southern coast no.2

southern coast no.2

2013

oil on canvas

24x24"

southern coast no.1

Southern Coast no.1

2013

oil on canvas

36x36"

WORK-IN-PROGRESS
(not part of the Iceland series)

southern coast no.1
2013
oil on canvas
36x36"
(including angled and detail view)

new work

Just a bit about this piece:

A section of the title, your hidden world, speaks to an aspect of Iceland I really only began to appreciate and reflect upon after I had returned from my residency.  Thinking back, I was struck by the feeling I still carry that Iceland- its people, its landscape, even its urban culture in Reykjavik- held secrets under the surface...things not easily understood, things not easily given up.  I kept thinking about days spent in the north, traveling through the landscape:  sparse, cool, minimal.  It would be too easy, and very wrong, to assume that what you saw was all you got.  I still now feel that things can be found by digging just a bit.  The country has a rich history- a wealth of events, much to learn about.  The people are intelligent, thoughtful, sophisticated...but you need to engage to truly feel the depth of all of this.  Otherwise, the false impression can be had that the quiet of it all equals an absence of content.  Not true, and such a mistake to believe.  Firmly back in my life in the states, I'm still learning about the place, still uncovering the layers.

Baer whites no.21 (your hidden world)
2013
oil, encaustic on panel
26x42"

click on image to enlarge

older work

norther fall field no.47   oil on canvas   24x30"

Tisbury pond no.579   oil on canvas   24x48"

Tisbury pond no.580   oil on canvas   24x48"

looking south no.1   oil on canvas   30x40"

morning cove   oil on canvas   30x40"

essex field edit no.2   charcoal on paper   22x30"

row no.127   charcoal on paper   22x30"

new abstracts

Baer whites no.9
2013
oil, encaustic on panel
50x30"

Baer whites no.10
2013
oil, charcoal on paper
24x12"

Baer whites no.11

2013

oil, encaustic, collage on panel

36x36"

Baer: a fog of spirits no.5

Baer: a fog of spirits no.5
2103
oil on canvas
36x36"

Baer: a fog of spirits (no.2)

Bear: a fog of spirits (no.2)
2013
oil on canvas
24x24"

Baer: a fog of spirits (no.1)

Baer: a fog of spirits (no.1)
2013
oil on canvas
30x30"

new work: Baer whites and greens as a continued response to the edge of the world

Home now, from Iceland, for over two weeks.  The experience still buzzes inside me.  I can finally sleep through the night- my body rhythms have been reminded of what evening darkness looks and feels like- and my senses have settled their resentment, as much as they ever will, towards the oppression of humidity.  But still, Iceland buzzes.

A million tiny experiences, thousands of photographs.  My work has been permanently nudged into another space.  For now, the references, in the visual as well as the titles, reflect directly.  I understand that this direct correlation will, ultimately, fall away with time.  I'm buoyed by the knowledge that the buzz in the work will remain, and is now forever fixed in its sensibilities.  This, I think, is what a residency is for.  For new buzzes.

The work shown here was created- in a bit of a frenzy I suppose- in the two weeks since my return from Iceland.  Allowing for a couple of days of sleep when I first returned, I've been working daily.  I'm showing some of the results here, and writing just a tiny bit about them.  As a matter of course I tend to avoid writing about my work.  I used to do a great deal of it, but found I was constantly disappointed with the process...to the point where I began to question its usefulness.  It struck me as a futile attempt to understand a language using another language.  It would confuse me. I ultimately moved away from doing very much of it.  In this case, however, the profound and rapid shift my work has undergone because of the residency has me thinking that a bit of writing might help me sort it out a bit.  That, or it'll just confuse me again....yet to be determined.

The following work is coming together as series of its own, within the residency body as a whole.  Prior to leaving for Iceland, a few friends made joking comments to me about how, given where I was headed, all of my work would now be variations of white.  Of course, I knew this wouldn't be the case...Iceland in June is no longer blanketed in snow, and I don't tend to respond so literally to stimuli, anyway.  Maybe if I were in Greenland.

But, here we are: I found the white, and this newest work uses white as a jumping point.  There were snow caps on the mountains and stretches of it furrowed into the hanging valleys during the entire month, but most of the colors in the landscape were browns, blacks, greens, yellows.  White, however, came at me from another direction: the light.  The light of Iceland, at least during my stay in June, is whiter and cooler than any I have ever seen.  It makes the outdoor light here seem yellowed by comparison.  It is cool, stark, dry light...and all colors look different in it.  I found this out when a painting I had created at Baer made its way to me in my first work shipment home.  The colors, the relationships of value and hue, were completely different when viewed in the light of Massachusetts.  Not worse, not better...just different.

I started thinking more directly about the white of northern Icelandic light...and then, just about white. After all, white is never just about white, especially in paint.  To speak about cool white, one can, and should, utilize an arsenal.  

 Baer whites no.1   oil, pencil on paper   17x12"

This work on paper is the start of that exploration.  Although abstract, I realized after its completion that, above the black horizontal space, a faint dark form resembling a section of mountains was apparent; like a crest shrouded in fog or something.  That reference was almost enough for me to take it out- to work it over to erase the reference, as would be my general tendency in abstraction- but I resisted.  I'm still unclear if that was a good decision, but I want to let the process stand.

I also found that an interest in laying down dark in order to find the whites, through building.  This not only allows for a base to explore texture above it, but it also becomes my foundation for temperature...whether by harmony or contrast.  It's the idea, as well, of setting up a problem to solve: get to light by starting in the dark. 

Baer whites no.2   oil, charcoal on paper   17x12"

Similar to no.1, but with more line work, and heavier movement.  I also found blue hues in my darks. I dig that part, although blue is not the only direction in which I ultimately wish to head.

 Baer whites no.3   oil, encaustic on panel   16x40"

This piece is larger: 16x40". It is a diptych, but the panels are flush to each other.  Here, another problem set up to solve: fields of complete black (dark, dark grey actually) so absent of light that they threaten to suck any lightness from anything placed on or near them. Then, explore light.  Fun.  I like this piece a great deal.  The rhythm is interesting, the formal structure is narrative in the loosest sense.  The texture plays in and out between understanding surface and letting it have a language.  It looks back at me with a solemn, contemplative response to being here...like maybe it's a bit pissed.  In this piece, the encaustic is layered into the back, as a foundation, but still has a voice.  The piece, for me, is colorful in its whiteness.

Baer whites no.4   oil, encaustic on panel   6x30"

Here's my unsteady friendship with this piece: long horizontal spaces, in our western eye, so easily read from left to right: cause and effect, start and finish, before and since.  I both like that dynamic but also find myself wanting to break it...or at least muffle it a lot. But, I still find myself coming back to this format.  Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment, but I really like the challenge. The black area on the left begins the dialogue with the remainder of the sections of form and space...which is probably what I like the most.  The green is the most blatant hue switch in the series to this point, and I also find that interesting.  The photo of this piece, which could be much better, still runs too blue, particularly in the whites...something I have been trying to avoid too much in the work itself.  These whites, in person, are less blue.  For me, blue wishes to speak too naturally in cool whites, so I don't want to give it any more help.  In fact, finding a cool white range while staying completely away from blues is an uphill challenge, and I like that.

Baer whites no.5   oil, encaustic on four panels   16.5x16.5" total size

Here's a better example of moving away from cool into warm, to find cool.  I love ochre yellow...it's one of my favorite warm colors. I also saw so many variations of it in the landscape in northern Iceland...rather unexpectedly.  Again, I tend to shy away from too many literal pulls from a space, so I tread softly.  However, as a counterpoint dynamic to find white, I loved using it here.  I also brought in a collaged layer of written form, buried beneath the yellow layers.  It's actually a section of a newspaper from Iceland- I thinnk it's the obit section, but I might be wrong- and was part of my packing material for shipping work home.  My relationship with direct collage has always been distant...it's something I utilize infrequently, since it can be so content-loaded from the start.  But here, I like how it works as more variations of whites and texture.  

I began this piece as a four panel horizontal...so here is a great example of how I needed, in the end, to break the left-to-right narrative structure.  The painting was struggling, and then I pulled the elements together as a grid, and it began to have a voice.

Baer greens no.1   oil, charcoal on paper   20x12"

OK, so here, obviously, I moved into a major hue shift...so much so that a new title direction was necessary.  Still here, though, the whites are the goal for me.  No real bright white to be found in this piece, but who knows where the next "green" piece will take me.  I cropped this piece twice before I found the structure it needed.

So, there it is...the Baer whites, thus far.  I'll continue to post the new work here as it is completed.

The Baer show, heading home...

I'm sitting in a flat in Reykjavik on Thursday evening, June 27, after a lengthy bus trip from the north. I left Baer late this morning...the first of the five artists-in-residence to leave.  Not a badge I wear by choice, but a necessary distinction, as my flight for home leaves tomorrow at 5:25pm, and coordinating all of the bus trips (2-3, depending) to make it to the Keflavik airport from Baer on Friday allowed no room for error. I decided  it would be more prudent to leave a day early, plant myself in Reykjavik for the evening, and head out the next day with plenty of extra space-time.

The downside, of course:  I left Baer today.  Reluctantly.  While the prospect of heading home to see the people (and three-legged dog) I miss is an exciting one, I leave behind a place, and group, responsible for an experience unlike any I have had.  More about that in a bit.

Last night we showed our work, together, at an Open House/reception...the culmination of the month's art-making efforts.  These shows are held at Baer at the end of each residency month, and are well-attended by so many in the area.  Last night was no different.  Lots of people came to the Art Center to view our work, placed and hung in both our studio spaces as well as the large barn gallery at the end of the building.  The work looked great, and this was our first, and only, opportunity to see it all together in one  sequence of spaces.  now it all travels...to Germany, Denmark, and three separate locations in the US (maybe more!)

We spent the day preparing, and the evening socializing...and then celebrating.  We met some great people, both from the area( farm families, fishing families, friends of friends of friends) as well as a few artists-in-residence at other programs nearby (yes, for a sparsely populated part of a sparsely populated country, there are four artist residency programs within an hour or so...none as good as Baer, of course:)).

It was an evening of good conversation, new friendships, and great feedback.  A warm collective to end our month.  After the throngs departed, the core group- we five artists, the folks who work at Baer, and Steinunn and her husband- all sat down for a few hours of wine and wind-down.  I hit the bed at...I don't know...3am?  Still light out, of course...

The crew around 11 or 12 midnight:

 This morning was melancholic: packing, goodbyes, final look-rounds at the wonder of the area.  A heavy morning wind, accompanied by drama-laden skies, gave me quite a stage for goodbyes.  As is often the case with meaningful experiences, there is a potent mix of sadness and joy upon leaving it.  That's today's theme.  I feel it, as I sit in Reykjavik.  I know we, the artists and Steinunn, will stay in touch.  I will also be seeing Steinunn in October when she comes to Boston for a conference.  And, I intend to return: to Iceland, and to Baer.  It's now, in some tiny but significant way, in my blood.

I've now caught the artist residency bug.

More, please.

Baer no.4

Baer no.4
2013
oil on canvas
8x8"

edge of the farm- Baer

edge of the farm- Baer
2013
charcoal on paper
30x53"
(plus detail)

show going up, trip winding down...

It's Tuesday, June 25, 10:00 am.  As the end of my month-long residency here at Baer draws near, our group of five artists are preparing to hang a show of our work in the gallery area of the studio building.  This Open House show takes place tomorrow night from 8-10pm., and Steinunn has listed the event in a local publication, and posted announcements in the area.  Each Baer residency group shows their work in this fashion, and these events have caught on quite well, so we are all looking forward to meeting more neighbors, friends and visitors in the area.

With the show looming, I am on a final push to finish a larger-scale drawing in time to hang my work.  I'll work on it through today, and cross my fingers that I can get it to a resolved state by tomorrow morning.  This may be the one time where the midnight sun, and the sleepless nights it facilitates for me, may work to my advantage.  It won't be the first time I've stumbled into my studio at 3am to draw, paint...or just stare at my work.

I cannot begin to describe this experience...so I'm reluctant to even make an attempt.  This is the first artist residency I've ever done...but after this, I'm hooked.  I want more.  I've been warned by the other four resident artists- all veterans of residency grants- that this particular one has set the bar quite high...it's been one of the best each has ever experienced.  They've cautioned me to not expect them all to be like this!  But, I don't care.  The time and space to work, in a unique environment- away from the familiar...that's what I've loved the most.  Posh, rustic, large, small...bring them on.  I've loved how this experience has changed the way I see, and think...and that can happen when you can focus, uninterrupted with no distractions, on your work.  I crave more.  My work demands it, I think.  Where to next...?

Our final group excursion: We spent Sunday morning on a boat, touring the local coastline.  A beautiful day.  We were able to see the Art Center and this entire now-familiar-to-us area from a different perspective. The epic nature of the space, and the islands just off the coast, came into clearer view from this vantage point.  And, basalt rock formations abound.

We spent some time circling the small, isolated islands off the coast...including Drangey Island, a favorite for birds in the area.  So much so that one side (the northern side) is bleached with white- specks of white as well as large swaths of whitewashed rock. The specks are birds...the whitewash: bird poo.

Upon our return swing back to the Harbor in Hofsos, we encountered what we had hoped to see, but can be fleeting to the eye: whales.  In the distance at first, then alongside our boat for a brief moment.  

I was even able to grab a few seconds of video during our whale encounters:

A truly wonderous experience.

But enough of this.  I have a drawing to attack...