Showing posts from March, 2023


  The theory of color. There are books and books written on this, all geared to improve your art painting. Alas, though, when you look at the canvas, the thing you want to paint, color always lingers in your mind. The mind sees one thing, the tubes of paint another. So you spread out each color on a pallet, mixing until things look just right. The painting done, you look at the pallet again, sometimes finding it more pleasing than the painting.  You think about it, do you toss out the pallet or consider it a part of the art. There your wild strokes run, unbound by thoughts you might have, just the beauty of your soul…


  Wandering the city of Portland on foot rewards your soul. The city is full of low profile historic buildings, ones you can relate to, giving a human feel to the place. There are many walks you can take, the Eastside warehouse district, the Northwest neighborhood district, Washington or Waterfront Park.  Perhaps though, no district defines Portland more than the Pearl. Here trendy shops and restaurants rub shoulders with small manufacturing and service buildings. The district is changing fast, with the trendy out bidding the older tenants for space. Here you find buildings in transition, a kind of limbo where owners weigh the potential of the property. These buildings show the patina of time and emptiness. A broken window here and there.  Such it was when I passed an idle warehouse building with three windows marked by street art, the wear of time, a few panes broken. The evening was bringing darkness quickly. The windows already colorful, reflected the glitz and brightness of a chang


What can you say of late winter, January blue, February not really a month, March with all its promises both real and not. The year just started, but not set. You wonder where the red penguin walked this winter. You find solace in your studio, brush in hand, looking at paint colors, imagining about the year…


  Are they just wanderings of the mind or do they mean anything? Surrealistic paintings are perhaps the most difficult art to understand. It’s not realistic, abstract, or fine art. They occupy a unique place in the art world. Sometimes as controversial as the artist who did them, Salvador Dali, Man Ray, Joan Miro, Andre Breton and others. Abstract paintings were rebellions against an age of realistic art, using color, shape and gesture to replace known scenes. Fine art grew from the artists defined view of the world, they sought out scenes that reflected those views. Surrealism is a clear departure from both of these. Here the artist takes their inspiration from the world of dreams, attempting to recreate them on canvas.They often defy logic, order or understanding. Who among us fully understands our own dreams, let alone the ones of others. Surrealism is a fanciful wandering apart from the real world. The true stuff of dreams… “The Stuff of Dreams”


  Handwriting and letters lost to time, forgotten by the mind. They is so much treasure there. Movement of a love one turning ink to print, words written, thoughts frozen. All the art of life.  Caches of letters and covers found, read over and over, then pictures in the mind painted as to what it all means…. Acrylic on paper letters, various sizes, some collages