Succession 2013

This picture, which depicts the historic traces of Monticello Road that extend into the country is part of both Monticello Road and Succession series.

I am exhibiting eighteen photographs from my Succession series at Milli Joe (Charlottesville) January 4-31, 2013. These pictures explore nearby human spaces that Nature has begun to reclaim.

There will be a opening kaffeeklatch from 10 a.m. to noon on Saturday, January 5, with a second one Tuesday, January 15 from 7:30 to 10 a.m.

Every artist has a second, secret, project and this is mine. If Monticello Road is about the human interconnections in a healthy community, Succession pokes around the poison ivy, cicadas and woodlots around the edges of the neighborhood.

Preview the show here | more succession photos here

Milli Joe is located at the corner of Preston and Ridge/McIntire in Charlottesville. Parking available next door. For more information please call 434-465-9869.

 

Monticello Road at the Local

Jeff and Travis work across the street from the Local, at the heart of Monticello Road.
 
The pictures of Monticello Road are back on view, this time at the Local.

Twenty images, including ten never displayed before adorn the walls of a restaurant that is at the geographic and community heart of Monticello Road.

There will be an accompanying public art display outside. The People of Monticello Road slideshow will project on the storefront window of the neighboring building, a former beauty shop, and visible from the street. Preview highlights from the slideshow here.

The slideshow will be on display Monday July 23 from 7:30-11:00 to coincide with Local Singer/Songwriter night. The exhibition runs through the month of July.

Four photos will also be on display at McGuffey Art Center through Sunday August 19. Opening reception Friday, July 6. Copies of the 80-page project catalog are available at the gift shop there.

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The Local is located at 824 Hinton Avenue, Charlottesville, VA. They are open for dinner seven days a week, until 10:00 p.m. Su, Tu, We, Th; 11 p.m. Fr, Sa, Mo. Telephone 434.984.9749.

McGuffey Art Center is located at 201 Second Street NW, open Tues-Sat 10-6, Sun 1-5.

For more information about the Monticello Road, visit www.monticelloroad.com; email peter@culturecurrent.com or call 434.465.9869.

What we’ve accomplished...so far!

Asking my neighbors for help was the best thing I did. The opportunity to help one another turns out to be a gift in itself.

I set out to find an integrated role for an artist in a healthy community and I did so with very modest expectations that were simply blown away. I am amazed at what we have done as a community and what the project became. It succeeded far beyond my expectations.

Here are some of the things we accomplished together:

• We got to know our neighbors. Strangers became familiar; familiar faces acquaintances; and acquaintances became friends.
• Significantly many people who had never been to a gallery or seen themselves as participants in the arts came to the Bridge and did so again and again. This is a profound accomplishment.
• We captured a library with thousands of images of people and places, creating a lasting record of a neighborhood in transition.
• The community rallied around an exhibition of those familiar faces. An eighty page catalog preserves and expands on it like a community yearbook.
• We gave away hundreds of prints from that library and thousands of postcards that now adorn fridges, window sills and cubicle walls.
• We created this blog, with profiles celebrating the many of the wonderful people among us.
• Preston and I staged four guerilla photo booths that engaged passers-by, with more to come.
• We had a packed opening reception with locally donated beer, BBQ, nibbles and—most popularly—Spudnuts.
• Speaking of Spudnuts, we screened a documentary that should be required viewing for all residents and we did it in a doughnut shop.
• We toured an active and historic factory for the blind that plays a vital role in the community, yet is essentially hidden at the center of the neighborhood.
• We convened a gathering of top community planners and learned much from them—and hopefully they learned a few things from the artists and residents in the room.
• Three elementary school groups visited the show, with walking-tours past many of the sites where the images were captured.
• An afternoon of rocking-chair storytelling brought long-timers and newer residents together to share reminiscences of how things were and how they have changed. Lulu recorded these oral histories so we can make them available to all.
• A gathering of artists regrouped at the end of the exhibition to talk about our experiences and share new ways to animate our communities.
• We attracted outrageously much media attention—more than I could keep track of. They were interested because positive stories about neighbors coming together inspire their listeners, viewers and readers.
• We nudged several sidelined artists back into the game. I won’t name them publicly but that’s one of the bits of which I’m most proud.
• You all inspired me and gave my own career quite a jolt.
  
• Update (5/6): We had a very successful kickstarter campaign, receiving 65 contributions totaling $4,000. Perhaps more impressive than the financial amount, which exceeded most expectations, was the incredible moral support from the community and huge social-media response (165 Facebook likes).

Just reading this list is exhausting but as the exhibition draws to a close I feel exhilarated—the opposite of the usual let-down feeling. As I look toward the next project (still secret!), I know that this one is not over and never will be.

Specifically:

• We will make available the oral histories as transcribed text and/or audio files on the web. 
• We plan to create an audio itinerary, similar to what you find in museums. More on that soon.
• We will make available the highlights of the image archive. Many of them are already here.
• We will keep taking pictures, sharing our gifts with one another and keep getting to know our neighbors even better.

In the meantime, I say a big, hearty thank you to the many who have supported Monticello Road in so many ways. I could not be happier to share a community with you and to be your neighbor.

The Artists of Belmont

Clark Elementary School, Spring 2011.

Three photos from my Monticello Road series are included in the Artists of Belmont exhibition at Firefish Gallery, located at 108 2nd Street SW in Charlottesville. This is the first taste of the much, much larger presentation at the Bridge in April.

There will be a reception Thursday January 19  7:00-10:00 pm. The exhibition will continue until March 1st.

Hope to see you there!

A Different Currency

San Angelo (For Renate) Charcoal on painted masonite, 16x30” 2011.

I find that almost everyone wants art for their home but for all that, most people seem reluctant to spend real money on it. I’ve been searching a long time for ways to change their minds about that but words and ridiculously low prices don’t seem to do the trick as well as I would like.

I don’t think it’s about the art: it’s about the money. What would happen if we take cash out of the equation? In a healthy community, we should be able to reward and support one another without passing greenbacks back and forth.

I’ve always been a big fan of the barter economy and it presents opportunities that are easily overlooked. In this case, my friends Renate and Bill wanted art for their new home, but construction costs did not exactly leave them flush with cash.

I practically live on bread and almond butter and Renate is the best baker I know, so it seemed like an opportunity. I have tons of art and it does no good in my studio and Renate bakes every few weeks: it’s no problem for her to add an extra load for me. I get a loaf every few weeks.

How do we calculate value of bread versus art?

Let us assume that we’re all equal and our time is worth equally much. Then it’s simple. I just kept track of my hours—in this case it was about thirty. Renate will consider the added time that I’m costing her make me appropriately many loaves. As for expenses, she uses fancy ingredients, so the expenses match up pretty well and actually are likely to be a little higher on her end, so she won’t need to spend 30 hours kneading and mixing.

So I’m eating better than I would and the new piece will look great in their house. The thing that pleases me most is the gifts that we are each giving each other. I think about Renate at the breakfast table and my drawing will hang next to hers.

This is an exchange we can both celebrate.

The People of Monticello Road: Alexander House

The Engine that runs Alexander House: (from left to right) Emma, Misty, Angel, Flame, Raven, Kassia, Sky.

Alexander House is a collectively-owned-and-operated inn and hostel. The kitchen has a world map on the wall, with colored dots each indicating the origin of a set of guests. There’s one in the center of Australia, one in the deepest Congo, and one in the Ural mountains at the heart of the Eurasian landmass. Germany is completely covered and the United States looks like one of those enhanced nighttime satellite images that shows population centers.

This unique business welcomes guests from all over the globe and travelers of many modes and many means. Monticello Road is part of the transnational bikeway and as a result, the bike rack outside often boast several sets of saddle bags. It is possible to rent a room, the entire house or even a berth in the bunkhouse. It is as welcoming to mothers of brides as it is to bikers.

The place is immaculately clean and inviting, the guests quiet and exemplary--an enormous credit to the collective and a reflection of their sensibilities. They’re terrific neighbors and stewards and their visitors bring stories from far-away places.

Charlottesville is surprisingly cosmopolitan for such a small town, with a quaint exterior and a self-conscious sense of geography and history, combined with a not-contradictory yearning to find new ways of doing things. Alexander House displays all of these traits and, sitting as it does at the geographic center of Monticello Road, it is a great place to put our bags down and begin exploring.

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The People of Monticello Road is a weekly series of profiles that will run through the summer. Monticello Road is a photography and story-telling project about the people and places along a mile-long byway that is simultaneously humble and historic, home to many and a reflection of us all. There will be an exhibition and much more in the Spring of 2012.

Project Description | More Photos: Places | People
Alexander House Info | Bios

Champion Tutoring

Albemarle Place is a once and future strip mall and now a scene of beautiful decay. It's not far from the show's venue.

When my friend Anna Patchias approached me about having a show at her tutoring business, I wasn’t sure what to say. It’s not a typical venue for an art show and she wouldn’t be offended if I said that the surroundings are not the finest. Let’s just say that they pour their hearts and souls into the instruction and not the office furniture, which is as it should be. Still Anna herself is a terrific persuader and they’re doing terrific work so I figured I would give it a go.

I must say that I’m shocked at how good the work looks in there. I have always advocated placing art in more day-to-day spaces such as schools, waiting rooms, and business offices and this place is all three. The art elevates the room in a way that’s just magical but the venue also places the art directly into the world of the everyday. This body of work, which explores quotidian human places being reclaimed by Nature, could not find a more appropriate home than a shopping center on the edge of town. The show looks good but it also works well.

A good collector challenges an artist to see new possibilities in their own work and that is what Anna has done for me.

Champion Tutoring is located at 2125 Ivy Road (near Food of all Nations) in Charlottesville, VA. The show runs through August.

More: Champion Tutoring | Succession | Succession thread on this blog

Date Selected for Monticello Road

Monticello Road will debut in at the Bridge PAI in the Spring of 2012. The Bridge is the perfect venue for the show not only because it's literally in the front yard but also because we share a fundamental belief about what art can do.

This will be much more than pictures on the wall: it will be a coming-together for the community. There will be story-telling, films, discussions, a childrens's neighborhood walk, hopefully a school program, at least one party, and a discussion series.

This project is larger than me; it belongs to the whole neighborhood and the city. There are many ways to grow the project through collaboration and I'm wide open to suggestions.

For now, there's a small selections of early photographs for the show on Facebook.

Monticello Road

I will have four full seasons to capture the neighborhood in all its costumes.

Update: The exhibition is scheduled for Spring, 2012

I'm very excited to say that The Bridge Public Art Initiative has agreed to host my Monticello Road exhibition. It's a wonderful opportunity and a tremendous vote of confidence from an institution that's doing some terrific work.

The exhibition will examine the people and places along one of America's most historic byways. Monticello Road is an ancient trail that has been in use since Paleolithic times and, as its name suggests, the principal route to Monticello and points south. At the same time, this is a place where people (myself included) live their daily lives. Any exploration of a place so steeped in history must necessarily mine the past but this project is firmly seated in the present--it's about what is there now.

Due to the inevitable changes that history brings, only about a mile of Monticello Road still exists, which is actually good for my purposes. It will be quite manageable for me to explore its entire length in some depth.

We have not selected a date or scope for the exhibit, so check back for more details. I am quite excited though: this is a project with many possibilities and broad support within the community itself.

It will be alot of fun.

The Next Thing

To get to this spot, I had to outrun a security guard in a go-cart, wade through a waist-deep sea of vegetation, cross a stream, and squeeze through a barbed-wire fence. A safari within the boundaries of my town.

Before my Scratch show at McGuffey had even ended, people started asking me what I’m doing next. I have a couple of projects in the early stages, and although I can’t yet say what physical form they will take, I can tell you what I’m thinking about and what I’m looking at.

I’m really interested in the process by which Nature reclaims human spaces. I still love trees and vegetation but rather than looking at the landscape from a distance, I’m starting to really focus on the mechanics of that reclamation. The project will be called Succession and will probably be limited to Virginia ecosystems. The vines and brambles interface beautifully with the state’s abundant human history.

I’ve been hiking and exploring, snooping around (often in places where I shouldn’t!), running from security guards and wildlife, and taking many photographs. I’ll shoot thousands of frames and keep a few from each safari until I have about a hundred images that I really like. I’ll spread them out and see what I find in them. Then I’ll know what to do, what kind of art to make.

I’m still making scratch boards from my considerable image bank but I’m also actively cultivating my inspiration. It’s a very physical search that leaves me with cuts and scrapes, bug bites and some beautiful images.

It’s worth it: blood, sweat and toil makes for better art.

Sources and Inspirations

Amherst, VA 2008.

A few years back, I went to the show of one of my art heroes Glen Rubsamen. He paints silhouettes of trees (black) on either a white or vividly-colored background. I love his work for many reasons and the exhibition was amazing. Of course I couldn’t afford any of the big oil paintings but I had to have something so I bought the catalog. It was entitled Those Useless Trees” and it featured a strong black and white painting on its cover. It was shrink-wrapped and I didn’t open it until I got to the subway.

I was in for quite a surprise. There was not a single image of a painting inside. Instead, the book was full of his source photos: unusual-looking trees, mostly—though not exclusively—in his native Los Angeles. I had never seen anything like that before and it was very interesting not only to see his working process, but a bit more objective view of the origins of his inspirations. In that spirit, my upcoming exhibition Scratch will include a section dedicated to the source photos from which the scratch boards and prints derive.

As I edited the images on my computer then arranged them on my work table, I was impressed at how strong they are as works of art. I probably shouldn’t be surprised: I have been playing with a camera since I was a child, and photography represents at least as much time and effort as the entire rest of my oeuvre. Not only do the pictures hold their own in the exhibition, they might well be its strongest leg. In the exhibition, they will be presented mostly as small, poloroid-sized, prints with a few enlargements to show detail.

There will be a companion to the exhibition catalog dedicated to these sources and inspirations. Perhaps I should call it “Those Wonderful Trees!”

Scratch

Two of a Kind (scratch board) Oil pastel on inked mat board, 4"x6" 2010.

I have never been the type of artist to hitch my career to any single set of materials or techniques. For me, art is about a way of seeing and I will employ whichever media come to hand or whatever makes the most sense for the project. That approach will be on display in my new show at McGuffey Art Center, in which I explore and re-explore images of my familiar subjects—tree and sky views—through three different media: dry point prints, scratch boards, and photographs.

Untitled dry point. 2" x 2" on 10" x 10.5" Tiepolo paper. Edition of 6. 2009.

Last autumn a friend of mine who is a master printer suggested that I try my hand at dry point, a very simple and direct engraving process wherein the artist scratches lines on a copper plate with a nail or stylus. I began with the expectation that I would feel constrained by the tool’s sharpness and its seeming irreversibility. The opposite happened: I felt completely liberated and in spite of the deferred gratification inherent in the printing process, it felt free and spontaneous. I worked with her to produce the eight small (2”x2”) prints in the exhibition.

There has always been one big limitation to printmaking for me however: the images are black and white (or with a very finite set of colors). I set out to discover a way to combine the dry point’s linear poetry with the kaleidoscopic spectacle that is my visual experience and my scratch boards are the result. I make them by inking a piece of mat board, coloring the background area with luscious Sennelier oil pastels, then scratching through the pastel with a stylus to reveal the dark board underneath. There will be about twenty small scratch boards (approximately 4”x6”) and a few of them reverse the technique by using dark pastel on a bright board.

My creative approach begins with photography—I carry a camera around like a sketchbook to record the ephemeral and visually stunning moments that fill my life. I wanted the exhibit to include at least a glimpse of that part of the process by showing some of my sources. Something larger started to emerge as I arranged the dozens of small Polaroid-like pictures—a few which have been enlarged to reveal details and hidden surprises. The images carry a strong sense of my particular vision of the world and they each stand on their own merits as creative expressions as well as being part of a cohesive whole. They comprise the third and perhaps strongest leg of the show.


Scottsville, VA 2006.

Though the three sets of pictures employ three distinct techniques, all originate from a single library of images. Indeed, some sources appear in two or all three of the groups. A few of them are tributes to artists whose work I admire. The collected works, all created in the past few months, reveal a vision that is specifically my own. They profit from multiple looks and the strengths of multiple approaches, unencumbered by the parameters of any specific technique.

Scratch is on display from June 1 to June 27, with an opening reception Friday, June 4 5:30 to 7:30. McGuffey Art Center is located at 201 Second Street NW Charlottesville, VA. Hours: Monday through Saturday 10 am – 6 pm, Sunday 1-5.

Wet Paint

San Angelo (scratch board). Oil pastel on inked mat board, 4" x 6" 2010.

When I was first getting started as an artist I planned to donate a sculpture to an auction to benefit the homeless of Washington, DC. Unable to decide which piece to give, I asked one of my mentors for advice. His response: “Give your best piece.” It’s always hard for an artist to give up their work, so the idea of giving away my favorite was a bitter pill to swallow.

He was right though: it’s only a donation if the piece actually sells. So if you wish to benefit a cause, you need to make the sacrifice and anyway the business reasons for making the donation redound the most if you put your absolute best foot forward. The desirable audience that attends the gala is impressed with your strong work and the art shows—and moves—well. Everyone comes away happy.

I took his advice and the piece sold and I gained a new patron as well as good karma and a tax deduction; an example of doing well by doing good.

I have that advice in mind as I prepare for this weekend’s Wet Paint gala to benefit the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts (VCCA). VCCA is one of the nation’s most established artist communities and a beacon for the visual arts in Central Virginia. Like so many other artists, VCCA holds a special place in my heart and I made some of my best work while I was there. Much that I have done since was inspired by that magical place.

I wanted to contribute something worthy that would be a response to my residency there. I am proud of the result and you can see it this Saturday night. Buy a ticket, make a bid. The cause is more than worthy and hopefully you’ll walk away with an important and resonant work of art.

Event Info | VCCA Info | VCCA Blog

Getting it all down in 150 words

Few prospects are as daunting for an artist—or yield as predictably sub-mediocre results—as writing an artist statement. At one of the #class sessions I attended last month, writer Sarah Schmerler co-crafted a working artist statement for a quasi-volunteer in real-time.

It was an interesting way to lay bare some of the reasons why it can be so difficult, and although there are no easy answers, understanding the obstacles makes them easier to overcome.

Most people reading this blog are aware of my deep appreciation for excellent writing and my consequent disdain for the majority of artist statements, issue of authors who have never studied writing with anywhere near the seriousness of their chosen métiers—if at all.

To be fair though, fixing an artist statement is not just about improving one’s general writing skills. The form is difficult because one must translate into words ideas and emotions that are inherently non-verbal. Writers employ language and artists visuals.

An artist statement must cover a lot of ground. It needs to describe the physical nature of the work, including the size, scale and materials—the what and how. Then it must tackle the more difficult question of why, while placing their specific work in the broader arc of art and civilization.

Every genre has its conventions and an artist statement should really be 150 words or less—far fewer than I have already devoted to this post (we’re currently at the 225 mark). So it is easy to understand why artists are so vexed at the prospect of baring their souls in such a way, and why they understandably fail more often than not.

For my part, I have traditionally ignored the hard word count and simply tried to be relatively concise. Before Sarah and Jen’s session, my statement weighed in around 600 words—four times the recommended length. Clearly I had work to do.

With the goal of creating a more perfect—or at least acceptable—artist statement, I challenged myself to craft something better than before, while being brief enough to honor the 150 word convention. Here’s what I came up with; an ever evolving essay but ready to share.

Comments are always welcome.

My drawings, prints, and scratch boards probe the membrane between Earth and sky, terrestrial life and the vast beyond. Tree canopies, silhouetted treelines, and occasional human interferences such as telephone poles act simultaneously as intermediaries and embodiments of the aspiration toward that infinite mystery.

Ranging in scale from tiny to gigantic, and often designed to be presented high on the wall or on the ceiling, they recall childhood afternoons on the grass, gazing upward through a net of foliage, or a glance toward the darkening horizon when it is time to run home for supper.

Our shared affinity with trees predates history, reaching back to primate ancestors who lived among them. Even still, forests and reforestation hold the key to our species’ survival. I can feel that synergy when I work and I’m glad to be part of an endless chain of precedent that will always be contemporary and relevant.

Scratch boards

Tufton Avenue. Oil pastel on inked mat board 4" x 6" 2010.

Is it possible to combine the beautiful, varied lines one finds in dry point with the rich painterly color of oil pastel? My new work is a marriage of the two forms--one that I've recently discovered and one that I've long-since mastered and always loved.

I have embarked on a new series of scratch boards, small (4"x6") unique drawings made by inking a piece of mat board, drawing a background with Sennelier oil pastels, then scratching through the pastel with a stylus to reveal the ink underneath.

Detail (magnified 10x) of above image.
I love the decisiveness of the lines--like drawing with a ballpoint pen--but with a vast arsenal of subtle variations obtainable by varying the pressure and angle of the stylus. The line can be micro-thin and nearly invisible, or by turning the tool sideways, I can remove wide swaths of material.

Combine that with the luscious almost juicy quality oil pastel, which can be blended or moved around freely and with rich, saturated colors--the results can be quite gorgeous.

I have nearly completed the first set of twenty images. They will be priced very affordably and will be exhibited, along with my prints and source photos this June at McGuffey.

Here are a few more images to preview. A whole lot more here.
(all images 4" x 6" oil pastel on inked mat board 2010)

Feeling the Welcome Vibe

My New Members exhibition at The McGuffey Art Center is beginning well. Many friends turned out for the opening with plenty of well wishes. We've already been reviewed in the Hook and the C-ville Weekly. The Hook review was especially great in fact, a few people have asked me when I met them for the first time, "I enjoyed seeing your work in the paper"

So that's wonderful. The opening started with the president of our association (Judy McLeod) welcoming me and placing a name tag on my chest; it felt like a medal. The evening ended with a band of clowns invading the exhibit and bringing all the mirth you would expect.

I feel like I fit right in.

The exhibit runs through January 31.

The Little Prints

Untitled dry points. 2" x 2" on 10" x 10.5" Tiepolo paper. Edition of 6. 2009.

I have not written about new work for a while but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been happening. In fact I’ve been chomping at the bit to reveal my secret projects and here is one of them.

This set of eight two-inch square prints fits into a hole in my body of work—small, affordable edition work. Printed by master printer Judy Mensch, they’re arresting objects in their own right or could be a complete set; very collectible either way. There are six of each image, a very small edition.



Having started as stone carver, I have the utmost respect for technical mastery of an ancient craft and that is why I have hesitated for so long to start serious printmaking. I did not want my imperfect command of the medium to diminish the impact of my ideas. For some, craft is a end unto itself and for others it is a barrier to entry. In this case I was in the latter group but that’s where Judy comes in.



The experience of working with her has been a liberation from my own limitations. She is an expert on all technical aspects of print-making and while she is an excellent artist in her own right and her work is quite different from mine aesthetically, she has guided me expertly through the drypoint process and her printing has given life to my ideas. She has excellent taste and sound judgement. She couldn’t be easier or more helpful to work with.



The only problem with Judy is that she lives in New York--nobody's perfect, right?--which is not exactly convenient. We’re managing ok so far, but first things first: we must finish this run before I ponder too much what to do in the future. So far five of the planned eight images are ready.



For now, let’s enjoy what we have, far enough along in its gestation that we can speak about it openly.

Preview of what's to come

Here's a quick peek at the remaining three images in the suite. These are artist proofs but they will be printed in the same format as the other five. Enjoy!


Three dry point. 2" x 2" 2009. Artist Proofs. Future edition of six.

The Pink House

Layhill's Last Farm House oil on canvas 30" x 40" 1992.

When I was a child the little subdivision where I lived was an island of suburbia in the middle of the country--or at least it seemed that way. In every direction, fields and forests: a small Eden for a boy to explore and proving ground for a thousand childhood fantasies.

I learned to run crosscountry by chasing deer and I found out that I was fast when I caught one. I helped my father chop wood in the autumn and my mother taught me where to find rare wildflowers in the spring. Sledding was an embarrassment of riches and summer was a toy boat in a bubbling stream. Open space and unstructured play with the many children nearby made me the person I am today.

Passing years could be measured in bulldozer tracks as one farm after another was sold, razed, and replaced my more culs-de-sac until only a few parks remained of what had been a pretty wild place. By the time I was in college, the winding country road was a divided highway and you could walk to the Metro. The Real Estate market even claimed a nearby golf course.

By the time I came back from junior year in Europe (1992), only one farm house remained, and it didn't seem long for this world so I did a painting of it, illustrated above, to keep at least some record of how things were before.

All this time later, the pink house is still there. My brother lives in the house where we both grew up and the painting is hanging on his wall. He emailed me the other day with a link to a blog he had found. It was about the pink house.

It turns out the owners are musicians who are methodically restoring the house after a fire in 2005 (now I'm really glad I did the painting!) and blogging about it. The account is extremely detailed and is links the their other, more personal, blog so I've been able to learn quite alot about the pink house and its residents.

Standing in the tall grass in the hot Washington summer and feeling like a vanGogh/Hopper hybrid (I had just been to Arles) I wondered a lot about the people inside and their lives. When I finished the painting I think I went to show it to them and I don't remember if anyone was home.

Thanks to their blog I was able to learn more about them, and now thanks to my blog, they can see the painting.

The City that Never Sleeps

Now there's an easier way to view some highlights from my City that Never Sleeps series. here. Enjoy!

My newest drawing

Venerablis. Charcoal on painted birch plywood, 48" x 48" 2009

Here's the latest in my series of big tree drawings. It brings together so much that is good about the earlier ones and goes much. much further. In fact, the other day I had one of the earlier ones leaning against the wall along side so I could photograph it and I was almost embarrassed. Well, you want them to each be better than the previous.

I am especially pleased because this is part of the group of six major pieces that are going to William and Mary for their new law library. The drawings are meditations on wisdom, persistence, aspiration, ancientness, awe, and quiet power. I could hardly imagine a better or more appropriate setting than a library. I hope they impart something in today's scholars and tomorrows leaders.

I'm also really grateful to William and Mary for choosing my work in the first place, but for allowing me to include a work that was very much in progress at the time of selection.