Light and Dark

I should soon finish a painting that -- to me, anyway -- will be reminiscent of 17th century Dutch painter Jacob van Ruisdael (if you're rusty in pronouncing Dutch, that's YAH-cobe von ROYCE-doll: roll the "r" a little).

While his works weren't strictly naturalistic, they do seem to impart a mystical or spiritual feeling (a value I treasure highly in art) to what would otherwise be a flat and possibly boring landscape. If you read my Artists Bio and Statement on my Website (http://www.southwestspaces.com/), you'll notice JvR is listed as one of my main influences, although I don't always emulate him as much as I should.

But this time I'm doing it! Dramatic darks with spots of light breaking through the heavens that dance across the scene and give it rhythm. And lots of space -- just like in the desert. With any luck, I should be able to post my latest piece soon. I also expect it'll turn up on the homepage of the Website.

Shakin'

Earthquakes -- those, and state politics -- can make life interesting for California residents.

If you've heard the news today, we had an earthquake today --5.2 magnitude, about 90 minutes drive from here. We received a little shaking from it. But my brother lives much closer to the epicenter. At least all he lost was a plastic model of a US Navy destroyer which was crushed when something fell over on it.

Earthquakes can be surreal experiences, especially if you've never gone through one. Waves roll through the ground like waves through the ocean. Buildings and trees sway and rock back and forth. Items inside the home rattle and clink together as though a truck was passing outside -- close to the house! Sometimes, stuff tips over and falls to the floor. And something I've never had to deal with personally (so far) -- a building collapses, highway bridges crumble, water and/or power delivery fails, roads crack or sink into the ground.

They tell us The Big One is coming -- sooner or later. It may or may not impact our area, and it may or may not happen in my lifetime. It sort of reminds me of growing up wondering if America and the rest of the world might have to deal with nuclear warfare -- never knowing if a cataclysmic event would be our fate. Or not.

Let's hope they're wrong about The Big One and a nuclear war.

Jurassic Mark

Jurassic Mark is a name I came up with for myself soon after the movie, "Jurassic Park" came out. I've always sort of liked dinosaurs anyway, and the movie, especially the first of the three, is one of my favorites. (I love the roar of the T. rex in the first "JP"!) So I couldn't resist doing a takeoff of the title, besides the fact that sometimes I feel like I'm 150 million years old!

The movie does have it's scientific issues; i.e., they as much as doubled the dinos' sizes --velociraptors were about 3 feet/1 meter tall, NOT 7 feet/2 meters high as they are in the flicks. Also, if dinosaurs were so closely related to birds, they would have used bird DNA, not frog DNA, to fill in the missing dino DNA sequences.

But Steven Spielberg did a fantastic job of bringing dinosaurs to life on the screen in a way I hadn't seen before.

I have considered painting a few dinosaur images (well, they'd be landscapes with dinos in them), the way I paint modern-day wildlife into my landscapes. But I'd really have to become much more familiar with dino anatomy than I am now. In any case, that's a "someday" project.

Oh--the photo. That's a little plush dino my wife bought for me as we were on our way to see "Jurassic Park II: The Lost World." Cute, huh?

A Religion of Art?

Years ago in college, I took a class called "Writing for the Arts." Thankfully, the instructor avoided "Artspeak," that nonsensical style of writing about art that amounts to, well, nonsense.

Anyway, the professor mentioned that she was brought up Catholic, but that her religion became art and psychology. That thought has stuck in my mind for over 20 years. I learned some good ideas about writing from her, but her comment always bothered me a little.

I think most artists -- all but the most commercially-driven ones, anyway -- would say that creating art is almost like a religious experience for them. Taking one's loves (or hates) and, in a sense, a pictorial expression of one's inner being and putting it on canvas, paper, clay, whatever, can be a cathartic and freeing event for an artist. Perhaps it's a little like going to confession and absolution--getting it all out and feeling so much better afterwards. At least, that's the idea.

I've also heard the notion that art is the output of a neurotic condition. We can certainly see examples of that out there! On the other hand, perhaps art is made in spite of, NOT because of, the emotional baggage we carry.

But returning to the religion aspect -- maybe it depends on what we expect our religion(s) to do for us. For many of us, it has to do with being imperfect beings trying to stand before Perfection -- and falling short. So life is about living as perfectly as we can and seeking forgiveness when we don't. In this case, I would think art (and/or psychology) as religion would be terribly inadequate, as touching and moving as really good art can be.

The above-mentioned teacher moved on to assume an editor position at an art publication and afterwards became the curator of an art museum. I've since lost touch. I hope she's still involved in art and in writing about art. But I also hope she found something more substantial than art and psychology in which to invest her soul. If not, I feel rather sad for her.

eBay Art

How did we ever survive without eBay?

Seems like we can find anything we want on that online auction site. So it should come as no surprise art is available there, too!

I frequently place small pieces on eBay for bid. These items are a little different from what I normally do: besides the smaller sizes (8" x 10"/20cm x 25cm; and on panel, not canvas), they don't have the transparent layers of color that give my "regular" paintings the appearance of stained glass. But since I know I need to keep the prices low, I can't spend a great deal of time creating them.

However, I still feel pride in what I produce, and sometimes it gives me a chance to try things that I might re-create on a larger scale later.

The attached image is an example of this. It's obviously not a desert scene! But it was fun to do, I want to paint a bigger version someday soon, I enjoy the colors of autumn, and I believe I captured the spiritual essence of the place.

(To find me on eBay, simply search for "Mark Junge." You can narrow the search by searching under the "Art" category).

The "Real" Surreal

I used to use electron microscopes a lot in some of the research jobs I had. One type is the scanning electron microscope (SEM), which makes images that resemble black-and-white photographs. (Nowadays, SEMs can be linked to computers that add false color to the images).

SEMs can be used in research, quality control and forensics. But for the artistically-inclined, they can be wonderful tools for showing the surrealistic world that exists right under our noses!

The scanning electron micrograph (the fancy name for a picture taken on an SEM) to the right is a highly magnified object common to many, if not all, of us. Can you guess what it is?

It's salted popcorn! The cubes that are scattered about are salt crystals.

The "mountain" that rises in the background is not part of the popcorn -- it's some of the dried electrically-conducting carbon paste that we use to adhere specimens to a sample holder which, in turn, is inserted in the SEM. But I always thought it helped give the image the look of a landscape, so I didn't crop it out.

We know about the concept of the universe being a vast place with stars, planets and many other things (but with LOTS of empty space). But we live in another universe as well, and one that is equally hard to see and comprehend -- the universe of the microscopic and the infinitely small.

Let This Be a Sign Unto You

If you ever happen to get a close look at the way I sign my paintings, you'll see more there than just my name.

The "Mark Junge" is followed by the date of creation -- nowadays without the copyright symbol. (I do put copyright notices on jpegs of paintings I post on the Internet as a way of discouraging lowdown slime from downloading and using my work without paying me for it).

I also include the Latin phrase, Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam. The translation: "To the greater glory of God." Catholic readers will recognize it as the motto of the Jesuits.

I heard many years ago that J.S.Bach used to write the initials "AMDG" on his manuscripts. That sounded like a good idea to me, and it seemed appropriate, not only in terms of my beliefs but in keeping with the 19th century American Hudson River School painters' philosophy where landscape painting was the ultimate expression of your reverence for God.

So--I started printing "AMDG" on my paintings, then eventually spelled it out as long as the painting was large enough to accomodate it.

Finally, I sometimes include designs based on Anasazi petroglyphs of desert bighorn sheep. I used to stick these on any large rocks that might appear in the immediate foreground, but lately I've just been adding them to the signature.

Maybe someday I'll simplify the entire signature process, and I often do on paintings that might be classified "modern." But most of what I do is traditional with a surreal twist, and somehow all of the above symbols seem to work as a sign unto you.