Time In a Paint Tube

The Persistence of Memory by Salvador Dali has to be one of my favorite paintings of all time. It strikes me as a painting one could meditate on just by staring at those limp clocks in a landscape that seems to recede to infinity. This is a piece I wish I would have conceived of.

In fact, in the early 1970's, time struck me as being some sort of mysterious, transcendental force that we are all caught up in, slowing drifting down an invisible river, with all of its flows and eddies and -- on occasion -- rapids; no way to go back -- only forward, until we plunge over the edge to the ends of our lives.

Time IS transcendental -- I can't really explain what it is about time that has always fascinated me. Images like The Persistence of Memory come the closest to expressing a sense I get about the infinite. And for a former scientist like me, I can't reconcile those feelings with logic or the scientific method. Those feelings just -- ARE.

Some things have changed over the years regarding how my time is used, however. My senior year as a microbiology major (who had additional scientific interests to explore) began a process of becoming very busy for the first time in my life.

Then came grad school. I easily put in 14-16 hour days, seven days a week. I used to child grad students about how much time they spent in the lab -- until I became a grad student myself. The frustrating part was: no one (other than other grad students or faculty members -- former grad students themselves) understood how consuming grad school is for science students. People would ask me to do things with them or volunteer to do stuff for the church -- and I couldn't. No time!

It's kind of that way now, too. Trying to survive financially in art is another all-consuming activity. A gallery owner in Scottsdale, AZ told me the successful artists he knows work at their art 8-10 hours a day, seven days a week, no hobbies or outside interests other than what they need to do to make art.

So between grad school and painting, I've become somewhat of a hermit -- not because I'm trying to avoid society, but because I need to paint and then sell those paintings.

And -- the older I get, the faster time seems to slip away from me. I rarely have opportunities to meditate on the idea of time anymore. I miss that.

But hopefully, I'll continue to make artwork that will be appreciated by others in whatever time I have left.

Oscars

I guess the Oscars are coming up pretty soon. I say "I guess" because I'm not interested in watching it, and I don't know when it'll be broadcast.

How many awards events do these people need? Let's see...we've had the Golden Globes, Screen Actors Guild, Directors Choice...did I miss any? Then we also have the Grammies, the Emmies, the Peoples' Choice, American Music Association, Music Videos, etc. etc. etc.

Getting a paycheck isn't enough, it seems. Either these people in "the biz" really MUST have all that adoration and recognition, or they go along with it, put on a good show and do the best they can under the circumstances. I doubt the latter is the case.

I always loved hearing about late actor George C. Scott. He would sleep through the Oscars, and if he won, someone would call him (and wake him up), tell him he won, then he'd roll over and go back to sleep.

I won't be sleeping through the Oscars or the other numerous awards programs. I'll be painting. And I'll either listen to music, watch something else, or work in silence. Hmmm...that last one sounds mighty appealing!

How About Them Infrared Sox, Huh?

OK, as far as I know, there isn't a baseball team called the Infrared Sox (not to be confused with the Red Sox).

But infrared (IR) photography has always been a sort of hobby for me. I used to shoot 35mm infrared film, which was a pain for a number of reasons:

- It has to be loaded in, and removed from, the camera in total darkness;

- I had to cover the pressure plate on the inside of the camera back with matt black paper; otherwise, IR would pass through the film and reflect off of the pressure plate which has rows and columns of indentations that focus the IR back to the film, resulting in dark spots across the picture area;

- 35mm IR film is always grainy. This can be used to good effect, but sometimes I wanted NONgrainy pictures;

-contrast and exposure were difficult to control.

So finding out digital cameras are naturally IR-sensitive wa a Godsend! (If you want to see for yourself, look at the LCD screen on your digital camera while someone points a TV remote at it). I bought a filter adaptor and an IR filter, and did some shooting today. The images appear a deep red until they are "Photoshopped" into black-and-white images. And voila!! IR photos without the hassle of darkrooms or fumbling in the dark.

If this technology had been available years ago, it's possible I might have pursured a career as an IR photographer rather than as a painter. But at this point, I don't want to start all over again.

So it's painting forever for me! But IR photography will remain as a fun hobby and -- maybe -- a secondary source of income someday.

Jurassic Park / Jurassic Mark

The first of the "Jurassic Park" movies is one of my favorite flicks. After it came out in 1993 and I had seen it several times, I did a takeoff of the name and signed e-mails "Jurassic Mark." It seemed appropriate for several reasons:

- My name is Mark -- rhymes with, and looks like, "Park";
- I love the movie;
- I like dinosaurs (although I'm not an expert on them);
- I'll be 60 years old in a few months which, as far as I'm concerned, might as well be 150 million years old!

So -- yes, I'm a Jurassic-age fossil, and I go around chasing down and eating humans. Well, OK, I don't eat people, but I sure FEEL old sometimes! Except when I'm painting -- that takes me away from real life for a while. But in some ways, I'm still kind of a dino.

Don't be surprised if you get an e-mail signed by Jurassic Mark. That would be me.

Painting of Arches National Park

This is my latest painting -- finished just a few days ago! The size is a mere 11" x 14"/28cm x 36cm.

I mentioned on Wednesday's (28 Jan 2009) post about a trip we took to Lake Powell. One day of that trip, we (actually, I) hightailed it over to Arches National Park. This was the third visit I've made there and each time had only one day to look around! (Someday, we really need to spend a week there to see it all!)

This time around, I hiked up to see Delicate Arch up close (if you've ever seen a Utah license plate, you've seen this formation pictured on the plate). That hike wiped me out, it was getting late and the Park was surrounded by stormy weather, although at the Park itself, we had only alternating periods of sun and cloud cover.

On the way out in late afternoon, I saw this view which changed constantly as the wind drove the clouds across the sky, illuminating some distant formations, then casting them into shadow moments later. The foreground stayed mostly in shadow.

These are the kinds of scenes I live for. The lighting was magical, one could see forever, and the spires on the sides framed the view perfectly. Well, OK, I have one confession to make: the spires were separated by about 100 yards/100m and are not seen in the same view as I depicted them. Other than that, the painting, "Desert Moods" shows what I saw that afternoon. No apologizes necessary.

Again, as my tagline says: "The Vast Spaces of the Southwest" lives on.

Lake Powell

In late May, 2008, The Wiffee and I took a trip to northeastern Arizona and southeastern Utah. Our first stop was Lake Powell. The area features some of that neat redrock scenery that's typical of that part of the country plus a reservoir created by Glen Canyon Dam. Lake Powell is under the management of the National Park Service.

Our room on the second floor had a balcony that faced the lake. This painting shows the view we had, which was always amazing around sundown. The only change I made was to replace some tall, bamboo-like reeds with some native low-growing shrubbery in the foreground.

But everything else appears just as it was early one evening -- a place of magic.

Soberanes Point

As you probably know by now, I paint a lot of desert scenes. BUT -- believe it or not -- deserts aren't the only landscapes I paint. (Quick! Put your head between your knees before you totally pass out!)

The attached image shows a painting I made in 2006 of Soberanes Point, a spectacular spot along the Big Sur coastline of central California. This is one of several works I completed over the years. In fact, I'd like to do more. I always felt my desert paintings are stronger than my work of other types of scenery, but I think I'm getting to the point where I would paint good coastal views as well.

Soberanes Point lends itself to dramatic treatment because of the lighting, low clouds, rugged terrain, composition and colors. I should be able to improve on this particular painting the next time I make another piece of this or other views of Big Sur. So if you'd like to acquire this artwork, let me know! It needs a home. Size is 22" x 28"/56cm x 71cm, unframed.

When I paint another version of Soberanes Point, what you YOU have me do differently? More lights and darks? More flowers? More or less sky? Or...?