Tuesday, November 30, 2010

no info here

what ever this is....
something specific
it's that split second before
that innocent moment
out of the fog

Revisiting "Charlotte"
painted one winter on Martha's Vineyard
it migh have something to do with the G&B boaryard
there's real red lead bottom paint in the painting
thanks to Nat, who took me out for
an afternoon sail this summer,
now the painting has another chapter

no, i don't know what it is

Monday, November 29, 2010

hazy transitions or
sudden shifts in perception through
and recollection
into an abstract dream state
of superimposed viewpoints
and different dialects
watching gravity
viscosity and
working colour into
deep sea trawler
let it become
with out
naming it

48 x 66 in. oil on wood and canvas 2008- 2010

"so you paint the sounds and wetness and smell of salt marshes
the splash of water as minor beasts slip breifly above the surface
you paint the bodies inhabitation of said place
a mental cleansing of rigid description... " S.D.

painted two summers ago
here, outside
it was of shoreline light
i thought i could add a chapter
and in the process of
i reached out
and picked up
a cedar shingle
violet green orange,
to see where orange might fit
and that was it.
the painting, i had explained
was in that place in a chord progression
characterized by 11ths and 13ths,
the place of longing
building towards
the unexpected

the shingle was one
that i painted while
breaking-in a solar painting studio
on Martha's Vineyard
in the winter

intuitive reaching out
intuition reaching back?

Monday, November 22, 2010

marking territory

as i walk barefoot
across flagstone toward
the woodshed
i mark summers end
in snails trails,
like frost

in the extreme case
the minimum requirement of art is
that it is better than it's maker
the art is the teacher
the maker
is the follower

i am reminded
of the spider's art
one summer day
drifting gently
in a shaft of morning light
against the shadows
of the woodshed

at a distance,
curious about
what appeared to be
a small, animated cloud
closer inspection revealed
a loosly woven
semi-spherical web
that was being alternately
inverted on up-drafts

the filaments in sunlight
seemed to be coloured.
engineered perhaps
to attract the attention
of flying insects
(the photo below is a detail from the spider web photos)


Sunday, November 21, 2010

as i move around my outdoor "studio"
there are, of course nature's companions
the song birds who disappear quietly
but are all a-flutter if
i haven't got their
nesting boxes cleaned out
by the time they get back
flycatchers and wrens
are replaced by chickadees
as company for the winter
a lone crow, curious
flying low
just above the tree-tops
who spoke in raven voice
may have been over to
bid a seasonal fair-well

the tipping zone
between hope and
where an outstretched hand
a verse
a musical collaboration
is the difference
between life and death

we enter the zone arms flailing and
disbelief suspended
throw in belief and
in free fall
we empty tubes of colour into paint pots
in case there just may be
a future
what choice do we have
but to gift wrap treasure
when we are alone

woods pool
48 x 66 in. oil
private collection

the painting above reminded me of
looking through the clear water of early spring
suspended by magic
above the lake-bed
seeing the autumn leaves preserved
where they came to rest

the painting
the paddling

a small iceberg


-.--.- -..--.-.--.-
....-.---.. //-/----/--/
//.../../../ ///./.././...../../--------


. . .

Saturday, November 20, 2010

call it stage fright

the tangible explanation
of the mystic
does resist replication... but
when the paintings speak to each other
it's my place to listen-in
to notice
what a painting must leave behind
in order to take the next step
noticing the longing
in the colours,
the unresolved harmonics.
letting the future past
and the present conditional
come in to play

while fussing with
the intersecting arches
towards the discoveries of sailing
by the light of day
one lone violet shutters
at the coming snow
the painting's nocturnal longing
reaches out to recollections
painted on cedar shingles
pulled from the burn pile
painted on the shore
of a sandy shoal

watching tides
for revelation
both emerging
and arriving
exploring salt-marshes
i found a perfect shell
of a horseshoe crab
an ancient
amongst the reeds


Thursday, November 18, 2010

having emerged


having emerged
from under summer's canopy
the moss
frolics in the diminishing light
of frosty days

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Tuesday, November 16, 2010


the universe is either breathing in
or breathing out.
as the quickening proceeds,
the expansion will reach a velocity
and energy that all particles will be set free-
and suddenly it will be
all energy
and just as suddenly,
and the particles will to begin
to condense again.
leap years will be different
when the universe is
the dark matter is
the power grid

Thursday, November 11, 2010

lest we


into a family tree
a series of
moments of discovery
beginning as a duet
with Kenny Baldwin.
winter jazz afternoon
in the gallery.
revisited while getting the boat enclosure
ready for this approaching winter.
the structure spilling into the painting
as if through conductivity.

the "moments in time"
linking one experience with another
somewhere out there, near where
intuition and the interconnectedness
of all things shake hands

a portal
or a simple doorway into
an invitation to remember

painting : 66 x 48 in. oil

Sunday, November 7, 2010


depth perception

depth perception
from the human perspective
that is,
two eyes on the horizontal plane
and colour vision.
In the forest of sugar maple
the vertical trunks
are much easier to see
in the third dimension
when you are moving

skiing through the woods
head mounted video camera
looking sideways
the near trees move by
more quickly.
it's the same
as looking out
the window
of a train

Saturday, November 6, 2010


. . .

necessity relinquishing
on the path to
extending the moment
into the confluence.
the painting seen
from many perspectives
in translucence,
as if time lapsed.
images woven together,
in day and nightlight
from a sandy island
to a rocky hillside.
the vapors condense into

... 16 x 16 in. oil on masonite

broccolification of the arts

not of the
of disire
but towards
the dictates
of fashion.
the art of
the passion
of the politically correct.
as adventurous
as any project
funded by the
canada food guide.
when destinations
and the route
are predetermined
and followed in
where is play?
and the exploration
of meanderings
along the way?

colour vision

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

note to self

With the leaves changing colour,
and raining down, it's difficult to notice
what else is happening on the forest floor.
The forest canopy seems to protect the
forest floor from the early frost.
Then the newly fallen leaves do bury everything.
note to self:
attach flags to things outside
that you think you might need
before spring
The hillside's forest edge opens to the west so as the sun sets from across a wide valley, there is something unusual about the angle of the sun. At sunset, the hillside trees are illuminated from beneath the canopy.

The jewel weed, this year luxuriant,
neck deep in yellow flower
over most of the hillside.
The stems; succulent and hollow.
When wading into the summer sea of Jewelweed,
if the time is right
you may hear the sound of falling rain-
but the sound is bursting seed pods not raindrops.
Rain drops play into the name, "jewelweed."
Water beads on the leaves, so when the sun emerges after the rain
the water droplets look like jewels.
With the heavy frost of October, while other plants survive
this succulent suddenly disappears,
and in a sense, it has returned to vapour.

The sudden spike in sunlight does not go unnoticed by the rest of the biosphere-here on the forest floor. As the blowing leaves settle into the hollows, the ferns and moss emerge from the summer eclipse.

A few years back, during one spectacular sunset, (the kind where the sky opens at the horizon beneath a solid violet-black bank of clouds), i was looking up the hillside. Looking at some big chunks of moss-covered-limstone when i saw something weird. something i couldn't understand so I went out and investigated....

It was early spring, the other season that the moss can soak up some sun. i.e. When skiing around the bush in the early spring- in a t shirt, you can lean back on those big moss draped rocks and feel the sloar gain... Anyway, it had snowed a little. What appeared above the big rocks was a phlorescent lime-green cloud, hovering above the new dusting of snow.

The moss had sent up spore heads... transluscent green, shaped like the head of a flamingo, a bit smaller than an alfalfa sprout.
Only the spore heads were protruding through the layer of snow
and they were being illuminated with a golden light from below.