I just finished this painting today. I went on Wikipedia to see if there was anything interesting I could mention on my blog about this flower and…
‘In January 2016, NASA announced that a zinnia which had blossomed on the International Space Station was the first flower ever grown outside the Earth’s biosphere. This claim was quickly refuted by news media.’ [Wikipedia]
Morning Tree was inspired by the work of Joichi Hoshi, which I have been admiring quite a bit lately. The struggling Japanese artist created woodblock prints of what I think were exceedingly ethereal depictions of trees. I based this painting of a photograph I took by a lake with my phone. I found it an interesting challenge to translate the green leaves and sepia tones of branches to white, representing light with echoes of Willam Blake.
‘……whether it is a single tree or a forest……..the mere thought of it stirs my mind, and I try to convey that sentiment in a picture.’ —Joichi Hoshi
(Thanks to Michael for this quote)
My first painting of the year is of infinite petals, a flower expressing what words cannot.
Thoughts of Japanese Shironuri fashion and Georgia O’Keeffe combine strangely for me in my mind.
There is also the feeling of ‘mono no aware’ I have for real flowers. They represent all things that are born, reach perfection, but eventually die. In this life cycle, each stage has its own beauty. This bloom, however is not real. It is both eternal and timeless. More and more, I want to represent what is not real – the haunting apparition of the imagination.
My last painting of 2015 features a young lady half concealing her identity with her hand. The figure is illuminated by a tranquil landscape with a crescent moon reflecting in the still waters. The mountainous horizon seems arranged like a Japanese rock garden, a nighttime city projected upon the scene, city lights shining behind and through the figure.
I see this painting as a transition towards my evolving vision of divine love through iconography inspired by the perennial tradition of artists attempting to do the same. As with Botticelli’s nude Venus expressing spiritual and intellectual beauty through physical representation, I hope my work can be seen in the same way — lifting the mind to higher awareness and seeing past the illusion of separateness.
In the coming year, I would like to further explore these themes. If you’re half the cynic as I am, you may be interested in my dark chocolate approach to life. I fully accept the following truths: There is more good than bad in people. It is possible to see the best in everyone. It is especially beneficial to fall in love with what is different, strange and even the opposite of what we are or believe.
The word Maya, is often translated as illusion. The meaning of the word more accurately conveys the ‘trickiness’ of life. May 2016 bring and end to more illusions. Just as the Ebola hysteria and fear mongering by the media passes, so do the things that frighten us and cause us to perceive life wrongly. Wish me luck in the coming year as I attempt to practice the disciplines of non-judgment and love. And may your life be also free of all illusion.
I had the pleasure and honor of being interviewed by WPBT, Channel 2 for Art Loft today (9/1/15). The art program is a collaboration between WPBT2 and other PBS stations around the country. I explained the concept of ‘Dark Chocolate’ and talked about my paintings and kokeshi dolls. The program will air in a few months.
I’d like to thank the many people that attended the opening night reception to launch my new art exhibit, Dark Chocolate Japan. Despite the bad weather and a tropical storm looming, there was a huge turnout. I’m very appreciative of the support and warm wishes of those who couldn’t attend —I felt you there in spirit.
Thank you, City of Sunrise, Florida, for sponsoring and hosting my second exhibition in three years. I’m forever indebted to your kindness and assistance.
A special thanks to Sweet Charity’s Bakery for providing the dark chocolate cupcakes, the perfect alternative to tasting dark chocolate paintings.
With a few months until an exhibit, I was compelled to reinvent and push myself to do more with less time. I purchased twelve large pre-stretched canvases and began a frenzied attempt to paint in the style of conceptual realism, departing from my usual loose brushstrokes and drawings. My new acrylic renderings were, in a sense, a return to the simple appreciation of the old masters and the post-modern painters that still examine realism.
I still vividly remember the criticisms of Andrew Wyeth, namely that he was an illustrator and not a true artist because his work was realistic in a time of modernity. Within the context of art periods, the ‘wrong’ style can have grave consequences. However, the art world’s acceptance of artists like Gerhard Richter who have painted realistically gives me hope that my work might find more acceptance. Even Wyeth’s name is appearing in art news with more frequency.
A touch of magical realism, for example, stylized clouds leaping from clothes to the negative space surrounding the subject, further brings the piece closer to conceptual realism, a term that has been used to describe art that attempts to express the unexplainable through realism. Since normal human thought and analysis can’t grasp non-conceptual thinking, I suppose art is naturally the ultimate vehicle to communicate the infinite.
The painting featured in this post, American Geisha No. 1, is an unapologetic obsession with feminine beauty—simple, straightforward and universal—the subject is a symbol for love and splendor. Note the tresses, shaped like a butterfly, the representation of transformation. After all, change is what we should all wish for, the dark chocolate way of perceiving the world—find what is opposite and fall in love. In a time of heightened racial tensions in America, falling in love with diversity, perhaps deeply, may be our only hope.
He became convinced that there would always be veils to hide the beauty of life. With every word that had ever left the ideal plane of his imagination there was a corresponding physical reality. Books were sacred records that pointed to splendor that was like the sun, sometimes obscured by clouds. He made tall stacks of books in his room, reluctant to return them, because of what they represented to him.
“You have to give them back sometime,” Hernán smiled.
“Let me just hold on to them a little longer,” Nuno said.
Hernán squatted to pick up a book and open it. “You remind me of when I was young and first began attending the university. I fell in love with books. I loved anthologies. I was especially taken by one book that featured essays by great thinkers. I feel almost jealous of you right now. It’s quite a feeling to have.”
Nuno gave Hernán a serious look. “I possess nothing. All I have is my mind. I think I’m at peace with that.”
“That’s not what happens to most men who have had your type of experience. They suffer from debilitating trauma the rest of their lives. The world has proven to be a dark and malevolent place. They don’t see anything good. How can you have peace?”
“I don’t know.”
“I wish you could give me some kind of answer. I’ve tried to help people my whole life. I give them advice. I try to encourage them. I try to inspire. I share wisdom with them—everything from Proverbs to the Tao. My main field of interest is psychology. But I have never found any coping technique or cure for emotional pain. And medication only works some of the time. How do you get inside someone’s head and fix their brain so they see life differently? How do you remove the past? How do you bring peace to a troubled soul? My congratulations to you, Nuno, for having mastered your emotions…”
That night, all Nuno thought about was Gabriela. It was almost as if remembering an apostolic age when miracles were possible. She was the savior of his heart, the life that filled his soul like an ocean. He wondered if it was really the book that he had stolen from Pablo that had changed his life, or whether perhaps it was walking through an orange grove with his daughter. Nuno tilted his head and brooded, utterly perplexed by this riddle.
Half asleep, he spoke to Gabriela: An ancient river of fallen tears and solitude brings my soul to you. Our two lips touch like fresh and salt water meeting. There is a deep and mysterious power in you. In our dreams or in the spirit world, somewhere between the manifested and unmanifested, there is something that is woven. It is our story. Brief but perfect, it devours all of existence. My love, my love, my love for you.“
My Curve the Cube podcast began one Saturday morning when I arrived at a Hilton DoubleTree to meet Jaime (“Jemmy”) Legagneur (who I happen to think is a future mega star). She was sitting in the lobby with all her gear, including the funny looking recorder with twin microphones. But just as I was arriving, it seemed a mob of people followed me into the building. The interview began almost immediately, but soon we had to find a quieter place to talk. Jemmy’s fascination with talking to a painter/author brought an energy to her questions that led me through a natural flow of summarizing what dark chocolate is, as well as my life as an artist. It was nice to be able to talk about both my novels and visual art and how they sometimes tie into each other.