Coming Soon!

An Experiment in Color!

I am working on a series of paintings based on Color Theory. I am scared of color. With my MS, some days, my color vision isn't as good as usual. Some days, it's not there at all. So it's time to face it head on! I'm going to use color while I can. Bright, bold, and right out of the tube, this will be an experiment in color.

An Artist with MS and the De-evolution of His Work

If a Picture is Worth a Thousand Words...

For the last ten years of my life I have been trying to make up for the fact that, from the start, I had never pursued my career as an Artist. After realizing this error, I painted with a feverish vigor as if I were trying to make up for all the years of sitting at a desk and going to sales meetings. I reach a crescendo a few years back. I was painting hundreds of paintings every year for shows, and selling them so fast that between each show I would have to paint furiously to make sure that I had enough for the next. I had to find a balance between quality and quantity. Eventually, my Multiple Sclerosis took control of that and I had to slow down and focus on quality over quantity, which in my opinion, was not the worst thing to have had happen. The next season of shows, I showed less works at fewer shows, but really felt like I had a better balance. As my MS progressed, the number of shows diminished and so did the number of works that I created. I'm not complaining. I just recently had a chance to step back and look at the progression of my work over time and noticed that, like Benjamin Button, my works seems to move backwards in time.

There was a point where my work was somewhere between impressionism and realism:

(Prints of The Red Sailboat, above,  are available here...)

These lead to some paintings with some decent brush work...

These paintings were the high point of my ability, not my creativity, and there is a big difference there. With the progression of my MS, getting a brush to hold a line became much more difficult, as did seeing pencil sketches. I switched to a much more fluid drawing style and stylized it to achieve pleasing aesthetics without the worry of perfection. Instead of a pencil, I now use a Sharpie to lay out my work which doesn't leave much room for mistakes. The drawings now became more real to me, there was more attention, actually, more intention towards the overall finished look, with less anxiety over achieving realism, these paintings became fun and I wish that I had done more.

On my next "good day" I'll try.

For a while I settled on a minimalist seascape style that allowed me to paint in the quantity that I needed and still gave my buyers a quality artwork. I was able to keep up with the demand and fill shows with sale-able work. Despite their sale-ability though, I felt like I had somehow "sold out".

(Bottom Photo: One of my shows at the Chatham Bars Inn)

Eventually my energy and ability to hold a brush kept me from producing enough work to do these huge shows. So I did fewer shows with fewer artworks. This allowed me to concentrate on each individual painting and I really enjoyed the results.

(Yes, there are a lot of horizons, but I sell my work in a beach resort county, and the name of this blog, is Making a Living as an Artist after all.)

The final stage of my work, so far, has been total abstraction. Oddly, It is where I've always wanted to go. It is hard to pull off and, with too much expectation for the out come, can easily look contrived, or trite. For me, abstract painting is the hardest thing that I have ever done. To go from painting something how it is seen by others, to painting something how you like it to be seen was fairly easy. But, taking that next step... Painting something that no one, not even you, the Artist, has ever seen, is a daunting task. As you open yourself to that flow, you are exposing your inner most secret, you are revealing you true self for all to see and judge. It is a gapping wound, bleeding, and exposed to the world, and you are inviting others to either share it with you and tend to it, or throw salt directly into it. You have shown the world your heart and soul. It is the truest, most intimate form of communication. Understand that this is new to me, and that is the necessary leap to be able to continue my work as an Artist. I am still learning to let go.

But still those damn horizons...

(No horizon on this one...)

It looks like the paintings further down the page are earlier works. You would think that the groupings at the top of the page were done with more learning and experience. As I scroll down, I see lessons learned and an emergence of my creativity, and I think I like where it is going.
  

As usual I would love to see any thoughts, questions, or suggestions in the comments below.

A lot of these styles did overlap. I have my good days and bad days. So, you paint the way that you are able on the days that you're able to paint.

You can read more about my MS an how it has affected me as an Artist here.

A New Work in Progress

( Another repost from my Making a Living as an Artist blog.)

I've had this support (canvas) prepped for months. Gesso'd black, sitting on an easel, staring me in the face from across my studio, waiting. I've been working on a series of colorful textured abstracts, bright, bold colors, right out of the tube. My color vision due to my M.S. has been fading fast. Some days my vision is limited to shades of gray. It comes and goes. Luckily though, so far, it has come back. (Not as good as it originally was, I suspect...) My fear is that some day it will not, so although working with these bright colors is not my passion, I am doing it out of some sense of obligation. If somehow someday I loose my color vision for good, I won't have a sense of regret for never having at least experimented with it. 

In the midst of my self imposed immersion into to color, and having probably been subconsciously affected by this large black-gesso'd canvas that has been staring at me from across the studio wanting for attention, I took a night off from my work and went to an opening. It was a huge event. (unbeknownst to me, I hate crowds lately.) The opening was held at one of our growing Art centers here on Cape Cod, the Cotuit Center for the Arts. A former instructor of mine Betty Carroll Fuller was having a show. I really admire her work and her as an instructor, I found her inspiring. So despite the crowd, I stuck it out. There was some color in this show, but the works that I found myself drawn towards were neutrals and metallics. A series by Betty called "Night Music" really spoke to my muses, and upon returning home that night I started to work on this painting. It isn't done yet. I can see where it is going, and I like it. With the fatigue from this damned disease, the paintings don't come out quite as quickly as they used to, so there are a few more sessions until I can even pause and contemplate it. But here is a preview. If you have any feedback, I'd love to hear it!

Untitled Abstract

Latex Paint and Plaster on Mahogany panel

48" x 36" x 2"

I Tweaked It Just a Little, Can You Tell?

It Needed Just a Little Something...

After looking at this on the dinning room wall, the bathroom wall, and my living room wall for a while, I decided that I really loved the subtlety... But, it still did need something. So, I loaded up my thumb with a globule of gold, and slid it along the ridge of paint just atop the horizon line. (I've been using my fingers a lot lately, it's much more comfortable than trying to hold a brush. Bao LeDe is concerned that I'm going to poison myself by doing so.) That touch of gold was just the little something that I thought it needed. Now I can sit back and look at it without thinking, and just enjoy it for what it is. Please comment below, and let me know what you think.

untitled abstract
Latex and plaster on mahogany panel
36" x 18" x 2"

(in the upper righthand corner that is a glare that I couldn't seem to get rid of no matter how many times I adjusted the lighting.)
Click on the image or HERE to buy it!

A New Painting

Where do I stop?

(Another repost from Making a Living as an Artist with a little editing.)

So, I've been painting... This is my latest.

 I'm trying to figure out if I'm done yet and any suggestions would be appreciated. Since the effects of my MS have been showing themselves, my painting has moved away from representational, and drifted towards the abstract. Truthfully, I have always loved abstract, but was too scared to do it. I'll tell you more about that in a future post.

On this painting, I had originally planned another glaze of the turquoise and then a glaze of the gray/brown over the top, but I really like the subtlety here and I'm not sure if too much color will ruin that. I'm going to hang it, and look at it for a while to see how I really feel. In the mean time, I'm going to leave it. If you really like it it will be available, as is, in my online store.

(Click HERE to Purchase!!!)

Untitled
Acrylic on Mahogany Panel
36" x 18" x 2"

(Since publishing this post, I have finally finished this painting. The changes were subtle, but well worth the wait. You can see the final version in my online store, or read about it HERE.)

The blue in this painting is really much more turquoise then it looks here, but what can I say... I'm a painter, not a photographer. 

Throwing Sh... er Stuff, yah, Stuff!

How it All Started.

( This is a repost from my Making a Living as an Artist blog.)

Rough Winter...

It really was a tough winter. ( and last couple of years...) It started last summer where fatigue had taken over my life. I was supposed to start at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts at Tufts University In Boston in the Fall. (That's a long damn name for a college! How are they going to fit that on a sticker for the back window of your car?) I had some huge shows planned and thought that I'd come up with what little money that I hadn't received in grants and scholarships without a problem. I had had some fatigue issues as well as some joint and muscle pain over the course of the last few years, but had been brushing them off as a distracting annoyance. Doctors hadn't found anything, and they were running out of tests. Through a series of mishaps my big shows were falling through one by one. By the time August came around the heat induced fatigue that I was feeling had pretty much shut my ability to work down. Feeding myself and showering were about as much as I could handle and any slight act quickly became too exerting and ended up in a much needed nap time.

A couple of weeks into August I started dropping my paint brush... A lot. I could barely hold onto it. And, when I did hold it it felt like my wrist was broken. The Doctor scheduled an MRI and the SMFA ( that fits on a sticker!) deferred my enrollment. In September I started classes again at the local community college so that I wouldn't have to start paying back my fafsa loans. One class was a lecture series that I thought would be an easy A. We sat and looked at slides of Art and discussed them for three hours a week. Trying to look at that screen and take notes in a dimly lit classroom made me realize that I couldn't see. No, really, like, at all! I hadn't read much since finals. Over the course of the summer, my vision had not just faded, but had become lousy, and the light from the projector and the glare from the screen made it worse. It was October before I got in for that MRI. The conclusion; MS. The diagnosis left me reeling for a bit. How can you be an artist when you can't hold a paintbrush, or see what the hell you're doing? 

When you start believing that everything is going to go wrong, it does. A couple weeks later, my dog died, then I lost my health insurance a week before I was supposed to meet with the Neurologist, then something else, and something else... ( things too personal to tell to strangers reading my blog, but if you want to buy me a beer I'd be happy to sit and talk about it for a while. ) 

Ironically, during my series of interviews with the Museum School, I had a discussion with one of the admissions counselors about how I was an Artist with a lack of angst. I told them that my life was good and that my work, unlike some artists, was not an emotional release, but a haven, my safe place, a dream. I think  that there may be some angst now.

I have never told this to anyone, but when I can't paint, I end up in a dark place, a very dark and scary place. I start to think of ways to get out of that place. When I go to bed at night in this very dark and scary place, and know that I'm going to wake up in the same very dark and scary place, I start to wish that I just won't wake up, that not waking up is my way out. I don't necessarily contemplate killing myself, but wouldn't hesitate to welcome death should it knock on my door. This is a place that I've been to many times before; standing on the edge, looking out over the darkness. It is this place, my fear of it, and contempt for it, that gave me the courage to say,"Fuck it!", and ignore others disapproval of my choice to live as an Artist, to ignore their telling me to grow up and get a real job, to ignore the fear of possible homelessness and self-imposed poverty, and embark on a path towards my dream. This time, to deal with all the shit, the heartache, the worry, and uncertainty, the fear of losing it,  I stepped back from the edge and painted.

I can't see a pencil line, so there are no sketches. The color in my left eye has faded to near grays. My hand throbs as I hold a brush, my knees and feet ache as I stand on the concrete floor of my studio. Yet, I stand there, with a patch over my left eye, a cane in my left hand, and my paintbrush duct taped to my right, and I fucking paint. My whole life I have dreamt of being an Artist. When someone asks me what I do for a living, "I am an Artist,"is what I tell them. Until that moment where the pain didn't matter, that moment when you're willing to lie on a cold concrete floor and paint with your canvas lying next to you because you are no longer able to stand. The moment where you have to lift your legs out of bed and place your burning, tingling feet gently on the floor, wait for them to be able to hold your weight, and walk down stairs slowly, one step at a time, back to that cold hard floor to do it again, and again, and again, to finish your work. Until that moment saying that I was an Artist was all lip service. Until that moment I was never truly an Artist. But now, I know I've never been anything but. 

If you look back over my blog, you'll see that my painting has never been perfect. It wasn't about the finished product as much as it was about the learning process. Looking at the pictures of my work on here myself, I cringe at some, still like others, and learned a bit from each of them. Betty Carroll Fuller, my painting instructor for two semesters always told me to loosen up. Now, I have no choice. My paintings are a far cry from the idilic little Cape Cod scenes that I painted to sell to tourists. There may now be an underlying darkness. They are abstract. They are bolder than anything that I have tried before. They are of a process that is still evolving. I'm not sure if they are even good yet. But, they are real. They come from somewhere inside and I will face anything that comes my way to get them out. 

Here are some of my recent experiments. They are a far cry from old attempts, yet I can see a logical progression. They don't come as quickly and easily as they used to, while I once painted hundreds and hundreds of paintings a year, they now trickle out slowly and randomly, one or two a month, even on my best months.  Please take a look and tell me what you think of them in the comments section.

Untitled

12" x 12" x 2"

acrylic on mahogany panel

Untitled Tryptic 

36" x 10" x 2"

acrylic on mahogany panel

Untitled

24" x 24" x 2"

acrylic on mahogany panel

Untitled

36" x 30" x 2"

acrylic on mahogany panel

Untitled

36" x 24" x 2"

acrylic on mahogany panel

(painting at the top:

untitled

12" x 12' x 2"

acrylic on mahogany panel)

Thanks for reading!

Let me know what you think.

IF YOU LIKED THIS INFO, I NOW HAVE A VLOG ON YOUTUBE. YOU CAN FIND IT HERE:

https://youtu.be/KVTa2_lv4OU