No Dumb Bunnies HERE!!!

I'm a bad boy. I put food out for the wild critters around here -- rabbit pellets for the bunnies and chicken scratch for the quail. There are certain places where I put each of these food items.

Of course, the critters don't always eat just "their" food, and that's especially true of the bunnies. Given the choice, they would rather eat scratch than pellets; however, if that was all I put out, the long-earred varmints wouldn't get much of a snack: they eat one kernal at a time, while the quail rapidly peck and eat the grains, managing to swallow between pecks. The quail would clear the area of scratch while the poor bunnies would get only a little.

But it's fun watching how the bunnies have changed their behavior over time. I put the scratch in an old Cool Whip container and toss the stuff one handful at a time. The bunnies used to run out to get it as soon as I threw it -- and got pelted with grain and corn, which probably doesn't feel very good.

Now, they wait on the side and run out between throws, and they'll run to an area that I've already thrown to. That, in turn, makes it easier for me to avoid hitting them with scratch.

These bunnies ain't dumb!

MORE Autumn!!

Except this time, it's the Colorado mountains, not the desert; and it's a painting, not a photograph.

As with the last painting I posted ("Cliffs of the Green River"), the painting is not entirely a literal rendition -- I put several different views togehter into one image (guess you could say I "Photoshop'ed it").

The mountains are the Sneffels Range, somewhat north of Telluride, CO; and the peak to the left of center is Mount Sneffels. Mt. Sneffels is one of Colorado's "14ers," meaning it's 14,000 or more feet high. (That's 4.3km to you metric folks). The area depicted is the Dallas Divide, a place that's filled with aspen, spruce and red oak. Catch it at the right time of year (usually mid-late September), and you'll see it in spectacular fall glory.

Fall in the Desert #2

This photo was taken a few minutes before the one in the previous post. It doesn't really show seasonal clues, but I like the overlapping mountains -- a common sight in the desert.

Fall in the Desert #1

Many parts of the country have definite seasons. You can look at a picture and easily guess the season by the way the natural elements look. In the desert, the seasons have their differences, but the differences are subtle, and you have to know what to look for.

I took the attached photo this afternoon in Joshua Tree National Park. In many ways, the picture could have been taken at any time of the year, and it would look virtually the same as this one. But this photo holds two small clues that reveal what season it is:

(1) the rusty-red seedheads of wild buckwheat dot the landscape; admittedly, these can persist pretty much throughout the year;

(2) the real clue, a little hard to see in this view, but it's there -- the rabbitbrush is in bloom with goldenrod-yellowish flowers. Rabbitbrush is an autumn-blossoming shrub common in many places in the West.

Subtle, huh?

Autumn, Art and Other Kinds of Seasons

Tonight was the first gallery ArtWalk of the season in the desert community where I have a number of paintings. The attendence was low, I'm sure because: (1) tonight was also the VP debate (Biden-Palin) on TV, and; (2) not all of the seasonal/part-time residents are back in the area yet.

However, I did have an opportunity to speak with some of the gallery people I network with. I heard hopeful comments from a couple of gallery directors--sales should be good since many of their clientele are people who are not as affected by the current economic situation. In fact, their art sales seem to be continuing in spite of the financial conditions we hear so much about these days. As a full-time artist whose day job is making and selling art, that's good news for me. I have to remain positive as the season begins in the desert.

Ahhh...autumn and art sales -- two great seasons!

Homage to a Hero

Well, a painting hero of mine, anyway!

Nineteenth century American artist Thomas Moran created many paintings showing Toll Gate Rock and other formations in what is now Green River, WY. I had an opportunity to visit the area myself last year, and the attached image shows MY rendering of Green River.

Like Moran, I didn't make an exact copy of what the place looks like. Each of the formations exists and is accurate, but not all of the formations are present in the same view. But, also like Moran, sometimes going for the feel and the spirit of a site is more important than a mechanically-accurate approach. In this case, I agreed with Moran.

It's a special place, and I hope to do more paintings of it as well as go there again (hopefully in the afternoon next time-- the lighting would have been nicer then) so I can do even more paintings!

Art and Horses

This weekend The Wiffee and I went to the Los Angeles County Fair , a fair that is larger than most state fairs and certainly larger than most/all county fairs. One can see and do all kinds of things there, but my personal favorites are the art show (no duh!!!) and the draft horse show.

This year, the two shows had something in common -- the art show featured artwork about horses! So besides spending hours watching those big boys and girls trotting their stuff around the ring, we saw many examples of horses depicted in various art forms. (I guess I'll have to do some paintings of horses some day).

The photo on the left shows a horse that is not a draft horse but happens to be in my favorite coloring -- a paint horse (appropriate for a painter like me!) The other picture appeared in the art show and is a reproduction of horses from cave paintings in Lascaux, France.

Art and horses -- the best of this world!

More About Surrealism

If you've been following my blog for a while, you know I paint mostly Western landscapes, especially desert scenes. But I'm a surreal sort of person, too. I used to paint in a surrealistic style, and have always like the works of early 20th century surrealists like Salvadore Dali, Rene Magritte, Paul Delvaux and Yves Tanguy.

The last artist in that list holds a special fascination for me. I used to use electron microscopes a lot in my science days (grad school and jobs), and one type of scope -- the scanning electron microscope (SEM) -- produced images that looked very much like Tanguy's paintings: a microscopic world inhabited by bacteria, teeny-tiny fragments of bone and other hard-to-describe features.

I've made a few paintings that combined Tanguy's look with things I've seen under the SEM. I've posted one example of this above. This is what one might see if shrunk down to microscopic size, with bacterial cells of E. coli and Staphylococcus strewn all around. (Of course, I doubt our eyes or anything else would function if we were reduced to a micrometer in height, but that's beside the point!)

If we could see with God's eyes...

Autumn Equinox Time!

Ahhh...welcome to autumn!

As I mentioned in a previous post, fall seems to bring out the artistic impulses in me -- something like a migratory instinct, I guess, except in my case, it's a desire to immerse myself in the beauty of autumn.

During fall (and Christmas, too), I decorate out living room with all kinds of autumn stuff. This year, I added some orange Halloween lights to the display. They were made in China, as are so many consumer goods these days. One warning printed on the box had me a little concerned: the insulation on the wires contains lead. The instructions even recommended washing one's hands after handling the wires.

Good grief! What is it about Chinese companies that compells them to manufacture items using toxic materials?

Well, anyway, the decorations are up and, IMO, they look good. I consider decorating for the holidays an extension of what I do when I paint.

Gambling...Sex...Art

The wiffee and I (yes, I call my wife "wiffee"!) ran off to Las Vegas, NV this weekend. I've always wanted to look into the art gallery scene there, and an art trade show, Art Expo Las Vegas 2008 was going on this weekend, too. So it seemed like a good opportunity to answer some questions I've had about whether or not Vegas galleries are a place for an emerging artist like me to make a few $$$.

The Art Expo was sort of fun. They had an area devoted to individual artists who paid something like $2500 to be there (that included a room at the Mandalay Bay Hotel and Casino where the Expo was held). I knew one of the artists there who lives in the low desert, but I never heard of the others.

The Expo also featured booths featuring art print publishers, Iris printers (for making one's own Giclee prints) and galleries, most of them from outside the area. Only one publisher carried western/realistic art prints, so I left some information with them.

Afterwards, we made an effort to find some galleries we could visit and, if it seemed to be a good "fit," talk with them about possible representation. Only one problem:

I don't think Las Vegas galleries want you to find them!!!!

Trying to find information about them -- ads, word of mouth, special advertising publications like "Gallery Guide" or "Art Scene" -- seem to be of little interest to this crowd. Maybe the locals know where to find the galleries, but if you're an out-of-towner, try to find one of these galleries. Just try. If you look them up in the phone book and try calling them, you likely will get an answering machine. We did connect with one gallery person over the phone, but after about the first 15 seconds, he hung up on us.

I doubt I'll be approaching any galleries in Las Vegas. I don't think they're really interested in selling art.

The photo is of the Fremont Experience area in the older part of Las Vegas. In the evenings, they put on a sort of gambling-themed light show on the canopy/roof structure. (We also saw a man with a sign warning everyone of God's judgement on those who indulge in gambling and/or sexual diversions. I think we were safe this time).

Disaster Recovery Efforts

As I mentioned in my last post, I was having trouble painting in the sky in my homage to Thomas Moran and his series of paintings entitled (with some variation) "Cliffs of the Green River."

I've painted in a new sky and a different set of clouds -- perhaps a type that lends itself more to a smaller piece like this one -- and I'm much happier with the sky.

So on I go to the other elements of the landscape. Obviously, it won't be ready to post for a while yet, so here's version #2 of Moran's "Cliffs of the Green River."

A Disaster

In my last post, I briefly mentioned artwork in progress can turn out to be disasters.

Yesterday was a day for disasterous painting. It's a piece I just started. I finished the sketch of the important elements (Toll Gate Rock and the other cliffs in Green River, WY), painted in the blue sky, and THEN!!!--I started on the clouds.

It would have been OK if I would have known when to stop, but I kept re-working and re-working the clouds and ended up with something truly hideous. So I ended up painting them out and trying again until after midnight last night. This time, the clouds were even worse!!

Since the painting is on panel, this morning I did some sanding, trying to reduce the thickness of the paint film and the numerous glazes I had applied by this time. And I discovered using an electric sander on acrylic paint doesn't work the way I was expecting. The friction of the sandpaper produces enough heat to melt blobs of sanded-off dry paint into the remaining paint film. I had to hand-sand those spots until the blobs were gone and I had a basically smooth surface again. Si-i-g-g-h-h-h...

Well, in the meantime, I'm preparing the surface again, and by tomorrow, I should be on my way. So for now, I've posted one of 19th century artist Thomas Moran's many paintings of the cliffs of the Green River. My painting will be similar, but it'll definitely be my own. (For one, I was there in the morning, so my light will come from the right. Moran's afternoon light comes from the left).

Disasters

Well, every so often, I might call a painting I've finished a "disaster." All artists produce works that just don't work for whatever reason.

But in this case, I'm referring to natural disasters. Hurricane Ike brought frightening ruin to the Texas coast, and it reminds me how fragile our lives and our material things are.

Here in the California desert, it's unlikely we'll ever have to be overly concerned about hurricanes. Sometimes we get tornados, but they're rare.

The problem here: earthquakes. The state is riddled with fault lines. Some are active, some haven't been but could become active. We live less than 100 yards/100m from a relatively inactive fault -- a state highway lies right on top of it. And we're about 20 miles/32.2km (as the crow flies) from the San Andreas fault, which is guaranteed to cause a major disaster, 'tho' no one knows when. Someday, this area is going to get nailed. Whether we'll still be alive to see it is the issue. Or it could happen a minute from now.

The painting I've shown includes a small portion of one branch of the San Andreas fault. The fault runs along the front of the palm trees, which tend to grow along faults since underground water is able to seep close to the surface. From this viewpoint, you are standing on the Pacific plate, moving slowly towards the left. The palms and the hills behind them are on the North American plate, moving slowly to the right. Someday, the city of San Francisco will be where the palms are now, IF all that movement enables the city to survive.

Johnny One-Note

In my previous post, I mentioned a weekly art show I used to visit from time to time and how much I enjoyed a desert landscape painter that showed there.

I remember another painter I used to see at that show. I can't recall his work in detail, but it featured mountains, a lake and pine trees. All in browns and greens. ALL of his paintings.

For you see, he painted the same painting over and over again. Big ones, small ones, horizontal and vertical ones of each size. But the image was essentially the same on each canvas.

If a customer really liked the image, s/he would have no problem finding the right size and format for the available space in the home or office. If people didn't like the image, well, there was nothing else to look at in this guy's booth, so the buyers would move along and look elsewhere.

I never did talk with the artist. I'd love to know if he discovered the image was a winner: that's why he painted it and it only. Or: was it an image he liked and therefore banked his time and his material costs on re-painting it ad nauseum?

I've heard artists like this referred to as "Johnny One-Notes." No variety, no experimentation--just do what's safe and, possibly, saleable. While it isn't unusual for artists to become known for doing a certain subject with variations, THIS guy took it to an extreme.

Frankly, I think that's sad. If he's still painting and selling work, I hope he's grown in his art AND in his ability to take chances.

First Influence

If you were to read my Bio/Statement on my Website http://southwestspaces.com/biography%20and%20statement.html (which is, of course, required reading for all!!), you would see some of the artists from the past who have influenced the way I work on my landscapes.

One artist, however, is missing from the list. This was a man with a German accent who I used to see at a weekly art show in the early 1970's at Griswold's in Claremont, CA. He painted mostly desert scenes that had an Old Master quality about them. His world was always "at the spring," with everything in bloom and rugged mountains rising tall behind the saguaros and ocotillos.

I was attending college in those days (actually, one of numerous runs in college) and wasn't working. So, sadly, I wasn't able to buy one of his paintings. I think this artist (whose name I don't remember) figured I might buy a piece sooner or later: he always made it a point to get up from his chair and come over to talk to me as I stood there, practically drooling over the beauty of his paintings.

Indeed, to this day I wish I would have found a way to hustle the money to buy one. He captured the sheer majesty of the desert in a way that inspires me today. I consider him the first influence in my painting career, and unfortunately, I'm unable to list his name because I don't know it. I doubt that he is alive today, and since Griswold's stopped doing the art shows years ago and has changed ownership at least once (it isn't even called "Griswold's" anymore), and since his studio/gallery that was located in Pomona, CA is long gone, I have no way to locate him or even search for his paintings online.

So the lesson is this: if you see art that touches you in a deeply profound way: BUY IT!! Now!! You, like me, may regret not doing so years from now. Truly one-of-a-kind art from one-in-a-kind artists is rare, and when you finally realize how much better your life would be if you only had "that painting" or "that sculpture" or whatever -- it may be too late.

You can buy that flat-screen TV anytime. They'll be around. Artists may not be.

Cactus and Other Critters

Bunnies aren't the only desert critters I put into paintings.

This is a cactus wren that I included in a large (48" x 60"/1.2m x 1.5m) painting. Cactus wrens are not the most colorful birds around, but they have a call that's unlike any other sound you've heard. When you hear it, you know you're in the desert.

Bunny Art

If you've ever wondered where my avatar (with the desert cottontail bunny-rabbit) came from:

It was one of our yard bunnies. I put out small amounts of food for the wild critters -- not enough for them to live on so they're not dependent on us -- and I take pictures of them. Bunnies, Gambels quail, roadrunners, coyotes (I don't put food out for them, but feeding prey indirectly feeds the predators), hawks, whatever. I use these photos as reference material to paint critters, almost always in a different, more dramatic context.

Look carefully at the attached image, and you'll see my avatar bunny near the bottom, right of center in a large (48" x 60"/1.2m x 1.5m) painting of the southern California desert in the Palm Springs area.

Concerned

I worry a lot, especially about things I can't control.

Take the painting, "Song of the Angels" on the right by William Bouguereau, quite possibly the best artist of the 19th century and arguably of all time. Many people today would not appreciate a painting like this and don't understand why it is an example of great art.

As one who is inspired by classical art, I'm concerned that kids today are not exposed to great art. Even college students are led to believe that work like this is "sentimental," "derivative, "boring" and worse.

Sadly, we have many art "professionals" who promote an agenda that de-emphasizes developing skill and discipline in the arts. It's like music students learning to play, sing or compose music without learning anything about scales, chord theory or other basics.

Add to this the fact that when school budgets get tight, the first things eliminated from the curricula are the art and music programs.

I'm one of those who believe so many people, maybe especially in America, see art as being entirely trivial -- nothing more than a decoration that matches the sofa and window treatment and that "ties the whole room together." And kids, and even many adults, know (and will learn) nothing about art and what great art can do for us. What will this do to the future of art and to those of us who make (and try to sell) traditional/classical art?

A fella by the name of Brian Yoder has a Website where he discusses the topic of great art in more depth than is possible here. Whether you agree with his viewpoint or not, his comments will make you think. Find his thoughts in his "frequently asked questions" section: http://www.goodart.org/faq.htm

Also, an outfit called the Art Renewal Center has many online articles and a vast collection of traditional artwork (also online): http://www.artrenewal.com (note: some of the art shown on this site, including the home page, does show nudity -- not to be confused with pornography IMO).

Meanwhile, I'll be busy -- painting in the classical style, and worrying whether or not anyone will even like this stuff in 10-20 years.

Art is My Drug

As I sit here at the confuser, I have a TV tuned to VH1's "Drug Years," a set of programs about the late 1960's-'70's and the proliferation of marijuana, LSD, speed and other stuff that became popular among the hippie culture. The programs bring back a lot of memories for me.

By 1968, I was already a year out of high school and was beginning to take on the look of the "hippies" I knew in community college. (The look eventually evolved into biker dress without the gang colors of Hells Angels et al). Many of the people I hung with used drugs; yet, for whatever reason, I didn't get into that stuff myself. Well, OK, I took ONE puff on a joint out of curiosity about the taste and how it felt to fill one's lungs intentionally with smoke. That was it. I've sometimes wondered why I never got caught up with drugs as others around me did.

I only thing I can figure is: I'm a rebel. Always have been. I wouldn't be an artist today if I wasn't willing to break away from convention and do something like that, especially when some people tell you "you can't make it as an artist." That just makes me want to prove them wrong.

I seem to rebel against whatever is popular, whatever the status symbols are, and -- of course -- the status quo. When the movie, "The Titanic" came out and it became such a hit, I made it a point NOT to see it. When SUVs became the rage, I hated 'em -- and still do. And when people tell me to accept things the way they are; or to take the safe, easy way -- hey! I'LL SHOW YOU!!!

And drugs and alcohol. Using them never struck me as being a very bright thng to do. I saw people who were out of control and acting stupid. I hate being out of control and acting stupid. I need discipline to do art and to grow in it, even when I wasn't that self-disciplined in the late '60's-early '70's.

I'm sure my rebellious nature has caused me a lot of problems over the years. But it also saved me from the negative consequences of using drugs.

Besides, art is my drug. Nothing else can compare to the high I get when a painting is turning out better than I expected. I'm not sure if art is cheaper than drugs, but I have something to show for it when the high is over. That works for me!

Desert Color

Most of the year, the desert can be a rather bland, colorless (though still dramatic) place. The greens that appear here tend to be grayed-down and subdued.

Spring is a whole 'nother matter, IF it rains in the right amounts and at the right time. Then the desert explodes with color. Flowers seem to appear from the brown sands and, in a matter of a few weeks, make up for the lack of color the rest of the year.

First to appear are the annuals, or ephemerals as they are sometimes called. This last name is appropriate, for they mysteriously appear quickly, last a short time and then totally vanish, leaving no trace or hint of their glorious existence.

Perennial shrubs and cactus bloom a bit later than the annuals. Cactus flowers, in particular, seem to glow in vivid, fluorescent hues. Pictures of some of these will follow this post soon.

The accompanying photo shows a Joshua tree, signature plant of the Mojave desert, in a field of light-yellow desert dandelions. I've already painted (and sold) a piece showing this view, which I witnessed in April 2008 in Joshua Tree National Park, CA. (I expect I'll be painting more works of this area soon).

Rainbow

It doesn't rain that often in the desert, as one might expect, so when it DOES rain and we get a rainbow out of it, that's pretty special!!

Hey, Duck!!!

Well, not "duck" as in "reduce altitude." "Duck" as in "mallard duck," "wood duck" and other assorted ducks.

I get a kick out of ducks. They're colorful, cute and clownish all at the same time. One of the few downsides of living in the desert is: there are only a few places with water where ducks might be found -- even that takes considerable luck.

I don't hunt ducks (or anything else), but sometimes I feel like I must be part duck. When autumn is near, I start feeling antsy and excited, as though I want to migrate or something.

Instead of wanting to paint deserts, I want to paint scenes where fall has reached its full glory. And since I paint better than I fly, I try to squeeze in some autumn landscapes along with the desert material. Fall landscapes are not my specialty, and I don't feel they turn out quite as well as the "vast spaces of the southwest" (my tagline -- it appears on every page on my Website: http://www.southwestspaces.com/) . But I am getting better at them, and painting autumn when it actually IS autumn seems to heighten the excitement I feel about the season.

The attached image is "Autumn Marsh" by David A. Maass, one of my favorite sporting art painters. The view is desert-like in some ways -- lots of space. When fall is here, the framed prints I normally hang in my studio come down, and a number of David's prints go up in their place. From around mid-September to year's end, the season in my studio is unquestionably fall. And ducks dominate the walls.

Dutch in the Desert

In the Bio/Statement on my Website (the link is posted below), I mention some influences from the Golden Age of Dutch painting, particularly landscape artist Jacob van Ruisdael. He livened up the flat Dutch countryside by adding dark cloud shadows and spots of sunlight. The results weren't entirely naturalistic, but they certainly are dramatic!

The attached painting is an example of van Ruisdael's influence on my art. The scene is in Joshua Tree National Park, where smoke trees dot a wide dry wash that drains into the distant Pinto Basin. It's spring, and although you can't see it due to its small size, a desert cottontail bunny-rabbit sits, unconcerned with our presence as we gaze across miles of space.

I'd like to think this is how ol' Jake might have painted the scene had he stood at this spot -- "Dutch in the Desert"!

http://www.southwestspaces.com

Art and the Church Part III

Nudity in art -- talk about a hot-button topic! And it's a tough issue for the Christian who wants to master traditional art. After all, the Bible tells us to dress modestly, to avoid all appearances of evil and all that. And for some, nudity (in art) = pornography -- period.

But, as always, exceptions exist. Most obvious: sometimes it is necessary to disrobe -- partially or completely -- the body when undergoing a medical examination or procedure. What about artists? Do we also have an exception?

Well, the Bible doesn't really say one way or the other when it comes to artists. But this is a case where if one wants to become the best traditional artist one can be, it means we MUST draw and paint the nude. In fact, traditional studies in ateliers called for mastering the figure, still lifes and landscapes, then -- if the artist desired -- specialize in one of those areas.

Any artist who has mastered the figure will claim the human body (and face) are the most difficult subject to get right. So if you do well with nudes, you can do well with virtually anything.

So to the Christian artist who wants to work in traditional realism I would say: you MUST commit to doing what you have to do in order to become great in your craft. As with those in the medical community, dealing with the body and body parts goes with the territory. You may prefer to look at nudity as a necessary evil -- then so be it -- but it is a part of becoming a great artist worthy of the talent God has given you.

Here's a quote by Michelangelo: "To copy each one of those things after its kind seems to me to be indeed to imitate the work of God; but that work of painting will be most noble and excellent which copies the noblest object and does so with the most delicacy and skill. And who is so barbarous as to not understand that the foot of a man is nobler than his shoe, and his skin nobler than that of the sheep with which he is clothed, and not be able to estimate the worth and degree of each accordingly?"

Art and the Church Part II

I've dealt with Christians who believe if you're a Christian and you're involved in the arts in some way, the only subject you should be covering in your art is Christianity. This is especially true if you're a musician or singer, but I've heard it applied to the other arts as well. In fact, I know of one woman whose daughter was majoring in film production in college. The mom requested prayer for the daughter, that she would make only "Christian" films.

For some reason, this line of thinking doesn't apply to other occupations. Christian auto mechanics are not expected to engrave John 3:16 on the sides of engine blocks. Christian bakers don't apply the ichthus/fish design onto every muffin or loaf of bread they make. Double standard? Or do we have different standards for those who communicate via the arts and those who work in other fields, communication-driven or not? Are these standards biblical?

This entire notion is actually a relatively new idea in the Church. It used to be there was no distinction between Christian and secular creations. In essence, anything that fulfilled Philippians 4:8 was acceptable. Even today, one can hear organ preludes using works by J.S. Bach that are not overtly Christian or even "Christian" at all: "Sheep May Safely Graze" pays homage to the crown, not to God. Yet, because Bach is recognized as a composer who was Christian, anything he wrote is eligible for playing in a church service. Not the case with today's artists.

The sad part is: God has given creative skills and abilities to many who honor Him, and they have no opportunities to use those talents to God's glory.


"Art and Church Part III" will probably be my last post on this topic for awhile. It should appear tomorrow (Monday, 25 August 2008) or soon thereafter.

Art and the Church Part I

At one time, the Church was the artists' biggest patron. Today, for the most part, the Church (especially the Protestant Church) seems mostly uninterested in the arts, except for music. What happened?

During the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, church structures were, in a manner of speaking, "palaces for God." The elaborate architecture and decor, complete with paintings and sculpture, seemed to be a visual expression of the Glory and Majesty of God Almighty.

But after the Protestant Reformation, attitudes changed. Gradually, church leaders moved away from palaces for God, using the money instead to develop ministries to people in need. And today, since so many of us artzy types want to get rich instantly by doing what we love, even the Catholic Church doesn't pursue traditional art as much as in the past, 'tho' that may be more of an affordability issue than one of a desire to use art.

Many Protestants also see art as one of the worldly possessions Christians should renounce; after all, it's all going to burn someday anyway, and we can't take it with us, and it's "worshipping the creation instead of the Creator," and we're seeking the applause of men rather than the applause of God, and we can't serve two masters...on and on.

Thus, Christianity has left a huge vacuum in the field of art, and nature -- and artists -- abhor a vaccuum. Christian influence is now mostly limited to complaining and griping about the offensive art, movies and music that are out there today. Unfortunately, the Church doesn't seem to believe in taking a more positive approach -- encouraging its members to become active in the arts and making art for the sheer love of it, not simply generating proselytizing drivel that promotes the Gospel.

I tend to agree with a number of authors, including the late Christian philosopher Francis A. Schaeffer. Everything we do can be done to glorify God (1). God is beautiful, and so He created us with the ability to love beauty in all its forms. We're told to dwell on, among other things, truth and beauty (2); therefore, everything that IS true and beautiful falls within the realm of Christianity. In short, making art glorifies God; in fact, the creativity, desire to make things and the skills to do so come from God (3), and we'd be wasting His gifts by not using them.

Unfortunately, I and others like me are not in a position to take on the entire world of Christianity regarding this school of thought. But I have sold art to customers who identified themselves as Christians (often, Catholic), so: we're out there. We are among the Church's numbers. Maybe someday, we'll prevail!!

Footnotes:

(1) I Cor. 10:31

(2) Phil. 4:8

(3) Exodus 31:1-6

Artwork: Michaelangelo's Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel

Rest in the Midst of Art

I mentioned in a previous entry a phrase by Rolland May in his book, "The Courage to Create" that always seemed profound and accurate: something about how "artists confront their art."

I would rather work at creating art than work at a so-called "real job," given the choice. When things are moving along and the inspiration is there, creating artwork seems to involve a combination of being in a meditative trance and being on meth ('tho' I must admit, I have no experience with the latter -- I have to make some assumptions here). We artists zero in on what we're doing, oblivious to time or even to hunger. Yet, we're filled with energy to continue creating for long periods of time, and interruptions can be particularly startling and frustrating. When the artwork turns out well, we (or at least I) reach an emotional high that, I would guess, outmatches any chemical high a person can get.

At the same time, artwork IS, after all, work. We confront our art every time we work on it. And it's work that requires focus and energy -- we can't fly along on autopilot as we create that next masterpiece.

So when one paints for a living and one is tired, distracted, lacking motivation or just needs a change of scenery, making art can seem like the hardest job in the universe -- including all of the alternate ones!

It doesn't help, either, when artists like me feel like we MUST paint all the time, forgetting there is a business side that must be attended to. AND we need downtime, too -- maybe one day a week for some guilt-free relaxation, a lot to ask of a driven, type-A personality like me!

God Himself took a day of rest, and He told us to take one day a week to rest, too. Maybe I otta take him up on that!

Sun 'N' Surf

Ahhh...California! Just the name conjures up scenes like this, doesn't it?

This state has it all when it comes to scenery -- sandy beaches and rugged coastline, mountains, deserts, redwood forests, the highest and lowest points in the continental USA, Yosemite, a theoretically active volcano, and a totally inept state legislature -- but we won't get into that. This time, anyway.

My wife and I lived in Colorado during the 1990's -- and we missed California terribly. We realized California isn't the perfect "sun 'n' surf" place it's made out to be, and it isn't always the "land of fruits and nuts," either.

But as a landscape painter, the variety of spectacular scenery would be hard to match anywhere else.

On the other hand, much of the scenery resulted from earthquakes and land movement. Someday, the area we live in will be devastated -- it's inevitable. It could happen in our lifetimes, or it may not. We prefer "not." We hope to continue enjoying the results of nature's handiwork, and I hope to continue to paint it for as long as I'm able to do so.

Someday, too, the cliffs on the right in the above painting will collapse, and this area (in Laguna Beach) will look quite differently than the way it looks in the artwork.

That's California for ya!

Confuser Day

No working on art today.

WHAT??!? How can this be???

Well, I picked up on a comment from another blogger and moderator for an online forum for artists: she said something about Tuesday being "computer day." And I thought (yes, I do think every so often): that's a great idea. I would still check e-mail, forums and other stuff every day, but I really could use extended periods of time to do the more involved items, such as updating the Website (http://www.southwestspaces.com), organizing and backing up files and things that, if I crammed them in between brush strokes, might not get done right , if at all.

By the way, I like to call this machine a "confuser." Sometimes that label fits better. You know I'm right about that, don't you?

The art business is definitely about more than just making art!

Art and the Olympics

Like billions of others, I've been spending too much time watching the Olympics on TV -- and I'm not even a sports fan! But there's something special (the idealism?) about the Olympics, so for me anyway, that makes it much different than a football game between the Minnesota PieKings and the Oakland Faders.

One thing that I, as a guy, notice in the Games is how healthy-looking some of the female athletes are, especially in the water sports. Some of the women seem thin and muscular, but others appear toned but filled out.

Now -- we older, married dudes aren't supposed to so much as notice other female human beans. (I'm sure my wife notices good-looking guys -- we're both only human!) But I will say I'm one of those who find the women who appear in Old Master paintings -- you know, women who were obviously overweight -- attractive, as those in the attached painting by Poussin. While I can't deny the health risks overweight people people face, I know I and many other males prefer that look, short of outright gross obesity.

The women athletes in the Olympics are not overweight, but -- for my personal taste -- are much more attractive to me than the "ideal" women we see in the entertainment industry. So many of them strike me as downright unhealthy and skinny, and I'd be hardpressed to think of any that compare to the Olympians. Some of the female actors and singers may have pretty faces, but from the neck down -- sorry, even if I were single, young and prone to teenage crushes on celebrities, I would say: "No, thanks!"

If I painted the human figure more than I do, I would try to contact some of those swimmers and divers to see if they'd have time for a sitting. I wouldn't call any of the Hollywood types.

Me N Bob Ross

I couldn't resist!!! -->

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go paint some happy little cactus now. (I'll have to confess -- I got the idea for the picture from another artist's blog!)

Actually, I always got a kick out of watching (the real) Bob Ross paint. His technique never changed, and while I don't think his paintings will ever hang in the great art museums of the world, I was intrigued that it was even possible to start and finish a painting in 1/2 hour.

Plus, the guy really encouraged his viewers not to be afraid and to give it a shot. I've known people who would be scared to death to "mess up" a canvas; sometimes, I feel that way myself.

But Bob told us to go for it, there are only happy accidents, his clouds and trees are all happy and they live in the places he assigned to them, and sometimes we have to make big decisions about adding new and imposing elements.

Life is sort of like that, too, isn't it?

Show Me the Art, If Not the Money

Art shows are funny critters. By art shows, I mean the outdoor kind that spring up like mushrooms for a weekend at a park, street, plaza or parking lot. Then by Sunday night, like a mirage, all evidence of bustling activity vanishes.

Shows can vary widely in the patrons who comes, from serious collectors to impulse buyers to people who want to walk their dogs and get a dose of culture at the same time. You can see a range of artists and their wares, too--some are "Artists with a capital A," others are simply self-employed individuals who happen to have some skill at creating artwork or craft items, and some who are not artists at all but who buy artzy-looking things wholesale and sell them retail.

Some day I'll have to write a collection of short stories based on what goes on at art fairs. I could show both the artists' and the buyers' viewpoints, having done both myself over the years.

However, I've decided to stop doing shows and focus on other venues, preferably galleries and a few select western (indoor!) art shows. But if you attend art shows (or if you show your art at them), don't be surprised if you see some guy with a pad of paper and a pen, looking around and writing things down. Who knows -- you may become a character in a short story some day!

I took the accompanying photo of a show I did several years ago at Fountain Hills, AZ, northeast of Scottsdale. (I obscured the faces and the signage to protect the innocent). You can't really see it "post-obscuration," but a female on the right in a red top looks like she's gagging herself. (Hmmm...was this how she felt about what she saw at the show...?)

More Colorado Art

Did I mention I paint desert landscapes? Yes? Well, OK, you've got me. (I didn't really think I could fool you!)

Although I specialize in desert art, I paint other types of scenery as well -- most of it non-desert western scenes.

The piece on the right is an example of what you might find if you roam the mountains of Colorado in autumn and happen upon a small herd of elk.

The Surreal Desert -- and a Surreal Desert Painter

As a few of you may have noticed by now, I make mostly desert paintings. Most of these tend to be places within America's national parks and monuments, particularly Joshua Tree, Organ Pipe Cactus, Saguaro, Arches, Canyonlands, Death Valley and others.

Places like these seem to have an air of surrealism about them, more so than some of the national parks we've visited in the eastern states, beautiful as they are. I mentioned before: I like surrealism as an art form, and painting desert landscapes is a convenient way to "sneak" a little of the surreal into the artwork.

The painting to the right is one example of that. This scene is in Arches National Park, with Double Arch to the right of center. The lighting is pretty much the way it was that day, in late July as a thunderstorm was approaching from behind. (In fact, it poured rain soon after I left this spot and saw red waterfalls, tinted by the red-brown soil, tumbling down the rockfaces -- and across the roads!)

Ah...the surreal desert! Perfect for a lover of surrealism like me -- a rather surreal character, if I say so myself!

Colorado and Art

We used to live in Colorado Springs during the 1990's. Colorado is a beautiful state--lots of mountains, including many peaks that rise higher than 14,000 feet/4.3 km.

One of these "14ers" (as everyone there calls 'em) is Pikes Peak, which lies due west of Colorado Springs. Pikes Peak lacks the jagged, rugged look of the mountains of the San Juan Range in southwestern Colorado, BUT it does have the advantage of having a road that runs all the way to the top. (The more physically fit in the area hiked or jogged to the top and back, but we were not among that group!) The "peak" is not peaked, but is slightly rounded.

If you're used to that elevation (or if you're not physically fit), it's difficult to want to stay there for long. We felt constantly that we were going to faint at any moment. A "black cloud" obscured our vision. Still, we enjoyed a fantastic view of the area; in fact, people there know the song, "American the Beautiful" by Katherine Lee Bates was inspired after she made a trip to the top.

I've made a few paintings that shows Pikes Peak and another local attraction, the Garden of the Gods (a painting of the Garden appears on my Website, http://www.southwestspaces.com). I've included one of the paintings here, in early autumn with the Garden of the Gods in the middle distance and after snow fell on the mountain.

BTW--we HATED the snow with a passion! I guess you can't take a couple of southern California kids away from the beach and transplant them into snow country!

Well, good grief! I posted my last entry at 8:08pm, but the computer claims I posted at 7:26pm! Apparently there's something about this whole blogging service that I don't know about yet.

Well, anyway, I wanted to do a painting that would be bright and cheery, representative of the desert in the Palm Springs/Palm Desert area, and that would feature desert bighorn sheep. So-o-o-o...here it is, along with a detail that shows the bighorns a little more clearly (although they are small on the painting--less than 2"/5cm long). The view shows an area typical of what one might see when hiking in the Santa Rosa Mountains east of Palm Desert, CA. Therefore, the title is "Vista de Santa Rosa."

And, of course, I wanted to show the vast spaces one typically sees in the desert. I've heard this referred to as the "mystery of the distance." Those of us who revel in desert scenery understand that feeling very well.

If you live in, or prefer, forested areas, all that distance and "empty" space can lead to the "wasteland" approach to viewing desert landscapes. I guess it's all a question of personal taste, of developing a certain aesthetic for different kinds of beauty.

We artists tend to find beauty everywhere. Sometimes we have to work at that a little, but for all its flaws and heartbreaks, the world is a beautiful place. And you'll find it both in the forests and the deserts.

Pieces of Eights

Today is 8 August 2008, aka 8-8-08. Today is a special day for many, a day that translates to prosperity, new beginnings in married life and other symbols of what this date means. Apparently it means the most to the Chinese. Even the Olympics start today.

So in this spirit, I started a new painting today, one which will be highly reminiscent of my favorite Dutch painter, Jacob van Ruisdael (mentioned in a previous post). And I intend to post this entry at exactly 8:08 PDT (which would be 2008 hours in military time). It all works for me!

So, dear readers, whatever this day means to you (if anything), I hope it's the start of something great and amazing for you!


Posted 08-08-2008, 2008 hours

Writing About What to Write

When one is a professional artist, one must paint whether one feels like painting or even if one is not sure WHAT to paint.

It's that way with writing, too. I'm not a professional writer, although I have sold some of my writing in years past. But as with art, I'm driven (a little, in this case) to write, too.

But ideas for art come quite easily. As a landscape painter, I only have to go outside into a beautiful area (and I live in such an area) -- then I'm inspired, which gives me the energy to "go to the studio and make stuff." (I have a watchface that says that!)

It's never been that simple with writing. Once I know what to write about, I'm fine. But thinking of what to write about -- that's always been a problem for me. I always hated it when some grade-school teacher gave us a carte blanche writing assignment. Of course, we had to fulfill certain criteria, but beyond that, we had to come up with our own ideas for a subject. Sometimes I didn't think of an idea until it was almost too late to write about it.

In his book, "The Courage to Create," author Rollo May made a comment about artists "confronting their art." Confronting -- that's an apt way to describe it. Art (which includes writing, in this case) can be a leisurely pasttime, but for many of us artzy types, art is work. Maybe that's why they call this stuff "artwork." And writers "work" on their manuscripts.

Funny, tho' -- musicians play instruments! Go figure.

A Surreal Dude

I used to paint surreal scenes. In fact, I still consider it my favorite style of art IF it's well-done.

The image on the right is the second version of a piece I did for a class I was taking in the late 1980's. The assignment was to create a work based on a classical grouping or cycle; in my case, I decided upon earth, air, fire and water. At the same time, this particular image occurred to me as my wife and I were...well, uh, doing what it is husbands and wives do. (What a time to be inspired to do art!)

Thus, this image (to me anyway) represents earth (the earth-colored hand on the right), air (the blue sky), fire (obvious) and water (in the form of clouds). But (again, in my mind), I also tried to depict sexual passion, all without resorting to the obvious ways of showing this subject.

Some day I'll have to squeeze more surreal subject matter into my already overloaded schedule. But for now, I'll continue to paint landscapes with just a touch of the surreal in them.

Googling Googling

Every so often, I Google my name to see how many other Mark Junges there are. I myself come up in several contexts: my Website http://www.southwestspaces.com, a positive comment about my site on someone else's site, and a review I wrote about an art-related seminar that appears on a third site.

However, I'm not the only Mark Junge in the universe! Other MJs include:

- a motorcycle racer;
- a Wyoming writer;
- a photographer;
- a 24/7 oxygen-dependent man who bicycled across the country to prove even people with lung disease can do something like that. (Good for him!)

But so far: I'm the only Mark Junge, Artist. Let's keep it that way! =)

Anti-Art

I may have to give up television forever! Not so much because the programming is so stupid (although that's part of it, too), but because of the commercials!! Maybe it's because we live in a somewhat rural area, but it seems like there are a handful of commercials that are broadcast over and over and over...ad infinitum, ad nauseum. During the morning news programs, a certain commercial (Commercial A) will air, then a different one, then Commercial A is run again!! EVERY morning!!!

And some gal thinks we just gotta put Mercury (cars) on our list? NO!!! I don't gotta do NUTHIN! I'd rather make that female DRINK mercury!

Around here, we hear these commercials to death!! And to think--we have a limited, 'tho' large, number of brain cells. I hate the idea of them being used up and wasted on storing commercial jingles and copy! I still remember toothpaste commercials from my early childhood:

Brush-a, brush-a, brush-a
With the new Ipana,
Brush-a, brush-a, brush-a,
Ipana for your tee-eeth.

I even remember the tune this was sung to!!

What a waste of what might have been artistic genius. This is anti-art. And a depressing commentary of how we are exposed to sonic noise from birth to death--and end up being forced to remember it forever.

Breaking Storm

I mentioned last time I'm a fan of Dutch painter Jacob van Ruisdael and was working on a piece that -- in my mind, anyway -- is reminiscent of his style.

And here it is! The scene is in Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, AZ, USA, looking south toward the Sonoyta Mountains of Mexico. I've shown the entire painting as well as a detail -- a Harris' hawk (a southwestern species of raptor), flying close to the ground, as they tend to do.

I didn't make the clouds shadows as dark as ol' Jake would have -- I decided to go with a more natural-looking scene -- THIS time! But this painting combines many of my favorite things about the desert: this view, organ pipe cactus, dramatic lighting, and a Harris' hawk.

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.