF3h7R-5ccspGKSfRqwJwtgmQNa8GbL0OxkSfYHxSHOaD5Q-JtcnQWw2OOEZHwpAX4B/s1600/200228+forest.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1599" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofJrTjueNpa95soU5GHHRRO91S-Oebqqv8Rvg7dRMedvHhyphenhyphenSqsOVthMnW7qwpSWCIW2FQzKmL1UF3h7R-5ccspGKSfRqwJwtgmQNa8GbL0OxkSfYHxSHOaD5Q-JtcnQWw2OOEZHwpAX4B/s320/200228+forest.jpeg" width="319" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Zoom meeting with my website designer, and I don't like zoom meetings. She apologized for being distracted and unavailable lately. I told her that I'm looking to prolong this process and to enjoy it. Savor it. We've nothing to apologize for lately, if ever.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ6pPv1UOm03w6IlUq-3hOQSvk0XEn4XwtTRaC0oQ7LwgCHo6P1s90RlJ7xIF00Ln1YssS_WyD1k7dzbSA9sToLS4TlNyidlKbcU6_vohT0Kyo1b-fHGSBkKxha_6JbnzrEPh_q6KL9IiP/s1600/200402+the+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ6pPv1UOm03w6IlUq-3hOQSvk0XEn4XwtTRaC0oQ7LwgCHo6P1s90RlJ7xIF00Ln1YssS_WyD1k7dzbSA9sToLS4TlNyidlKbcU6_vohT0Kyo1b-fHGSBkKxha_6JbnzrEPh_q6KL9IiP/s320/200402+the+garden.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is a good (great) month for commissioned work. Below is a house in my neighborhood. The owner surprised her husband for their 20th anniversary with my portrait of their home. Their joyful reaction is</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, again and again,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> like a lifeline of support to me as a painter.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbO4kOElhMjS8QA8DBYIU0kQur1GjLPToA-hNc0JaTAHzZAcblW0jMJtz5hHBqCwWS50n60x1g_vybHPLjrQuwZDIv956j1PwD0ahX3qhNyliwOnn93nP5KDfmrmBmImo7T0j0b8SPfsN/s1600/200326+barminski+johnson.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbO4kOElhMjS8QA8DBYIU0kQur1GjLPToA-hNc0JaTAHzZAcblW0jMJtz5hHBqCwWS50n60x1g_vybHPLjrQuwZDIv956j1PwD0ahX3qhNyliwOnn93nP5KDfmrmBmImo7T0j0b8SPfsN/s320/200326+barminski+johnson.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-50525431674010311442020-02-27T11:21:00.000-08:002020-02-27T11:22:42.389-08:00who are you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Early in the gospel of John a question is asked by one man to another. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Who are you?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5k9gMunZ237_FuhiakKG-3TMO601-PJ4pK0QhBzd6rM4NXLPEiLaJzuNEYJrd_ONy4eob1oraoS5VptyNaiIEtywNlAqF6Iz5_8gIajWLT-DGgVa5md4a8meULsRUvPx5663-cArw-xvu/s1600/200129+rose.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="983" data-original-width="1600" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5k9gMunZ237_FuhiakKG-3TMO601-PJ4pK0QhBzd6rM4NXLPEiLaJzuNEYJrd_ONy4eob1oraoS5VptyNaiIEtywNlAqF6Iz5_8gIajWLT-DGgVa5md4a8meULsRUvPx5663-cArw-xvu/s320/200129+rose.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Not, what is your first name or your title? Not, what do you do for a living? Not, where are you from?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ToM9qx8cX0xmol8Tbgk2Myuy9rR6aibAInnDNHBvJbE9DZ3UoavrA0u2QKADuVtaHgHULquA2jujkYYB5to4qSUqE-AssQ5_6uoOEq4oWXbJK7OgCol2IqW9DFL93Sgz2RWjyIlp2A3-/s1600/200201+theo.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1207" data-original-width="1600" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ToM9qx8cX0xmol8Tbgk2Myuy9rR6aibAInnDNHBvJbE9DZ3UoavrA0u2QKADuVtaHgHULquA2jujkYYB5to4qSUqE-AssQ5_6uoOEq4oWXbJK7OgCol2IqW9DFL93Sgz2RWjyIlp2A3-/s320/200201+theo.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Two men in a landscape whose paths have crossed want to know the essence of the other. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7B9-3pu5UXmm7Vem1FnXyb2sAgz92eksy-2hy2KqhkanjNngyGG1oyWRVP7Uzaz_6KCk4djr6aCTfETTijcvuNKWUsjnGh-5UPMOLMnp4xWw1gPL3x8j_hmj4nvSRXyEzuwP6asX8jbQ/s1600/200212+my+body+does+not+know+what+I+want.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1447" data-original-width="1600" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7B9-3pu5UXmm7Vem1FnXyb2sAgz92eksy-2hy2KqhkanjNngyGG1oyWRVP7Uzaz_6KCk4djr6aCTfETTijcvuNKWUsjnGh-5UPMOLMnp4xWw1gPL3x8j_hmj4nvSRXyEzuwP6asX8jbQ/s320/200212+my+body+does+not+know+what+I+want.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Words are there, and the sentences can be stitched. But they might break if spoken too loud. They are the thoughts you have your whole lifetime to whisper to your truest of friends.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJAMQGYsaWnxYQPiMKd70t29vGx4_zCsCSEuAZi72mZ3ezeHDq2CQ_T6kpI0T1FzO3eSQRLhcqPRbfjO2TRVIGCZFr5EZAT9gbmNrL7tDqAk_uiHb5gKG65s8E9P762MvaRODHoy33ix-/s1600/200220+parade+of+outer+life.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJAMQGYsaWnxYQPiMKd70t29vGx4_zCsCSEuAZi72mZ3ezeHDq2CQ_T6kpI0T1FzO3eSQRLhcqPRbfjO2TRVIGCZFr5EZAT9gbmNrL7tDqAk_uiHb5gKG65s8E9P762MvaRODHoy33ix-/s320/200220+parade+of+outer+life.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-71446688658789808982020-01-24T12:34:00.002-08:002020-01-24T12:34:57.084-08:00anchor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Out the backseat window of the minivan my son could not make out the horizon because of the fog. He threw up for 5 hours well into Arkansas. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCdl99iDTkPV87CbOSA8hP6tHwqHRJv5uY17toXyX4GHWbkCZtr_rGk0BJqQLfK3xvyfwbGlvtNGZzWlLJ6hY5PUgTrj8bALpSksqOzyMlE8fCMr71py5tFW17-4qkZzvzqB0szL9fJjN3/s1600/191126+spreader.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCdl99iDTkPV87CbOSA8hP6tHwqHRJv5uY17toXyX4GHWbkCZtr_rGk0BJqQLfK3xvyfwbGlvtNGZzWlLJ6hY5PUgTrj8bALpSksqOzyMlE8fCMr71py5tFW17-4qkZzvzqB0szL9fJjN3/s320/191126+spreader.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Motion sickness. Sick of moving. Stricken by inner unease. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's a miserable state that obliterates the joy of travel and overtakes the victim. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtFw08Bi-LJCUu3YyqjyQjdRJW3s4nKUXYZoItqzkSC97N2p1TlpoWmqN1KBIr5e7POYH7sMlBIansy193wxHG-TzV2NCI8OqUvNXIes2YYdZfDf3tvh2ZBR1zcCkkAb_eOo6e-FI1651T/s1600/191205+all+at+once.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtFw08Bi-LJCUu3YyqjyQjdRJW3s4nKUXYZoItqzkSC97N2p1TlpoWmqN1KBIr5e7POYH7sMlBIansy193wxHG-TzV2NCI8OqUvNXIes2YYdZfDf3tvh2ZBR1zcCkkAb_eOo6e-FI1651T/s320/191205+all+at+once.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It becomes a search for visual anchoring. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Years of traveling and learning how to roll with the unpredictable shaped my vision and expectations of parenthood. I was going to steer my family like a migratory caravan. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinH7a2zfZFthPhCh3OoEOAW6qTtNqaH5ma4ogNDgK-FMnMq7Ujfmd86YWi51R4I1DWXGe1jZE5ts-yHnFK_-aKhbTd0sx2muuwgF-Gtwarx-xDW7EhS5jZCbICClMZ-UMAkvZbPE8lwrSu/s1600/200115+the+historian.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinH7a2zfZFthPhCh3OoEOAW6qTtNqaH5ma4ogNDgK-FMnMq7Ujfmd86YWi51R4I1DWXGe1jZE5ts-yHnFK_-aKhbTd0sx2muuwgF-Gtwarx-xDW7EhS5jZCbICClMZ-UMAkvZbPE8lwrSu/s320/200115+the+historian.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">But it's as if my son has opened a new horizon to me, an exotic one that is closer to home.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1LgN_EJtfMJollqhMfSVuW97u3jvRJjzb27T3ZNVock4LyUKKrJZBKyeyOKLHDpcJgfGjrajsHUIw7lWAl1u5lU9nSmigN-gTvUxQdsdwVAOBc9g2Ye8zEJFwN7wAhlHJxeeY4ZaLQ235/s1600/DSC_0132.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1304" data-original-width="1600" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1LgN_EJtfMJollqhMfSVuW97u3jvRJjzb27T3ZNVock4LyUKKrJZBKyeyOKLHDpcJgfGjrajsHUIw7lWAl1u5lU9nSmigN-gTvUxQdsdwVAOBc9g2Ye8zEJFwN7wAhlHJxeeY4ZaLQ235/s320/DSC_0132.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A good friend commissioned this painting with a snapshot of his two boys from 20 years ago. It's now above their fireplace.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What's above your fireplace?</span></div>
open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-76043476383850339722019-11-16T10:49:00.001-08:002019-11-16T10:49:29.209-08:00scraps<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A large Pecan tree fell over in a wind storm and nearly crushed my rotting fence. Its trunk is on my neighbor's property and is therefore his problem. Some would act quickly to remove the hazard, the intrusion, the unsightliness. It leans and browns with decay dominating my view against the vertical living trees that surround it.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMfulsrcN8Fz5uX39UmXz1iWGT-ftLBd_AkUdofEnuE3GMRtZP0_A_wwzND3Q0dvXv7sMv7i2OsAFIviBsWw64Dsmj4pp4tu3WY8rjk5S5wdIhPuvfySJBFWTxcOiEyZbjo8U6SnQbSb6c/s1600/191018+der%252C+die+oder+das.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1286" data-original-width="1600" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMfulsrcN8Fz5uX39UmXz1iWGT-ftLBd_AkUdofEnuE3GMRtZP0_A_wwzND3Q0dvXv7sMv7i2OsAFIviBsWw64Dsmj4pp4tu3WY8rjk5S5wdIhPuvfySJBFWTxcOiEyZbjo8U6SnQbSb6c/s320/191018+der%252C+die+oder+das.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My wife and I go for walks together in the evenings. I remind Andi to slow down, that I would rather walk for leisure and not so much for power exercise. But I speed up. We pass a field that was once used by the old high school for football games. Brown weeds and grass with a rusty goalpost, the space is not quite a park as much as it is emptiness.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2So3Q1G0h9L9OPJzPWUXoyboZQUJRJcnVQzLuWB6PEzvXxxtiOpY7fY2xaZ8z_9-OUBKME5kbOU4NBu5ABLooxN9iGw_o5ZY3LZ32yuOaUS5UBinNfV6xZIhiqT90-QLRe9c2RN45Q2Rf/s1600/191024+goalpost+B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1593" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2So3Q1G0h9L9OPJzPWUXoyboZQUJRJcnVQzLuWB6PEzvXxxtiOpY7fY2xaZ8z_9-OUBKME5kbOU4NBu5ABLooxN9iGw_o5ZY3LZ32yuOaUS5UBinNfV6xZIhiqT90-QLRe9c2RN45Q2Rf/s320/191024+goalpost+B.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We scan the neighborhood as we walk. A house has been painted. A woman rakes leaves in a front yard where neither of us have ever seen any sign of life. Silhouettes of buzzards or hawks perch along bare pecan branches. We walk in the road because there are no sidewalks and keep an eye open for oncoming headlights.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCvIgAdkNe062TTSCzw_JmbKd7CcwGR3C5Ol1zW6qhQYhfMrCSkA3Hyj-zMTK8XKkeu9uWyBSRA4C8yQo_4WDKt9wKh0YZMVqIRr_I_HWC6zrQRZaXd1XmlEKtZHYom5OSXeOfDY3MZJTY/s1600/191113+green+hill+B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1596" data-original-width="1600" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCvIgAdkNe062TTSCzw_JmbKd7CcwGR3C5Ol1zW6qhQYhfMrCSkA3Hyj-zMTK8XKkeu9uWyBSRA4C8yQo_4WDKt9wKh0YZMVqIRr_I_HWC6zrQRZaXd1XmlEKtZHYom5OSXeOfDY3MZJTY/s320/191113+green+hill+B.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-9918773329417377952019-10-16T09:35:00.001-07:002019-10-16T09:35:26.008-07:00four by five feet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLZz1xbjtAOvEcUXCffyiZNUWPWp10RT9tMVClSxKUCyN2-eKrvH03nLGdhSVx3X2J4Z6ESkjzgap-13NuCsn7ISrhrQQAaYjL1FERBIw26FCV3w_JpoODpXnSbvosDqRa_wwMwbBV4NgM/s1600/190905+san+jacinto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1273" data-original-width="1600" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLZz1xbjtAOvEcUXCffyiZNUWPWp10RT9tMVClSxKUCyN2-eKrvH03nLGdhSVx3X2J4Z6ESkjzgap-13NuCsn7ISrhrQQAaYjL1FERBIw26FCV3w_JpoODpXnSbvosDqRa_wwMwbBV4NgM/s320/190905+san+jacinto.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Large canvases. They feel comfortable to me. I apply paint and I step back, but step back to where? Oh right, to that place where one stands when they look at a painting, between 5 and 10 feet. Step in and step out.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCjFmfjW1ll6ve1p5A1MUHXwTmU_I15DI6bWjzYbFEnqkiSD8PxQ3Eif-aGqNY9w_44XM9f-MVS45BUbu54iSnakcCLgloZZliwj-dK6UVZ5X-HJkM8sWHAJh_apYU8DCuVrQR8HcJJZ__/s1600/190918+symmetric+street+fair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1412" data-original-width="1412" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCjFmfjW1ll6ve1p5A1MUHXwTmU_I15DI6bWjzYbFEnqkiSD8PxQ3Eif-aGqNY9w_44XM9f-MVS45BUbu54iSnakcCLgloZZliwj-dK6UVZ5X-HJkM8sWHAJh_apYU8DCuVrQR8HcJJZ__/s320/190918+symmetric+street+fair.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I paint I recall the small abstract watercolors that I painted 4 years ago. My muscle memory is activated. This is as close to a flowing experience as I might possibly know.</span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibpN2bKZRFIv1vKeOw28r6Y24FgB1xJ4GDEsT1kpUP_prik6uWBIpgywDl4jBtGCEaiRbdarqIcvB25P6IKMn1yH7w4-yzZhHFY2o6KpNMvhgc4BaYC7nahTKC0JFd_j8ZFY6qFPbBChVI/s1600/190926b+starfish+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1269" data-original-width="1600" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibpN2bKZRFIv1vKeOw28r6Y24FgB1xJ4GDEsT1kpUP_prik6uWBIpgywDl4jBtGCEaiRbdarqIcvB25P6IKMn1yH7w4-yzZhHFY2o6KpNMvhgc4BaYC7nahTKC0JFd_j8ZFY6qFPbBChVI/s320/190926b+starfish+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scanning photographs for dreams, disconnecting the source material and its context, stealing the sense of imagery that breathes in its life.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz_AWKz86WjxyS4rrYf_L43fn7qSMvQkXl21qAk-_JM4nML0cqxj6gJtIfUy4tPTXXi-zgd-FYSiHQr9SNtG3k3rS8AcBd32jMOdnmgnisaps_dkizdtk1UQ21FW9Bi6f5UoQxR-_e5OCQ/s1600/191003+tiger+b.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz_AWKz86WjxyS4rrYf_L43fn7qSMvQkXl21qAk-_JM4nML0cqxj6gJtIfUy4tPTXXi-zgd-FYSiHQr9SNtG3k3rS8AcBd32jMOdnmgnisaps_dkizdtk1UQ21FW9Bi6f5UoQxR-_e5OCQ/s320/191003+tiger+b.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Friday November 1, "first friday", opens our next show at <a href="http://www.thecommercegallery.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Commerce Gallery</span></a> in downtown Lockhart. Guest artist will be <a href="https://www.facebook.com/susansageart/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #38761d;">Susan Sage</span></a> from Portland and music by Emily Gimble.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.thecommercegallery.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Image may contain: 3 people, text" height="208" src="https://scontent-dfw5-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/71957557_2433240543630873_8465208698774487040_n.jpg?_nc_cat=108&_nc_oc=AQkdxMwROLq2zNHuWfTV69f6nA08hrrVqwYg8UTbDceswaAH-yjc59fxGuPohXP_bfU&_nc_ht=scontent-dfw5-1.xx&oh=ca146c34c23aca377f35ae7ba34e2c7f&oe=5E30507C" width="400" /></a></div>
open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-23836007628316308622019-08-23T13:10:00.001-07:002019-08-23T13:10:14.175-07:00me against the sun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The sun has been a galactic god to civilizations, male to some and female, I'm sure, to others. What is my relationship with the sun?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVJ4QUb6DPR7h1g3Y1qtAGd8EJlJC8qa02vr00YXYmCiGi70297Vovytns2DaVyyMsF5bw-Bl_c_O5KrlUj7jZWHSrDY8j4ehRcUs7Vr3E-sTYJFB6xuMpVVeYRKrgL5pC-8NhY0zlNjaH/s1600/190712+odyssey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVJ4QUb6DPR7h1g3Y1qtAGd8EJlJC8qa02vr00YXYmCiGi70297Vovytns2DaVyyMsF5bw-Bl_c_O5KrlUj7jZWHSrDY8j4ehRcUs7Vr3E-sTYJFB6xuMpVVeYRKrgL5pC-8NhY0zlNjaH/s320/190712+odyssey.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Icarus had one. My own seems similar. If you think of the sun as an enormous power source that you confront or fight.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0rAWnX3ziRUmxoniRRNwDvzhJ3g3nVY9mEKRbq-YSkhMG-AiBMPy9lNeuubHLuoBrZ7yloSclUxbWUB0BPbyz9so7oRvarstY1ff_5xQps3j0vfkR5cFmxJeVV1kykeAhOEAvRQh9Abd/s1600/190722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0rAWnX3ziRUmxoniRRNwDvzhJ3g3nVY9mEKRbq-YSkhMG-AiBMPy9lNeuubHLuoBrZ7yloSclUxbWUB0BPbyz9so7oRvarstY1ff_5xQps3j0vfkR5cFmxJeVV1kykeAhOEAvRQh9Abd/s320/190722.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What I find most embarrassing as an artist is the never ending exertion in striving to be what I'm not. It is solar in scale. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtV4V0Sfuk39a1F-rAYyDOk4KI1qCA-DbflbPDmEZP85tn1p9yAO7fWEcZFNTK8MzkxnuC6ftN7tmb4wzCeKNbrdycz0O0lis0JQ2TtIR2zKhi8J3Qx7atZ2HS6Wb0Z2lTozs7Ky7OuBUW/s1600/190822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1179" data-original-width="1600" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtV4V0Sfuk39a1F-rAYyDOk4KI1qCA-DbflbPDmEZP85tn1p9yAO7fWEcZFNTK8MzkxnuC6ftN7tmb4wzCeKNbrdycz0O0lis0JQ2TtIR2zKhi8J3Qx7atZ2HS6Wb0Z2lTozs7Ky7OuBUW/s320/190822.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-30208926643252769832019-07-15T10:34:00.004-07:002019-07-15T10:34:41.394-07:00dark ages<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As an oil painter I find myself scanning my environment for material differently than I do as a watercolorist.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOSs5a8jQnxlBgM1pjmosaQCcwB6SkIhepBG720CuEvlQ6g5LVQXqmmhI38KtxAPlBjVgYR4n2ep1UoY5976jsTWC8xIFV2d94dy9sROLZGPIkjhx2Yj3HkDlUxN9LRq9Su_YvP-SuvDv/s1600/190702+diesel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOSs5a8jQnxlBgM1pjmosaQCcwB6SkIhepBG720CuEvlQ6g5LVQXqmmhI38KtxAPlBjVgYR4n2ep1UoY5976jsTWC8xIFV2d94dy9sROLZGPIkjhx2Yj3HkDlUxN9LRq9Su_YvP-SuvDv/s320/190702+diesel.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think of James Turrell, as I pause and take note of sky-ground contrasts. I want to see his crater someday. Tell me how.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP10kxnz_OlWuut3ZxcEWdtVJQD9ccXEEoh4IyUn5w03yQGGdZdUDizAJ75S4-csLz3FiPMep8HfZtQUlTvzv2rj0QPMHuLqnhfobxHacg0gEZoYzGlYHaSbj-nNaj9mvyekJ929qy4IAI/s1600/190620+hot+melt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP10kxnz_OlWuut3ZxcEWdtVJQD9ccXEEoh4IyUn5w03yQGGdZdUDizAJ75S4-csLz3FiPMep8HfZtQUlTvzv2rj0QPMHuLqnhfobxHacg0gEZoYzGlYHaSbj-nNaj9mvyekJ929qy4IAI/s320/190620+hot+melt.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am going to give an <a href="https://www.thecommercegallery.com/calendar-1/commerce-gallery-presents-lockhart-talks-with-christopher-st-leger" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">art talk on July 24th at 6 or 6:30 at Commerce Gallery</span></a> here in Lockhart. It will not be about the Dark Ages. Because I know my audience and I don't think they want to here my dark thoughts. But oil painting has been a chance to explore the darker values, compared to the pure white paper days of watercolor. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQTIMiV_JSiZ5gT-zEK8LGHaK1i23_GLaf4VFBtpqvMtEqASlN2hwYHxnuAHD_MdyuZ2M96cGAuiLUjzgB14lPbYnIadAi6Sz5bg3hgaQL5tRvSPf73EwL8IPK76A994oCHuIWTvNXsi-/s1600/190624+prairie+town.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQTIMiV_JSiZ5gT-zEK8LGHaK1i23_GLaf4VFBtpqvMtEqASlN2hwYHxnuAHD_MdyuZ2M96cGAuiLUjzgB14lPbYnIadAi6Sz5bg3hgaQL5tRvSPf73EwL8IPK76A994oCHuIWTvNXsi-/s320/190624+prairie+town.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-88977627944846969002019-06-13T14:42:00.001-07:002019-06-14T05:54:42.774-07:00nusrat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Priorities. First, announcement for upcoming show. <a href="http://www.alesiart.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Stella Alesi</span></a> will have her work here in Lockhart with us at <a href="http://www.thecommercegallery.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Commerce Gallery</span></a>. I've known Stella for several years, and I've witnessed the evolution of her work through painting and color field and most recently geometric abstraction. She is an artist who is devoted to creating work in waves of exploration. Stella, while spontaneous, also sees her work through and through to a mature conclusion. I look forward to hanging with Stella and Leon on Friday, July 5.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHa30CffC5GaH_JwypHBbzEV89IZ9b6cR64tx6lpY0jPwERdpeKcnaPw0IIo_JBy_bAGklwzGclaZjGMQapYqH9Rt8yNtGapkqGuX78d0ifhxfwdu8TylOWjsfxAxk8rpgAWri6fV7pSh/s1600/Commerce_Postcard_5inch_Square_Mailer+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="769" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHa30CffC5GaH_JwypHBbzEV89IZ9b6cR64tx6lpY0jPwERdpeKcnaPw0IIo_JBy_bAGklwzGclaZjGMQapYqH9Rt8yNtGapkqGuX78d0ifhxfwdu8TylOWjsfxAxk8rpgAWri6fV7pSh/s320/Commerce_Postcard_5inch_Square_Mailer+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I continue to work in oil on panel, layering thin to thick layers with palette knives, all with the speed of watercolor to an effect that feels natural and on par with previous years' efforts in water media on paper. I choose my locale of Lockhart where I spend an ever increasing maximum of my time (all of it). By painting the mass and void, the small urbanity of Lockhart, I feel ever more connected to it, which is integral in a time when work and family push pull me in discordant directions. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCG-K9HUDmrdGvNF_TkQXKsYubH08fhttTGz0t1jOgde4mNWKa1quysTw1s5fB8vxRH7UEW-B4RSjCIAq-upVWVfmXgqDdZP0oaUvFKHCXxuHJAHra3XLxGN9MWZ3rldG1fqV-_kJXSzUS/s1600/190510+cleaners.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCG-K9HUDmrdGvNF_TkQXKsYubH08fhttTGz0t1jOgde4mNWKa1quysTw1s5fB8vxRH7UEW-B4RSjCIAq-upVWVfmXgqDdZP0oaUvFKHCXxuHJAHra3XLxGN9MWZ3rldG1fqV-_kJXSzUS/s320/190510+cleaners.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I run/jog/walk in the mornings, earlier and earlier as summer heat approaches. On a day when I'm halfway through I realize I'm wearing my regular non-athletic spectacles which fog up in the humidity, I remove them and run blindly. Ok, I am not entirely blind and can make out an approaching car, but mostly I run beside clouds of undefined light and dark color. Strangely, this feels like rest. Without my vision I am aware of my heavy dependence on my sense of sight.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Eu-wN1yI-L_AszbFC_CezDrjORJPVaf42gOQWFQaZPDjOB6Fvjn54FcNu1MyWvz5RMwJ6z0vmucOR2vBcL_d7ALFJpqJ_t0hj1wM6Mh6uLMNMfH3m3Yt8fI2oTCWYu9n09510wew-Ovx/s1600/190522+chromia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Eu-wN1yI-L_AszbFC_CezDrjORJPVaf42gOQWFQaZPDjOB6Fvjn54FcNu1MyWvz5RMwJ6z0vmucOR2vBcL_d7ALFJpqJ_t0hj1wM6Mh6uLMNMfH3m3Yt8fI2oTCWYu9n09510wew-Ovx/s320/190522+chromia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I run on a morning like this after traveling with my family for two weeks in the fastidiously organized Netherlands my thoughts are dancing. I listen to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, a Qawwali master who died about 20 years ago. His music is clearly devotional, this much I have always appreciated. It stirs my imagination and echoes the swirling - blind - joy of 3 mile freedom.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAAHTlhBG8KVKBsn1Qg_ZditTJ7udpOhnYRGIf_c4lMaCNgRiEF-LtifMKFR7_A_52L_EAGLSRR014c8G2zWXkl1XmN8fPG71YfyREn9xZAILMB4FplTb8N-KIqq3B-nxjYti_hBxfIGud/s1600/190613+italianate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAAHTlhBG8KVKBsn1Qg_ZditTJ7udpOhnYRGIf_c4lMaCNgRiEF-LtifMKFR7_A_52L_EAGLSRR014c8G2zWXkl1XmN8fPG71YfyREn9xZAILMB4FplTb8N-KIqq3B-nxjYti_hBxfIGud/s320/190613+italianate.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In Brussels with Rene Magritte, at his museum, more of his work than I'd ever imagined. I normally view a painting first and follow by leaning in to the accompanying label. With each and every one of his paintings, his incongruous titles cause a small hiccup or chuckle in my mind to the flow of work. His paintings are crafted so beautifully, especially for one whose basis for painting was Idea over paint.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLP_em7yb99ff4BlQcjhQA_29duqjN0K3l4OcCcdH5-goPCdeWxdpq3-FT3u2NZi4W2LjKej540au-BOaDJ76XFsqGxnjzxoVx2UL8yzoisnFd1-50KqykFTR7YlmhWNNH7sTXscao31y/s1600/IMG_7141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLP_em7yb99ff4BlQcjhQA_29duqjN0K3l4OcCcdH5-goPCdeWxdpq3-FT3u2NZi4W2LjKej540au-BOaDJ76XFsqGxnjzxoVx2UL8yzoisnFd1-50KqykFTR7YlmhWNNH7sTXscao31y/s320/IMG_7141.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ok, Netherlands is bicycle heaven. Small roads specifically for bicycles. Fietspad. Love it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Lucian at <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><a href="https://www.teylersmuseum.nl/en" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Teylers Museum</span></a>. </span>Haarlem. Art and Science in one museum. Who knew? Now one of my favorite museums of all time.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCu2PrNET5xU0879Zm4c3OWvQn6OfmiyaQ5dhQC4pC9HfL9_h5Ij6lM7kCXzqS5ckg1rE1l6JagyabRHzwjOtjbn15B37GswI_zX-tpBVmZdS7wIgXi5u9gCdGwoijvXQOpaqClritPddY/s1600/IMG_7355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCu2PrNET5xU0879Zm4c3OWvQn6OfmiyaQ5dhQC4pC9HfL9_h5Ij6lM7kCXzqS5ckg1rE1l6JagyabRHzwjOtjbn15B37GswI_zX-tpBVmZdS7wIgXi5u9gCdGwoijvXQOpaqClritPddY/s320/IMG_7355.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-75538346935599505612019-05-13T11:42:00.002-07:002019-05-13T11:42:42.141-07:00hallmark<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Are you a millenial, Chris?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I looked around the small weight room where I lift heavier than normal things twice each week. Who is asking me this? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I paused the podcast on my phone. An elderly gym mate was peddling so quietly on the stationary cycle that I'd not really noticed her. I think of myself as more generation x and shared this with her. She was intrigued.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2ottfWckRruGt0PW8VA_Ic7KCwD_TRtXRELK9idHCoOkNJ5qCijALqvGquQZ3zAu4MTUZpEcEWpY7b49yCfhaJ3D69x6k32zbqX9xfRXdUR2BZ6NozgNdpBog30LNt5LQhsdZe0FF3t9/s1600/190411+wind+loving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1587" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2ottfWckRruGt0PW8VA_Ic7KCwD_TRtXRELK9idHCoOkNJ5qCijALqvGquQZ3zAu4MTUZpEcEWpY7b49yCfhaJ3D69x6k32zbqX9xfRXdUR2BZ6NozgNdpBog30LNt5LQhsdZe0FF3t9/s320/190411+wind+loving.jpg" width="317" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She shared some recent observations, maybe complaints, about how dependent her children seem on their devices. I admitted my own dependence and delicately shortened my answers to her questions so as to end the conversation and exit the gym. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the phone later this morning my mother asked me if I'd posted any new pictures on my dot com or my blog. A perfectly sweet-hearted long-distance question. I explained that I only blog once each month and that nobody looks at websites anymore. But that I do post things regularly on facebook and instagram. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLPyNnD9VVDfYg8A1DAeqiPt-okYjGQW07fhSBidXPk0eSZYaeF1Y2u8KGLANUDmO6zvctIjLRpmruVKiP70wHGPwB_zHSfuxVBRemgAk9G8UVBwKVxEA8Gg_1oYGGJFGMIFvyPlgevxL3/s1600/190424+hornbeam+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLPyNnD9VVDfYg8A1DAeqiPt-okYjGQW07fhSBidXPk0eSZYaeF1Y2u8KGLANUDmO6zvctIjLRpmruVKiP70wHGPwB_zHSfuxVBRemgAk9G8UVBwKVxEA8Gg_1oYGGJFGMIFvyPlgevxL3/s320/190424+hornbeam+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She explained how she doesn't like facebook because of how she gets sucked into it. Old friends reach out to her, and it's a bit overwhelming for her at her desk. I had no argument for her and only wished I'd sent her a sappy hallmark card for mother's day. Doggone it.</span></div>
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<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-48276871899041009912019-04-07T10:04:00.001-07:002019-04-07T10:09:48.792-07:00blake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">William Blake's art and poetry was spiritual. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> When I encounter him I see </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">a prophet in the wilderness. I see an artist, but mostly I see a zealot with a vision of fire and glory. I enjoy reading about his career as much as his own words, to get a picture of the visionary consumed by the eternal in a context of fellow bodies competing for a publisher's contract.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26Xg6dMRT7j944R0BHWSBmW6djN_NGMFB3fNaiQ5wDgStDXgKR4qBXBut6xqyYPtR92fPB_4o216djQN9mrvZi_SlDBv8eBNOmzj9HAC60UNvQdmYmNPpbcyx33oyr3mNOzL1xH3VpZOo/s1600/IMG_6642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26Xg6dMRT7j944R0BHWSBmW6djN_NGMFB3fNaiQ5wDgStDXgKR4qBXBut6xqyYPtR92fPB_4o216djQN9mrvZi_SlDBv8eBNOmzj9HAC60UNvQdmYmNPpbcyx33oyr3mNOzL1xH3VpZOo/s320/IMG_6642.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Formations and assemblies, teams, congregations, affiliations. I just spent two consecutive nights at the Commerce Gallery entertaining guests for a themed weekend in the downtown square. Community here is not abstract. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi51Z9Jhs-ktmeRoOV3HK-DzqfvzFbN2zGA6iAwvWLbVt5AhSm2htLuSifOlSFT-_SHB7kzaXssiafDtCP_W9_jTOePavltnzMhBe__N_0mJ0ZvRVPs1YKPb0BLjCJONd1rUlrOxfzzi9y/s1600/IMG_6695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi51Z9Jhs-ktmeRoOV3HK-DzqfvzFbN2zGA6iAwvWLbVt5AhSm2htLuSifOlSFT-_SHB7kzaXssiafDtCP_W9_jTOePavltnzMhBe__N_0mJ0ZvRVPs1YKPb0BLjCJONd1rUlrOxfzzi9y/s400/IMG_6695.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I picked through old snapshots at a local pawn shop of families on beachside vacations, graduations, picnics. I drove with a friend out to a primitive baptist hall to experience a <a href="http://www.texasfasola.org/audio/hester.mp3" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Sacred Harp</span></a>. This republic as a broth, boiled down to shared experiences, not so much the lightning bolt of Blake's inner world.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJ7BY4HkUhjyFhfaaNGFr8V0SAEwpTpjyGcdl5h1uNYeaiKkPdAyynnut2G-Rk2ZOjxRCHg8CeJRLBYUyRTixDPXu9Upd3Dlcq4jQOslO-Q4QBDz70eQe0rdhmniA1wE89nWGXmJlNI22/s1600/IMG_6709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1581" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJ7BY4HkUhjyFhfaaNGFr8V0SAEwpTpjyGcdl5h1uNYeaiKkPdAyynnut2G-Rk2ZOjxRCHg8CeJRLBYUyRTixDPXu9Upd3Dlcq4jQOslO-Q4QBDz70eQe0rdhmniA1wE89nWGXmJlNI22/s320/IMG_6709.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One month so far at the new studio in downtown Lockhart. Adding a sign here, a website there (in a couple weeks). <a href="https://www.mattkaplinsky.co/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Matt Kaplinsky</span></a> of Dallas will show his work next, party night Friday May 3rd. <a href="http://www.patrickpuckett.com/news" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Patrick Puckett</span></a>, whose work is currently hanging through end of April, will have a show in Austin at Wally Workman in June. He and his wife are expecting their first baby this month...a great time to support this fellow artist.</span></div>
open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-8155519050287078222019-03-17T09:40:00.001-07:002019-03-17T09:40:44.566-07:00all at once<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All at once millions of things around us create the singular place.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5jmh5gmxqok9JUcMN7IovA5cwIdGEIwYFtDvhENvEkFheEyzzYNkAft0bglJX1D3uOtp9D2LIpGiaSpvLp3gkwrGgoooaoGpciB5o8WuvnhYVNj9zoi-WgmQuq107lMFI0dRW2mekB1jq/s1600/190115c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1353" data-original-width="1600" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5jmh5gmxqok9JUcMN7IovA5cwIdGEIwYFtDvhENvEkFheEyzzYNkAft0bglJX1D3uOtp9D2LIpGiaSpvLp3gkwrGgoooaoGpciB5o8WuvnhYVNj9zoi-WgmQuq107lMFI0dRW2mekB1jq/s320/190115c.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My good friend, Eric Beck, wrote a thoughtful statement for the opening of Commerce Gallery in Lockhart. I'd like to share it below. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0fpVQ7Pw5n9LIoJN2MD7tv60GZBBLq-74PFFpyxXs7E4vxx6yxP1Z0z3pQM3YiJ0jKfw-_slnVpk-blt2_-alpN5qQvi1Y-G_CYhp7pTyajapN_zaG_6LutVXJCW1x3SQpVAvv7OtESqH/s1600/190111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1151" data-original-width="1600" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0fpVQ7Pw5n9LIoJN2MD7tv60GZBBLq-74PFFpyxXs7E4vxx6yxP1Z0z3pQM3YiJ0jKfw-_slnVpk-blt2_-alpN5qQvi1Y-G_CYhp7pTyajapN_zaG_6LutVXJCW1x3SQpVAvv7OtESqH/s320/190111.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eric is the Artistic Director of Lockhart's<a href="http://www.mygbt.org/" target="_blank"> <span style="color: #3d85c6;">Gaslight Baker Theatre</span></a>. This month he is directing "The Moors" which is playing for the next two weekends. I have enjoyed watching this theatre grow and establish itself as the artistic hub of our community.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwBRxNt7DbnzS9KpC2uPDSi-sdlJhi4rzSo3yfAPDNM6PstpzuNxKHfh-UPuDPX8K1aWNyvZyhlReJOwZF1Tec_asEWMF3FSPro1zS-7q4YkGZwl8hHUuJGl_14idlBqKijyjHgrdSfMWI/s1600/IMG_6397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwBRxNt7DbnzS9KpC2uPDSi-sdlJhi4rzSo3yfAPDNM6PstpzuNxKHfh-UPuDPX8K1aWNyvZyhlReJOwZF1Tec_asEWMF3FSPro1zS-7q4YkGZwl8hHUuJGl_14idlBqKijyjHgrdSfMWI/s320/IMG_6397.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2HNyMzmwfG2oMQrnUoqUT_iRh7Vw330NUb52grXTDdOQP2NjkPHwOEa4goMj4kUXhQvJyIsesq4CH5GfJ2NLSB8GKjpUEJulIlNprIBJuwtwqt4nmE2x41KG2fgkDNraeLYgiiseYXJTE/s1600/IMG_6401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2HNyMzmwfG2oMQrnUoqUT_iRh7Vw330NUb52grXTDdOQP2NjkPHwOEa4goMj4kUXhQvJyIsesq4CH5GfJ2NLSB8GKjpUEJulIlNprIBJuwtwqt4nmE2x41KG2fgkDNraeLYgiiseYXJTE/s320/IMG_6401.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoEmZcxzvcZ9aVTTwFNDz0OuhaqeZ-pLkJ4uSjwA6CNFkweQ59h1uIzL4_AMDYTA_Tlt5yeV2ga5o3XrYEOa_aXLxMK_PFgWjZaZVRLwpppaJvdFiYZ5xNb07o0o-7hqluY3AiHKxwX7a/s1600/Scene_Bed2_140429.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="822" data-original-width="1600" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoEmZcxzvcZ9aVTTwFNDz0OuhaqeZ-pLkJ4uSjwA6CNFkweQ59h1uIzL4_AMDYTA_Tlt5yeV2ga5o3XrYEOa_aXLxMK_PFgWjZaZVRLwpppaJvdFiYZ5xNb07o0o-7hqluY3AiHKxwX7a/s320/Scene_Bed2_140429.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Christopher St. Leger’s paintings are stubbornly concerned with place--the unwaveringly particular rendering of locations and situations. The buildings, structures, and even sometimes people he depicts consistently anchor his paintings to specific locales and scenes. It would be wrong to call his work mimetic, but there is very little abstraction of the objects he portrays, very little transformation of the things—lines, shapes, materials--that make them structures. This fidelity to the objects allows St. Leger to display his bravura technical mastery, particularly of the watercolor medium that is notoriously difficult to use realistically. But it also allows him to take the objects he depicts seriously as objects, as things in themselves, and to reckon truthfully with how they interject themselves into our thoughts, our feelings, and our interactions with the worlds they inhabit.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">St. Leger’s commitment to depicting place is not, however, a static one. His work does not revolve around a singular site that provides him an endless canvas to explore his themes, like Monet’s Giverny or Cezanne’s Provence or Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha County. His creations enact a very mobile sense of place, one that can comfortably and evocatively portray both the Baroque, almost-claustrophobic buildings lining Viennese streets and the open, nearly limitless expanses that hover over Texas small towns. A peripatetic aesthetic that produces intense bursts of space and place but does not remain wedded to location.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That of course does imply that his body of work meanders or lacks focus. What provides it unity is not the subject matter but the artist’s unerring ability to suffuse his work with palpable mood, tone, and feeling. These exist within a stunningly wide range of expression, from dark and foreboding to light and welcoming, and lots of admixtures in between that often defy formula and expectation. Adding to these forms of expression is his disinterest in hiding the operations of chance: the random drip, the stain from the paint can accidentally placed on the painting. These “accidents” are not really a metacommentary on the form of painting but more about the complications of and deviations within mood and feeling themselves—which sometimes converge with the places where they are felt and sometimes don’t. St. Leger admirably doesn’t feel the need to reconcile any of this."<br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-Eric Beck, Artistic Director, Lockhart Gaslight Baker Theatre</span></span></div>
<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-39041703013395685172019-02-20T09:33:00.001-08:002019-02-20T09:44:34.988-08:00Commerce Gallery Lockhart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">15 years ago Andrea and I moved from an </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">east Austin</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> rental into an old wooden house with a barn in the backyard that I made into my studio. At the time I knew nobody in Lockhart and commuted to Austin for work and play. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I created work here, but I </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">showed</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> the work at Davis Gallery in Austin, McMurtrey Gallery in Houston, or George Billis in NYC. Anywhere but here.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFAZRViz4T-vVSqOKw7YEMvLmHe1WqjzniJrAPjddGKnvhEPytH1sWuQ7ScLSE9JCgv4B7IKKTsPAHhN4vLk4BWjk7o4Jcg-Ns1quarHJnFd_SL8BaOMNxzHcWVE2e3c3bqrX1pJzhSAP/s1600/IMG_6562+2.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFAZRViz4T-vVSqOKw7YEMvLmHe1WqjzniJrAPjddGKnvhEPytH1sWuQ7ScLSE9JCgv4B7IKKTsPAHhN4vLk4BWjk7o4Jcg-Ns1quarHJnFd_SL8BaOMNxzHcWVE2e3c3bqrX1pJzhSAP/s320/IMG_6562+2.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2019. 03. 01. I am excited to announce the opening of Commerce Gallery in Lockhart, TX. My new studio location as well as a permanent space for showing and selling my work. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjek6NpqhQ_80Yd5cOdjaZ4aXSdpxK9-1U_Mq5ViFcDHx5zQmPpJBA4h48re_ZfgTj5IdkuFzNkpnLFflvZ06d3LgMMuChnGeck3BaBryKO53iPM45kRMfjqS6ZxxwtDS5fiwjp5BrCq1jQ/s1600/IMG_6559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjek6NpqhQ_80Yd5cOdjaZ4aXSdpxK9-1U_Mq5ViFcDHx5zQmPpJBA4h48re_ZfgTj5IdkuFzNkpnLFflvZ06d3LgMMuChnGeck3BaBryKO53iPM45kRMfjqS6ZxxwtDS5fiwjp5BrCq1jQ/s320/IMG_6559.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Donna Blair and Tamara Carlisle, of <a href="http://blairfieldrealty.com/our-company/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Blairfield Realty</span></a>, are both art collectors and the owners of Commerce Gallery. They plan to rotate a new guest artist every 8-10 weeks with openings on every First Friday of the month. The first show will feature new and old work by Patrick Puckett of Austin. Opening an art gallery is something Donna and Tamara have wanted to do together for years. I'm just thrilled to be part of it.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1K2txhnyeVphyBdzvtwTeJe2mXoTt3J6-4qbqkQXC_GnFaYHzqimHI83ftzfwa6KZknjmDz0Ij4KoYe1eEZBIVqWx-itYW3_ouHTYOFrxg3TPtSO_z2glb5MBKmRrIWAm_d81VioPhmL/s1600/IMG_6560+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1K2txhnyeVphyBdzvtwTeJe2mXoTt3J6-4qbqkQXC_GnFaYHzqimHI83ftzfwa6KZknjmDz0Ij4KoYe1eEZBIVqWx-itYW3_ouHTYOFrxg3TPtSO_z2glb5MBKmRrIWAm_d81VioPhmL/s320/IMG_6560+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The gallery is located at <a href="https://www.google.com/maps/place/102+S+Commerce+St,+Lockhart,+TX+78644/@29.8847354,-97.6732988,17z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0x864356f6a82ff0db:0x60d7bb649800622b!8m2!3d29.8847354!4d-97.6711101" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">102 South Commerce Street, Lockhart, TX 78644</span></a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hours will be Wednesday - Sunday 11am-5pm. Website will be up soon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Landline: 512-668-4288.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will be there in the alley studio Mon-Friday 9-5. If you wish to stop by, let me know and I'll open the front.</span></div>
<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-31171478564641157192019-01-16T15:25:00.000-08:002019-01-16T15:44:16.124-08:00Nani Mari<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Choosing to be a painter </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">could have been titled "the analogue way" or "I prefer to work with my hands". It was a conversion, a leap. And it happened while I was in Hungary. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cc4LgQ84JNisHeNbViXmVwfwlZwpVaNRA5Os0XiBO4JQso5Nt2pcf_s6D-IEm9u7ZZKIZJnkTElRcPt8MXjh_miJG6h0UILoJZXk-3Byw7kWVEFPwDUMN9GlX7Aa7Te5JPmDrXRxxjGZ/s1600/IMG_6168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cc4LgQ84JNisHeNbViXmVwfwlZwpVaNRA5Os0XiBO4JQso5Nt2pcf_s6D-IEm9u7ZZKIZJnkTElRcPt8MXjh_miJG6h0UILoJZXk-3Byw7kWVEFPwDUMN9GlX7Aa7Te5JPmDrXRxxjGZ/s320/IMG_6168.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You could say that Hungary and I are now forever connected. My family and I are freshly back from visiting, and I'm already planning our 2019 autumn trip.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmolpdHt0IP7PuVEzFlFmmazhniIIyZvZYn00VGi4MrPvdfLn3lxy98vebjAl7MYIkSKA9DH1ZAkmi_nu27LL1L7IENlVW5RLvXFywsKpvpfrgsXu_9fajKdvWxk1tR_lxx_-dPRnV-ig/s1600/181228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmolpdHt0IP7PuVEzFlFmmazhniIIyZvZYn00VGi4MrPvdfLn3lxy98vebjAl7MYIkSKA9DH1ZAkmi_nu27LL1L7IENlVW5RLvXFywsKpvpfrgsXu_9fajKdvWxk1tR_lxx_-dPRnV-ig/s320/181228.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Twenty years ago I </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">hotmailed</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> my friends that I was going off the grid, leaving the city of Budapest where I'd been for a few years to then reside in Transdanubia (western Hungary). Spent most of the warm months 2001-02 working on (mostly not working on) this old house that I purchased because of the way it opens toward the south, or as I liked to think, toward the mediterranean 200 miles away. The folks around the village knew it as the Nani Mari House (Aunt Marie). Who was the real Nani Mari and what was she like, I'm not sure, but who was I to call her house something else?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18EeStz6G3tBvISIQ05teOGrRqpQJKp_udogyj-3lfgHYj5paDC1AbCPjiUIvyBUUI4V132rpERDWamg6jm2Cco6JEbOc7Iy0Gi-Y7mYgWMJjxfpJ4gDGgmEcGubTM2VKqy8dVSDZp26i/s1600/181229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18EeStz6G3tBvISIQ05teOGrRqpQJKp_udogyj-3lfgHYj5paDC1AbCPjiUIvyBUUI4V132rpERDWamg6jm2Cco6JEbOc7Iy0Gi-Y7mYgWMJjxfpJ4gDGgmEcGubTM2VKqy8dVSDZp26i/s320/181229.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Twenty years ago the cute little nascent internet repelled me. I was high on feeling far and distant, hard to reach.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I'd pass the village payphone at the end of the street and my neighbor had a donkey. Water came from the well in a bucket. It was 2001. My idea of the future still meant bad reception. Connectedness was picking up an old friend at the nearby train depot.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv6ZnWCgAE7xDPMYdd19cb8lXbEZ03kwUzjDeOJFTBAMJPRbuUs5HzXFDTjQm5CiY8vOou0BfCs03PzJ_lXYNdgQjfLnmvhZLoH0X-oJ_k4si0Jh6l_yt8HrUBQ_Y14KHC6uoLY5iOXuRn/s1600/181230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1151" data-original-width="1600" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv6ZnWCgAE7xDPMYdd19cb8lXbEZ03kwUzjDeOJFTBAMJPRbuUs5HzXFDTjQm5CiY8vOou0BfCs03PzJ_lXYNdgQjfLnmvhZLoH0X-oJ_k4si0Jh6l_yt8HrUBQ_Y14KHC6uoLY5iOXuRn/s320/181230.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Then about twelve years ago, from Texas and out of anxiety that Nani Mari might collapse from neglect, </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I began managing the renovation of Nani Mari remotely, as in via my smart phone. My distant and romantic edge-of-the-earth getaway was getting bathroom tile, and I was emailing my contractor about our choice of grout. Under the Tuscan Sun, but from my macbook.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_qc2fKWJpq_rJXC1RqalR7k2h8V0629g-SwCwofQ3-fUbtb7NZWdC9E1FvGvZ8CzTSnQES2y06H6_ptdHrq7R89Axgo0frQq8DxNdeM5H4XI52L_Ub_Y9BiL3uVFIxS7A369cDk4Zr9B/s1600/190101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_qc2fKWJpq_rJXC1RqalR7k2h8V0629g-SwCwofQ3-fUbtb7NZWdC9E1FvGvZ8CzTSnQES2y06H6_ptdHrq7R89Axgo0frQq8DxNdeM5H4XI52L_Ub_Y9BiL3uVFIxS7A369cDk4Zr9B/s320/190101.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I paint portraits of my two children at the dining table as they play cards. Andi is cooking something </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">with paprika </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">in a pan on a gas stove behind me. More alive than I'd ever imagined, Nani Mari saw me through my twenties and into my forties and is one of the closest things to pure dream fulfillment I've ever experienced. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7kSU9MaEU8eskU3fxqZcOuLxEs-FlsGlv6TnlUoNhJJJL66MiZo2SGcLYDQisAUAzzQXtslwicNlMCe9t8oI7SJMIsJWu889rE1C7JnAFZnQun5EEJaaUURamIlvocuzEt66OF6xfLrK4/s1600/190101a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1546" data-original-width="1600" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7kSU9MaEU8eskU3fxqZcOuLxEs-FlsGlv6TnlUoNhJJJL66MiZo2SGcLYDQisAUAzzQXtslwicNlMCe9t8oI7SJMIsJWu889rE1C7JnAFZnQun5EEJaaUURamIlvocuzEt66OF6xfLrK4/s320/190101a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-58463405414474779022018-12-17T15:14:00.001-08:002018-12-17T15:58:34.086-08:00secondary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Secondary thoughts. Secondary colors created by mixing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Secondary subject. Yes, this too.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlofSo8HuQPs0mMr2SC4q3OSTZmog20L2N9GaQZUgAAVsQvmXuYbDwwPWy6eKb7twgbac62wwmo_u5I929bTy6pe731eyZq1L24Q4bGcNxCmZyhfADewJkokePykeLOBIawQYK7bSTOQz/s1600/IMG_5828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlofSo8HuQPs0mMr2SC4q3OSTZmog20L2N9GaQZUgAAVsQvmXuYbDwwPWy6eKb7twgbac62wwmo_u5I929bTy6pe731eyZq1L24Q4bGcNxCmZyhfADewJkokePykeLOBIawQYK7bSTOQz/s320/IMG_5828.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The optometrist told me that my retinopathy would go away. He said it is common in alpha types under stress, a theory of sorts which we discussed for a bit. I then scheduled a return visit so he could once again blast a beam of light into my eyeball and take more photos.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWy9qcKBeAjQHRrjzHvf4KIgRnEybJSqBuJGTH6Y-Emj_W5fSWJ8pUoN10mb_0G6D_cVCrT8pfVnCEVNP9KRpgwoG9bRRef5ePw5glsKV5NK41cro84cJUlkpsAceHFCKDzWQ-nxRhgEof/s1600/IMG_5876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1319" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWy9qcKBeAjQHRrjzHvf4KIgRnEybJSqBuJGTH6Y-Emj_W5fSWJ8pUoN10mb_0G6D_cVCrT8pfVnCEVNP9KRpgwoG9bRRef5ePw5glsKV5NK41cro84cJUlkpsAceHFCKDzWQ-nxRhgEof/s320/IMG_5876.JPG" width="263" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've paid attention to the distorted vision in my left eye. Minor but present in everything before me. In some ways I've tried to relax my way of seeing. Don't look around too hard. Look, but then close your eyes and keep them closed. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FbJX5t0PqOjVnCQc4hXVjz8IDzr3QCE7g-2y_y9UHG-CNGO457RSTqHk2M62YOZEVIGLXIAlEp4e6uPvw6t7arkMJXEdmwJuCUNgJpe2DcHp22glowNranCrlmzQNn7e_7YRG9Sd5zjB/s1600/IMG_5898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FbJX5t0PqOjVnCQc4hXVjz8IDzr3QCE7g-2y_y9UHG-CNGO457RSTqHk2M62YOZEVIGLXIAlEp4e6uPvw6t7arkMJXEdmwJuCUNgJpe2DcHp22glowNranCrlmzQNn7e_7YRG9Sd5zjB/s320/IMG_5898.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There are owls in my pecan trees. I know this because I hear them and then occasionally I find them. I confirm sightings with my neighbor Roger who walks his dogs everyday and studies the birds more than anyone I've ever known well. When we encounter one another we don't have to talk about ourselves at all. Just the birds that we've seen or heard, comparing notes. </span></div>
open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-45543200832152558512018-11-08T12:15:00.000-08:002018-11-08T12:20:50.772-08:00Open the heart Studio<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Each morning my son opens the back door and sticks his arm out and moves it around stirring the air. This is his way of determining the temperature of the day ahead, to decide what clothing to put on, if it'll be pants or shorts, short sleeves or long.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhT-AqfHMlS4KKhDItEr0G47UIvy-XYgSJAfp4UNZTv4xEbQEWZaeYTmkNm17c9QkNnFyT9AXjP-XADY2sGYQ-FBkL1twZa-0E1kGe67FW_hLU0reNaFPF-LwBT_sAlJBT_AJLPseu4Cc/s1600/181023+adriatic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1054" data-original-width="1600" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhT-AqfHMlS4KKhDItEr0G47UIvy-XYgSJAfp4UNZTv4xEbQEWZaeYTmkNm17c9QkNnFyT9AXjP-XADY2sGYQ-FBkL1twZa-0E1kGe67FW_hLU0reNaFPF-LwBT_sAlJBT_AJLPseu4Cc/s320/181023+adriatic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He sits at the table with his backpack and lunchbox, dressed and ready to leave but with 10 or 15 minutes to spare. He might reach for a smartphone or he might sit and stare. In such a gap in his schedule he chooses rest. For a kid in middle school his life might seem to be a series of assignments. It's a track that adults often advise him and others his age to stay on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I watch this boy closely as if I'm watching myself. And before I criticize him (or overly praise him for life's simple mundane requirements like "great job brushing your teeth!") I remind myself of my own tendencies to daydream and to relax, or of how uncurious I too can be before great statues of knowledge. Relax, Dad.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUG2KcjwsYXMv7bZkVgay3nQi9ZQSLp5QVzL-c1iXY_3QUBmulDqSwFKa0P4EINVpnTdi769-ooELmMsO02KpT9XJN4O-QdOR-ObWJEpTWNRHZgyh0SIC4M7EWxVUN4xFpwfJRh91kHw5x/s1600/181102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="817" data-original-width="1280" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUG2KcjwsYXMv7bZkVgay3nQi9ZQSLp5QVzL-c1iXY_3QUBmulDqSwFKa0P4EINVpnTdi769-ooELmMsO02KpT9XJN4O-QdOR-ObWJEpTWNRHZgyh0SIC4M7EWxVUN4xFpwfJRh91kHw5x/s320/181102.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This Saturday, November 10th, from 10am - 6pm I'll be hosting an Open Studio. Yes, it coincides with EAST (East Austin Studio Tour), but Lockhart is really just far-east Austin. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hoping clients can move in by Thanksgiving.</span></div>
open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-428909566767024462018-10-11T12:57:00.000-07:002018-10-11T14:53:27.089-07:00kanye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Every few months I meet a good friend for lunch at the same local restaurant. One reason we are such good friends is that we both find, among many things, this restaurant to be exceptional in how unremarkable it is. We seem to sigh in relief during our hour long meal.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZiRw4DDyH5VNxNNGrbQqHQOuXhR-hfA3LNq7KNOPtIQ5rIedeHHtyNvHgIc1rsqsariVhx_fDTTGnFbr8dJOVcrPsRybuGliwm0_1pAIBRfgl6gF0omcQn-Fa4_nBtLJyA712sT9eU31/s1600/180910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1172" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZiRw4DDyH5VNxNNGrbQqHQOuXhR-hfA3LNq7KNOPtIQ5rIedeHHtyNvHgIc1rsqsariVhx_fDTTGnFbr8dJOVcrPsRybuGliwm0_1pAIBRfgl6gF0omcQn-Fa4_nBtLJyA712sT9eU31/s320/180910.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We exchanged some laughs about recent events and, like we usually do, we shared thoughts about books we've been reading, and not just the books themselves but the meandering pathways that these books must take through friends and acquaintances to reach the both of us. And from the table beside us a fella joined in on our conversation, not in sync with our topic, but rather something unrelated, which mattered in no way at all in such an informal setting. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6vyNAVZ8ostZlYuPMQXxvo5zfxhZMsvwZH6VV1eknesCeq3rVMenK5cXlbybEfkjDoDh16VntPQn7SiuCtnH48jOsdAAonFn8zV_Dsyi5cjlCLon1wgVftM1qgsQpPaU9wkSmk_ru_rO/s1600/180918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1039" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6vyNAVZ8ostZlYuPMQXxvo5zfxhZMsvwZH6VV1eknesCeq3rVMenK5cXlbybEfkjDoDh16VntPQn7SiuCtnH48jOsdAAonFn8zV_Dsyi5cjlCLon1wgVftM1qgsQpPaU9wkSmk_ru_rO/s320/180918.jpg" width="259" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I motioned my friend to a television anchored high where the wall meets the suspended ceiling. Kanye West's voice echoed throughout the restaurant, and fellow diners' turned their heads and attention with near neck strain toward the pop star's message on national news from the oval office.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdOGjK28AYEHGXPC-_aVlKMNNdkQXAsm6Hp13-V1Xm3ZRJRlda_OT9Bp1xuE6m_B92hlbdRp2Lc-dr4VvQIjijBmrLCG4tUWEUmrLcJmWXubSUELInndFlLqjgtI0mRu-z9zhxMRIZx24/s1600/180920b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdOGjK28AYEHGXPC-_aVlKMNNdkQXAsm6Hp13-V1Xm3ZRJRlda_OT9Bp1xuE6m_B92hlbdRp2Lc-dr4VvQIjijBmrLCG4tUWEUmrLcJmWXubSUELInndFlLqjgtI0mRu-z9zhxMRIZx24/s320/180920b.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After lunch we drove off in opposing directions, my friend toward his secluded house in a patch of woods, while I turned five or six short blocks and reached my home in the middle of town.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I enter my house I greet our two dogs and free them to the backyard. I enter my office where I keep my laptop and write this blog entry and realize I have a couple hours until I have to pick up my daughter from school. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDbiDybfWMG72636DAsM__CgKxS3jCNQ4rnGpPrJJgvugPwab2OppQcrljNPvQlGMFt1h2S5D95hvSp702PPlmi9hSEB5pG-bBG2xJqjTlu8WVfdrUGAphyphenhyphenRUTHTRVmVgDYgmChoD8vzz/s1600/180928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1489" data-original-width="1479" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDbiDybfWMG72636DAsM__CgKxS3jCNQ4rnGpPrJJgvugPwab2OppQcrljNPvQlGMFt1h2S5D95hvSp702PPlmi9hSEB5pG-bBG2xJqjTlu8WVfdrUGAphyphenhyphenRUTHTRVmVgDYgmChoD8vzz/s320/180928.jpg" width="317" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There are many tasks I have before me during the next several months that involve other people's buildings, event spaces, portraits, etc. I carve out spaces between these assignments to paint what to me feels unassigned and purposeless. Like land whose soil is restored by the planting of prairie grasses.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAGVkQ3GcAJgXYrhpJmjRQSQ64fwya2bKtrRdHYo7K62PrH0LtIVQdMywtIghGA1U0WuC81Mdht34Ge91Yhes4jQykUUqDwMnGgbPmjHYbIcjomiE4mGU47sWa_h9lskTzKtxH7y_JnkQC/s1600/181003+grange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="797" data-original-width="1228" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAGVkQ3GcAJgXYrhpJmjRQSQ64fwya2bKtrRdHYo7K62PrH0LtIVQdMywtIghGA1U0WuC81Mdht34Ge91Yhes4jQykUUqDwMnGgbPmjHYbIcjomiE4mGU47sWa_h9lskTzKtxH7y_JnkQC/s320/181003+grange.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-36991215421781030592018-09-07T14:04:00.000-07:002018-09-07T14:05:05.523-07:00salinity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"What's a query?", my daughter asked, really wanting to know about quarries. We'd been told by the kiddie train engineer that the Japanese tea garden is on our left, and that the Alamo had been built using the very rock beneath.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2FjmDow4Tzqe-MUxB5wtq8YQVErO5iGFqwcBPgfMc6MkXOR9Z6ElFggM17dhryL1z0sRmDdi4pGYg-IqCeVNYCFbHcFb6jmEU6yEfTC52R8xUbv9tHhkQGjwVuyWiQR4k7PeBGGq0oAL/s1600/180830.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="806" data-original-width="1280" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2FjmDow4Tzqe-MUxB5wtq8YQVErO5iGFqwcBPgfMc6MkXOR9Z6ElFggM17dhryL1z0sRmDdi4pGYg-IqCeVNYCFbHcFb6jmEU6yEfTC52R8xUbv9tHhkQGjwVuyWiQR4k7PeBGGq0oAL/s320/180830.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A word is said, and quite often my daughter wishes immediately, sometimes before the sentence is finished, to know its meaning.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03CUbM1GVifIXaU_p4Yvbl-LEcaSj7NJHG6aQREZC0HY8LC-dMiCP9gVG_9oRMAYyNA-XIEMDWu5mKyt1BAlEi4qg1V_lbusTRgvGAOt2-AiVgV-qf5rps5HJjvmz8BwO4-PIfWD5sJwM/s1600/180808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1305" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03CUbM1GVifIXaU_p4Yvbl-LEcaSj7NJHG6aQREZC0HY8LC-dMiCP9gVG_9oRMAYyNA-XIEMDWu5mKyt1BAlEi4qg1V_lbusTRgvGAOt2-AiVgV-qf5rps5HJjvmz8BwO4-PIfWD5sJwM/s320/180808.jpg" width="261" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have my whole life thought about the salt in the ocean and how strange it is that it is there. On a few occasions, I have asked certain folks to ponder this with me, perhaps even answer it for me.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicT2Ofy518t0QgTpeA7-YqzV-Y-nlHDqVJ1c22POJdko2yxRIzb94g5Ggi5FDvBroun2RukQXO_YU3C77dgsGG9XnRPriRBoITqUu27Lkhw9vfTU01oUcQYRpN-_AqdeXgM-S0vEl_os4z/s1600/180820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicT2Ofy518t0QgTpeA7-YqzV-Y-nlHDqVJ1c22POJdko2yxRIzb94g5Ggi5FDvBroun2RukQXO_YU3C77dgsGG9XnRPriRBoITqUu27Lkhw9vfTU01oUcQYRpN-_AqdeXgM-S0vEl_os4z/s320/180820.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Nobody has. And if by chance you know, in simplistic terms, please do not tell me. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Bnkaj6WxW62qqHj6uCu89V_aUlamEB0z7YRnyaQPnMUDb43IuGsMIhyphenhyphenhJ3kwnGMQtHvl7SwA6x45HQTr9-RzKaLi2K1T_WdsJjfK5fnWaEIk6hxCUVXpmyn5v_tP9_Q057GvL5kUEq_U/s1600/IMG_5543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Bnkaj6WxW62qqHj6uCu89V_aUlamEB0z7YRnyaQPnMUDb43IuGsMIhyphenhyphenhJ3kwnGMQtHvl7SwA6x45HQTr9-RzKaLi2K1T_WdsJjfK5fnWaEIk6hxCUVXpmyn5v_tP9_Q057GvL5kUEq_U/s320/IMG_5543.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The 12/12 house is being painted on the inside. And within a couple more months its owners will be moving in and bringing it to life.</span></div>
open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-6327861234410633642018-08-03T11:11:00.003-07:002018-08-03T11:11:53.637-07:00august<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I borrowed a friend's guidebook about Mexico City. It had notes in the margins and pages earmarked. Key sites and locations. We ended up visiting a few of her suggestions. But what I enjoyed most were the colors and shapes. Concrete on the tops of houses. No asphalt shingles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back home I return to an assignment of Boston.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As well as the 12/12 design/build. Sheetrocking on Tuesday. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHd7NrX1UeMQYOh_UWlL6Kbmp3R7fAXsn_uNGiArrUmHoWJ7aQKl7rB0vtZ-HtImoaUZZjaYhCzyz3HszlfPDg3pqa9NQa3LFI761kZV_rXg-Te-qJ03ApE3F50rgv2Qwnsy2gQ1YJQhHR/s1600/IMG_5419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHd7NrX1UeMQYOh_UWlL6Kbmp3R7fAXsn_uNGiArrUmHoWJ7aQKl7rB0vtZ-HtImoaUZZjaYhCzyz3HszlfPDg3pqa9NQa3LFI761kZV_rXg-Te-qJ03ApE3F50rgv2Qwnsy2gQ1YJQhHR/s320/IMG_5419.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A recently commissioned portrait of an old friend's parents.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdsghGN__86sVo20s8n-wBd1EsV5hSZV2B2XyfIr9wTf9jjqvlXI0klguEt0vOq01FDyrBnJgGUCrgUyfpBk53d3-9i4eXP2nrUxmiOtN7q3itm3CP4lGQvDsBnS6F6aJLZ-1zjDemxzzt/s1600/180709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="925" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdsghGN__86sVo20s8n-wBd1EsV5hSZV2B2XyfIr9wTf9jjqvlXI0klguEt0vOq01FDyrBnJgGUCrgUyfpBk53d3-9i4eXP2nrUxmiOtN7q3itm3CP4lGQvDsBnS6F6aJLZ-1zjDemxzzt/s320/180709.jpg" width="231" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next sale for my prints at <a href="https://www.skylinearteditions.com/christopher-st-leger/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">SkyLine Art Editions</span></a>:</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back to School Sale: 8/30/18 - 9/3/18</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">25% off Everything Site Wide</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Discount Code: DORM25</span></span></div>
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open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-89058632948538222582018-06-20T08:57:00.004-07:002018-06-20T08:58:45.509-07:00intransitive<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm corrected much of the time. It is an open door that feels wedged open. My daughter is keenly aware of this, like an invitation, and she corrects me whenever she can. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_mkWnl44d7neF7QNXXN5dn241HaI3vCpDdxTVWiD3bd_cQ6_FiH-PGb7Bt4oUJVEmzlLYObkQkBlt1zH2MJ4C81EU7QfjhmlroaCNFEk5l43R5WgkR7ynDjjI2TxTxEqk66CCaBEcN0m/s1600/180619+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="780" data-original-width="1280" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_mkWnl44d7neF7QNXXN5dn241HaI3vCpDdxTVWiD3bd_cQ6_FiH-PGb7Bt4oUJVEmzlLYObkQkBlt1zH2MJ4C81EU7QfjhmlroaCNFEk5l43R5WgkR7ynDjjI2TxTxEqk66CCaBEcN0m/s320/180619+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"You are not <i>done</i>", she says. "A turkey is done. Rather, you are finished."</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzirwcqLsuzYCl_uD65DDb5YOkaNHNuIG4cGBbH7sh9eEYlh05kC57kNBxuppXHaPyB4fGLYLHdB9Tx6VtWEJTadsgB1m-nUuUMFlaAD_3RK7WPmm4Eed3MyFfw0J5DLyc_vtlE-DrbWR_/s1600/180523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1082" data-original-width="1280" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzirwcqLsuzYCl_uD65DDb5YOkaNHNuIG4cGBbH7sh9eEYlh05kC57kNBxuppXHaPyB4fGLYLHdB9Tx6VtWEJTadsgB1m-nUuUMFlaAD_3RK7WPmm4Eed3MyFfw0J5DLyc_vtlE-DrbWR_/s320/180523.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My son and daughter draw at a small desk while I paint at my wall. They hunker over their notebooks and fight over the electric eraser while I scrape my palette knives. I grunt a lot and constantly remind them both that I am ok. I'm racing not to be finished but to express something hurried. I take long pauses. Then I race again. My kids enjoy this display and must have some opinion, I'm sure.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8aXtmqT37hpT3GWf8NM5yWZ8AdkX1zvBOsM02uA2zNQJUMEjZucBx-dA3k-PELq4SuKIq1TJVQLJESEDeAdueRGYW44wj5L7PU3IdJxpqoXmXv5A2WVMCZpmpEk0-yEe19v1PIYMiwG_/s1600/IMG_5154+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8aXtmqT37hpT3GWf8NM5yWZ8AdkX1zvBOsM02uA2zNQJUMEjZucBx-dA3k-PELq4SuKIq1TJVQLJESEDeAdueRGYW44wj5L7PU3IdJxpqoXmXv5A2WVMCZpmpEk0-yEe19v1PIYMiwG_/s320/IMG_5154+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To offset my intransitive nature, I am contracting the construction of a new house that I've designed over the course of the last year or more. Walls are going up right now. I will post photos at the bottom of each blog post. </span></div>
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open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-65595923385013647872018-05-22T11:17:00.002-07:002018-05-22T11:17:51.385-07:00provocateur<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was seated in the corner of the Spellerberg Projects observing the rare instance when an educator explains me. A woman was reacting to my work on this day together with her friend, as visitors to an art gallery often do, and she muttered something about impulse and expression and creativity. I was entertained. <a href="http://honoriastarbuck.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Honoria Starbuck</span></a>, artist and teacher and new friend, stood within earshot and countered in the manner of a credentialed educator that while yes there is a certain amount of spontaneity in each of my works, there is also a balanced level of logic. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-aTujHFlXbr8rfxGBLxtFoOPKWjjTl5PW75IZv1XDDOIWuOAvINyfK7yVvMHtnQBXPEVHVPTsgjaSniuKeRjgYX3mUnK3Zz5fDV7jvHwZwKUwa4HMb81NW2U7bsi1OII69bV9JVvFCs0t/s1600/180424+tree+farm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1600" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-aTujHFlXbr8rfxGBLxtFoOPKWjjTl5PW75IZv1XDDOIWuOAvINyfK7yVvMHtnQBXPEVHVPTsgjaSniuKeRjgYX3mUnK3Zz5fDV7jvHwZwKUwa4HMb81NW2U7bsi1OII69bV9JVvFCs0t/s320/180424+tree+farm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The road is a fantasy. Straight and unnatural. Safe and predictable. It is a construct that becomes symbolic </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">when painted</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_bj9YRXKcRyxvzSPadV5gdoYWE3QCrFWUeZAH7yzDkmoMnRJTbgVD5fZlQssm69ATj0da6IihT63nek1i2abWyX-3xgyjRZDa4UzyQXJhOIrOPQ55miW3rnPL_jZ-fluD2YN2GC7NtAfs/s1600/180427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1216" data-original-width="1280" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_bj9YRXKcRyxvzSPadV5gdoYWE3QCrFWUeZAH7yzDkmoMnRJTbgVD5fZlQssm69ATj0da6IihT63nek1i2abWyX-3xgyjRZDa4UzyQXJhOIrOPQ55miW3rnPL_jZ-fluD2YN2GC7NtAfs/s320/180427.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Michael Pollan, author of a new book about the use of psychedelics, spoke so lucidly with Terry Gross about the virtue of <i>openness</i> that is so common to people with experience of hallucinogenics. It either comes easily, or if it does not, one must abide by openness. Or fight. Or do mushrooms, I guess. Being described as logical was a new one for me. Mind you, this was from a painter of zen chickens who might avoid logic like a ship avoids the storm, or a vehicle avoids turns.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJP0a0BnjSrjjXT8_57ESgjDw-0dSOQo9zw_wLfo7YiaWFIKfUupjk2cmVOXsBqln-10LF_lKpe7fK-J5gzLDcAd0qjIckp6-qbIhRvRmJhjVfEK9v4o9xWx1exzxYh8azfuze2V0Anyun/s1600/180510b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1279" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJP0a0BnjSrjjXT8_57ESgjDw-0dSOQo9zw_wLfo7YiaWFIKfUupjk2cmVOXsBqln-10LF_lKpe7fK-J5gzLDcAd0qjIckp6-qbIhRvRmJhjVfEK9v4o9xWx1exzxYh8azfuze2V0Anyun/s320/180510b.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-32549834489075321342018-04-30T14:09:00.000-07:002018-04-30T14:10:26.893-07:00pollen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The pecan trees are always the last to leaf. They then rally and make their presence known by shedding enormous quantities of pollen from their heavy, dangling tassels. The ground outside is dusted with a color I love to see but tire of breathing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I use a roller and palette knives and a steel blade to apply and remove paint on panels. I work quickly, stop for stretches of time, and jump back in. Friends of mine gasp when I describe the noises I mutter, the cursing through frustration. Friends assume I whistle or experience sensations of peace. But I worry the walls of my studio cannot contain my amplitude and that my neighbors might wonder. When you try to paint the intricacies of a branch with the rounded edge of a butter knife you feel primitive, and yell you must.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I can identify types of trees more so as I get older. Which ones are invasive or brittle, which are known for their virility or decorative gifts. Funny how t</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">rees used to all be the same when I was younger. But I reside in this town and look to the subtleties of seasons for my source of inspiration, for my variable, for my travel. I find myself looking differently at people, for people who reside here as completely as I want to.</span></div>
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<br />open air studioshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01069850652124714118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7130979749218768496.post-41271627807406764472018-04-04T10:12:00.001-07:002018-04-04T10:12:11.814-07:00peach street<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The sunlight breaks through the fog after dropping Lucian off at school. I coast around this neighborhood that reminds me of my grandparents' house when I was a kid. Monaldi Drive: saying the name aloud conjures for me the humdrum of their neighborhood and the slowness of their backyard garden. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">I make sure that no one is behind me to rage at my drifting. I keep my camera open to shoot the baseball field, its emptiness, or the street with its canopies of live oaks that fade with each receding address. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"> I turn onto Peach street. I say its name, Peach Street, sweetness. Its road crumbles at the edges, no curb or sidewalk. Any other time of year and this street might appear rough with its houses that are neglected. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">But there is one new house at the bend. I’ve walked to it with my family and dog, to caste our opinions about its creation. We walk to its backyard that looks out onto a currently dry floodplain. The kids see how far they can throw rocks and ask if they can climb down the ravine. This Peach street that must appear dismal to so many is the envy of my children who wish we could live here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Andi and I announce 5 minutes and manage to depart in 4. We walk back across the school practice field with old fashioned goal posts. My eyes scan the park edges for a Killdeer that Lucian and I spotted a week earlier. Not knowing much about birds, we agree that it feels out of place, resembling instead those birds we see along the coast 150 miles south.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Other encounters while walking or driving.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Currently on display at Spellerberg Projects in downtown Lockhart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pink buttercups on Easter Sunday.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Milk and honey.</span></div>
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