White Circle, Blue

oil on panel, 24" x 24"



I'm considering posting images in Art Weekly without my accompanying comments. I was told in art school to leave the writing to the critics and historians. It wasn't that I was bad at writing; it came up in a different context. It was about the way visual art usually originates pre-verbally, and many artists aren't very articulate except in terms of their medium. Often there is a lot more to the art than what artists say, and sometimes the comments can be tangential. During school and after I found writing to be a way to get to know the artwork that I made. The teacher in me enjoys offering a way in, but to artists, what I do is very legible. It is all academic, not avant guarde. Those unused to minimalism might feel a wall crashing down at so few elements, the "anyone can do that" attitude, or else that there must be more but they aren't "getting it".


The above painting is academic in that its form of color and simple shapes was once new and now is not. I don't think anything new in terms of form in a big conceptual way can happen anymore in painting. That is why a lot of people say it is dead and move on to performance, installation, video, computer art, etc. I still find meaning in it and need to have it be a part of my life on a regular basis, no substitutions. I think of it like the orchestra. Many composers have abandoned the classical orchestra or have experimented with it to push its limits. It does have a particular sound even though the range is incredible. But that is the thing. The orchestra, like painting, can be a vehicle for communicating very specific things in wondrous, pleasurable, thought-provoking, beautiful ways. They are both very plastic (stretchable, malleable). They both also have a history, particular elements that make them what they are, and other certain "givens".


White Circle, Blue is a peaceful, meditative image. The central circle and the balanced square provide a feeling of equilibrium. The way the paint is applied, the gestures of the strokes, makes the image the opposite of something mechanically done. It has soul, evidence of the touch we all need. The thickness of the paint gives the painting substance, body, and skin. It is filled with light.

White Circle

collage on Arches paper, 5" x 3"


There must be more, right?

As there are subtleties to quiet, so there are to this kind of art.

I never quite thought of myself as a Minimalist, although I have done some geometric abstraction in the past. Minimalists are sometimes described as working without metaphor and personal expression, focusing instead on visual impact. I am all about all those things and think that the most basic of forms can inspire metaphor.

I've decided to not be afraid of simplicity, since the impetus to make work in this vein is strong. I'm not abandoning anything, just widening my scope. It is summer and it is like learning how to relax. Productivity, filling time up with activities can be distractions from reflection, as many people seeking spiritual direction will testify. Art objects are made to contemplate. Many people go to museums as if to church.

This work has silence in it.

Butterfly Hand (v.1)

oil on panel, 36" x 24"

The body (of the butterfly) is a chasm in the hand, a spasm of fluttering, suffering from which beauty comes. It is the center of a flower, a nail in the palm, a stem, the crucifixion.

The butterfly is for people who have gone and who also stay.

The butterfly-hand is my changing self, breaking and re-forming, simultaneously fractured and whole.

Note: the butterfly is based on the Blue Metalmark, Lasai Sula (U.S.).

Butterfly, Open Box I and II

charcoal on paper, 17" x 11"

The hermit crab is coming out of its shell; the butterfly out of its box is similar, I suppose. It is funny that it isn't a cocoon. Naturally it would be a cocoon, so a box might be a constraint imposed by a human(s), also different from the traditional butterfly net. The butterflies don't seem like stunning, tranquil wonders, but are full of fractured motion. There is a sense of struggle to keep the wings beating rather than a graceful flutter. The release was hard-won.