Upstate NY, day one.

As soon as I got to the airport, the sole of my shoe fell off. I bought some chewing gum and tried to do a quick fix. Bubble gum would have worked better. I finally found some shoe goo. I should have constructed some sort of secret exhibition in my sole before I glued it back together. 

I got in a mile run at Olana, Frederick Church's home. "And I own it" was apparently his signature catchphrase. It's on all the signage.

Nice trails. Being in a strange place, I suddenly got creeped out about running on a deserted trail at sunset in upstate New York. Much the way someone from upstate New York might keep creeped out running on a trail in the Deep South at sunset. I only did one mile. I read the paper too much. 

I headed over to the Rip Van Winkle Bridge and logged a 2-mile run on the Rip Van Winkle Bridge. There are several suicide hot lines on the bridge. I had a recurring thought that I would would trip and my iphone would catapult out of my hand. I had to shift focus a couple of times. 

End of day one. Tomorrow, I will post some art and people. 

It's here. The show at John Davis Gallery opens today.

It's here. 

I am thrilled and honored to have this opportunity to show with John. The show will be on the second floor of the carriage house in the small rooms. It will consist of mostly new work, but he also selected a few of the pool and flower paintings, which is somehow apropos. 

Tomorrow marks two years since my mom passed away. She was one of the most supportive people in my life and I'm grateful for the love and appreciation of art and literature which was instilled in me at a very early age. And of course, the genetic idiosyncrasies. The gift that keeps on giving. 

Knock, knock.

Who's there?

Paint.

Paint who?

Paintcha gonna wash your hands before you open the door?

Yes, it's probably time to clean and repaint some doors.

Another image...

I tend to get enthusiastic about things. The other day I did a trail run. My first. It wasn't very long, (2.5 miles) but it was a bona fide trail, compete with packed mud, tree roots, rocks, and streams. I now want to train for a 9-mile trail run.

Studio stuff is going well. Here's another image that might be in the show.

Lucky Bamboo, 2012

oil on linen/panel

14 x 11 in. 

I am adjusting to my new prescription/progressive lenses. I'll be happy when rectangles stop appearing like trapezoids. I've had the frames since 1991.

The studio temporarily moved into the loo today. I'm digging my (natural) Bride of Frankenstein streak but I'm too lazy to make it more dramatic.

I'm working on another bedroom painting. I don't know why I keep making tight paintings. It's not me. I am not an illustrator. I need to lose the tiny brushes and the rounds. I got this. I can do it. 

Running is going fine. I'm thinking about adding a short trail run one day a week. 

oops.

It just occurred to me that my post title the other day might be targeting a different audience than I intended. I've got the giggles now.

Sometimes, I still can't make the connection.

I had a great day in the studio* yesterday. Long, focused, and productive. I still want to work on the bedspread, and perhaps, the floor without killing it, and the pink pillowcase. It's wrong, but maybe right. 

I started thinking about Morandi when I was in the bedroom. How many still lifes could I paint in there? How many views, how many objects, how many variations? Several years ago, when I was working on the very large abstract paintings, someone mentioned Morandi to me. It thought it was a stretch, but I got it. I am conflicted when I paint these things. I wonder if I shouldn't be out jet-skiing or building an organic pastry garden in my backyard. 

The images for the solo show at John Davis have been posted on the gallery website, and I'll be entering hype mode the next couple of weeks, highlighting a few images here and there.

* I love that I used the word studio without really thinking about it. The bedroom, is not my studio, but apparently studio has come to mean an interior space coupled with a dedicated chunk of time and some raw materials. 

As long as I have a pair, I'm not going to be fussy.

I am planning on working bigger this summer, but figured I'd use up the miscellaneous end cuts first. 

Summer, so far.

I love waking up and being in the studio. Love. I'm sitting in my studio rocking chair having coffee. The dog keeps dropping a tennis ball in my lap. 

Bad news. Working in isolation doesn't make one likeable. 

On the other hand...

And then there was this. (See yesterday's post.) It's still in progress. The pink was just a stab at something before getting to something else. I'm not very committed to color in the beginning. It was a landscape of my car at first. I'm not very committed to subject matter at first either. I should probably be leaking the work that's going to be in the show. I'm sure this will change. The bear is not at all as gargantuan as my memory of the postcard. I may pull a Lucien Freud and make a long canvas, so I can make him taller. His posture is funny. I may keep that. 

This is Life.

School's out. All the artwork got shipped out or delivered to three shows (43 paintings). I'm back running on a regular schedule. I'm aiming for 5 days a week. I have a few paintings in the studio that are coming along so after a couple of studio hours, I broke for housework.

My original plan was to simply clean house, but I thought cleaning a closet might do a body good, too.

I was easily distracted by the glass ceiling I found on a shelf in one of the closets. To the right of the glass ceiling is a box of advertising pencils. To the left is a box of keys to things no longer in existence. The the left of that is something we picked up at Stucky's one year, a desk plaque that reads," I SAID MAYBE AND THAT'S FINAL."
Totally random still life.

Carton 1 of Christmas 1968. If only.
That is my handwriting. And those are my hieroglyphics. If I come across Carton 2, I'll let you know.

The vintage play food was a serious road block.

I am also sad to report I do not have an eidetic memory. I was almost sure I did. The other day I was looking for a photograph in the attic I had come across a couple of years ago. I thought it was of a large grizzly bear in a diorama in Alaska. I thought there was a man in a suit standing in front of the grizzly bear. I thought the grizzly bear was almost twice as tall as the man in the suit. I could visualize all this perfectly. It was a crisp black and white photo, dating from say, the 50's.

Brown bear, but not certain it's a grizzly  -2 points
Woman, not a man -50 points
Woman wearing pants +10 points
Alaska +15 points
No recollection of stuffed moose in background -20 points
Bear is twice as tall as the human +20 points
Woman is standing to the left of bear, not in front of bear -15 points
Photograph is slightly sepia-toned, not black and white -15 points.
Circa 1950's +15 points
Doesn't really look like a diorama, but it was a museum. Calling this one even.

It's been a full day.

T-16. Another image leaks out of the studio....

Flowering Quince, 2012, oil on linen, 10 x 7.25 in. 

***

The paintings were shipped yesterday. I thought about random things during the shipping and packing festivities. Foremost, I thought, "Take care of the work and it will take care of you." I keep impressing myself with my packing skills. Efficient, compact and secure. Give a woman some cardboard and she packs for a day. Teach a woman to change the box-cutting blade before it gets dull and she packs for a lifetime.