Practice & process notes

August 31, 2026

Tattoo Case Study 1: Flowing Phoenix Sleeve, 2023-24

Tattoo case study covering the process of how a full arm sleeve was completed, how it is aging in the skin after 3 years, strategy used to design a long lasting tattoo, and how it is projected to age in the future.

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July 27, 2026

The Alchemy Of Self: Plein Air Painting In The Mountains Of Colorado

Recently I met up with an old friend in Granby, Colorado and hiked The Devil’s Thumb trail, a 7.5 mile out and back with a 2247 foot climb over rough terrain, at a starting altitude of around 9000 feet. I thought the day would be a fun proof of concept for my DIY plein air painting rig, to prove to myself that it’s a viable setup for a strenuous and difficult hike. What it turned into was the most difficult hike I’ve ever done and a proof of concept for so much more. The altitude, the heat, the weight of the gear, and the sheer elevation gain soon became major factors and about 2/3 up the ascent, in a wildfire scorched swath of dead timber and stifling heat, I was wobbly with fatigue and mentally battling through every second, focusing my entire attention on each movement of my legs, reaching deep for all the meditation techniques I’ve practiced over the years. I had many moments of doubt, some moments of frustration, a few of panic, and eventually a breakthrough of surrender to the goal. My mind became laser focused on a single point: I will not disappoint my friend or myself, I will reach the top and make the painting I planned on. All of reality, all possibilities in the entire universe shrunk down to this one specific, inevitable, unquestionable outcome. This is a conscious nonduality I’ve chased for many years making art—a flow state of pure freedom where the self is lost to the goal, and the art makes itself through the conduit of me. A willing surrender. Having this realization that surrendering my self and all its pointless fears and doubts was actually the only way I was going to reach the summit, was when I felt in stunning realtime clarity the past few years of struggle, depression, grief, and rage become compressed and dissolved by a single breath and step at a time. The future is a fantasy, the past is a memory; only this moment is real. And now this moment. This breath. This foot stepping forward. Now this one. Place foot on rock. Engage glutes, push. Breathe in, drag it deep into diaphragm, exhale slowly. Do it again. Complete this moment, survive to the next moment. After many moments the summit was reached. I laid down in the grass, with a pounding migraine and nausea, and achieved my goal of making a painting. I was too tired to stand and never used my tripod, suddenly useless weight that I had unnecessarily trudged up the mountain. No worries, my rig is still a success, viable in extreme difficulty day hikes. And most importantly, suffering was alchemized into achievement and the limitations of ego and self were transcended. The universe works as designed too. View From Devil's Thumb, oil on panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2026

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June 16, 2025

What Dreams Wither

Fresh off the easel today is this new still life, my first classical still life in years, actually--a commission for a dedicated collector of my artwork featuring items of personal significance to her. "What Dreams Wither" oil on linen panel, 12 x 16 inches, 2025 (private collection) It was great fun revisiting these techniques and some dark vanitas subject matter, which was utilized heavily in my "Blood Rituals" series from 2016-20. I consider this painting to be the newest--albeit posthumous--addition to that series. The prominent use of the color pink in this piece is symbolic of innocence, naivete, and femininity, the crumpled tissue paper evoking fragility and gifts unpacked, wrappings tossed aside. The softness of the peony and the sparkling tiara complete the feminine symbolism, which is contrasted by the masculine hardness of the dagger, knife, and marble slab upon which the scene has played out. As with other pieces in the Blood Rituals series my focus is on the aftermath of events; quiet overlooked moments and the ephemera of some unknown human activity. These objects left behind and cluttered in a corner of a cabinet or hutch have a new importance as artifacts, telling the story of innocence lost, illusions pierced by hard truths, wisdom hard-earned through suffering, childhood dreams withered in the cold autumn of adulthood. A subtle nod to Jung and the psychological archetypes is given in the upturned cranial cap, the blood the life force and animator of the self. We spill it and drink it in, and someday it will be all gone. The vanitas still life reminds us of this fleeting cycle, urging us not to lose ourselves in the decay of material pleasures and the flesh, and instead seek the ultimate truth of personal enlightenment.

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November 8, 2023

Then, And Now (Part 5)

"Then, And Now" or "Then & Now" in the blog search feature, is an ongoing occasional series where themes of progression, time, and memory are explored. "White Mountains Sunset" / Oil on Canvas Panel / 8 x 10 inches / 2023 This painting has an interesting backstory, starting in 2015 when I took an amazing plein air landscape painting workshop in New Hampshire from Thomas Kegler, offered through the Grand Central Atelier. I was brand new to the genre of landscape after having done still life painting for years, and on this evening a sunset painting meetup with renowned landscape painter Erik Koeppel and others was scheduled, which would be my first time ever attempting the extreme challenge of capturing a live sunset in paint. I was thrilled to be painting alongside these legends of the genre and did my best to soak up any knowledge I could while absolutely speed-panic painting my way through a much too short sunset. It was a memorable experience for me and the artistic result was far less important than the practice and mental impressions made. "White Mountains Sunset" / Oil on Canvas Panel / 8 x 10 inches / 2015 As such, I was never happy with the results of my painting and it sat on my studio drying rack since that trip, offering a great memory and calling out faintly to be resolved into a product I can be more happy with. As fate would have it, and I won’t attempt to even speculate why, these past few months was when the random spark of an idea and inspiration finally came to me after 8 years, and I knew it was time to rework this thing. I focused on accuracy this time around, as it had been so long that I was resigned to using photo references from that evening rather than relying on memory, and I always hated how inaccurate the mountains turned out the first time. The rest of the original study was encouragingly accurate to the hazy color diffusion of those moments and the rest of the spatial proportions. I regret losing that hazy pastel color chord in my reworking, which ended up being based on a later stage of the sunset when the forest and mountains had become much darker and cooler, no longer bathed in amber glow. But despite changing its palette and color harmony, I believe it to be a better painting now overall, and feel a sense of closure that this at least won’t be haunting me from the studio wall anymore. Side note: improvement is guaranteed if you just show up and put in the time and effort consistently! So if you’ve been grinding, don’t be afraid to revisit old work when the time finally feels right. Finishing paintings, no matter how long after the fact, allows an artist to learn more lessons and ultimately improve more than abandoning unfinished projects for good.

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October 19, 2023

Notes & Advice 12: Tapping Into The Creative Flow

Last week at an educational event for tattooers called the Paradise Tattoo Gathering, I spoke about the flow of creative energy, which is something that all creators and visual artists quite obviously need and depend on. I believe it's a universal force that we can tap into by opening up our awareness and observational skills through artistic training. The act of focusing our minds on practicing a task like life drawing or painting–a task that requires us to continually drop our preconceived notions of reality (ego) and observe with unbiased intensity and clarity–is what opens up the energetic channel within us that receives this universal force. Researchers have called this a "flow state." And for tattooers, drawing/painting/working in other mediums is an incredible way to not only strengthen that artistic flow state but make it easier to access whenever you need it. Excellent, creative, innovative artwork or tattoos don’t happen in a vacuum. This creative energy needs to be allowed into our life/mind by how we're living and being, and then filtered down into our painting or tattooing practice, or whatever artistic medium is at hand. For example, it's very difficult to declare, "I'm going to be creative and come up with a brilliant image or idea, right here and now!" and then just make that happen on command. What is far more realistic or more often the case is that we lose ourselves in the training, in the practice, in the task of learning and developing our skills free from heavy expectations, and in this free and loose state of action or doing, ideas start to occur to us. Iterations and variations on a theme or technique evolve naturally, bringing us to an eventual solution to a visual problem and gifting us the creative ideas or innovations. We get to claim credit for them, and rightfully so as the products of our hard work and dedication, but on a more esoteric level, it's the universal flow of energy (life!) doing us a favor behind the scenes with a wink and a nod. The process described here has been the driving force in my life, and the driving force behind my entire tattoo career. It's something I’ve taught in my “Holistic Approach” tattoo seminar for years, and something I remind myself of constantly in my painting practice as well as tattooing. If you're a tattooer or visual artist searching for your unique, authentic voice or battling the ole artist's block, try thinking about this concept and apply it wherever you can, I think you'll be pleased with the results!

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September 9, 2023

Summer Plein Air: Chasing The Light

Summer in Texas, where I live and work, is never the best outdoor painting time. Extreme heat and incredibly harsh, searing daylight add degrees of difficulty to the plein air process, to speak nothing of the extra extreme summer of heat we've been having this year. But I did manage to get outdoors and paint a few times lately–thanks to some great friends providing an extra bit of motivation–for a much needed dose of artistic nature time. First was a quick sunset sprint at a local overlook, on a very hot and hazy evening. The air was so thick that the scene looked foggy, and this moisture in the air diffused the dusk light nicely into a wash of pastel hues. I blocked in the basics of the distant river bend for an hour on my 8 x 10 inch panel before the sun disappeared on us, disregarding the slower detailed areas of juniper trees in the extreme foreground. After letting the painting dry for a few days, these were then rendered in a 2 hour studio session along with some pastel glazes in the sky to saturate the sunset effect. "Dusk Over Lago Vista", oil on panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2023 During our next outing, shade was a requirement as it was late morning and the sun was already in full blast, warming up to another triple digit temperature day. We chose a lowland trail snaking alongside a dry creek bed under cover of thick live oak, juniper, hackberry, and pecan trees. Hoping for a small waterfall that feeds into the creek, we soon realized that with our region's severe drought status that was a pipedream, and settled for a little shaded clearing opening up to the dry creek bed next to the trail. The summer death rays of the sun puncturing the canopy created a perfect opportunity for some fun lighting effects–quite the opposite of the previous outing's diffused hazy ones. We painted for approximately 3 hours, in which time I got a thorough block-in of the detailed scene accomplished on another 8 x 10 inch panel, knowing that once again I would spend another 2 hours in the studio after it had dried, completing the effects of light and shadow, warm and cool, with a glaze layer. This level of realist subtlety in atmospheric affects simply is not possible with the alla prima technique of single-session plein air painting, as the optical combination of translucent color sitting on top of opaque color is what creates the more convincing illusion of depth that our eye perceives in a painting. "Dry Creek Bed, River Place", oil on canvas panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2023 When I’m scouting a painting location I’m always looking for a focal point, a primary feature of the environment or lighting that will interest a viewer more than a mere factual recording of a place and time. There are always time constraints imposed on an outdoor painting and sometimes you settle for a mundane scene (without a waterfall...) that needs to be made more interesting by focusing on what the light is doing, emphasizing color or atmosphere beyond what is observed but still within the bounds of convincing realism. That’s what happened here. The serpentine tree shapes were interesting but beyond that, the white hot dappled light on shaded rocks was going to be the real star of the show, with a little coaxing. P.S.– Here's a bonus miniature 5 x 7 inch wave study from a trip to Miami Beach earlier in the summer, completed in the same 2-session manner as the aforementioned pieces. Oil on Panel, 5 x 7 inches, 2023

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August 2, 2023

Run Script: gaiatheory/upload.exe

I. Upload And Transcend Since Vernor Vinge’s work in the 1980s there has been a belief by some that, through an event called the singularity, mankind will in some way leave the organic temporality of this flesh and blood planet to merge with the digital data stream and ascend the eternity of space. The singularity of man and machine, or consciousness and data, seems to be the adaptation by futurist utopians of ancient spiritual traditions whose endgame is enlightenment, or the transcendence of one’s limited human form and consciousness. What interests me most about this lineage of evolving belief systems are not the specific details but the repetition of common themes and their overarching narratives that create universal archetypes which, like a cybernetic feedback loop, help mold and dictate the course of the human species. They are the casting of spells in our collective consciousness by the shamans of every era. II. Mother, Earth The mother archetype of Western culture arguably begins with the Earth goddess Gaia of the ancient Greeks: our home planet personified as a woman who raises and nurtures us. In the 1970s this idea was adapted by James Lovelock and others into a unifying theory that the planet Earth is a highly complex singular organism sustaining all of our lives: The Gaia Hypothesis. In the 20th century, the Earth once again became our expressed need of a mother to guide us, as our civilization simultaneously destroys it and seeks intervention from our short-sighted vices. If climate change studies are to be believed, one resulting popular nihilistic narrative assumes that our poisoning of this planet will likely doom the survivors of our species to cosmic vagabondage, searching the stars for a new mother who might adopt us and nurse us back to health in her embrace. If so, the Gaia Theory of life on this planet will need to be uploaded to the artificial intelligence systems piloting our search for our next home, preserving this crucial knowledge in the substrate of our new digital consciousness. Let us remember and preserve what it means to have a mother, to be nurtured and fed. III. Lineages In Pop Culture and Adornment These concepts of transcendence and the universal Mother are embodied by numerous popular science fiction stories of the hero's quest to transcend their own consciousness, many of which influence my work and this piece in particular. Another idea explored in this piece is our human lineage symbolized by the persistence of ornamental and functional headdresses worn through the ages, from the Pharoahs in the Middle East to tribes in the West and our current and future explorers in the cosmos. The adornment of the head, the home of our internal supercomputer, the source of the mind and the mystery of consciousness, seems to be a universal human understanding and a widely adapted practice. All historical images and cinematic stills are property of their owners and studios; please don’t sue me. Shout out to “Alien,” “Minority Report,” and “Total Recall” (2x). Click the next/back arrows to see more detail images.

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June 22, 2023

Cybernetic Karma Algorithm

"Cybernetic Karma Algorithm" / Oil on Linen Panel / 36 x 18 inches / 2023 The DNA of any two people on Earth is supposedly 99.6 percent identical. If such biological uniformity flies in the face of all of our supposed uniqueness as people, could there also be a universal algorithm determining the course of each of our lives? While the concept of Karma is often used in pop culture as a synonym for punishment based on an entirely subjective concept of deservedness, I believe it to be a description of the infinitely interwoven complexity of causes and conditions in our shared reality, like a universal algorithm churning out most likely results based on combinations of inputs. Under this logic, this very moment, our present selves, are the cumulative result of every decision and choice that we have ever made, that everyone has ever made, of everything that has ever occurred in the universe in an unbroken sequence since the dawn of time. It is not personal, nor does it care about intention any more than it being a lever of probability for certain outcomes. Similarly, identity and individuality has become precious in our culture, but contrary to this popular mythos of self, I often wonder just how few human stories are actually playing out. Swap out a few details of an identical plot or zoom out wide enough and the argument can be made that we are all treading through remarkably similar trauma loops and life trajectories, chasing the reunion of psychological wholeness through universally shared archetypes, like the “more-human-than-the-humans” android hosts of Westworld. A loss for our ego-based individualism, but, oddly, a win for our deepest spiritual truths of empathy and unity. So while our default psychological programming seems to be mostly myopic, I believe you can take a hyperopic look around and see yourself in anyone, because at our base psychological or karmic level we are all more similar than we’d like to believe, perhaps merely living out minutely subtle variations of a cybernetic formula so vast it becomes opaque to our biologically limited perception. The individuality of a being is a certain intricate form, not an enduring substance. In order to understand an organism, it must be thought of as a pattern which maintains itself through homeostasis – life continues by maintaining an internal balance of various factors such as temperature and molecular structure. While the material substances that compose a living being may be constantly replaced by nearly identical ones, an organism continues functioning with the same identity as long as the pattern is kept sufficiently intact. Since patterns can be transmitted, modified, or duplicated, they are therefore a kind of information. Based on this, Wiener suggests it should be theoretically possible to transmit the entirety of a living person as a message (which is practically indistinguishable from the concept of physical teleportation) – although he admits that the obstacles to such a process would be great, because of the enormous amount of information embodied in a person, and the difficulty of reading or writing it. control and communication in the animal and the machine "society can only be understood through a study of the messages and the communication facilities which belong to it; and that in the future development of these messages and communication facilities, messages between man and machines, between machines and man, and between machine and machine, are destined to play an ever-increasing part." –Norbert Wiener the ability to cure all temporary truth of eternal triteness manipulating defensible metaphors creating equilibrium in a world of constraints and possibilities the science and art of understanding Influences and Inspirations The human machine Cybernetics is a wide-ranging scientific and philosophical field concerned with circular causal processes such as feedback, where the observed outcomes of actions are taken as inputs for further action in ways that support the pursuit and maintenance of particular conditions or their disruption, forming a circular causal relationship. In other words, actions, consequences, and lessons learned. Karma? The detective's bulletin board: an enduring showbiz cliché......not unlike the digital versions we all now use: windows of the soul © New Line Cinema / Se7en How few human stories? Jung's diagram of the self Bondage, fruition, expression © 20th Century Fox / Minority Report © 20th The Walt Disney Company / Family Guy algorithm [ al-g uh -ri th-uh m ] noun Mathematics. a set of rules for solving a problem in a finite number of steps, such as the Euclidean algorithm for finding the greatest common divisor. Computers. an ordered set of instructions recursively applied to transform data input into processed data output, such as a mathematical solution, search engine result, descriptive statistics, or predictive text suggestions.

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March 15, 2023

The Three Hands Of God

A triptych spanning 12 years and a few different eras of my painting and stylistic evolution, this trio of paintings addresses the tense and often fraught human relationship with power, and in particular the power of forces beyond our control–those within us, in our world, and the cosmos beyond. The concept for the original version occurred to me in 2010 while working on a series of paintings featuring surgical subject matter as a metaphor for the reductionist, manifest destined worldview I saw as predominant in American culture at the time. In this first iteration, the massive hand of the elite neocon / neolib political and cultural caste imposes its will on the flesh of this world. A few years later, in the wake of several natural and man-made disasters in the American Gulf region and beyond, while reckoning personally with the ideas of climate change and ecological destruction I saw as resulting from the worldview described above, I revisited the concept with another surgeon's hand, this time piercing the fragile veil of our atmosphere to wreak its destruction with pinpoint cruelty on the Earth. In this second iteration, the cosmic viewpoint of our planet leaves all of our insignificant and fleeting individual lives too tiny to be depicted or acknowledged. "The operation succeeded, but the patient died." In the decade that passed since that 2013 painting, so much internally and externally had changed, that when the spark of inspiration for this concept struck me again I knew I had to act on it, if for no other reason than to ironically demonstrate that in fact, nothing has actually changed. Our planet is still being destroyed, still largely by our own doing, and those same powerful cultural forces I believe to be the cause of this destruction still exist, perhaps in new forms. The present always suffers the consequences of the mistakes of the past. As if to drive this point home even further, in a regretful twist of life imitating art imitating life, a series of massive earthquakes struck Turkey and Syria at the very time I was painting the rubble of collapsed buildings depicted in the third Hand Of God installment. This poignant connection of symbolism grew more monstrous still, when a train derailment due to greed and negligence caused a toxic chemical spill in Palestine, Ohio at the very time I was painting toxic waste oozing from a broken pipe into a pristine river. At times like these, it seems as though the hand of God might very well indeed be that of a gloved cartoon mouse, amusing itself with sick jokes of frivolous caricatured violence that threaten our very existence. Finding reassurance amidst the destruction we are forced to bear witness to and solace amidst the shattered loves we must endure feels like a Where's Waldo search for our better selves. “The nail that sticks up gets hammered down / the master’s finest, finest tools are found / slack-jawed and placid amidst the cacophony / of screaming billboards and Disney-fied history” —Propagandhi, “Today’s Empires, Tomorrow’s Ashes” As a sensitive and perceptive person, the angst and despair caused by all of this is something I've always wrestled with, and in eras past I took these emotional states out on myself and my closest relationships. But I've slowly learned healthier ways of processing grief while examining my relationship to power and my attempts to control that which I fundamentally cannot. One of these methods is of course, to make paintings about it, to transmute the inner state of grief into an external communication that may draw awareness to the most pressing issues of our time so that we can continue to examine ourselves and course-correct where we're headed. There is a little flame of hope that burns at the heart of all that, and it's a feeling I try to guard fiercely while harnessing its warmth as a positivity that drives me onward, "unburied, death-defying, unbowed."

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February 3, 2022

Perception Of Being: NFT Redux

The Origin Story and The Epilogue Sometime around 2013, during a tattooing trip to South America, I was led into the Amazon rainforest looking for adventure and healing. A shaman there told me I needed to heal my heart. Simple and obvious advice, but the source of that advice and its context gave it weight that haunted me at times. By the end of that year the healer’s directive had fully settled into my subconscious—as the urge finally struck me to manifest his teaching through the transformative power of art. So I painted heart after heart throughout most of 2014. Simple and direct images from simple and direct advice, meant for contemplation and meditative introspection. You, the viewer, get to decide precisely what each representation of the heart means to you, just as I once did. And hopefully they inspire healing in you just as they did for me. 2021 With the rise in popularity of NFTs and the revolution in content creation they’re fostering, it was time to revisit and resurrect this almost forgotten project with fresh inspiration. After the past few difficult years for humanity, a new focus on a healing of the heart may be just what’s needed for all of us to regain a sense of connection and face the ongoing challenges of our time. In this spirit, the 4 new hearts being added to this series all portray the process of finding what’s precious within a damaged exterior, hardened by life’s trials. Hearts breaking open, but in the process, revealing what is true and valuable in each of us. 2022 POB NFTs drop on Opensea starting 2/14. Sign up for my newsletter on this site to stay informed, or visit the project's discord server or Instagram for info: @blockxhouse

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July 12, 2021

Art & Life 3: Self Love/Self Harm

"Self Love/Self Harm", digital (Procreate on Ipad Pro), 2021 Although May every year is mental health awareness month, like many others I believe that every month, week, or day of the year needs to be considered a mental health awareness time. I started thinking about this topic, and then this digital drawing I made a few years ago, when I noticed a grocery store employee recently with some of the thickest self harm scars I’ve ever seen, covering both arms. As someone who’s struggled with self harm at times in life I’d like to think I get it, and I tried to psychically project understanding and compassion. Honestly though I think scars look cool and badass and I’m glad Laura at the grocery store is confident and non-stigmatized enough to rock her personal journey in full view. And anyway my perhaps controversial view on self harm is that it isn’t necessarily all bad in all scenarios—it serves a helpful purpose when other alternatives may not exist or would be even worse, and there’s a real fuzzy line between the accepted forms of self harm in society (tattoos, piercings, getting drunk, etc) and the often stigmatized forms like cutting. Of course context determines a lot, and in a perfect scenario you’d want to avoid emotionally-based self harm ever being an option or an urge, but having personal experience with those mind states, I see it all on a spectrum without judgement. The human mind will find a way to make it through a situation any way it can, and that’s one of our species’ most beautiful attributes. This image was originally posted to my Instagram feed, but was removed for violating community guidelines. Understandably, its content could be a trigger for some, and presumably someone reported it, or the AI censor bots caught it, due to the depiction of blade cutting skin. However, possible triggers aside, the intent of the piece and of the post was only positive, and in evidence of that intent were the half dozen or so heartwarming, inspiring stories of personal strength and perseverance through mental struggles and self-harm that various followers shared in the post comments...moments of beautiful honesty and vulnerability which are sadly now lost forever. Since this image inspired a bunch of people to reach out and share those uplifting anecdotes, I resolved to re-post it here on my own censorship-free blog. I invite any comments or stories related to overcoming mental health struggles or coping with self harm urges. De-stigmatizing difficult topics, facing our triggers in order to work through them, and compassion for self and others are the ways to healing and growth!

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April 5, 2020

Notes & Advice 12: What To Consider When Setting Up A Still Life

Discussing some of the subtler points of still life setup with Jake Meeks of Fireside Tattoo Network and Podcast. Part of my alla prima still life painting workshop for sale on the fireside website in video module format.

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March 12, 2020

My 20-Step Program for Perfect Art Reproductions

If you’re a painter or visual artist working in any traditional media, capturing digital images of your work is practically a requirement nowadays, and has been for a while. I don’t know any artist who could survive without getting images of their work onto the internet, submitted to publications, made into prints, or a variety of other applications that require a quality reproduction. And quality is the key word here: representing yourself with a poor version of your work will hurt your chances of success. You wouldn’t think that capturing quality images of a completely still, flat object in a controlled indoor setting would be one of the most challenging photography jobs, but it is. I’ve actually paid pro photographers to shoot images of my paintings, and gotten a disc full of yellow-tinted garbage and flat-out unusable files, because those photographers weren’t well versed in the highly specific nuances of this photography application. (untitled), oil on linen panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2016 The details matter here, and skipping any of the major or sometimes even minor steps will usually compromise the end result, to varying degrees. With so many factors that can go wrong, it’s wise when possible to devote an area of your studio to this, with dedicated lighting, equipment, and pre-measured distances and angles. Depending on the level of compromise or imprecision in your studio setup, the more editing of your raw files you’ll need to do on your computer. But even the best photography results will still require basic cropping and picky stuff like smoothing over a blown pixel from your camera’s sensor, or eliminating a small cat hair that somehow floated and stuck to the painting (cats are thoughtful like that, always trying to help…). So here’s the equipment you’ll need (with what I currently use in parentheses), followed by the process, which was taught to me by the talented and wonderfully kind British painter Edward Povey and his wife Donna Tolar. I’ve added some of my own Adobe Photoshop expertise to their process for correcting photography shortcomings, and that’s included as well, but you’ll need a fairly good understanding of the program to follow my brief notes (or else this would be book length, not blog post length, sorry). Equipment Camera: full-frame sensor DSLR (Canon EOS 5D Mark III) Lens: anything in the 50mm range, without a zoom (Canon EF 50mm 1:1.2 L) Tripod: sturdy, with fully adjustable ball joint mount (Manfrotto 290 and 496RC2) Remote shutter cord (Canon RS-80N3) Circular Polarizer Filter to fit lens (Promaster) 2 adjustable freestanding studio lights with daylight balanced bulbs 2 Polarizer filters for the studio lights (Visual Pursuits Glare-Stop 8M Filter) Easel or flat wall space for mounting artwork 90º perpendicular to floor. Tape measure and/or ruler Level (the straight/flat tool with the little air bubble vials) White, neutral gray, or black sheet or walls Enclosed, light-proof studio space (for best results, it should be on par with a film processing darkroom, or shoot at night with all curtains/blinds drawn) Computer (Imac, 4.2 GHz Intel Core i7, Radeon Pro 580 8 GB) Photoshop CS4 or newer (CC 2019) Process Set up photo area with everything at right angles where necessary, and parallel where necessary. 90º angles and parallel planes are crucial for minimizing lens distortion. Your artwork needs to be perpendicular to the floor, as does your camera lens. The front glass edge of the lens needs to be parallel to the artwork. Use your level to check artwork angle and other things, and use the level sensor on your camera to make sure it is both vertically and horizontally balanced, and pointed precisely to the exact center of the painting. Use a tape measure to calculate any measurements needed or to check straight alignments. Set up 2 studio lights at 45º angles to your artwork, halfway between your camera and the artwork. Each light should point towards the opposite vertical edge of the artwork, at the halfway point of the artwork’s vertical measurement. Set up a black, gray, or white sheet behind your artwork, if your studio wall isn’t already white, gray, or black. The background that your camera sees around the artwork will influence how it processes color and adjusts its white balance. For really dark artworks, I like a black background, and for really light ones, a white background. Attach polarizing filters to the front of each studio light, as flush as possible to the light hood without touching the bulb (which could melt the filter gel). I rigged my own attachment system for the lights I have out of wire and masking tape. Adjust camera speed to 100 ISO, and match its white balance to the type of bulbs you’re using in your studio lights (if tungsten, choose tungsten setting, etc) Set image quality to the highest setting (camera RAW) Set lens to whatever its midpoint aperture is, usually F8-11 for your typical F16 or F22 capable lens. Attach remote switch, and use screen view instead of eyepiece viewing so that you don’t risk bumping or shaking your camera. With all overhead and ambient lights off, and only the two filtered 45º angle studio lights on, spin the circular polarizer filter on your lens until all glare highlights on the artwork disappear (when viewed through the camera lens). If some glare or highlights remain, you may need to rotate the 2 filters on the lights a bit. There should be no other light entering the room or hitting the artwork. Focus the lens as tightly as you can on the artwork. Adjust camera shutter speed according to these final calibrations. For me it’s usually in the 20-30 seconds range. With such a long exposure there can be absolutely no movement or shaking of the artwork, the camera setup, the floor, or the room you’re in, or else you’ll get a slightly blurry or hazy image. Bracket your shot, meaning find what appears to be the most accurate shutter speed as indicated by the camera sensor, then also shoot one or two speeds slower and faster than that, just to ensure you have the proper exposure. Cameras can be fooled by paintings with a high degree of contrast between their lightest light areas and darkest dark areas. You can use the compensation settings on your camera to help with this as well. On your computer, make sure your monitor is calibrated and you’re working with the proper display brightness. Make sure the lighting in your computer area is balanced daylight bulbs or natural daylight from windows. Place the artwork next to or near the computer monitor, in the same balanced/neutral lighting. Open your raw files in Photoshop and select the most accurate exposure by comparing to the original artwork. Edit as needed to crop, straighten, or correct lens distortion. Just about all lenses will distort or warp the picture plane as it gets closer to the edges of the lens’s viewing area. If your artwork is a perfect rectangle but is no longer geometrically perfect in the photo, drag horizontal and vertical guidelines onto the image and use EDIT > TRANSFORM > DISTORT and/or WARP functions to correct the artwork’s shape. Edit any inaccuracies in color with adjustment layers and layer masks as needed, comparing against the actual artwork next to your hopefully decently calibrated monitor, in the same balanced lighting. The most effective adjustment layers for these minor tweaks are HUE/SATURATION, COLOR BALANCE, LEVELS, and SELECTIVE COLOR. Since my studio setups at the various places I’ve lived over the years have almost never been ideal, I usually need a combination of all of these adjustment layers on every image to get it 95-100% accurate. In rare cases I’ve used multiple of each, with parts of each erased in order to let parts of the other layers show, to match what was happening in each area of the painting. As noted above, these last 2 steps can get very technical and require a good working knowledge of Photoshop, which can be gained by tutorials or books of course, or simply from hours of controlled experimenting on a sample image. Edit any blown pixels, dust, hairs, or other minor imperfections with CLONE STAMP tool. If you plan to turn the digital file into a physical print, you’ll likely have a second round of color editing to do on the file, once you see a proof from whatever printer you’re using. Printer ink on paper is a much different process and effect than a backlit digital screen, and every print format is a little bit different in how it needs to be prepped. Wow, being a professional artist is a lot of work. This isn’t really a step, I just wanted an even 20 steps because it looks better and makes me feel good. So that’s it! Just a really quick and simple process (just kidding) for getting guaranteed amazing, coffee table book, professional-ass website, or giclee print quality artwork reproductions every time. Enjoy!

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March 12, 2020

Recent Painting Progressions

I love process in art–seeing it, knowing how things are made, reverse engineering them, speculatively forward-engineering them, reflecting on my own process and learning from that reflection… so enjoy these progressions of 2 recent paintings. 1. “Vernal Fugue”, oil on panel, 18 x 24, 2019 “Vernal Fugue”, oil on panel, 18 x 24 inches, 2019 “Vernal Fugue” (details) 2. “Civilization”, oil on panel, 36 x 48 inches, 2019-2020 “Civilization”, oil on panel, 36 x 48 inches, 2019-2020

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November 1, 2019

On The Benefits of Drawing

About 10 years ago I leveled up my artistic practice in all areas after discovering the classical atelier system of art education. Before that time I had been piecing together my own slow, winding learning trajectory in the realism painting genre, unintentionally slowing my progression with an over-reliance on photographic reference. In contrast, the atelier system is based on working directly from life, whether it be a live model, a still life, or a landscape. Painting from life in Ohio, 2017 In short, observing directly with one’s own eyes forces the brain and the artist’s hand to convert the 3 dimensions of real life into the 2 dimensions of a flat canvas. Over time our eyes-brain-hand feedback loop becomes seamless, and we learn how to reproduce exactly what we see. The real-time, real life mental calculations of angles, lines, curves, planes, perspective, light and shadow, and millions of color possibilities have a measurable result: if the drawing or painting looks indistinguishable from what we’re observing, then those myriad calculations are overwhelmingly correct. Of course, eventually, an artist needs to learn how, when, and where to diverge from absolute accuracy in order to create a work of art that transcends the mere replication of reality…but the learning process that we submit to in order to reach that point is surprisingly valuable in its own right. “Lower Falls at Old Man’s Cave”, 8x 10 inches, oil on panel, 2017 Arguably the single most important artistic discipline or skill, simple life drawing is actually a fairly complex amalgam of skills, requiring at least a rudimentary working knowledge of geometry, physics, optics, and the ability to plan sequentially. True life drawing begins as little more than primitive map making–the plotting of coordinates in space–and ends ideally with an incredibly nuanced understanding of the physics of form, mass, and light. This great article I stumbled across got me thinking about drawing; what it forces our brains to do, and how it benefits our brains. While intended for the non-artist reader, it makes great cross-disciplinary connections and serves as a nice reminder and motivator for anyone who is an actual practicing artist, of just how valuable drawing is to our art. https://qz.com/quartzy/1381916/drawing-is-the-best-way-to-learn-even-if-youre-no-leonardo-da-vinci/ “Form & Emptiness”, graphite on paper, 2012 Form & Emptiness (detail), graphite on paper, 2012

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October 4, 2019

On The Mechanics of Seeing

A long time ago on this blog I touched upon the brain’s instinctive practice of limiting the amount of visual information we tend to perceive. The point of writing about this was that it applies directly to the practice of painting from life, and really, to all methods and genres of painting. But in particular, representational realism, because obviously this genre is so closely tied to the science of seeing. As opposed to passively looking, actively seeing something means thinking about it as we look, with intention, to analyze and deconstruct what is happening with light, shadow, value, color, form, dimension and so on. The more intimately we understand all those criteria as artists, the better equipped we’ll be to recreate on canvas what we’re seeing in real life (or our reference material), both in terms of accuracy and emotional expression–that unquantifiable sense of awe and magic that occurs when viewing the best or most powerful art. The paintings that have both–an uncanny sense of believably as well as a profound sense of feeling–are in my opinion the very best, and are of course what I strive towards whenever I pick up a brush. I feel that in order to even begin to have a chance at achieving one or both of those goals, an artist needs to understand what the eye-brain feedback loop is doing, and why. “Greer’s Ferry Lake Sunset”, 5×7 inches, Oil on Panel, 2018 (painted en plein air) In short, our brain instinctively wants to find the shortest distance between two points. Without us telling it to, it sifts through all the billions of points of visual data our eyes take in, then selects the most important of that data to help us navigate the environment and make choices on how to act. I’ve found this phenomenon to be most apparent, and challenging, in the genre of landscape painting. When gazing out over a forest of trees, each with millions of leaves and hundreds of branches, all bathed in a haze of atmosphere, that view usually gets condensed into a clumpy horizontal band of olive-y green so that our brain can free up computing power for anything else that may be of more pressing concern. Overriding this instinct takes intention and a conscious choice in the moment. In doing so we can then bring our awareness slowly to each and every minuscule aspect of the scene in order to pick and choose what we will emphasize, subordinate, or omit entirely. Being an artist takes this one challenging step further. From there, we have to discern when, where, and how best to simplify the overwhelming amount of detail we see in order to create the illusion of what we were looking at for the viewer of our painting, which allows their own brains to fill in the omitted details on its own. And we have to do this all the while adhering to artistic principles that make good art, like color harmony, composition, value structure, symbolism, hierarchy of focus, among others. Err too far to the accurate detail side, and you can end up with a technically proficient but soulless, boring rendition. Err too far to the interpretive extreme and you can end up with a distorted, unintelligible or non-convincing pile of whimsy (in other words, abstract expressionism?). Hitting the sweet spot for our goals as representational realist painters is the ultimate challenge, daunting and addicting all at once. If you want to learn more about the phenomenon of seeing from a more scientific angle, read this great article I found today. Some nice parallels can be drawn from it to what we are doing as artists. https://www.quantamagazine.org/your-brain-chooses-what-to-let-you-see-20190930/

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September 2, 2019

Pest

“Pest”, oil on panel, 11 x 11 inches, 2019 Here’s a silly random painting I made recently. “Pest” Oil on insect shaped panel For @christian1perez ‘s “Metamorphosis” art show at Hope Gallery in New Haven CT, September 7, 2019 What if humans are actually the cockroaches, infesting this beautiful planet and spreading disease, pollution, war, garbage, and waiting to be exterminated by an increasingly angry Mother Nature? This ridiculous painting started with that premise, or nagging question, in mind, and then just snowballed from there… Coming up with an effective composition on a laser-cut beetle shaped panel with very thin arms sticking out proved difficult, and eventually led me right back to the most obvious solution: acknowledge the shape of the panel with the image itself. Why slap a random image on a bug-shaped surface? So I slapped a bug-shaped semi-self portrait of me on a bug-shaped surface. The inspiration for the tattoo on my, uhh, its? back was an ancient Egyptian temple carving of a scarab beetle, and then I paired it with a classic traditional Americana tattoo dagger. The inspiration for the butthole and sack from the back was–ahh, actually, I’ll just stop there. Enjoy. “Pest” (detail)

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August 7, 2019

The End of Websites

I’ve slowly let this blog turn to seed and die out, as the attention of the whole world turns to social media. I’ve noticed website traffic declining ever since the cultural takeover of Instagram, Snapchat, etc. and along with that, my own website use has dwindled. I’ve posted far fewer updates to this site, and even less than that to this blog, since basically no one reads blogs anymore? This was always a labor of love and not profit or mass audience cultivation, but as all the eyeballs move to Instagram, it has taken over as the defacto blog of choice, since the platform lends itself to quick, easy, effective content sharing, especially for visual creators like me. As the task of staying relevant and worthy of someone’s attention becomes increasingly difficult, and the pace of changing internet trends gets increasingly difficult to keep up with too (it would seem?), I’ve found it also more difficult to produce the long format art-related content I love. Explaining things, teaching things, revealing insights to the curious through writing has always been enjoyable to me. I have 2 sold out books now only available as ebooks ( here! ) because of that love. And just because websites and blogs seem to be dying, doesn’t mean I’m creating any less; you can follow all of my work in all mediums on Instagram, of course. And I’ll always post new paintings on this website, in their respective gallery categories. As well as post major announcements to the front page. For now, since I have no major projects or shows in the works with deadlines to observe, I am available for commissions.

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March 23, 2018

Blood Rituals: Volume One Coming Soon!

A pair of teaser trailers documenting some behind the scenes production of my forthcoming limited edition handmade monograph documenting the first 3 years of the Blood Rituals painting series. This 114 page book is an art object in its own right, a collector’s item for any fans of art ‘zine culture and independent publishing, limited to only 100 signed and numbered copies. Additionally, the first 22 copies will include a small artist’s proof featuring one of the paintings in the book. All painstakingly produced by my longtime friend and artistic collaborator Jeff Ensminger at Southern Cross Press. Easy online ordering will be available through artrealmtattoo.com. Stay tuned here or on my Instagram profile for ordering info and pricing details!

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May 7, 2017

Blood Rituals: Redux

Photoshoots for last year’s Blood Rituals series of still life paintings yielded several interesting macros which did not fit the aesthetic of classical still life that evolved out of my initial brainstorming sessions. I extracted four compositions from these photos, and after perfecting them in the digital darkroom, recreated them as hyperrealist oil paintings. This miniseries pursues a different avenue of exploration of the same subject matter, presenting another aspect of my artistic vision and skill set as a painter. These claustrophobic and intimate closeups border on the abstract, as the complex color patterns of wrinkled plastic bags and condensation covered glass lose their original context of setting and scenery. Within this unfamiliar space, the jarring appearance of blood is a beautiful, rich and vibrant color that makes these compositions pop, while providing symbolic depth. The narrative of what’s happening and why is largely absent from these images–intentionally–as they strive for a disorienting sense of wonder by honoring the genre of true photorealism. Uncanny likeness to the “real” provides an illusion that in turn may open up new ways of perceiving the ordinary, mundane objects of the world around us. Our physical reality contains infinite detail, but to help us move efficiently through the world, our brains eliminate much of what our eyes are capable of perceiving. When given an up close, sustained glimpse of the material complexity we inhabit, the result is often overwhelming, surreal, and disorienting, as our simplified view explodes with new detail. This is the point at which assumptions and certainties are compelled to crumble, opening the intellectual space for new truths to be realized and deeper understanding to form. BLOOD RITUALS: REDUX (untitled), oil on linen panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2016 (untitled), oil on linen panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2016 (untitled), oil on linen panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2016 (untitled), oil on linen panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2017

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January 27, 2017

In The Studio 5: Reworking Plein Air Landscapes

Something I’ve never been a fan of doing is revisiting older paintings after some time has passed. The process of reconstructing or even merely re-approaching the original mindstate, inspiration, and vision for the painting feels spiritually regurgitative in some unclean way. Like digging up a dead issue in a relationship with your partner. I’ve never been one to want to dwell in the past, favoring the pursuit of new goals and the exploration of new territory over the retread of old ground. But since embarking on a landscape painting journey over the past few years I’ve seen some of the masters of the genre doing just this–picking up old plein air studies to breath new life into them, perhaps making them more presentable as a truly finished piece to a buying audience–and had stared at some of my early plein air studies long enough to realize how I too could push the sense of drama or atmosphere in them. View From The Studio, before (L) and after glaze layer. Not to mention, more hours logged in the practice of landscape painting, more hours logged studying weather and outdoor light with more intention and discernment, has had the natural and inevitable effect of expanding my critique ability of what I’ve previously done as well as eased some of my fears about ruining those original results. This shift is the tangible, or at least quantitative, proof that learning is happening–awesome! So in a brief fit of discontented boredom lately I pulled a few early landscapes off the wall and put my glazing knowledge learned from many hours of studio still life painting to use on some formerly alla-prima studies that looked a little flat. Oil glazing truly does replicate the phenomenon of translucent–but not completely transparent–atmosphere that we live in and see through every time we gaze into the distance. Which makes it a perfect tool in the landscape painter’s skillset. For advanced stages of realism in any genre I find it to be absolutely indispensable, and enjoyed the practice of applying it to my new pursuit of landscape painting mastery. A little 4 x 6 inch study of my former backyard bridge, given a more dramatic late afternoon shadow treatment.

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January 22, 2017

Blood Rituals in Skin Deep (UK)

I’ve had the good fortune of my recent exhibition of new paintings being featured in the latest issue of Britain’s most popular tattoo art magazine, on sale now. Many thanks to Skin Deep and Barbara Pavone for the interview opportunity. Hanging in the other half of Sacred Gallery alongside my paintings this past November and December were recent works by friend and fellow tattooer/painter Jon Clue–a series called Ritual Magic. Our interviews and artwork were combined into one great feature article that you can read and see in its entirety below. Click on each image to view it at full size. P.S. See my last several blog posts for more press and content related to the Blood Rituals series… P.P.S. Which is still in progress despite the exhibit in NYC being over! One new piece was added to the site here, with a few more expected to be completed in the coming months. Please contact me for pricing and purchase inquiries.

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December 26, 2016

Blood Rituals Review, Part 2

After completing the review of my recent gallery show that I mentioned in my last blog post, staff writer at tattoodo.com Ross Howerton sent me some more in depth questions to learn more about the origins of the series. This interview made it into another stellar review of the exhibit on tattoodo.com, which you can read at the following link: “These insanely realistic still lifes at Sacred Tattoo tap into mankind’s deepest veins.” Source: Nick Baxter Draws Inspiration from His Own Blood | Tattoodo Banquet Of Suffering, oil on panel, 18 x 24 inches, 2016 For even more in-depth commentary that didn’t make it into the article, here is the complete interview: RH: How does working in different mediums, like tattooing and painting, affect you artistically? NB: Each medium feeds off of and informs the other, in a cycle of experimentation and learning that results in a more well-rounded skillset. RH: What is your favorite medium to work in? NB: For pure, unfiltered expression with deep symbolism I prefer painting, but for more illustrative or graphic work, and especially for the collaborative creative process between client and artist, tattoos are a perfect outlet for other aspects of my creativity. RH: As far as painting goes, you seem to have a preference for working in realism; why is that? NB: I love form—the way light illuminates the world we perceive—and I love seeing the illusion of a reality that’s so convincing it can transport your mind into the world of the painting. There’s a subtler aspect of realism that I also enjoy, which occurs with the most convincing pictorial illusions: that brief moment of disorienting wonder, a tiny temporary crack in the veneer of mundane certainty when the viewer who thought they were looking at a photograph realizes that’s not at all what it is. I’ve heard that moment described as the point where “emotional certainties waver, and taste loses its bearings.” I like trying to access that vulnerable place with what I do, I think an artwork can be impactful there. RH: How and why did you first become inspired to use your own blood as a reference point for your oil paintings in Blood Rituals MMXVI? NB: For as long as I can remember I’ve been fascinated by the human body, the medical sciences, and all that’s hidden within us that makes us what we are. Blood in particular is such a powerful and universal symbol of life, and ironically, of death as well. I wrote in my artist statement for the exhibit at Sacred Gallery in New York City that blood “is the liquid life force that feeds our physical vessel, the container of our soul. Its hidden presence sustains us; the breach beyond its borders horrifies us. It plays an ever-present and meaningful role in the human lexicon, as a symbol of love and sacrifice, of familial bond and battle alike, its deep scarlet hue representative of passion and our most powerful, primal urges.” I’ve had my share of exposure to it through routine bloodletting procedures I must undergo for a condition of iron overloading in my blood called Hemochromatosis. Over the years I’ve compiled quite a nice collection of reference material from these sessions, which of course set the creative gears in motion over what to make with it, and eventually the idea of the Blood Rituals series was sparked. Luckily I had the help of my dear phlebotomist friend through this process, and her arm appears in the exhibit’s large centerpiece painting as the only bit of a human figure depicted in the entire series. But one of my primary goals, or hopes, with this series is to use blood imagery and symbolism in a way that doesn’t evoke the shock value of gore or the campiness of the horror genre, and I’m not trying to comment on a specific medical condition or treatment. So I wanted to surround it with unlikely juxtapositions and temper its visual power with an understated classical sensibility. My use of blood-related subject matter has several layers of symbolism, from personal struggle and loss to the brutality inherent in all human civilizations, ancient and modern. I hope these images cut through any immediate reactions of fright or repulsion to access the vulnerable state of emotional freshness or tenderness that lies at the core of all our psyches. The fact that it intersects with my personal life makes blood more powerful for me as subject matter, and I hope some of that translates to the viewer. RH: What was it like doing such an intensive artistic study on your own blood? NB: I had a lot of fun with it. Blood is just fun to paint, because it’s a living liquid that does so many things. Of course it’s visceral and shiny and incredibly vibrant in color, but it also separates, clots, coagulates, dries and cracks, forms bubbles, changes color. It presents so many great artistic possibilities, to say nothing of its powerful symbolic potential. RH: Why did you choose to paint only still lifes for Blood Rituals MMXVI? NB: Still life is my original genre, the one I learned foremost in art school and have the most comfort and familiarity with. I love the other classical genres too though, so I included a small nod to landscapes and figurative work in the series’ large centerpiece mentioned above, called Pull Me Through Time. RH: Do you consider the paintings in Blood Rituals MMXVI as still lifes or self-portraits? NB: Primarily they’re still lifes, as most of the symbolism is impersonal enough to have universal meaning, and many of the arrangements are mysterious enough to invite multiple narratives or interpretations. However, they are all quite intimate to me, carrying personal narratives inspired by certain events and struggles in my life, featuring various objects I’ve collected over the years. And needless to say, the blood I used for reference is me, in a very literal and existential way. One of the paintings is actually intended to be a much more direct reference to the self-portrait, and it’s titled as such. The viewer is invited to interpret the objects as parts of me and the arrangement as representative of my existence. RH: How would you recommend that viewers try to interpret the profound oil paintings in Blood Rituals MMXVI? NB: I love when people viewing my work engage with it deeply enough, and are informed enough generally about visual art, to formulate their own ideas about it. Hearing these is always fascinating to me; they’re like a mirror, reflecting back to me the effects of my visual communication, the aspects of it or elements within it that spoke something to someone. As an artist and a maker of visual communication, I can always learn valuable insights from these. On the other hand, I created this series with a very specific artistic vision and a premeditated intention, and with that comes the desire for people to engage with the images from a certain mindset. There are layers of symbolism and art-historical references that some viewers probably wouldn’t know how to decode without some prompting, so I included the artist statement quoted above with the exhibition, for those curious to know where I’m coming from. Aside from the statement, when a viewer sees the gallery show, I’d feel like the works achieved their aim if that viewer felt a quiet somber darkness, and the existential sadness of loss, which is something all the paintings depict in one form or another. The blood is lost from the body, the weathered shelves and rusted metal have lost their former shine, the skulls and various bones, the wilted flowers, the tattered books—all have lost. But all still remain. I imagine viewers perhaps also piecing together a loose semblance of a story being told by the remnants of some mysterious recent event—the artifacts left behind in the form of a still life arrangement. But I don’t need them necessarily to feel what I feel, or anything in particular, I just hope that they feel something. RH: Just to give us a sense of the symbolism behind your still lifes, what meaning do you intend a piece like “Banquet of Suffering” to convey? NB: Speaking of stories, I wrote a short parable about that particular piece, as an accompaniment to a future publishing of the series in book form: “In a world much like ours, there was a race of conquerors who spread death far and wide to finance their empire. They drained all the land of its lifeblood to hoard it for themselves and hunted those who dared oppose, a once vibrant population now reduced to a grizzled band of vagabonds and scavengers. One autumn eve, as frost turned the last of the green to black and night descended, this race of false heirophants and infant gods and gluttons gathered for a feast to celebrate their conquest. Drunk with power, intoxicated by greed, they gorged themselves deep into the night. Grown soft in their decadence, gloating in their spoils, they grew accustomed to the dark–indeed, foolishly thought their revelry would never end. But eventually the morning did come, as it always does. In the cool dawn, scavengers found the remnants of depraved merriment: a candle still burning, blood still fresh in silver bowls, chunks of bread and flesh as if frozen in mid-bite. They ate from the scraps and sipped cautiously, weary and watching for their vanished oppressors. As the rising sun revealed the murky depths of the banquet hall, they saw the bloated corpses, and realized with sudden relief that they were safe: the conquerors had gorged themselves to death.” RH: Do you have a favorite painting from Blood Rituals MMXVI and why? NB: I don’t have a favorite. I think some are more successful on an artistic level than others, in terms of vision and execution, but this is just a technical self-critique. Each piece carries its own particular meaning for me, and the process of developing each into its final form contains a series of memories, problem solving, and minor struggles, so they are all important and meaningful to me in unique ways. RH: What draws you to painting landscapes? NB: I’ve always been a nature lover, plain and simple, with an explorer’s urge instilled in me by my father, to adventure in the lesser-traveled and wild places of this planet. I’ve been determined lately to combine this with my artistic passion, so painting landscapes is a natural fusion of two important parts of myself. I especially enjoy the raw directness of plein air painting, which is an old term meaning on location, out in the elements. It’s a great counterpart to my controlled finesse process of studio painting. RH: As a painter and tattooist, who and what are some of your greatest influences? NB: Classical realism painters from antiquity and modern times, photorealism and its various offshoots beginning in the 60’s and 70’s, and too many other genres, periods, muses, artists, and amazing tattooers to name. I’m lucky to call some of them friends and colleagues. RH: Do you have any other art projects currently in progress and, if so, what? NB: For now, I’m just continuing to paint a few more related still life ideas that couldn’t make the gallery show deadline, as well as attempting some more complex and larger scale landscapes. Additionally, I ended up culling a few pieces from the Blood Rituals series in order to keep the desired aesthetic and narrative intact, as a few of them veered into pure photorealism and lost touch with classical still life. In the future those outcasts will form their own offshoot series, since I love photorealism just as much as I love classical realism, and they turned out just as good as the ones that made it into the series.

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December 16, 2016

Blood Rituals Review

“Beautiful paintings of blood and bones at a gorgeous gallery in NYC.” There’s a fantastic review of the recent gallery exhibit BLOOD RITUALS MMXVI that was just posted today on www.tattoodo.com. Many thanks to Ross at Tattoodo! Read it here: Ritual Magic and Blood Rituals MMXVI at Sacred Tattoo | Tattoodo The entire series can now be viewed here on this site, just click on the link in the lefthand site navigation column.

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October 25, 2016

BLOOD RITUALS MMXVI: Progress Montage

Here’s another video featuring work from my forthcoming series of new paintings “Blood Rituals,” debuting at Sacred Gallery in NYC November 12th. Shown in this video are the paintings “Quantum Of Sustenance” (oil on linen, 12 x 16 inches), “Banquet Of Suffering” (oil on linen, 18 x 24 inches), and “Pull Me Through Time” (oil on linen, 26 x 40 inches), along with various progress shots of my layering and glazing processes.

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October 17, 2016

BLOOD RITUALS MMXVI: To The Nadir

Here’s the second promotional video for my upcoming exhibition Blood Rituals at Sacred Gallery in NYC on November 12th, for the painting “To The Nadir.” See my previous blog post for the first video. The soundtrack to these videos are excerpts of two songs by Type O Negative.

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October 12, 2016

BLOOD RITUALS MMXVI: Quantum Of Sustenance

With my exhibition of new work approaching in a few weeks, I’m creating some promo materials for the series, including some teaser videos for various paintings. Enjoy this short piece featuring my painting “Quantum Of Sustenance”:

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September 7, 2016

On The Road 12: Spring and Summer Plein Air Adventures

I’ve been so busy painting in the studio for an upcoming exhibition of all new still lifes (announcements soon!) that I forgot to post about my spring and summer landscape painting fun. Part I: April At the beginning of April I was in Arizona, where as soon as I get out of Phoenix, I’m reminded why it’s one of my favorite nature states: so much variety of vast and mentally cleansing wild terrain! On this trip I had the good fortune of being able to paint the low desert in the south and then venture north of Flagstaff to paint the completely different high desert plains. Salt River, Tonto National Forest, oil on panel, 9 x 12 inches, 2016 High Plains, Wupatki National Monument, oil on panel, 9 x 12 inches, 2016 Part II: May In late April I headed to the motherland of classical art for some work and pleasure. First stop was Venice, where I was too busy to paint, but caught some great iPhone snaps (not hard to do basically anywhere in Italy) with my now-antiquated 5s. As the calendar turned to May, I traveled with friends to the lush hills of Tuscany, where I had the opportunity to experience the best views the entire region has to offer–from the mountains further inland (overlooking Leonardo’s birthplace Vinci) to the stunning Mediterranean coast–and produced these two plein air studies. That’s me underneath the arch. Photos courtesy of Luca Natalini View From Monsummano Alto, oil on canvas panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2016 Lerici Sunset, oil on panel, 4 x 6 inches, 2016 In between travels I managed to squeeze in a plein air session while home in Austin, on the occasion of a few artist friends being in town. We made the short drive out to one of the city’s little natural treasures, McKinney Falls State Park, which boasts some active waterfalls and a variety of interesting rock formations with a kind of outer space vibe. Lower McKinney Falls, oil on canvas panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2016 Part III: June In June I ventured to the altitudes of Lake Tahoe for the first time, and got roasted by the deceptively strong summer sun while painting the beautiful vistas of Heavenly Mountain and Emerald Bay. Western View From Heavenly, oil on panel, 4 x 6 inches, 2016 Emerald Bay, oil on panel, 11 x 5 inches, 2016 On the eve of my departure I caught an ultra-quick sunset session as the haze from California wildfires filtered out some magical orange and pink rays. Since I only had time to block in a quick impression of the scene, I revisited the piece after I returned home in order to smooth everything out and push the atmosphere. Lake Tahoe Sunset, oil on panel, 11 x 5 inches, 2016 Part IV: July In July I visited Ireland for the second time, but first as a plein air painter, and was excited about the opportunities for new environs. The Emerald Isle did not disappoint as I found my way into the mountains south of Dublin for a quick session, then to the picturesque Howth coastline just north of the city, which had me most nostalgic for my boyhood summers on Cape Cod here in the States. Keeping my painting out of the rain. Mountain Stream With View, oil on panel, 11 x 4 inches, 2016 One of the only moments of the day without any tourists in the shot. Baily Lighthouse at Howth Head, oil on panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2016

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July 6, 2016

Summer Exhibitions

This has turned into quite a busy summer for me, as I have various recent paintings scattered across the globe in several current group exhibitions. Even though it’s been a whirlwind of packing, shipping, emailing, posting, and filekeeping (custom-made art inventory Excel spreadsheet FTW!), I’m honored to have my work included in these shows. Check out the list below and see if any are near you! I have one recent still life included in the juried biennial of the Peto Museum in New Jersey ( see recent blog post for more info ). “To The Nadir”, oil on linen panel, 11 x 14 inches, 2016 I’m showing 4 recent paintings in Austin, Texas gallery Art For The People ‘s “Off The Wall, Off The Flesh” exhibit. I have 4 recent still lifes in Rome, Italy at the MACRO museum’s “Tattoo Forever” exhibit, featuring the fine artworks of noteworthy tattooers from around the world. “July”, oil on linen panel, 12 x 9 inches, 2015 I have a recent painting from my Apostasy series exhibiting in “Flesh to Canvas” hosted by Last Rites Gallery at the Empire State Tattoo Expo, a yearly group show featuring non-tattoo fine artworks by many of the top tattooers in the world. “The Offering,” oil on linen panel, 11 x 14 inches, 2015. After it returns from AFTP’s current exhibit, my recent still life is slated for inclusion in the 11th Annual International Juried Exhibition of the International Guild Of Realism, which will happen at Gallery 1261 in Denver Colorado in late August. “Dying In America,” oil on linen panel, 5 x 14 inches, 2015

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June 16, 2016

Anatomical Study from Cadavers

One major artistic discipline for which I have the least formal study is anatomy. I find the human figure and its underlying structures infinitely challenging in all of the complex shapes, sizes and movements they’re capable of. I’ve logged many hours of figure drawing practice from live models as well as a few painting sessions but never have had the opportunity for long term, in-depth study, starting from the inside out. Which is why I jump at the chance for any opportunity to briefly work on this artistic area, and recently was given a rare and unique invitation to observe and paint a cadaver dissection at a local training facility for medical school and EMS students. Knowing about the rich artistic tradition of anatomical study from cadavers, which began in earnest during the Renaissance in Europe, I was thrilled to uphold and carry forward this practice as a contemporary artist. In recent times the tradition has mostly faded, and I relish the privilege I was given for a day to revive it and link my artistic practice to that of the old masters and forefathers of modern Western art, like Da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Titian, among others. Leonardo Da Vinci, Studies of the Shoulder and Neck, c. 1509-1510 Which isn’t to say that I regard myself to be in their rarified company in any way whatsoever, especially artistically. My accomplishments and artwork are quite meager in comparison with their mastery and all they left us with. What I mean is that, they started and passed on a beautiful tradition of deep artistic study melded with science–a tradition that I, in some small way, have been able to carry on, by practicing in a similar manner. This day of training, although completely fascinating and enthralling, was not easy. We were set up in an examination room kept around the temperature of a refrigerator, due to, of course, the presence of a draped cadaver in the center of the room. Needless to say, these temperatures are difficult to be in for long periods of time without a lot of physical activity to keep one’s blood flowing and core temperature at a comfortable level. So after a while, painting with cold stiff fingers and shivering chest became the biggest challenge…and amusingly, allowed me to relate in a strange way to the severed and dissected arm of the cadaver perched on a crumpled medical drape in front of me, cold and stiff in its own way. After observing the technician peel back the layers of skin and fascia on the forearm, all the while listening intently to his explanations of the detailed anatomy and its functioning, my friend James and I then watched in amazement as the arm was severed at the shoulder joint (quite easily) from its cadaver, and placed before us for further study. I gloved up and made a pleasing arrangement with it, and then got to work for a short hour and a half oil sketching session. Here’s the final result of an amazing day of learning and painting: Study of an Arm, oil on panel, 9 x 12 inches, 2016

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April 24, 2016

2016 Peto Biennial

I’m very honored and excited to have been among the artists whose work was selected for the John F. Peto Studio Museum’s 2016 Biennial. This marks my second time being included in the show, which is a juried exhibition with cash awards at stake. The piece selected this time around was my recent still life “To The Nadir,” which is first in a series of new work tentatively titled “Blood Rituals.” To The Nadir, oil on linen panel, 11 x 14 inches, 2016 I’ll be debuting this new body of work (which I feel is some of my best yet!) later this year. More details to follow on that exhibition, and hopefully some writing about the themes and symbolism of the series, so stay tuned! For now, if you’re in the New Jersey area and into classical still life painting, don’t miss what will surely be an amazing show full of mesmerizing technical mastery.

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March 25, 2016

On The Road 11: New England Plein Air

At the beginning of this month I travelled back to my homeland of Connecticut, hoping for late winter weather mild enough to endure some outdoor painting of the classic New England scenery I grew up with and now become nostalgic for after these last 7 years in the ecology of central Texas. I wasn’t disappointed, as Mother Nature provided a few days of sunshine with the slightest hint of spring. Colder than it looks, trust me. My first opportunity was a very brief session in the late afternoon golden hour at Killam’s Point in Branford, where it was no t just barely (baarrrely) warm enough to endure a stretch of time standing still with finger joints stiffening by the hour and legendary March breezes dropping the wind chill as the sun sank into the water of western Long Island Sound. The lapping of the waves into stony sand and the smell of seaweed washed ashore were both adequately satiating to my coastal longings despite the useless frozen digits and deep chill creeping into my core that didn’t fully thaw until much later that night. While far from my finest work, I appreciate the challenges overcome in order to paint something even this rough. Killam’s Point Sunset, oil on panel, 6.5 x 5 inches, 2016 The following day was mercifully a bit warmer, especially being away from the coast, in the forest interior of Meriden’s Hubbard Park where I happened upon a softly babbling stream early enough into a failed quest to reach the summit of the small mountain that the park envelops. Up on that mountain, at the edge of a cliff, stands tiny Castle Craig, which overlooks the park and the rest of New Haven County to the south (and which I have never been to, despite growing up practically in its shadow in nearby Cheshire), and I hoped to reach it easily in order to paint the scenic vista of my homeland. But the limited daylight hours and weight of my painting gear upon my surgically repaired lower lumbar were enough to keep me resigned to the forest below, where I was thankful to find a secluded and easily accessible place to paint a forest interior that I’m quite pleased with. Juxtaposing the smoothly blended flowing water with the rougher chunks of loose alla-prima paint technique has become one of my favorite effects to attempt in my young plein air painting practice. Late Winter Stream At Hubbard Park, oil on panel, 8 x 10 inches, 2016

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March 3, 2016

Notes & Advice 11

The popular text message shorthand TMI, as most of us growing up in the cell phone era know, means “too much information.” Normally not a good thing–except when it comes to my realism oil painting strategy. To be specific, I find it useful to paint as much information as possible in the beginning stages and opaque layers of my photorealist paintings, so that I can pick and choose where to obscure it during the final (semi-transparent) glazing layers. There’s perhaps a bit of inefficiency involved in this approach, but it allows for a more organic development process overall, and a greater degree of control during the final artistic choices of what to emphasize or subordinate into shadow. “Dying In America” (detail). Before and after the final shadow glazes. Note the subtle loss of detail/information in the rose petals. The human eye is capable of seeing every detail of any given view, but the brain, our computer processor of sorts, is wired for efficiency and baseline survival, and as such is instinctively tuned to only allow us to focus on what is most important in any given view. Details and countless bits and pieces of any scene get stitched together from memory, assumption, and expectation, while a vast majority of the remaining minutiae are simply discarded as inessential to whatever task is at hand. Some of my favorite realism artists were masters of this concept, knowing exactly what to emphasize or subdue in order to pull the viewers attention towards their focus and tug at their heartstrings with an effective narrative or use of symbolism. Notice in John Singer Sargent’s portraits how little attention was paid to large areas of dress, allowing inessential areas to become black or brown silhouettes with no detail. He created a hierarchy of importance within the picture that mimics the way our brains naturally function, using the aforementioned technique to subordinate certain areas. John Singer Sargent. “Madame X (Madame Pierre Gautreau),” 1884, oil. The dress and background, which comprise nearly all of the painting, are almost entirely flat areas of dark valu Andrew Wyath used the technique of reserve just as brilliantly towards the goal of depicting scenic vistas and landscapes with a completely lifelike–yet surprisingly graphic and simplistic–appearance, setting the often somber and peaceful mood with just enough detail to draw us in and keep us looking. Andrew Wyeth. “Sea Boots,” 1976, tempera. Details in the boots and foreground tempered with the geometric simplicity of everything in the top half of the composition. Andrew Wyeth. “Barracoon,” 1976, tempera. Just enough accurate rendering in the figure and folds in the fabric, juxtaposed with large open fields of color and diffused texture. And so I too try to keep the artistic concepts of hierarchy, subordination, and reserve in mind while envisioning my final result, with the goal of creating a visually appealing image, rather than chaotic overload containing a factually truthful amount of information, yet lacking cohesion and harmony. I think these concepts become especially important when painting anything approaching the photorealism genre. Micro details are common and often necessary to complete the desired illusion in this style of painting, and yet conversely, a closed-minded and strict devotion to every detail of one’s photo reference or still life arrangement can result in a less aesthetically pleasing work of art. “Dying In America” (detail). Visual information, as with most things in life, can in fact become too much of a good thing. To make sure I hit my desired sweet spot on the information spectrum, I’m not afraid to paint more detail than will ultimately be needed, only to lose it in deep, rich, believable shadows. The most effective of these shadows will still contain the faintest traces of the details underneath, yet not so much detail as to clutter and distract from my desired focal point. “Dying In America,” 2015, oil on linen panel.

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January 2, 2016

Miniature Landscapes

This past month I unearthed a bunch of tiny frames from my studio storage for the purpose of painting little gifts for friends and family this holiday season. I’d been collecting these things at various vintage stores and yard sales for the past several years for just such an occasion. Looking to tap into the peace and simplicity of painting outdoors during this colder (mostly) indoors season, I decided to attempt some miniature landscapes for these frames. Various miniatures, oil on canvas paper, 2015 For the first time since embarking on my landscape painting journey about a year ago, I worked from photos rather than “en plein air.” Although unable to immerse myself in the atmosphere and unique light properties of the setting, I found the photos an incredibly effective practice modality due to the minimum of mental conversion needed in the controlled studio environment. The unchanging two-dimensional photo and the optimal lighting conditions were a great way to narrow down the variables in the artistic equation, freeing up my memory to attempt to rekindle some of the original vibe of these landscape locations, as well as focus on fundamentals like color matching and painting technique. I imagine this being somewhat similar to what the Hudson River School masters experienced in their studios, working strictly from memory and their plein air field studies. Miraflores Beach at Night, oil on linen panel, 4 x 6 inches, 2015 Full Moon Sunset Over East Austin, oil on linen panel, 4 x 6 inches (oval), 2015 Each of these tiny paintings were completed with the alla-prima technique over the course of a single 2-3 hour session, including the lone non-landscape study of the inside of an apheresis blood cassette (random, I know…more on this in the coming months, hopefully…), which was a gift for my phlebotomist friend.

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December 26, 2015

Soul

The inspiration for this painting came largely from oysters and their far more notorious contents: pearls. The pearl has been a symbol of magic and purity throughout antiquity and across many varied cultures, from Western religions like Christianity to Eastern spiritual traditions such as Buddhism. Soul thumbnail sketch, ink on paper. In this painting a pearlescent lump of vibrant, growing flesh represents the human “soul,” or the mysterious essence of life that animates the decaying physical body, and for which modern science still has no complete understanding or explanation. Quite ironically, the only representation of this lifeforce that we mortals seem able to discern with any reliability is its supposed opposite: the physical embodiment. Here, its life-giving energy is co-opted by the encasement of confining machinery, which can be seen as representing the limited human form, and in a broader sense, the inescapable yet corroded impositions of society and culture. Soul, 11 x 14 inches, oil on mounted linen panel, 2015 The contrast between the hard and soft elements of this picture illustrates the human struggle to find meaning and fulfillment in the precarious balancing of vulnerability and armament. The title Soul references the mystery of what it is that makes our atoms vibrate with life, and our consciousness self-aware.

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November 27, 2015

Notes & Advice 10

Written by N.C. Wyeth in a letter to his son Andrew: The great men forever radiate a sharp sense of that profound requirement of an artist, to fully understand that consequences of what he creates are unimportant. Let the motive for action be in the action itself and not in the event. I know from my own experience that when I create with any degree of strength and beauty I have no thought of consequences. Anyone who creates for effect —to score a hit—does not know what he is missing! In other words, paint what you love to paint, what feels true to you, what your passion leads you to create…regardless of how commercially successful it may or may not be, or what current trends or critics endorse as currently fashionable. Let go of worry over results and simply show up to do the work! Important words for any artist questioning their output or their vision (as we all should).

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October 27, 2015

Pariah

“Pariah”, oil on panel, 2013, 12 x 24 inches My painting “Pariah” was an experiment in contrasts between the extremes of shocking subject matter and uplifting emotions, between surface appearance and underlying symbolism. It evolved out of an intriguing and unusual backstory, and I think anyone wishing to understand the painting on a deeper level than the initial shock value that its grotesque subject might offer could benefit from knowing the story. As an artist, I like to learn everything I can about a piece of art that interests me, in order to deepen my understanding of and appreciation for it. But if you like to interpret art completely from your own imagination, without the influence of explanations, this essay will definitely be a spoiler. I completed this painting in late 2013 after forming its concept over the previous year of working on my Apostasy series. For that original group of 10 paintings my primary source material and visual reference was a batch of surgery photos “smuggled” to me by a nurse friend who happened to assist on a highly publicized procedure performed by a world-renowned pediatric surgeon in Los Angeles. The surgery in question was the removal of a parasitic twin body–a set of legs and arms with a partial torso of their own but no head or brain–from a young Asian boy. This risky procedure also happened to be the subject of a documentary produced by The Learning Channel about rare cases of conjoined twins. As my friend explained to me afterwards, “there were cameras everywhere,” and so many unnecessary people in the operating room that it felt like a party, not a surgery. So, she figured, as long as I didn’t depict any precise likenesses while altering and cropping the source photos to fit my artistic needs, it should be okay for me to use them. Little did I know, the day I first saw those photos sometime in 2011 would start a still unfolding artistic evolution, in which “Pariah” is but one chapter. I’d seen plenty of photos like those before, had often used visceral flesh and blood imagery in my work, being strangely attracted to the aesthetic of their glossy surfaces, warm colors and the soft organic patterns of flesh and body tissue. But never had I as close an encounter with the source of the imagery, nor had I seen photos of anything quite like the incredibly unique and rare procedure of separating two tiny conjoined bodies. I stashed those photos for many months, looking at them occasionally while ruminating on the themes of life and loss, health and sickness, fragility and brutality that they suggested. It wasn’t until some health struggles of my own necessitated some frustrating forays into the modern medical system that the ideas crystalized and motivation appeared, and with a solo show at Last Rites Gallery in Manhattan approaching in the spring of 2012, I got to work. Many of the surgery photos had an ambiguous quality that made them appear quite like mysterious snapshots of a strange and very serious, even frightening, ritual. I focused on these shots while culling down the imagery for my solo show, but never forgot one photo that was very unlike the others. Its stark brutality set it apart from those and made it too obvious for the intended ambiguity of the series, but its disorientingly grotesque beauty still haunted me, whispering a vague inspiration into my subconscious. In this photograph, the disposed bodily artifacts from the surgery were arranged neatly like ornaments on a cloth-lined tray for scientific appreciation, in the precise locations they would have inhabited had they been the constituents of a fully formed little boy’s body. Oddly distorted in shape and size by the parasitism, the tiny limbs–two legs, two arms, a chunk of torso with bulbous intestines splayed out–looked tragically angelic, heavy with dead weight yet still full of lively color and capillary blush. That loving commemoration of a dismemberment spoke to me more as time went on. It seemed a succinct representation of what a technological society does to its citizens, all of us in some way or another, starting at birth and continuing well into adulthood. One by one, or all at once, our wild traits, impulses, and inconvenient feelings are intercepted, punished, shunned, contextualized, repressed and denied, severed and forced into an individual and collective shadow psyche. Whether done with good intentions or bad, for better or worse, the disassembling is the same. This living dissection is the process of enculturation and assimilation: the purpose of civilization. The inescapable cultural phenomenon filters down into individual lives, in turn influencing what we do to each other in personal relationships. Friends, family, lovers alike are each cut up into traits, moods, and moments. We categorize these desirable and undesirable, rewarding the former in order to encourage more of them, punishing the latter in order to banish them from our experience. We do unto others as it’s being done to us; part instinct and part conditioning. We end up severed, ashamed of some parts of ourselves while clinging to others. And so most of us grow up with fragmented psyches craving wholeness, wanting instinctively to be put back together again in the compassionate embrace of person and deity alike. How fitting, then, to use that image for a painting honoring the pariahs in our world, and in ourselves. I wanted to create a visual wish that those who’ve been eclipsed could wear that crescent ring of light as a halo. That the broken could be seen as beautiful in their imperfection. That the cast out, the unloved and unwanted, could all have their day of acceptance. “Pariah” (detail) I like to paint what many people would deem ugly and shocking things because I believe the grotesque needs to be fully accepted, and even seen as beautiful, in order for inward and outward progression to occur. I believe that each and every aspect of reality has its own intrinsic value while also being a necessary part of a complete whole. Although not obvious to anyone seeing the work, in “Pariah” I enjoy the contradiction between its subject matter and the feeling I had while painting it. In other words, the unity of dark and light that resulted from painting a child’s severed body parts while meditating on compassion and love. Like the unification of all dichotomies, I believe the intersection of brutality and empathy is a fruitful place. I wanted this painting to be my document of that, and, once the backstory is understood, a map of sorts for getting there.

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September 15, 2015

On The Road 10: Peruvian Plein Air

Earlier this month I traveled to Peru, where I trekked to majestic Machu Picchu for the first time, documenting the epic Andes landscape throughout the journey with some plein air studies. Being new to plein air painting, I took a few months before the trip to dial in my portable painting setup, experimenting with different materials and products in order to arrive at something as travel-friendly as possible. Thumbnail sketching with my South American friends on Machu Picchu. Not only did everything need to clear foreign and domestic customs, the intense hiking aspect of the forthcoming journey required it to be as small, lightweight, and efficient as possible. After getting the initial inspiration from my summer workshop teacher Thomas Kegler ‘s novel and ingenious modifications to the traditional plein air pochade box, I searched the internet and local stores for a few more ideas and products. In the end I devised something very functional, fairly efficient, not terribly expensive (as far as high-end art and travel equipment goes), acceptably small, and certainly lightweight. NOTEWORTHY GEAR Tripod: The most important part of a plein air easel is the tripod, and to get one that is (1) reliable, (2) sturdy, (3) small, and (4) lightweight, you have to spend some money. It’s not worth the headaches later on, out in the field, to mess around with the cheap stuff. So I read reviews online and settled on the Manfrotto Befree, which seemed to intersect all of the 4 criteria above at an optimal place. After buying the tripod, I modified it by drilling a hole through the center stem a few milimeters from the bottom, in order to be able to hang a weight (my backpack) from it while working outdoors, which is crucial for keeping the very lightweight tripod sturdy in any kind of wind. So far it’s working out great, I just wish it went just a few inches higher like their studio tripods do, but, you can’t have it all when you’re concerned about size and packing space. (Grade: A). Pochade Box: Ethically, I strongly dislike Walmart, but when it’s the only large store in your small Texas town, sometimes you go there for the one random thing you want that they have (and comfort yourself afterwards by remembering that the entire world is headed for doomsday anyway because of capitalist greed causing global warming, and your minuscule nonsupport of Walmart wouldn’t do shit to stop that, really). In this case, it was the unlikely and unexpected score of a lightweight, plastic, 3-part folding notebook holder thing (with perfectly placed interior velcro elastic straps?!). For around $10.00, and requiring only a few small tripod-mounting holes to be drilled into it, this was an absolute bargain. …and wait, that’s not all!! It’s perfectly sized to fit two 9 x 12 inch panels in such a way that it doubles as your take-home wet painting carrier when you’re done with your session!! Call now, and this product can be yours for only 4 easy payments of literally $2.99!! Seriously though, I’m so pumped about this thing that I want to make an infomercial about it to spread the word. (Grade: A) Paint Carrier: Just a small bait holder from the hunting and fishing section at…Walmart. Or probably most hardware stores. It worked well enough, but I’m still on the hunt for one of equally small size, but with an airtight seal and divided into cubes instead of just rows. The paint mixed together somewhat during transport and higher temperatures, and began to dry out as well due to airflow (a rag soaked with moisture-enhancing Clove oil placed into the container drastically delayed drying time, though). Customs/TSA ProTip: If asked to explain what your oil paint is, never say they are paint! Always refer to them as “artist colors”! “Paint” tends to get lumped in with the general category of industrial, toxic materials banned for civilian flight, and they try to take those away from you, or at least tend to give you a hard time about it. Flying with as few “artist colors” as possible, and always packing them deep in your checked baggage rather than carry-ons, will also minimize hassles. (Grade: C+) Umbrella: At first these seem frilly and wasteful but after a few nasty plein air session sunburns, you realize how crucial they are when you’re standing still in any kind of direct sunlight for any length of time. I’ve been happy so far with my very first umbrella purchase, the Multi Mount Collapsible Umbrella from Guerilla Painter. It packs very small, and doesn’t weigh much. I wish the fabric wasn’t black though, because that can make your workspace very dark. And I also wish the mounting clamp had more angle options but that might be wishful thinking given its price range, size and weight. (Grade: A-) Crucial Miscellaneous Supplies: (1) Cheap zippered cloth bags from Walmart for carrying whatever. (2) Tiny bungee cords from the local hardware store. I use the Cords to keep my pochade box setup sturdy and still–just hook them anywhere, to anything, for some instant tension. These things have been really handy, and surprisingly one of the most indispensable things I bought for the setup. (3) Large industrial rubber bands, also surprisingly useful, in this case for making sure the pochade box doesn’t come unlatched unexpectedly and spring open, and ditto for the paint carrier. (4) Tiny glass vial for carrying solvent. Juuust big enough to hold enough solvent to dip your brush into and sort of clean them after you’re done, until you can give them a thorough cleaning at home. Carrying solvent around really sucks, it’s the worst part of plein air oil painting for me. It’s a health and safety hazard, of course, and not healthy for the environment that you’re trying so hard to appreciate. So, “as little as possible” has been my goal ever since beginning oil painting, and certainly since starting my plein air journey. Customs/TSA ProTip: Because I am a bad person, I have forgotten about and accidentally flown with this single tiny vial containing a mere several drops of solvent, buried deep in my checked baggage, a few times before. Obviously doing this isn’t advisable, and obviously I procure solvent at my destination whenever feasible, and properly dispose of it there as well. So my tip is to scout out in advance where you can get mineral spirits at your destination, and always keep it to an absolute minimum quantity. While on the go, wrap the jar or vial thoroughly with plastic and then double-bag it with ziplocs or anything else you can think of. (Grade: A-) Backpack: I’ve been so happy with my Osprey Comet 30L over the past few years of heavy, rugged use. It’s comfortable, durable, has enough pockets and compartments for everything I tend to carry, and is also Camelbak compatible, which came in handy during this trip, because carrying separate water containers is a drag. I was able to stuff my 2.0 liter reservoir into my backpack along with every single other supply needed, including energy bars, and the whole pack wasn’t unbearably heavy. It was certainly doable over short periods for someone of average to slightly above average fitness range (and not to mention at an elevation of, in this case, 6000-10,000 feet). So as for my portable painting setup criteria mentioned earlier, here’s how I rate my current setup overall: Functionality: A Efficiency: B+ Cost: A- Size: A- Weight A- Being new to the plein air community, I’m sure there’s further improvements to the system I can make and of course, much more experience and knowledge to be gained, but this recent journey was successful enough that I wanted to share and add to the body of helpful knowledge out there. As for the experience and the work itself, here are some photos. Three location shots: First stop in Cusco, Peru: 2 hour sunset study. Second stop in Ollantaytambo, Peru: 2 hour sunset study. Third stop, Machu Picchu, Peru: 4 hour study. Three finished studies, 9 x 12 inches each, oil on panel: “Above Cusco” “Ollantaytambo Sunset” “Huayna Picchu” And some iPhone 5s photography shot throughout the trip, for good measure:

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September 1, 2015

Summer Plein Air Adventures

This summer marked my first serious foray into true outdoor ( plein air ) landscape painting, in an effort to deepen my knowledge on the visual effects of atmosphere and natural light. This endeavor also conveniently bridged a longstanding divide between my love for exploring the outdoors and my love of painting. Until this year the two had been almost always mutually exclusive, routinely prompting an internal conflict on beautiful days over whether to satisfy the urge to paint in the studio or the urge to go outside. But I finally confronted my fear of alla prima painting and began the difficult process of learning this completely contradictory painting technique to the one I’ve trained in for over a decade. Although discouraging at times, I couldn’t be happier with my experience so far; it feels like a whole new artistic world has opened up to me…the proverbial kid in the candy store phenomenon. I feel reinvigorated creatively, which any artist knows is a joyous feeling, and I’m excited to see how this new painting discipline evolves my artistic vision. For now I’m still entrenched in the learning curve, looking forward to each new (and challenging) outing, where I’m slowly gaining the experience needed to bring this vast new body of knowledge back into the studio for larger and more ambitous works in my usual indirect layering technique (ala the Hudson River School methods). So here are my favorite plein air studies from this summer, a few of them completed at an incredibly fun workshop taught by Thomas Kegler in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. All are oil on panel and sized either 8 x 10 or 9 x 12 inches. “Purple Trail”, Sleeping Giant State Park, CT “Muddy Creek”, Lockhart State Park, TX “White Mountains Sunset”, North Conway, NH “Cathedral Ledge After A Storm”, North Conway, NH “Bridge To The Studio”, Lockhart, TX “Hill Country Sunset From Mt. Bonnell”, Austin, TX

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July 6, 2015

“Flesh To Canvas” Group Show

I’ll have my recent painting Singularity for sale in Last Rites Gallery’s annual Flesh To Canvas group show next weekend at the Empire State Tattoo Expo in NYC, July 10-12. Please contact the gallery for inquiries on this piece or my other recent work currently in their inventory, Sacrament (Vanitas). Singularity, oil on canvas, 18 x 20 inches, 2014-15 Sacrament (Vanitas), oil on panel, 16 x 20 inches, 2014

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June 28, 2015

On The Road 9: Detroit

Detroit is a city where the environment itself takes center stage and needs no actors, a scene and setting so ghostly unnerving that one seemingly enters a land outside of time, a post-apocalyptic playground frozen in charred stillness, awaiting future inhabitants. It is a beautiful and frightening place, and in the tension between curiosity and revulsion I found untold artistic inspiration. A part of me needs to experience places like this in order to feel alive, to feel the sinewy tautness of real human struggle against all odds, against seemingly crushing decay and despair. The people I met there and the others I learned about during my stay all love their home through the good and the bad, and that was enough to convince me of another form of unlikely beauty that exists in Detroit. Thank you to all of them and to the interesting, dynamic city that inspired these photos.

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May 17, 2015

Photo Essay: The Caldwell County Jail

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April 26, 2015

Singularity

Singularity, oil on canvas, 18 x 20 inches, 2014-15 Here’s the recently completed work mentioned in my last blog post. Mankind’s increasingly intimate yet perilous relationship with technology and machines is the idea I’m working with here, and would like to explore further… Realized with influence from creative sources such as Ray Kurzweil Michel Foucault (“biopower”) Neill Blomkamp Guy DeBord H.R. Giger Terminator © franchise Metal and Industrial music Postmodern alienation Medical-industrial complex That’s all for now, but more soon!

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February 24, 2015

In The Studio 4

After an awkward and disconcerting hiatus from regular painting while my new studio space was being built and furnished, I’ve been fortunate enough to spend the past month back at the easel on a regular basis. I’ve been working on a half-finished painting that was begun after its original spark of inspiration occurred during the early summer months of 2014. It was then picked at sporadically through the fall and left dormant in winter, until finally undergoing the last push toward completion in the past few weeks. Occasional and intermittent work on a serious and challenging painting is one of my least favorite phenomena. On the contrary, steady and regular progress on a painting keeps the spindly and often ephemeral thread of inspiration intact long enough to keep the nipping dogs of self-doubt and overquestioning at bay. So now I have uncertainties about some of the choices made in the progression of this painting, but done is done. I’d love to carry on the themes and subject matter of this one into future related works, though. We’ll see how that pans out. So many ideas and images in my head…so little of it turns into a physical object in this shared reality. Here are some progress shots from last year and this month. The completed piece will be unveiled soon, after I hopefully think of a title. Grisaille. Color block-in. Applying splatter texture to the block-in. Building up rust textures. Adding fine details and highlights before the final shadow glazes are applied.

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January 25, 2015

On The Road 8: Bolivian adventures and a Diablada Mask

Here’s a poster commission I completed last year that got lost in the shuffle and forgotten about: “Diablada” Oil on Panel, 11 x 14 inches, 2014 I attempted to utilize a much looser painting style to complement the hand-painted folk art look of this traditional Bolivian ceremonial mask. It’s so harrrrd for my neurotic perfectionist brain to not. overblend. every. millimeter. of. paint. but I want to keep trying a more expressive use of paint in this new year. We’ll see how that goes… ha. In a fortunate twist of fate I had the pleasure of visiting Bolivia last year after completing the commission, and got to experience the intensely macabre blend of indigenous and Christian/colonial cultures being celebrated in their annual Natitas festival. Here are some iPhone photos from that experience and the rest of this latest South American adventure:

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November 22, 2014

Perception of Being Recap

Last night was the opening reception at Mindzai Creative for my new painting series, and so today I’ve posted all 20 pieces to my gallery. Several of the originals sold at the opening (thanks to those collectors!) and are marked accordingly in the image gallery, as are the ones still available (email to inquire on those). If you’d like to display all 20 paintings, I have an 18 x 24 poster featuring the entire series, limited to an edition of 100. These are printed on standard semi-gloss poster paper, and are priced at $20.00 each, plus $10 domestic shipping to cover a mailing tube and postage. Email me through the contact link in the upper right corner to order one. I’ve also printed archival giclees of 4 of my favorite pieces on thick watercolor paper at actual size (9 x 12 inches), limited to editions of only 10 each (signed and numbered). These are priced at $80.00 apiece, plus $10 domestic shipping to cover a mailing tube and postage. Email me through the contact link in the upper right corner to order one. Giclee prints of images 5, 6, 7, and 19 from the series. Thanks to everyone who’s bought posters and prints so far, and to all who came out to the opening last night, the support is truly appreciated! For more insight into the series, here’s my artist statement about the work: “Perception of Being” New works by Nicholas Baxter “The heart has a natural capacity to find the eachness of things, to experience an intimacy with each particular event. The ancient Greeks called this capacity ‘aithesis.’ Developing the capacity for aithesis allows the unique living essence that is present in all things to flow into the human through the organ of perception that is designed to receive it—the heart.” –Stephen Harrod Buhner The heart has been regarded throughout history and across many cultures as the emotional and feeling center of the human—an intelligent organ of perception. Modern science has corroborated this ancient understanding by measuring emotion-based changes in the electromagnetic fields generated by the heart, with researchers going so far as to conclude that the heart’s own nervous system is so complex and intricate that it qualifies as a second brain. Phenomenologist author David Abram writes, “We are organs of this world, flesh of its flesh” to describe the inverse of our mainstream logic: that the world we are embedded in, indeed the entire universe, is experiencing itself through us, via our own feelings and perceptions. And so universal feelings like joy, anger, and sadness find individual expression through the unique interfaces of our own consciousnesses, completing the interdependence of the individual and the whole, the merging of finite and infinite, micro and macro, an illustration that each of us are miniature holographic reproductions of the cosmos we inhabit and are made from. We are thus immersed in an infinitely complex yet subtle energetic field from conception until death. Under the dominant material-reductionist paradigm of modern civilization, however, this aspect of existence is often ignored and denigrated. Esoteric feeling states are what language and hard science still, after many generations, struggle to describe and convey; indeed, words often drown out the delicate perceptions of the heart, and measurements merely quantify. Where words and numbers fail, images and symbols may begin to succeed in describing and conveying the rich ether of our interior experience, the directly felt human condition, an ephemeral shifting myriad of momentary perceptions and feelings. There comes a time in many lives when exploration and recognition of these are necessary to reconnect the individual with a sense of purpose, meaning, or simply an appreciation of their own humanity. In describing and documenting these feeling states—through whatever medium or means necessary—we move toward the truth of self-knowledge and the integration of wisdom. This state of increased awareness comprises the path towards embodiment of our fullest human potential. This collection of paintings is not definitive nor complete, merely an attempt to portray a portion of the vast internal experience of being human, through the visual manipulation of a simple and universally recognized symbol. Each heart is situated within a field of pure white, which represents the clear, unfettered and undisturbed awareness that resides beyond the level of ego and emotion. Our consciousness and its tendencies, perceptions, feelings, and emotions are the splashes of color, pattern, and form that populate this great expanse of unconditioned possibility.

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November 16, 2014

Perception Of Being

This week I’m making the final preparations for my exhibition of new paintings in my current home of Austin, Texas, getting everything framed, printed, written, and ready to go. Here’s the press release for the show, which is a two-man effort with my friend and fellow Austin artist Jeff Ensminger. Stay tuned for more information on available originals, prints and other stuff, as well as pictures from the opening party. Nick Baxter: Perception of Being Jeff Ensminger: Into the Void Exhibition of new works at Mindzai Creative, 2001 South Lamar #D, Austin, TX 78704 November 21 – December 3, 2014 OPENING – 8pm – 11pm Friday, November 21 Mindzai Creative in Austin Texas is pleased to present a dual exhibition of new paintings by two Austin fine artists and tattooers, Nick Baxter and Jeff Ensminger. Both artists have worked over the past year to create a new body of work for the show, each with their own cohesive theme and symbolism. The unveiling of these paintings will take place at the Mindzai warehouse and gallery space in South Austin from 8 to 11 pm on Friday, November 21st. Both Nick and Jeff will be in attendance, with originals for sale as well as limited edition giclee prints and posters, along with live t-shirt screen printing featuring a design from each of their painting series. Nick Baxter’s series titled Perception of Being consists of twenty oil paintings on board, each sized at 9 x 12 inches and depicting a lone human heart on a background of pure white. Each of the twenty hearts features a unique variation or visual effect representing one of the many complex emotional or feeling states of the human experience. Conceptually, this series references the philosophical study of phenomenology while also being inspired by modern scientific research into emotion-based changes in the electromagnetic fields generated by the heart. Nick reduces these ideas into a simple and universally recognized symbol in order to describe and document the ephemeral aspects of the human condition. Jeff Ensminger’s series titled Into the Void consists of eight acrylic paintings on paper and wood, ranging in size from 12 x 12 inches to 36 x 36 inches. The paintings depict two-dimensional representations of three-dimensional black holes, also known as Penrose diagrams. These diagrams capture the relations between different points in space-time to illustrate the environment of a wormhole connecting two universes. Using green geometric grid patterns atop realistic depictions of deep space, Jeff’s series visualizes the Penrose diagram in a stylized way that is highly influenced by 70’s and 80’s science fiction films and literature. Nick Baxter has been tattooing professionally and showing fine artworks since 2000, first in Connecticut, and since 2008 in his new home of Austin, Texas. Known for his innovative approach and color surrealist style in the tattoo medium, he has also gained recognition as a realist oil painter, having exhibited two solo shows at Last Rites Gallery in New York City since 2010, as well as in countless group exhibitions around the country and abroad. More biographical information and a complete CV can be found at www.nickbaxter.com . Reach Nick via email: nickbaxterart@gmail.com Jeff Ensminger has been tattooing professionally and showing fine artworks in the Texas area since 2002. His tattoos and artwork are known for their balance of modern realism and traditional tattooing fundamentals, creating a unique aesthetic sensibility with time-honored craftsmanship. You can view his works at www.jeffensminger.com. Reach Jeff via email: info@jeffensminger.com Gallery contact: atx@mindzai.net

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November 2, 2014

The 13th Hour Group Show

This past month I’ve had the honor of my painting Sacrament (Vanitas) being on display at Last Rites Gallery in NYC, as part of their annual Halloween group show The 13th Hour. Sacrament (Vanitas), oil on panel, 16 x 20 inches, 2014 This year’s lineup of artists was exceptional, and I’m sad to not have been able to attend the opening reception last month. From what I saw in the online preview, the pieces in this show were top notch. If you’re in the NYC area, you can check them all out in person until November 15th. My painting is for sale through the gallery until that date.

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October 28, 2014

In Review 2: Forever Losing Sleep

Indie rock band Forever Losing Sleep recently released a new album titled I Lost Myself Again, which features one of my photographs as the album cover. I’m honored to have provided the visual accompaniment to these amazing sounds, and my ears confirm to me that my grainy nighttime tree image snapped while roaming the quiet streets of Evian, France this past April is indeed the match to the mood of this music. (untitled), photo/digital, 2014 Active for the past few years, FLS hails from New Jersey with a slow and darkly melodic sound influenced by the melancholy Seattle grunge of the early 90’s as well as the most successful wave of emo bands who peaked a decade later. Throughout this collection of songs, moody ethereal passages complemented by soft crooning build up to crescendos of heavier crashing chords and tasteful throaty howls, with plenty of reverb and echo sprinkled throughout, finally giving way to the open space of sparse, ringing feedback. Forever Losing Sleep’s debut LP …Like staring up at the moonlit trees on a midnight walk through the hushed small town you know too well, too full of skeletons in dusty closets to be quite hushed enough for you to catch any sleep. Complete your insomniac’s soundtrack at the Forever Losing Sleep bandcamp page, and be sure to name a price worthy of the cost, work, and time put into the independent recording and releasing of a fine debut album. (P.s. see my first “In Review” blog post here )

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October 8, 2014

On Modern Art

This cartoon, like all of the very best political cartoons, speaks volumes with so little. Hilarious commentary on modern art and the “emperor’s new clothes” phenomenon of many who purport to enjoy it…the joke always seems to be on the viewer. Thanks to Adbusters for bringing this to my retinas recently.

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September 30, 2014

Time: Tattoo Art Today

For the past few months I’ve had a painting hanging in a groundbreaking exhibit at Somerset House in London, showcasing the fine art of contemporary tattooers and commemorating the newfound crossover and intermingling of the previously disparate tattoo and art worlds. Having just returned from London where I viewed the exhibit, I can say that the museum and curators did an excellent job representing the tattoo world that I’m a part of alongside my fine art pursuits. The collection of works is impressive in scale and in its variety of mediums and styles, with a great quote by legendary American tattooer-turned-painter Don Ed Hardy on the wall as you walk in. If you want to own the entire exhibition in printed form, luckily a gorgeous catalogue was published, featuring quotes by every artist as well as essays by the curators and aforementioned Hardy. Unluckily, though, there is no way that I can find (as of writing this blog post) where you can buy the book online. You can however buy it in person, in the museum bookshop. My contribution to the exhibition, Heals All Wounds, 50 x 70 cm, oil on panel, 2014. Showing the evolution of a wound over time, with various features of the composition combining to form the shape of an hourglass. More information on the show can be found here, and you can read a more informative review of the exhibit on this blog. I haven’t been posting anything here lately in the midst of a bunch of life changes, but wanted to celebrate this amazing exhibition I had the honor of participating in, since it closes for good at the end of this week. Heals All Wounds (detail) Heals All Wounds (detail) Heals All Wounds (detail)

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July 15, 2014

Notes & Advice 9

“If you wish to make certain your painting will succeed, a minimum of three things must come from you–and only you. The first thing is knowing why you want to paint your subject, the second is an analytical grasp of what you see, and the third is the skill to control the process of painting.” – Richard Schmid This quote I recently came across, written by a wise and very accomplished alla prima realism painter, got me thinking about the underlying structure that comprises the task of creating art. Schmid divides this structure nicely into 3 primary, foundational elements. This striking simplicity belies the complexity inherent in most forms of art, especially realism, and that simplicity bodes well for artists and laypersons alike–the so-called “uncreative” types, those who mistakenly regard themselves as “not having an artistic bone in my body.” Here’s my interpretation of Richard Schmid’s quote, expounding on his 3 main tenets and how they (encouragingly) apply to everyone: “Knowing why you want to paint your subject” refers to concept and theory. In other words, the philosophical side of the craft, the ideas and meaning the artist is working with or wishes to communicate through their work (I’ve written a lot about this here and here, with a future post coming as well). This relates to the study of your own mind, to “knowing thyself” and formulating ideas about life and the world around you. I believe that everyone has ideas about themselves and the world around them, because our living brains naturally and instinctively generate thoughts, and we can always translate those thoughts into words and images. “An analytical grasp of what you see” refers to active observation: true “seeing” rather than merely “looking.” Seeing is active analyzation of visual information, whereas looking is passive receiving of visual stimuli. And of course, all but the visually impaired can train their minds and eyes to work in concert, to more deeply understand the structures and lighting of the physical world, in order to convincingly reproduce them on paper or canvas. “The skill to control the process of painting” refers to technique, achieved through practice and repetition, like army boot camp or working out at the gym. Skill and control in painting depend on hand-eye coordination and mastery of materials, i.e. knowing which pigments are transparent or opaque, which mediums to thin your paint with in order to make it do a specific thing, which brushes produce certain effects when combined with specific hand motions, etc. Anyone can train their physical body to remember certain tasks and movements like those involved in painting, even those who don’t consider themselves to be artists. It just depends on one’s level of motivation and available time.

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June 5, 2014

Daily Rituals & Creative Routines

This year I’ve been picking my way through the book Daily Rituals: How Artists Work in little bits and pieces and being thoroughly entertained by the habits and daily minutiae of some of recent history’s greatest thinkers and creators. I can’t recommend this book enough to any alienated, existential-crisis-prone artist in order to be reassured that: You’re not crazy You’re crazy Here’s a fun infographic that some cool person made to give you a brief glimpse into some of the inspiring and/or wacky daily lives of some of the greats.

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May 24, 2014

Notes & Advice 8

If you’re into oil painting or realism and somehow not already a fan of Jeremy Geddes, do yourself a favor and check him out. He is a modern master of the fantastic realism genre. When I found an interview about his process and thoughts on realism art, I eagerly read it and found some pearls of wisdom in his humble and deftly concise responses. Although the website this interview was featured on is no longer active, here are some choice excerpts and wise words: Especially helpful to me as a painter were a few choice reminders about the process of completing larger or more ambitious works, including this advice: One mistake I often catch myself in is launching into a full sized painting before I have addressed and resolved all the potential problems in small scale studies. It means I can spend days or weeks in rework for an issue that could have been sorted out in hours if I had followed the correct procedure. Tampering down enthusiasm with pragmatism can be a tricky thing to hold onto sometimes, but it is almost always worth it. And then there’s this insight regarding the public perception of “fine art” and the communicative power, which is a timely reinforcement of some of the conclusions about modern art I described in my “What Is Art?” essay: …the disconnect between the intended meaning of a conceptual work and the meaning that ‘Joe Public’ will take from it is obviously huge, the work is most likely buried in decades of obscure theory that the public has no knowledge of or participation in. I think this quote also brings up the old tree-falling-in-the-woods cliché--if no one heard it, did it even make a sound? And applied to this discussion about art's intended meaning: does it matter, though, if anyone heard it in the first place? Is it not still meaningful, significant, valuable in its own right? My thoughts on visual art as a communication medium are always evolving but lately I'm of the mind that an artist shouldn't "dumb down" their content or symbolism in order to pander to an audience--or an assumption about an audience. But I feel they should have an awareness and acknowledgement that their art's intended communication could fall on deaf ears or be construed in a myriad of unintended ways by whomever...and that's kind of the cool thing about humans, and consciousness, and life...we are, or it is, so vast and so varied and so unpredictable, that when another human sees what you've made and truly gets it, it is a moment to be cherished.

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April 30, 2014

What Is Art? (Part 2)

Last year I started collecting my thoughts on the continual debate in my head about what art is, and how it can be (among other things) an effective form of communication. That effort was and still is intertwined with the process of further understanding my own art, and all other art, as well. In hindsight, I thought the initial writing ( here and here ) was a bit unfocused, and since it was also incomplete, I took the time recently to revisit those blog entries and rework them into a more cohesive essay. The final part of that essay, as mentioned in the second of those prior blog posts, is about my belief that photojournalism can be viewed as a creative art form, possessing an almost-accidental form of raw beauty capable of inspiring other works of art (such as many of my own). This critique of photojournalism introduces broader questions about the “unintended” as art, and–for now–completes my investigation into the sneakily complicated debate “What is art?” In the future I’ll post the final version of the essay in its entirety, but for now here is the “part 2” continuation of those prior blog posts. Photojournalism and the Unintended as Art In the last 100 years, photojournalism has become a fixture of our visual landscape. On the surface, it’s simply defined as the use of images to tell a news story or to report on current events. In this role, the photos are not art, and their photographers are not acting as artists, which means their images are typically held to strict ethical standards of honesty, impartiality, and objectivity. But these attributes are graded on a scale that becomes increasingly inexact amidst the complexity of postmodern thought and the digital age of endless reproduction and re-appropriation. This is the point at which the question “What is art?” becomes relevant and fascinating to me, when applied to the medium of photojournalism. I’ve always appreciated the naïve purity of an image that’s been produced with no pretense of art, utterly uninhibited by the finicky shackles of artistic rules or the whims of unreliable muses like inspiration. In this open and wild space, artistic qualities and natural beauty are given the chance to emerge on their own, unintended and raw, like the strongest of weeds in a perfectly manicured lawn, and photography seems to be an ideal medium for this phenomenon. This element of chance can produce quite powerful images, capable of communicating intensely to the viewer while remaining—and precisely because they remain—firmly grounded in the truth of reality “as it happened.” And so the commonplace photos we’re bombarded with through ever-increasing media saturation begin ostensibly as visual data comprised only of ‘facts’ or neutral information, yet end up loaded with symbolism, embedded with the perceptions and beliefs of their creators and audience after becoming the subject of this artistic line of inquiry. One of my all-time favorites (sorry I could not find the photographer or image credit online). In studying art history, it seems this afterlife of the journalistic image became much more possible in the wake of the Dada movement, when artists (including photographers) carved out new niches for their work beyond mere decoration or commemoration of important people or places. Art in the 20th century became increasingly deconstructivist, philosophically charged, and conceptual in nature, filling multiple roles while having its meaning manipulated by the increasingly complex worldviews of both creator and audience1. Because of this evolution, just about anything could be considered art in the right context, meaning that most contemporary art now resides as much in the blurry, ambiguous realm of provocative ideas as it does in the realm of traditional craft. Hence a museum visitor might encounter an exhibit of random paint splotches that, beneath its completely underwhelming, childlike appearance, contains a metaphor referencing complex political or psychological theories learned by the artist through years of intense academic study. This can be maddening to the viewer who simply wants to marvel at a skillfully executed object of beauty, or it can be liberating for those who want to engage in debate, controversy, or social change through the arts. My own art has always attempted to straddle this fence by incorporating the best of both worlds: technical, precise handling of paint in the realism tradition, yet depicting modern subject matter and informed by the angst and alienation of postmodern philosophies. It is my belief that photojournalism in the modern age, thanks to that 20th-century process of expansion and deconstruction, straddles a similar fence, one separating objective observations from subjective beauty and meaning. This ability of the journalistic photograph to transcend genres is confirmed in the academic community by the fact that “Breaking News Photography” is a Pulitzer Prize category. This prestigious yearly award started in 1917 as a way to honor impactful achievements in American journalism, literature, and music. Winning photographs are resurrected as art objects, receiving appreciation for their poignancy and beauty—a second life of sorts, after their initial purpose or function in the journalistic media has been served. This second life also takes the form of photo essays, curated and arranged into cohesive narratives, which are now commonly presented in art and lifestyle publications, fine art galleries, and museums throughout the world. Depending on the intentions of the photographer and exhibiting institution or publication, as well as the sensibilities of the viewing audience, these photographs may be appreciated for their communication about the world events that comprise their content, or for their artistic qualities—or both. In his 1995 essay about the modern age of photojournalism, writer Richard Lacayo wades into the debate surrounding artistic subjectivity and meaning: “Photojournalists tend to stay aloof from talk about camera aesthetics. There is something about dodging gunfire in Beirut that discourages ruminations on style, understandably enough. More to the point, no one who catalogs bloodshed or poverty wants to be thought of as yet another vendor to the senses. Some news photographers spend half their lives chasing wars; who can blame them if they reach for the door when they hear the word art? …The stereotype survives: artists have visions; journalists have assignments. They may both think to themselves, ‘I am a camera,’ but each means something different. “Yet aesthetic questions have a moral dimension. Color is pretty; misery is not. How does one keep the simple appeal of color from confounding the full range of meanings a photograph may convey? If pictures of genocide come to us in the muted pastels of a GAP ad or the vivid hues of a rock video, how does a photographer keep atrocity from looking palatable?”2 While the moralist in me sympathizes with this sentiment, the artist and rebel in me, raised in an age of cynicism, desensitization, and ambiguity, views adjectives like ‘palatable’ as mere subjective opinions, impossible to resolve into an absolute truth for all to agree on. Human culture is so diverse that practically anything could be considered palatable art, by someone. And so I answer Lacayo’s question with another question: “Why should the photographer keep atrocity from looking palatable?” I want to ask this question not because I enjoy atrocity, but because I am capable of the postmodern complexity of holding multiple feelings and competing appreciations within me simultaneously. In this case, that multiplicity includes the horror and revulsion at the tragic events occurring in our world as well as the aesthetic delight at the spectacle of color, shape, line, emotion, symbolism, and meaning on vivid display, emerging somewhat accidentally (and perhaps with more purity) through the photojournalistic medium. As if to concede this very point I’m making and pay homage to the “What is art?” debate, the author goes on to admit, “The most capable photojournalists…have learned to incorporate the unruliness of color into a deliberate statement. …Barbaric rule can operate in the broadest daylight, suffering can happen in sensual settings, a place can be cruel and inviting at the same time.” And so we see that through the inescapable conduit of subjectivity, passive observation becomes intentional communication, and thus, photojournalism can also be the highest of art forms, loaded with inspiration for artists working in any medium. I’ve always appreciated the best journalistic photography for this transcendent ability, the point at which the happenings of this world become awe-inspiring images, and the deepest truths contained in the human condition are put on poetic display. Various newspaper and magazine clippings I’ve saved over the years for reference and inspiration. So once and for all, “What is art?” This question may never be fully answered. But with an integral approach and an open mind, artists and viewers alike can use this line of inquiry to enrich their experience of reality, to deepen the communication that is the purpose of all art, and to find beauty everywhere, even where it may be unintended. Another powerful, poetic image (sorry I couldn’t find the photographer or image credit online for this one either). 1The Situationists of the 1960s took this evolution to the extreme, espousing radical anarchist views on art that embraced destruction and merciless re-appropriation of all imagery, in the service of transforming society and conscious reality into a powerful and playful dialogue with the present moment. 2Lacayo, Richard. “IV: Resurgence 1980-1995.” Eyewitness: 150 Years of Photojournalism. New York CIty: Time, 1995. 166. Print. 2 Comments Notes & Advice 8 | TAM Blog says: June 30, 2014 at 1:06 pm […] And then there’s this insight regarding the public perception of “fine art” and the communicative power, which is a timely reinforcement of some of the conclusions about modern art I described in my “What Is Art?” essay: […] Nick Baxter: Notes and Advice 9 | TAM Blog says: October 29, 2014 at 1:25 pm […] is working with or wishes to communicate through their work (I’ve written a lot about this here and here, with a future post coming as well). This relates to the study of your own mind, to […]

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April 16, 2014

April Magazine Exposure

By sheer coincidence I have paintings featured in 2 magazines this month, both from my ongoing Apostasy series. The painting Hand Of God II graces the inside back cover of anarchist journal Rolling Thunder #11 (with a beautiful 7-word interpretation offered by the editor), while a newer painting Sacrament (Vanitas) causes queasiness on the front cover of Tattoo Artist Magazine #37. Hand Of God II, oil on panel, 36 x 48 inches, 2013 “The operation succeeded, but the patient died.” To see some progress shots of the following painting, revisit my previous blog post about it. Sacrament (Vanitas), oil on panel, 17 x 22 inches, 2013 Sacrament (detail)

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March 28, 2014

Finding Your Heart Again

Recent artwork and graphic design for Bronx, NY band Daly’s Gone Wrong. CD with trifold insert and 11 x 17 poster. The imagery and design concept was based on the title (and overarching theme) of the record, Finding Your Heart Again. I created a pair of heart paintings to symbolize the emotional transformation implied in the title, and centered them in a clean, spacious layout. I avoided black (except in the barcode), instead using a medium warm gray for all text, creating a subtler look reminiscent of having to search and find. The modern but elegantly delicate Proxima Nova Light typeface was used throughout, with the forward slash character ( / ) emphasized as a text-organizing device. I wanted to add some interest to the title and create a visual play on the phrase ‘gone wrong’ in the band name, so I inserted a capital X over the second letter O. This calls forth the feeling of classic typewriter corrections and is reminiscent of the ever-present modern ‘no’ symbol (further emphasized throughout the text with the aforementioned slashing character). The pair of hearts I painted for this album were the start of a new series of heart paintings that I hope to exhibit later this year. Stay tuned for updates on that project.

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March 23, 2014

Notes & Advice 7

I came across this great quote the other day from the duo behind The Artist’s Road website and thought to share, since it beautifully summarizes the often overlooked everyday struggle most artists face: to find our purpose for creating and to create something of originality and value to others. To bring a grounded perspective to this existential riddle of sorts, they remind us of the valuable (and also overlooked) societal role of the artist, and finish by describing a helpful personal practice I’ve been using for years. “So it is with artists, oil painting artists, draftsmen, and creative people of all stripes. Creating something that never existed before, even if it is only within our own personal world, is our job description. It is our reason for being and we believe that by sharing our efforts publicly, we serve the greater good, despite cultural and economic signals to the contrary. Economic support for what we do is useful, but not a measure of the value of our ideas. “Historically, culture often lags behind the ideas and efforts of the artistic community. How could it not? Ideas move at two hundred miles an hour across the synapses of the brain, and giving physical form to our ideas need not take long. The key for all of us is to keep dreaming and imagining and believing in our vision, no matter what. We are the privileged ones, whose daring role it is to look at the disparate parts of the world and “connect the dots” into a new creation. This takes some courage, and discipline. “Fear is the enemy, and fear is the only force that can limit, and sometimes kill, creativity. We cannot allow fears of criticism or failure or economic losses to enter our studios and interfere with our creativity. We must carve out a sacred space or time within which we can be temporarily free of these fears and concerns, so that our imagination can be free to wander and dream. We have found meditation to be a powerful tool for sweeping the mental clutter into the corner so that we can walk around in our imaginations. Our art has improved because of this discipline. It is always the first 30 minutes of any day for us.” –John Hulsey & Ann Trusty

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March 9, 2014

Take Refuge: Fallout Shelter Designs

Here are some graphics I designed for a tattoo-related project last year, with accompanying text (see the final product here ). I made the following images around the same time as these, using the same original photographs (shot with a Canon EOS Rebel before I even owned a digital camera…I feel old) and Photoshop CS4. The concept of the fallout shelter gained popularity in the 1960s, in response to the threat of nuclear annihilation posed by the Cold War. These protected spaces offered survivors of a nuclear blast a life-saving refuge from the deadly radioactive energy and debris, which would rain down in the aftermath of a detonation. As part of the nationwide fallout shelter program, the U.S. government unveiled a symbol depicting three inverted triangles within a circle, which would become prominent throughout the urban landscape for several decades. But in the 1980s, the threat of worldwide nuclear war was averted with the fall of communism. This new era completed the rise of powerful corporations, as Big Business brought their own version of peace and prosperity to the world. As a result, the fallout shelter and its symbol have largely faded from public consciousness. Yet unbeknownst to many, a certain Cold War still rages on—not externally, but internally—as an all-out assault on our minds and spirits by the cultural influence of the aforementioned capitalist elites. Their fantasy of escape through mindless consumption is served to resigned, debt-ridden and overstimulated masses, who despite living in material abundance, often report increasing levels of angst, anxiety, depression, and a lack of fulfilment. It’s in this 21st century war zone that the fallout shelter concept can re-emerge with a new significance. So I say to those in search of a meaningful and passionate life, the rebels and social misfits, the misunderstood and the cast aside, the spiritual seekers and restless explorers, creatives, visionaries and dreamers, and of course, all the artists striving to bring forth authentic and original works expressing beautiful truths: Take refuge in yourselves. Build shelter in your minds and hearts. Cultivate in that place an inspiration that may overcome the corporate enforcers of the dull and dreary, the false idols of passivity and obedience. Strengthen your will for the cultural battle of our era, this New Cold War.

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February 11, 2014

Shenpa II

Here’s a process sequence for a tiny diptych painting I did a few months ago related to the recurring theme in my work of healing wounds. Tinted panel with drawing, color block-in, building detail, adding final glazes and highlights, and finished painting. This tiny little pair will be included in the forthcoming art catalogue Pint Size Paintings Volume 2, which compiles these small paintings completed by members of the worldwide tattoo community, and features them in a traveling art show. Shenpa II (Toward Healing), oil on panels, 4 x 3 inches (diptych), 2013 I wrote about the Tibetan Buddhist symbolism surrounding my use of the hook symbol last year, after completing Shenpa I (which now resides in the collection of the amazing and prolific figurative painter Shawn Barber!). Shenpa (Toward Healing), oil on panel, 11 x 14 inches, 2013

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February 2, 2014

Painting Gallery Updates!

One of my smaller New Year’s resolutions was to update this website with all of the paintings I’ve done over the past two years. Well, I’m happy to say I can cross that task off the list, so please check out the new categories in the lefthand navigation column. The last time I’d added anything to the gallery pages was early in 2012 after finishing the first 10 paintings of my Apostasy series (exhibited at Last Rites Gallery that year). Since then I’ve been blogging steadily about newer completed works, enjoying this venue as an opportunity to share progress photos, technical instruction, and to dive into the thought process and symbolism behind my paintings. I’ve fallen a bit behind on writing about some of my newer pieces in the midst of some distracting life events, and I may write more here about these paintings later on, but for now they’re all posted under the new 2013 category. I also want to say THANK YOU to all the generous collectors who’ve bought paintings and prints over the past few months. I’ve had an extraordinary run of sales lately, selling out my aluminum print editions and parting ways with a handful of various smaller paintings completed in the last few years, placing them in collections here in America and around the world. I feel incredibly grateful for the financial support, and honored to have my creations appreciated by others…not to mention relieved to clear some much needed space on my crowded studio walls. Of course, many of the paintings just posted in the galleries are still available (as well as various pieces from my last few series that have been posted for a while, Reclaiming and the aforementioned Apostasy), and are noted as such in the image details. Feel free to inquire if interested. To end this on a more interesting note, here are some progress shots from a recently completed painting. I can’t post the finished piece in its entirety just yet, as it’s slated for exclusive release on a magazine cover later this year. But for now, enjoy this sneak peak into the process:

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December 31, 2013

Aluminum Limited Edition Prints

A few months ago I had an opportunity to produce limited edition prints of some recent paintings from my Apostasy series on a unique material: DiBond brushed aluminum. Anointing, Hand of God, and Transfiguration (2012-13) This was an experiment to create a striking, ultramodern aesthetic that compliments the surgical subject matter and my photorealist painting style, and I believe the results were spectacular. The finished prints have the sheen of sterile metal when the light catches them, which picks up the highlight areas of the subject matter and makes them gleam. Because printing on metal is much pricier than paper, and preparing the digital files is a little trickier, I started out with a very small edition size of only 2 copies each (for a total of 6), at a higher price than previous prints I’ve made, but they all sold out within a month or so (thanks, people!). Another great part of this project was having the opportunity to visit the printing house during production, seeing the high-tech process unfold over the course of a few hours. The giant printer, remotely controlled by an experienced operator, reminded me of the sets in classic sci-fi movies like Alien and the robotics of my all-time favorite, Terminator …which presented a fun synchronicity with the theme and symbolism of the paintings. Happy New Year’s to anyone who actually reads this blog, and may your 2014 be happy, healthy and filled with success! …and remember, every minute of every day is the start of a new year, so make every moment of your life be filled with hope and purpose, not just on this brief “holiday.”

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December 26, 2013

9th International 2012-2013 ARC Salon Catalog

I’m very honored to be featured for the second straight year in the Art Renewal Center’s annual juried catalog! This year’s book features my painting “Anointing” on page 61, selected for the figurative category. Regarding the annual Salon, the ARC website states: “With an approximate 2000 entries this year by over 850 artists, the competition was steeper then ever. Even with an additional category, and expanding our finalist cut up to the top 600 entries, the finalists only include the top 30% of works submitted.” One of the best and largest surveys of contemporary realism art executed in the traditional mediums, this year’s salon catalog is now available for sale here. Anointing, oil on panel, 24 x 24 inches, 2012

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November 14, 2013

Notes & Advice 6

I came across this quote today by a plein air pastel artist, and found it to be a perfect description for the process of realism painting. In my own work, time and again, I find I need to come back to basics in order to accurately portray the form and mass of an object or the atmosphere of a scene–to see things simply, before choosing to add complexity and detail. The ongoing challenge that all of us who undertake the realist genre have is depicting the true, unmistakable essence of an object or scene without being a slave to reference or the infinite detail of reality. When we manage to accomplish this tightrope walk, we create an illusion that ironically seems more real than reality, in turn creating a sense of awe and wonder in the viewer. Simplify the Scene by Richard McKinley “Because light changes, it’s important to work with efficiency and power when you’re working en plein air. Detail is not an artist’s friend; it’s easy to believe it holds the answers, but in fact it becomes the diversion. Simplifying what you see is a necessity. Remember, it isn’t individual blades of grass that make the field rise and fall across the landscape. “Without light, we see nothing, so light falling on form is the key to communicating what we see. It’s by arranging shapes and creating the form that you represent the scene to the viewer. Your goal isn’t to create a painting that’s polished and finessed, but rather to capture the essence of the light and the magic that captured your attention in the first place. “Ever since the arrival of photography, artists have had to fight the urge to see it as the master of what is real. There’s no doubt that photography, used carefully, is a valuable tool. What limits its usefulness is the belief that it can’t tell a lie. That can prejudice your thoughts more than you realize. Try to imagine what artists thought the world looked like two hundred years ago. It’s difficult to do when you’ve never known a time without the printed picture as a part of your consciousness. “When you take photos back to the studio to use as reference, be sure to ask yourself: What is it that the camera won’t capture? That’s what you want to infuse into the painting.”

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October 26, 2013

The 13th Hour: Worlds Within

I’m honored to be part of two group shows this fall, one of which I announced previously, and now the 6th annual “The 13th Hour” Halloween show at Last Rites Gallery in NYC that opens tonight, October 26th. Here’s the press release from the gallery website, and here’s a link to the online preview. The 13th Hour 6th Annual Group Exhibit October 26 – December 7th NEW YORK, NY (October 26th, 2013) – Last Rites Gallery opens its sixth annual The 13th Hour group exhibit, celebrating the spirit of the Halloween Season. In its annual exhibit, Last Rites sets out to present a broad-spectrum representation of Dark Surrealism. Held days just before Halloween, the show is the gallery’s largest group exhibit, and features renowned artists from around the globe working in an array of mediums including painting, drawing and sculpture. From gothic elegance to finely crafted grotesquery, the beauty within the darkness is embraced and brought into the spotlight. Artists include: Stefano Alcantara, Agostino Arrivabene, Tom Bagshaw, William Basso, Nick Baxter, Blood Milk, Matthew Bone, Scott G Brooks, Matt Buck, John Cebollero, David Choquette, Ryan Matthew Cohn, Jason Goldberg, Carl Grace, Fred Harper, Naoto Hattori, Stephanie Henderson, Jeremy Hush, Sarah Joncas, Jed Leiknes, Eli Livingston, Dave MacDowell, Chris Mars, Megan Massacre, Marco Mazzoni, Jim McKenzie, Vince Natale, Buddy Nestor, Richard J Oliver, Anthony Pontius, Michael Ramstead, David Richardson, Paul Romano, Matt Rota, Richard T Scott, David Stoupakis, Tin, Yosuke Ueno, Redd Walitzki, Jasmine Worth, Vincent Xeus, Kate Zambrano The image I painted for the show is a representation of the Many-Worlds Interpretation and “observer effect” phenomena involved in quantum physics research. It was actually inspired, of all things, by song lyrics from my favorite band and longtime artistic influence Catharsis, whose ultimate goal was total transformation of reality through armed resistance and revolutionary anarchist struggle. Their lyrics were oddly and perhaps unintentionally connected to the aforementioned theories in that they focused on the ability of the embattled individual to redefine themselves and change their very reality…to imagine a world of their own choosing, to believe in it wholeheartedly, and thus to fight for it passionately. Their song “Obsession” begins with the following lines: To sow seeds in barren fields When there’s no more fertile ground To bear the fragile worlds within Through the ruined one that surrounds For many years these words have given me strength to be true to myself through hard times by holding fast to the inspired visions and emotions that populate my inner world, and working to manifest them in the outside world. They took on new significance after I started learning some of the basic concepts (very, very basic. haha) of quantum physics and became fascinated by the philosophy of metaphysics. The connection between the lyrics and these sciences is the tentative yet intriguing assertion that the world out there exists as it does only because my mind first creates it in here. Worlds Within, oil on panel, 16 x 20 inches, 2013 Worlds Within (detail)

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October 5, 2013

National Juried Trompe l’oeil Exhibition

I’m honored to have two paintings on display at the John F. Peto Museum in Island Heights, NJ as part of their national juried show, described on their website: “The John F. Peto Studio Museum invites artists working in the trompe l’oeil style to participate in its National Juried Show of Contemporary Trompe l’oeil. The purpose of this exhibition is to showcase contemporary art work that ‘fools the eye’ and demonstrates the innovative ways in which artists continue to express themselves through trompe l’oeil.” I’m glad they appreciated my contemporary and edgy take on the classic trompe l’oeil look, as I attempt to merge the traditional and modern into one presentation. The pieces chosen for the exhibit: “Denial Vanitas”, oil on panel, 11 x 14in, 2012 “Sacrificial”, oil on panel, 12 x 12in, 2012

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September 20, 2013

On The Road 7

In honor of an upcoming journey back to the chaos and adventure that is South America, here are some medium format film shots from my last trip to Colombia and the Amazon River. All images were shot with an old, rickety Yashica Mat-124G on Kodak Ektar 100 film, with the help of a light meter app on my iPhone 4s, and edited in Photoshop CS4 from high resolution film scans.

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September 20, 2013

“Rescue Me” Art Show Closing Reception

This month I was included in a charity art show in the Los Angeles area, curated by friend and fellow artist Cody Raiza, who is a passionate animal rights advocate. The opening night of the event resulted in several pet adoptions being made, so by that standard alone it was a great success! The closing reception is this weekend, Saturday, September 21, so if you’re in the southern California area, stop by The Egan to see some great art and contribute to a worthy cause. You can read a blog post about my submission for the show here. Invocation Of Trust, oil on panel, 4.5 x 8 inches, 2013

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August 15, 2013

Creative Quarterly 30 + 31

I’m very excited to be featured in the current issue of art journal Creative Quarterly, which just went on sale recently. As of writing this, it appears that the CQ online store is actually sold out of this issue already, but you can find it in most Barnes & Noble or Borders stores around the U.S. If you pick one up keep an eye out for the “New Talent Gallery” and page 23, where five of my “ Apostasy ” paintings are featured.

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August 13, 2013

IGOR at 1261

I just shipped out my painting “Dying In America” to Gallery 1261 in Denver, for the 11th annual International Guild of Realism juried exhibition, mentioned in my last blog post. My painting is for sale and available through the gallery for the duration of the exhibit, so please contact them with inquiries. I had a chance to check out the online preview of the entire show and WOW, it’s full of nothing but mesmerizing realism in representational art. It is a stunning representation of classical painting and drawing technique, that as you will see here, is still very much alive and well today. I am honored and humbled to be included. I won’t be able to attend the opening reception or see the show in person but if you’re in that area of the country, do yourself a favor and have a look. Digital and printed reproductions of this genre of art, and especially the oil painting medium in particular, do absolutely zero justice to the live experience of the paint’s luminosity and depth. “Dying In America,” 5 x 14 inches, 2015, oil on linen panel. Also, check out my recent technique blog post about this painting.

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August 9, 2013

Then, And Now (4)

My father spent most of my childhood building a 40 foot sailboat out of wood with his bare hands, in hopes of sailing around the globe. Around the turn of the millennium, during a time when we did not speak, he and my mother abandoned their suburban life and set sail across the Atlantic, eventually reaching northern Africa before returning across the Atlantic once more, barely averting several fatal disasters. This beautifully quixotic quest–an act of sheer determination, bravery, and defiant adventurism–will go unheralded by the populace and the records of history due mostly to my father’s self-imposed social isolation and constantly troubled mind. The beaten and weathered vessel On Eagles’ Wings, my father’s former pride and joy, has remained at his dock ever since, a relic of an unfinished journey. With a bleached white, filthy imprint all that remains of its once brilliant blue name, it haunts with the specter of unrequited longing. This accomplishment of devotion, undertaken not for profit nor fame, is what I’ve grown to respect most about my father. Even though, like everything between he and I, it resonates with a confusing blend of mixed feelings, this modern tale of triumph and tragedy should be properly commended, here, on my little island in the digital ocean, in honor of his August 8th birthday. I can imagine the freedom of the gaping ocean pulling my father back to it with the tides. Commanding his ship through the open waters is perhaps the only time I’ve known my father to be fully alive or truly happy, and from the outskirts of the wreckage of his life on land, I long for him to return to his floating home there, to be at peace, to complete his circumnavigation of the blue unknown.

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August 1, 2013

Invocation Of Trust

Invocation Of Trust, oil on panel, 4.5 x 8 inches, 2013 Here’s a recent piece I completed for submission to an upcoming charity art exhibit at The Egan Gallery in Fullerton, California, curated by friend and fellow artist Cody Raiza who is a passionate animal welfare activist. This tiny painting was inspired by events this summer at my house in Austin Texas involving the rescue of 2 baby raccoons from a rain catchment bin in my backyard by my partner and I. These two little fuzzballs, normally capable of being quite ferocious, were reduced to feeble, trembling snugglebugs by their traumatic night spent flailing and trying not to drown. They instantly grasped and climbed my extended arms seeking warmth and comfort, and stole our animal-loving hearts in the short time before we entrusted them to the care of an area wildlife rehabilitation center. Of course, never one to miss any artistic photo-op, I snapped away with my iPhone camera and ended up with some gorgeous, heartwarming shots, which after the usual in-phone editing, made their way first to Instagram *, and then to the easel when I realized they were perfectly suited to the theme of this upcoming art show. Edited reference photo from my Instagram account. Here’s the evolution of this image, which just as the title declares, was intended as an invocation of trust in my life, to overcome barriers of fear and isolation, and to elicit sacred tender moments of unity between humans, other beings, all life. Pencil transfer drawing and Grisaille, followed by color block-in and 2-3 layers of color adjustment and glazing. (*This is the first time I’ve painted an image originally intended solely for my Instagram gallery…not sure how I feel about that. I routinely attempt to post content there which is reminiscent of my paintings, and certainly aligned closely with my overall artistic aesthetic, often self-critiquing them afterwards as if they were paintings…but I really despise the over-saturation and cultural-race-to-the-bottom of social media, despite my own degree of participation in it. I’m curious to see how the Ig creative outlet will affect my art in general. To be continued…)

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July 27, 2013

What Is Art? (Part 1.5): An Integral Approach

In a delightful twist of fate last week, an email appeared on my computer screen (via my subscription to the Core Integral newsletter) that advanced and expanded the concepts I attempted to shed light on with my last blog post, about what art is and how to use it as an effective communication. So, in an impromptu Part 1.5 of my ongoing inquiry, here is the text of that newsletter with a link to the lecture it refers to, followed by a brief review of its major concepts. “Think of a piece of art that you are particularly struck by. It doesn’t matter what it is. It could be a painting, a piece of music, a film, or any other expression of beauty that you find yourself impressed with or inspired by. Visualize the piece in your mind’s eye—or, if you like, open a new tab in your web browser and Google it, so it’s right in front of you. As you admire your preferred object of beauty, ask yourself a simple question: how can I tell what this means? How do you answer? a) The meaning can be found in the original intent of the artist. If I want to know what a piece of art means, I should simply ask the artist. b) The meaning can be found in the artwork itself. The artwork is a whole unto itself, and everything I need to understand it is fully present in the actual piece of art. c) The meaning can be found in the response of the viewer, which means that a single piece of art can have multiple meanings, depending on who happens to be observing it. d) The meaning can be found in all the social circumstances surrounding the artist, since no artwork is created in a vacuum. If you want to know what a piece of art means, you need to consider where and when it was made, its historic and techno-economic influences, etc. e) All of the above. If you answered “all of the above” there’s a very good chance this talk is for you. But here’s the weird thing: people don’t always know that’s even an option. In fact, it’s still overlooked most of the time. Most artists, philosophers, and critics have devoted their entire lives and careers to just one of the first four choices, while passionately trying to negate the others. Listen as Ken describes each of these major schools of interpretation, how they originated, and how they all fit together into a more cohesive vision of art and aesthetics.” (An audio file of Ken’s talk can be streamed here. ) In this hour lecture, leading Integral philosopher Ken Wilber talks about the various schools of artistic interpretation that have arisen in the past few hundred years, and how each used in isolation is inadequate as a means of reaching the deepest or most comprehensive appreciation of visual art. He gives the historical and cultural context surrounding such movements as Formalism (too dismissive of an artist’s intention), Romanticism (too dismissive of external social forces), and other useful but incomplete -isms that have made major contributions to the art world. Ken argues that one must integrate as many of these schools of thought as possible, in order to build a more complete framework for understanding (or creating) art that accesses knowledge from each of the “4 Quadrants” that comprise reality (interior, exterior, individual, and collective). Ken Wilber’s theory states that all art is created by a combination of all 4 quadrants of reality, and therefore can only be fully understood with knowledge derived from all 4 quadrants. He refers to the concept of artistic intention quite a bit, which I was thrilled to hear from a non-artist, since increasing the level of intentionality that I paint with has been one of my areas of focus for the past few years (which I mentioned as part of my internal dialogue in Part 1: Self Inquiry ). What intention requires, as Ken eludes to, is knowledge and context: a framework of understanding broad enough to shed light on all the different choices an artist can make. The opposite of intention is what I’ve experienced as “the manifestation of indecision,” a state of ignorance or naiveté in which the art-making process resorts to blind instinct and shot-in-the-dark crapshoots that one merely hopes will look good or manage to communicate something in the end. What Ken doesn’t mention is that understanding all of this, of course, requires a level of motivation (to spend time learning) that perhaps only the most dedicated artists or enthusiasts would possess. So while I thoroughly appreciate his critique and advice, I feel it’s a bit of wishful thinking–if not a bit patronizing as well–and in being “over the heads” of many laypersons, it therefore still won’t solve the great debate for most. But if you’re an ultra art nerd like I am, and have a quiet hour to devote to a dry intellectual oration, you will love the complex yet logical perspective Ken offers as his answer to the questions “What is art?” and “How do we make sense of it?” “You really need to have a comprehensive philosophy of reality if you’re going to [effectively] interpret the meaning of art, because all of these dimensions impact an artwork, and therefore are part of the art’s meaning. And if you’re going to unfold that meaning, then you have to have a really rich, comprehensive philosophy of contexts.” –Ken Wilber

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July 13, 2013

What Is Art? (Part 1): Self Inquiry

“If a tree falls and no one hears it, does it make a sound?” This is the kind of existential crisis I circumnavigate when considering (read: having anxiety about) the effectiveness of my paintings and the symbolism I choose to communicate with. Am I effectively expressing my intended meaning? And is my intended meaning aligning with the viewer’s perceived meaning? Does it even matter? It can be argued that what makes something art is the group participatory act; it almost always requires someone other than its creator to see it. Art is, in general terms, a unit of cultural information that is put forth by participant A, and taken in by participant B. Hence, a communication. Always. A message is always put out, whether the artist intends to or not. This visual communication is even more fundamental than our ever-present and taken for granted verbal communication. At its most primal level, visual art certainly is more direct–it’s sub-verbal, it requires no complicating exchange of written or oral language. But, contemporary art in the postmodern era is often maddeningly indirect and complicated. A product of an exceedingly complex society, annd having been created either intentionally or instinctively on the foundations of modern philosophical thought spanning hundreds of years, it does actually beg the need in the viewer for a more advanced knowledge of the visual language of symbolism and metaphor. That red means “stop” or “danger” or “look here!” is basic and even primal knowledge. That a picture of surgeon’s hands manipulating opened flesh might symbolize the oppression of technological civilization and the material-reductionist paradigm which has separated spirit from matter and meaning from life is quite frankly, a lot less obvious to all but the most studied art critics and curators. That’s where the ‘art as communication’ issue gets complicated and sticky…and so necessary for any conscientious or ambitious artist to ponder. Anointing, oil on panel, 24 x 24 in, 2012 Having established all of this, I ask myself again the artist’s version of the tree falling question, “What is art?” In the case of visual art, I follow this line of inquiry to a fork in the road separating the act of creation from the result of creation or the art object, the painting that hangs on the wall. So when I ask myself what art is, I must remember this important distinction (thanks to the clumsy imprecision of the everyday English vernacular), because what I discover that I really mean is: what is an art object? I then find that this line of inquiry opens up the need for even more distinctions: Does intention make something art? Meaning, the creator intends the work being produced to carry a conceptual pretense, some kind of idea or symbolism beyond the literal depiction or the physical, material object. In such cases where there is presumably no overt artistic intention (such as photojournalism*, the simple documenting of events), does viewer perception make it art, retroactively? Following the postmodern ethics of subjectivity, a viewer’s perception can not be disproven; if someone says it’s art, then for all intents and purposes, it is…to them. (Insert Dada and Duchamp’s controversial urinal into the debate here.) So I guess what all this means is that part of my ongoing refinement as an artist is a constant evaluation of my message, its truthfulness, and its effectiveness, and in order to do this I have to dig deep into the world of art theory to prove or disprove–and IMprove–what I’ve done. What am I intending to say, and what do viewers think I’m saying based on the feedback I’ve received**? Do the two match up? If they diverge, how and (maybe more importantly) why? What symbolism and what artistic strategies can I experiment with to bring intention and perception into alignment to produce powerful, life-altering, inspiring communication? *Sometime between now and forever I’ll write about my love for this “artform” and the unintentional masterpiece in What Is Art? (Part 2): Photojournalism ** Praise be to the all-important critique session!

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June 13, 2013

On The Road 6

In my last few On The Road installments, I posted lots of iPhone photos from a trip across the Pacific early this year. During my stops in Hawaii and New Zealand I also shot several rolls of medium format film, which I finally processed recently. All of these images were shot with an old, rickety Yashica Mat-124G, with the help of a light meter app on my iPhone 4s, and edited in Photoshop CS4 from high resolution film scans.

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May 20, 2013

Transfiguration: Process

Here are some studio and process shots from the few months’ timespan of painting my latest large work in the Apostasy series: Tracing, on the projector and ready to begin. Starting the block-in of color, working from a small reference. Optical illusion: new painting in front of recent finished piece Glorification. Hands like spiders everywhere. Wound progression. Adding the final translucent white glaze to the gloves for that milky latex look. Applying the final shadow glaze. Working on the finishing touches… From projection tracing to completed painting.

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May 5, 2013

Transfiguration

Here’s my newest painting in The Apostasy series, in progress since early March and finally completed this week: Transfiguration, oil on panel, 48 x 24 in, 2013 The Transhumanist agenda: Raze the wilderness, extract and exploit, leave nature gutted, concentrate populations in urban cages, destroy their mind and body sovereignty, keep them atomized, drugged, distracted and entertained, parade the false hope of technological salvation, take absolutely everything, repeat, repeat, repeat… Here are some detail shots: Stay tuned for another post soon with process photos spanning start to finish.

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May 1, 2013

Shenpa (Towards Healing)

My newest completed painting originated out of the photo shoots I conducted for my 2010 series Rebuilding. The image of extracted hook with bloody gauze rag was leftover reference from that time, a powerful symbol I had always wanted to paint but ran out of time before the exhibition was to occur at Last Rites Gallery in February of 2010. Searching for an idea to paint before embarking on a recent trip to New Mexico, I came across this reference photo and decided the time was finally right to complete the artistic thought. New Mexico feels like a healing place to me; its nickname “the land of enchantment” rings true in the way my mind and emotions feel whenever I visit. Happily, it turned out to be the perfect place to manifest this painting based on an ancient Tibetan teaching related to emotional and spiritual healing (especially having the good fortune of working on it while staying in my dream home! ). One of my favorite writers Pema Chodron has studied this teaching extensively, offering a very clear modern interpretation: The usual translation of the word shenpa is attachment. If you were to look it up in a Tibetan dictionary, you would find that the definition was attachment. But the word “attachment” absolutely doesn’t get at what it is. Dzigar Kongtrul said not to use that translation because it’s incomplete, and it doesn’t touch the magnitude of shenpa and the effect that it has on us. If I were translating shenpa it would be very hard to find a word, but I’m going to give you a few. One word might be hooked. How we get hooked. Here is an everyday example of shenpa. Somebody says a mean word to you and then something in you tightens— that’s the shenpa. Then it starts to spiral into low self-esteem, or blaming them, or anger at them, denigrating yourself. And maybe if you have strong addictions, you just go right for your addiction to cover over the bad feeling that arose when that person said that mean word to you. This is a mean word that gets you, hooks you. Another mean word may not affect you but we’re talking about where it touches that sore place— that’s a shenpa. Someone criticizes you—they criticize your work, they criticize your appearance, they criticize your child— and, shenpa: almost co-arising. That’s why I think this shenpa is really such a helpful teaching. It’s the tightening, it’s the urge… it’s this drive, too. This drive. It really shows you that you have lots of addictions, that we all have addictions. There’s this background static of slight unease, or maybe fidgetiness, or restlessness, or boredom. And so, we begin to use things to try to get some kind of relief from that unease. Something like food, or alcohol, or drugs, or sex, or working, or shopping, or whatever we do, which, perhaps in moderation would be very delightful—like eating, enjoying your food. In fact, in moderation there’s this deep appreciation of the taste, of the good fortune to have this in your life. But these things become imbued with an addictive quality because we empower them with the idea that they will bring us comfort. They will remove this unease. We never get at the root…. The root in this case is that we have to really experience unease. We have to experience the itch. We have to experience the shenpa and then not act it out. [Chodron, Pema. “The Shenpa Syndrome: Learning To Stay.” Shambhala.org. Shambhala International, Sept. 2002. Web. 1 May 2013.] Shenpa (Towards Healing), oil on panel, 11 x 14 in, 2013 Shenpa (Towards Healing), detail I managed to photograph the major developmental stages, though not always in the best light while traveling. Painting in the inspirational interior of an Earthship. One Comment Shenpa II | TAM Blog says: February 12, 2014 at 3:06 pm […] I wrote about the Tibetan Buddhist symbolism surrounding my use of the hook symbol last year, after completing Shenpa I (which now resides in the collection of the amazing and prolific figurative painter Shawn Barber!). […]

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April 24, 2013

Art From The Edge

My friend Addie over at Fuck Yeah Mad Pride clued me in to a fascinating blog featuring the art of people considered to be in extreme mental states, called Art From The Edge. Having made some art in years past while in some of these natural, non drug-related “edge states” I find this blog incredibly interesting, and it should be relevant to anyone addressing issues surrounding mental health in our society, or dealing with their own mental health issues. I can’t help but think of the recent Sandy Hook school shooting in my original home state of Connecticut, which recently brought these issues to the forefront of a national debate. Did the perpetrator of this unnecessary tragedy have a nonviolent, creative form of self expression–such as visual art–as an outlet? Could future massacres be prevented with more awareness of edge states and the role that creating art can play in diffusing and communicating difficult emotions? One glance through my paintings, with their intense nature, and one could easily conclude what I already know firsthand: how effective and therapeutic creating art indeed is. Included on the Art From The Edge blog is a beautiful explanation of its purpose and conceptual background, to which I would only do a disservice in trying to paraphrase with my own awkward writing style, so here it is: Art from the Edge, a virtual gallery and resource center by the creators of the Serious Mental Illness blog, is a blog dedicated to art created in and about extreme mental states. It is an open and public world wide forum for artists to share their visual and written works and their personal stories with all those interested in the connection between creativity and “edge” states. Much like art, which exists in a multitude of mediums and forms of expression, there are a plurality of “edge” states that inspire the artists who harbor them. For this reason, we leave the term completely open to our community’s interpretation, knowing from research and experience that this state could be driven by psychosis or trauma, or an altered state induced by drugs. It could be the offshoot of extreme depression or grief, or the aftermath of a spiritual or mystical state of consciousness. Ultimately, we are interested in the artist’s individual experience and in his or her sense of what it is that drove the creative act. The link between creativity and extreme states was first discussed by Aristotle who said that “There never has been a genius without a touch of madness.” Cesare Lombroso, an Italian criminologist, was the first to give this link a public platform by assembling a large collection of psychiatric art in the 1880s. He claimed that “Genius is one of the many forms of insanity” (Seldes, 1996, p. 102). A now substantial and ever-growing body of research is empirically verifying the strong connection between mental illness and creativity (Waddell, 1997). Post-Impressionist painter Vincent Van Gogh, the quintessential mad artist, experienced prolonged episodes of depression and possibly psychosis, spent considerable amounts of time in psychiatric facilities, and famously cut off his ear. The life and works of Van Gogh, as well as those of Sylvia Plath, Jackson Pollock, Martín Ramírez, Ludwig van Beethoven, Virginia Woolf, Ernest Hemingway, Judy Garland, Robert Schumann, a few among many, suggest that creative genius is often accompanied by extreme mental states. Art from the Edge does not assume that all art has its roots in extreme states, nor does it champion the idea that all artists experience or have experienced extreme states. Its main purpose is to be a place for such art to be appreciated and for such artists to be heard––on their own terms. My 2010 painting Progression Through Unlearning (oil on panel, 12 x 12in) features the symbolism of scars and tangled audio tape to represent the personal struggle to overcome internalized negative messages received during childhood.

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April 10, 2013

Endgame IV: Epilogue

My previous post ended with a question, which, unknowingly, had already been answered by the time I’d committed it to words. Two days prior ecological disaster struck the Gulf region again, this time in Arkansas. I saw the news in my Twitter feed as I prepared to make my morning juice and first my heart sank, then my rage boiled over. I stood in my kitchen with clenched jaw, squinting through unexpectedly tear-blurred eyes. Momentarily overcome with grief as I realized the unwanted tragic correlation between real life and my post the night before, I pounded those veggies extra hard into the uncompromising Vitamix blade of progress. Slightly amusing in retrospect, though it begged the question as I filled my mason jar with liquid: if not returned in kind on the perpetrators of the Death Of All Life, where does the great anger of our age find release? Green blood of the Earth, received gratefully. Gulp it down, steel resolve, and onward. Raise awareness through this microscopic voice in the online cyberia, and continue the mission no matter how discouraging: to create art and life of meaning here in the belly of the beast, with whatever broken pieces of heart remain. “We do what we fucking can.” Exxon’s gift to Mayflower, AR (Photograph: Tar Sands Blockade) Reflecting further on all of this, I’m reminded of a poster I designed based on some recent graphic experimentation. To be unveiled soon as a promotional item for my other website, it incorporates a poem I wrote to help dispel the monumental postmodern malaise most of us who care find ourselves mired in:

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April 5, 2013

Endgame IV

On April 20, 2010, the Deepwater Horizon oil spill began contaminating the Gulf of Mexico, and resisted containment for an agonizing and appalling 87 days. By the time its crude flow was contained on July 15, 2010 it was considered the largest accidental marine oil spill in the history of the petroleum industry. Its effects on the Gulf ecosystem–already compromised by ruthless industry–are still felt today. Photograph: U.S. Coast Guard Photograph: Charlie Riedel/AP Likewise, I still feel the knot in my stomach and the lump in my throat whenever I revisit those infamous photos of oil-slicked turtles and birds, and the brown stain spreading across crystal blue waters. With no small amount of internal conflict I revel at the heartbreakingly beautiful shots of fluffy smoke plumes ascending from a smooth field of blue that recedes forever in all directions, melting into a milky white ozone haze…the artistic serenity of the scenes always belied the senseless threat to life that I couldn’t help but know was unfolding. Photograph: Charlie Riedel/AP Photograph: Gerald Herbert/AP Equally inspired by both fragile beauty and tragic destruction, I recently painted another in my emerging series of vessels and catastrophe, with a working title of Endgame IV: Endgame IV, oil on panel, 12 x 24in, 2013 Endgame IV (detail) Meanwhile, lessons that could have been learned by the ultra-powerful, the elites, the vanguards of corporate capitalism have fallen by the wayside. Right now in my current home of Texas, a foreign corporation, TransCanada, is using the supposed 5th Amendment right of eminent domain to confiscate private land belonging to Americans in order to build a massive oil pipeline called the Keystone XL. This new profit artery will enable TransCanada to transport oil from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico, in order to sell it to countries around the world. This is, not surprisingly, what got me thinking about and eventually revisiting those Deepwater Horizon photos again during my continued search for reference material for this developing series. As the status quo marches on, Our world, like the pristine and fragile vessel poised on the verge of ruin, is left to wonder: is the next deepwater disaster on the horizon?

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March 14, 2013

Influences 4

Edward Paul Abbey (January 29, 1927 – March 14, 1989) Sometime around 2006 or 2007 a close friend lent me a battered, worn out paperback, paying forward the very item which had once been lent to her. Unbeknownst to both of us (or perhaps just me?), this compact tome of ochre edges and soft corners would begin a journey of deep appreciation for the American Southwest and all things wild, which would culminate not only in the avowal of a profound new influence on my art and thinking, but in my physical migration west to Austin, Texas. A rambling yet quick-witted recounting of the author’s time in the wild lands of Utah, whose salty tone resembles the very landscape it describes, Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey introduced me to a strain of pure environmentalism and a curiosity of what lies “out there” in the part of this conquered and domesticated continent “where no one goes.” Since then I’ve rather unintentionally incorporated Abbey’s ethic and attitude into my life and of course, into my artwork, only in the last 2 years realizing the true significance of having been exposed to him. Though they rarely show up in direct or literal fashion through subject matter, the cleansing spirit of the vast, open southwest and Abbey’s maverick attitude both inform the concepts which drive my artistic purpose, and the themes I explore. I recently encountered an editorial piece celebrating Abbey’s work and spirit, which resonated with me in a way that once again confirmed the importance of his work as an underlying factor in my own. Reading that author’s interpretation of Edward Abbey’s legacy inspired this post, which has the perfect occasion of marking the 24th anniversary of Abbey’s death. Grows Back Stronger, oil on panel, 16 x 24in, 2010 A Prophecy: “A man could be a lover and defender of the wilderness without ever in his lifetime leaving the boundaries of asphalt, powerlines, and right-angled surfaces. We need wilderness whether or not we ever set foot in it. We need a refuge even though we may never need to go there. I may never in my life get to Alaska, for example, but I am grateful that it’s there. We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope; without it the life of the cities would drive all men into crime or drugs or psychoanalysis. …The city, which should be the symbol and center of civilization, can also be made to function as a concentration camp. This is one of the significant discoveries of contemporary political science. How does this theory apply to the present and future of the famous United States of North America? Suppose we were planning to impose a dictatorial regime upon the American people—the following preparations would be essential: Concentrate the populace in megalopolitan masses so that they can be kept under close surveillance and where, in case of trouble, they can be bombed, burned, gassed or machine-gunned with a minimum of expense and waste. Mechanize agriculture to the highest degree of refinement, thus forcing most of the scattered farm and ranching population into the cities. Such a policy is desirable because farmers, woodsmen, cowboys, Indians, fishermen and other relatively self-sufficient types are difficult to manage unless displaced from their natural environment. Restrict the possession of firearms to the police and the regular military organizations. Encourage or at least fail to discourage population growth. Large masses of people are more easily manipulated and dominated than scattered individuals. Continue military conscription. Nothing excels military training for creating in young men an attitude of prompt, cheerful obedience to officially constituted authority. Divert attention from deep conflicts within the society by engaging in foreign wars; make support of these wars a test of loyalty, thereby exposing and isolating potential opposition to the new order. Overlay the nation with a finely reticulated network of communications, airlines and interstate autobahns. Raze the wilderness. Dam the rivers, flood the canyons, drain the swamps, log the forests, strip-mine the hills, bulldoze the mountains, irrigate the deserts and improve the national parks into national parking lots.” —Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire, 1967

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March 10, 2013

Dissecting Art, Intersecting Anatomy

I’m a bit late with this post, but I’m still thrilled to be included in this currently running group show co-curated by Vanessa Ruiz of Street Anatomy Blog, who featured my work last year on her entertaining site that celebrates all manner of anatomically-themed art. Here’s the official show flier and press release for the current exhibit in Chicago: New Exhibit Will Take the Pulse of Cutting-Edge Anatomical Artwork While Honoring an Innovator “Dissecting Art, Intersecting Anatomy: Merging Contemporary Art with the the Works of Pauline Lariviere” On view March 9 to 16, 2013, at S3 Gallery in Chicago CHICAGO, Feb. 11, 2013 — A new gallery exhibit will pay tribute to Pauline M. Lariviere, a mid-20th century artist and groundbreaking medical illustrator with Chicago connections. “Dissecting Art, Intersecting Anatomy: Merging Contemporary Art with the Works of Pauline Lariviere” will be on display at S3 Gallery, 1907 N. Mendell St, Suite 4-H, Chicago, from Saturday, March 9 to Saturday, March 16, 2013. Public hours include the exhibit opening and reception from 6 to 10 p.m. on March 9 and also noon to 4 p.m. on Sunday, March 10. Other hours are by appointment. Admission is free. In addition to original art by Lariviere (1906-1988), a French-Canadian artist influenced by Picasso, the exhibit will showcase approximately 50 recent cutting-edge works in an anatomical vein by more than 20 rising and established artists and illustrators from across the U.S. and overseas working in diverse media. All of the pieces on exhibit are for sale, including those by Lariviere. Exhibit curators are Chicago artist and industrial designer Phillip Schalekamp, owner of S3 Gallery, and Vanessa Ruiz, Chicago-based art director and medical illustrator and founder of Street Anatomy, which maintains a visual blog and produces gallery shows. The show will include 10 of Lariviere’s original oil paintings, which were reproduced as anatomical charts for medical classrooms and offices. Also on view will be 20 photographic glass plates of Lariviere’s illustrations used in the print production process. “Her unique use of abstraction was new to the realm of anatomical art,” Schalekamp says. “She used it to convey dense medical information through visual symbols that are easy to grasp. Her departure from realism was controversial, but it was highly successful. Her style is still used in medical illustrations today.” The contemporary artists in “Dissecting Art, Intersecting Anatomy” work in media ranging from oil, pencil, watercolor, acrylic, and photography to sculpture, furniture, video, human hair, and chocolate. Their work has appeared in solo and group shows and in publications. Schalekamp says some of the pieces were created expressly for the show. Others are existing pieces that extend Lariviere’s pioneering work in applying modern art techniques and perspectives to science illustrations. The following U.S.-based artists will be represented in the show: Alexandra Baker, Ashville, N.C.; pencil and Adobe Photoshop Nicholas Baxter, Austin, Tex.; oil on panel Sung Jang, Schaumburg, Ill.; hair on canvas Whitney Johnson, Chicago; collage Vesna Jovanovic, Chicago; watercolor, ink, graphite Michael Koehler, Chicago; sculpture/mixed media Robyn Maitland, Chicago; acrylic on canvas/glass Geno Malusek, Indianapolis, Ind.; photography Nathan Mason, Chicago; photography/collage Emily Portugal, Chicago; video Dan Price, Chicago; sculpture Danny Quirk, Springfield, Mass.; watercolor Billy Reynolds, Los Angeles, Calif.; oil on linen Brandy Rinehart, Chicago; sculpture/mixed media Phillip Schalekamp, Chicago; oil/mixed media Stephen Shanabrook, Cleveland, Ohio; chocolate Andrew Svek, Chicago; furniture/walnut International artists will include: Emily Evans, London, UK; pencil Alvaro Hidalgo, Viña del Mar, Chile; mixed media Patcho Quinto, Quezon City, Philippines; pencil and Adobe Illustrator Giselle Vitali, Barcelona, Spain; pen, ink, watercolor, colored pencil Lariviere studied art at the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Montreal and London’s Slade School of Art and studied medical illustration at the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine in Baltimore, Md., under famed illustrator Max Bodel. Lariviere’s work appears in editions of Grey’s Anatomy and in numerous medical and nursing textbooks. A 1942 profile of Lariviere in the Montreal Standard said, “Streamlining kidneys and glamorizing intestines, while emphasizing their detail like a scientist, Miss Lariviere has obtained international fame.” As a freelance medical illustrator, Lariviere painted anatomical charts for Chicago’s Denoyer-Geppert Company (now headquartered in Skokie, Ill.), producer of anatomical models and other medical education materials. Some of her original works for Denoyer-Geppert were exhibited on Chicago’s Navy Pier in June 1948 during an American Medical Association conference there. Chicago Tribune writer Eleanor Jewett observed, “Three beautifully presented anatomical charts by Pauline M. Lariviere... are of the greatest consequence.... The charts are painted in oil and are truly remarkable.” The Baltimore Sun profiled Lariviere in June 1950, noting that she “is pioneering a new type of medical art.” The newspaper said she creates charts “which not only are edifying and accurate, but are aesthetically pleasurable.” Schalekamp of S3 Gallery says he discovered Lariviere’s work while browsing in a Chicago science surplus store, where he came across a set of glass printing plates. He bought the plates and later acquired a set of Lariviere’s original oil paintings from Denoyer-Geppert, where they had been in storage for decades. Intrigued, Schalekamp began researching Lariviere’s life and work and delved deeper into the field of medical illustrations and models. Three paintings of mine featured in the exhibit: Sacrificial, oil on panel, 12 x 12in, 2012 Light of the World, oil on panel, 12 x 24in, 2012 Anointing, oil on panel, 24 x 24in, 2012

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March 7, 2013

On The Road 5.5

Adventure photos from my recent trek across the great Pacific. All images created with my iPhone 4s. I ( Hawai’i ) II ( New Zealand )

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March 2, 2013

On The Road 5

On a recent adventure in New Zealand I had the good fortune of staying at Solscape Eco Retreat in the hills above Raglan, overlooking the Tasman Sea. This popular backpacker’s destination is an ongoing permaculture experiment offering visitors an inspiring vision of off-the-grid, sustainable living in a totally immersive natural setting. Adjacent to a solar-powered, spring water-fed outdoor kitchen sat an apparently well-loved wood-fired earth oven, constructed by hand from salvaged and recycled materials. This crown jewel of primitive outdoor cooking was a welcome source of heat on the few cool nights spent there–to say nothing of the enticing smells of slow roasted food which kept me hovering curiously nearby during mealtimes. Going through studio withdrawals, I decided to commemorate the sacred vessel of sustenance with an impromptu 30-minute life study using whatever materials were on hand: generic white printer paper and a mismatched palette of Copic markers. Earth Oven (study), marker on paper, 8.5 x 11in, 2013

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February 9, 2013

Notes & Advice 5

The Artistic Learning Curve The internet can sometimes be productive…usually when you least expect or want it to be. On a recent pointless time-wasting session I accidentally stumbled into two gems of knowledge that I thought profound enough to share: I don’t know a single artist who can’t relate to the learning curve graphic, it’s just so unerringly true. If you know, you know. For the life of me I can’t track down the original URL in order to give proper credit, but I found it too accurate and insightful to withhold. This other graphic is from an unrelated source, but perfectly appropriate, and a great context through which to interpret the previous one:

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February 2, 2013

New Vessels

Lately I’ve been brainstorming and refining a new artistic vision, taking the opportunity of any downtime between large surgery paintings to complete some smaller, fast-paced still lifes with a much different palette and ambiance. These pieces utilize clean forms and simple compositions, attempting a confluence of opposites to symbolize the precarity of industrial civilization in the new millennium, the increasing sense of dread among many who see the global destructiveness and the coming end of late-stage capitalism: Serenity and catastrophe…the mundane and the dramatic…solidity and ethereality. Like much of my work these pieces are also influenced by Buddhist philosophy, with smooth surfaces representing the perfection of form that simultaneously experiences impermanence: smoke, flames, and ultimately, annihilation. These vessels are bodies facing their inevitable destruction through aging, inflammation and disease. These vessels are the purification of the ego, burning away its own delusion and illusion. Endgame II, oil on panel, 6 x 7in, 2012 Endgame III, oil on board, 6.5 x 7.5in, 2012-13 This budding series is an expansion and evolution of the themes broached in another less recent painting, which of course is also a metaphor for the edifices of civilization and their approaching collapse; the rise and fall of human achievement: Endgame I, oil on canvas, 5 x 7in, 2009-12 My plan (completely subject to change in the winds of artistic inspiration or be ground in the gears of other life obligations) is to continue to refine these concepts and build up to scenes of larger scale and higher complexity, as I wind down my Apostasy series this year. Who knows what will actually happen, but I’m excited and nervous about finding new challenges. So stay tuned for more updates on both endeavors. Small, medium, and large…

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January 29, 2013

Liberate, and Create!

I just finished these designs, to be implemented on promotional materials later this year: Liberate, photo/digital (Canon EOS Rebel 35mm, scanned to Photoshop CS4), 2013

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January 25, 2013

Influences 3: Catharsis

catharsis [(kuh- thahr -suhs)] — n 1. An experience of emotional release and purification, often inspired by or through art. 2. American anarchist hardcore/punk band, active c. 1992-2002 Two decades ago, before the music industry had fully colonized it, the do-it-yourself underground was a space of exodus and experimentation, often in violent opposition to the rest of the world. This was the context in which Catharsis appeared, one of a new wave of bands to meld metal drama with the raw urgency of hardcore punk. They quickly distinguished themselves by an almost self-destructive intensity and uncompromising anticapitalist ethic. Inverting Christian iconography to champion the struggle of the individual against a hostile cosmos, they took up the centuries-old banner No Gods, No Masters, extending this project of total defiance into their increasingly tumultuous lives. This apocalyptic orientation in turn informed their music, as they sought to hit upon the magic combination of words, harmonies, and rhythms that could spark a global conflagration. Following relentless touring on three continents and a final catastrophic five months in Europe, Catharsis broke up in 2002. After a decade of other projects, they reunited in January 2013 for a weekend of performances to commemorate the release of their discography, Light From A Dead Star. I was fortunate enough to be able to accompany the band for the duration of their mini-tour, giving me plenty of opportunity to soak in the incredible transformative energy of their performances and reminisce on the effect this band–no, more than ‘band’: this entity –has had on my life. “May the flags all die at the tops of their poles…” Forging a camaraderie with vocalist b. as a teenager was incredibly impactful to my young mind and budding sense of identity and purpose. That impressionable age is a time of hero-worship, which can just as often end disastrously as beneficially. But in this case, my personal connection to Catharsis and their dynamic frontman helped shape my personal work ethic, determination, and spirit, giving me “courage for my passions and my pains” in the midst of often turbulent coming-of-age years. I now see my relationship with Catharsis as the fulcrum upon which hinged a destiny: ultimately, a departure from the life laid out before me by the traditions of my privileged suburban upbringing. Ever since, my art has been a representation of this personal rupture and resulting reclamation, its very conceptual foundation being self transcendence through deconstruction–of the human body and other thin veneers and obscurations. Samsara LP, 1997 The band’s themes and lyrics continue to be recontextualized, remaining as relevant to me today as when they first opened my eyes to a meaningful life and worlds of new potential over 15 years ago. And I’m convinced that this militant music about radical disavowal and re-appropriation of values cannot be truly appreciated nor understood in the absence of that very context. Frenetic drumming blasts through driving, gritty, wailing guitars, all drenched in desperate screams…a primal intonation borne out of suffering and postmodern alienation, baring the beautiful vulnerability of its makers. For those who’ve deeply felt that suffering, music like Catharsis’ soothes the ears and the ache within; it must surely obscure as a wall of detestable noise to those who haven’t. In this way, context is indeed the threshold through which to enter this experience. Screaming along, into the mic offered by b. Only my arm and gloved hand make the picture. (Photo by Rebecca R.) Of course, the band’s live performance was the the pinnacle of their emotional outpouring; their shows were ritualized incantations powerful enough to redirect the trajectories of entire lives. Such performative power given to already intense themes can be polarizing, and often led to emotional breakdowns by audience participants or hostile backlash from hecklers. The Catharsis live show, by design, brought nearly everyone out of their comfort zones, bringing the band’s purpose full circle by illustrating in real-time the utter destruction of all human limits and worldly constraints. (Photo by Rebecca R. More photos here.) To be free in the empire of entrepreneurs and authorities. To be lucid between the airwaves and sedatives, To trust yourself under the tyranny of consensus reality. To be sensitive living in earshot of the sweatshops, the stadiums, the slaughterhouses, With the scent of blood cheap in the air. To dream of beauty with the stars plucked from the sky, The angels caged and heroes demonized. To sing through throats stuffed with the cotton of inhibition, To write of grace with calloused hands and bloody faces; To dare to scream, and even cry, proudly, before the jeering eyes Of the judges, the executioner, and the crowd. To lie, cheat, steal, and betray as much as necessary To be honest, To tell the truth. To be fearless: to move and follow that movement Even into death, to live to burn up in the wreckage. To give everything: To kiss without apprehension, shame, or restraint, To make love in the city of hate. And yes, to be alive, Alive in the land of the dead. Catharsis.

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January 16, 2013

Catharsis Reunion Show Flier

More to come in the near future about this band, this phenomenon which forever altered the course of my life, called Catharsis. For now, here’s a show flier I designed for them last month.

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January 9, 2013

Grasping

I unearthed this old thumbnail sketch recently while searching for some reference photos in an impossibly overstuffed manila folder, a visual treasure chest where all manner of computer printouts, random newspaper and magazine clippings, and sketches from the last 10+ years are stored. Grasping (thumbnail) This tiny drawing marks the genesis of my 2008 painting Grasping, which uses a visual metaphor to represent the human struggle with craving and addiction: Grasping, oil on panel, 10in x 20in, 2008 Many of my paintings start out this way, with the quick thumbnail sketch being the most efficient method to record a momentary flash of inspiration or percolating idea for later use, before it’s gone forever. (I mentioned thumbnail sketches briefly in this older post about what is quite often the next stage of the painter’s creative process.)

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December 31, 2012

Glorification

My latest installment in The Apostasy series, and the last for 2012, is now complete. Four times as big as the next smallest piece in the series, and by far the largest painting I’ve attempted in oil at 48 inches square, this was a grueling endeavor. Quite frankly, I’m just relieved it’s over, but on the positive side, I feel much more prepared and able to take on the next (and second to last!) piece in the series, which will be in the same large size range. Here is a visual walk through the process of making this painting, which for now I’ve tentatively titled Glorification: Glorification (study), oil on canvas board, 12in x 12in, 2012 Glorification, oil on panel, 48in x 48in, 2012 Happy new year everyone! May we all enjoy success in our continuing endeavors, and a progression in awareness, happiness, and health from an individual level to a global scale.

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December 21, 2012

Notes & Advice 4: Clear Seeing and Accurate Drawing

Earlier this month I attended a 3 day intensive drawing course hosted by an artistic mentor of mine, Edward Povey. This course started from the absolute foundations of drawing–clear and simple seeing, lines, and shapes–and progressed by the third day, after a brief foray into tone and value, into a full-fledged classical still life. While I had taken a similar foundations of drawing course around a decade ago (wow, that sounds like I’m old…and an “adult.” Wierd.) in art college, I wanted to revisit these incredibly important disciplines in order to sharpen up my artistic skills. Edward taught the course with a combination of classic drawing exercises, and insightful personal anecdotes about the nature of seeing. His philosophy emphasized the faithful recording what we see, in the tradition of “the humble craftsman.” Exercise: reproduce the Picasso drawing upside down, without regard to subject matter. Simply observe line, shapes, and proportions. Many of the exercises were taken directly from the popular book by Betty Edwards Drawing On the Right Side of The Brain ( which I personally have never read, but can now vouch for after this experience), such as the Vase/Face exercise which you can see here. One of the most demonstrative exercises consisted of trying to reproduce a complex line shape in exact precision while simultaneously counting aloud, from 50 to zero. I won’t spoil the amusing results of conducting such an experiment by describing them in detail here, in case you should decide to try it yourself. But let’s just say, it puts the two sides of your brain into a major state of conflict. All drawing consists of, is working with one’s own mind. The most poignant lesson that was reinforced for me over the 3 days was the emphasis on clear, simple seeing. Much like a meditation practice, this places emphasis on simply seeing the physical reality before us in all of its detailed truthfulness, without the confusion nor illusion of belief. For example, our mind knows and believes that a human arm may be approximately 3 feet long, but when seen in sharp perspective, the appearance of the arm becomes far shorter (aka ‘foreshortened’), and we must account for this when drawing it on a 2-dimensional surface. This cognitive dissonance between our belief about the arm and the reality of how it appears on our retinas (and therefore must appear on the paper) is the reason why drawing complex forms with complete accuracy is incredibly difficult. Therefore an artist must learn to disconnect from certain areas of thought in their brain, and tune into the unembellished truth of reality, breaking it down into simple criteria of line, shape, and negative space (the areas or shapes between/around featured subject matter). Extreme precision in this task can be achieved with measuring techniques and devices, but it is not impossible to do so completely with one’s own eyes and mind. It takes patience, practice, and a willingness to let go of our ego and all of its beliefs. Words of wisdom. As a painter of realism, this practice is indispensable for me. All of my aesthetic illusions must be grounded in, must stem from, the fundamental truth of how objects or spaces look in reality, or else their believability will be compromised. Not to mention, the strength of all representational art in the first place, regardless of chosen specialty or chosen illusions, lies in the accurate reproduction of 3D forms onto a 2D surface. Subjecting oneself to the rigors of classical drawing training is the most efficient way to stay sharp, no matter how advanced or practiced one is. It’s the same concept as strengthening muscles by going to the gym. After a while, certain drawing exercises are likely to make less of an impact as they become more familiar/easier, and just as with physical strength, the artist can increase the artistic challenge by adding time limits or more complex subject matter. I strongly encourage all artists to revisit the simple disciplines of drawing as a way to “work out” their skills of observation and their representational accuracy. Here’s my completed drawing from the final day of the class: Form & Emptiness, Graphite on Paper, 2012, 12in x 9in Form & Emptiness (detail). The title of this piece is a reference to the Buddhist teachings on the nature of reality, as represented by the dominating dark form in the center of the composition bearing my reflection, and of course by the empty glass and mug. This title is also a reference to the similarities between the clear seeing techniques used for drawing, and the awareness cultivated in meditation practice.

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December 16, 2012

8th International 2011-2012 ARC Salon Catalogue Now Available

Earlier in the year I announced that I was chosen as a finalist in the Art Renewal Center’s annual juried competition, in the still life category, for my painting “What Love Is.” Though I was not selected for any of the grand prizes, my status as finalist means that my painting is published in the print catalog that the organization produces each year to commemorate the contest. What Love Is, oil on panel, 2011, 16in x 24in That catalog for last year’s competition is finally out, and available through the Art Renewal Center’s website. If you order one, look for my piece on page 92! The quality of realist and representational art in the catalog is astounding and truly inspirational for anyone who appreciates skill, technique, and humble craftsmanship in the visual arts. Bucking the postmodern trend of concept over quality, the ARC gives hope that classical knowledge and disciplines are still alive, even when subject matter evolves to incorporate modern elements and motifs (as my own work does). Being recognized by a group like ARC is an honor for me, as my own work attempts in part to honor the traditions of realism in representational art. In fact, my over-arching artistic goal is to achieve the combination of masterful old world skill with cutting edge commentary on the world I presently inhabit, and where we are headed as a species: the pinnacle of past, present and future. “The 2011/2012 ARC Salon was our largest turnout yet with over 2,100 entries and over 800 artists participating. There were a large number of high quality works that did not make it into the finals. This was true even after extending the original 300+ expected finalist pieces to over 500. All 500 plus finalists are shown in this catalogue. To have become a finalist and be showcased in this catalogue is even more difficult than before and is a huge accomplishment.”

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December 1, 2012

In The Studio 3

Some of this past month’s progress shots from my massive 4-foot square painting currently in progress. Hoping to have it completed by the end of the year… The start of details, a.k.a. the fun begins.

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November 22, 2012

Then, And Now 3

My recent post about medium format photography adventures reminded me of the last time I had some fun with it, in 2009 when my parents were in town for a visit. My photographer friend got ahold of a loaner Hasselblad 6 x 6 medium format camera and a tilt-shift lens for the occasion, and I dug out some expired old film to see what would happen. Here are my favorite images from that day. (Hasselblad 6 x 6 medium format with tilt-shift lens on Fujicolor Reala 100. Negative scan to digital, Photoshop) (Hasselblad 6 x 6 medium format with tilt-shift lens on Ilford Delta 3200 Pro. Negative scan to digital, Photoshop)

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November 18, 2012

Secret Knowledge

BBC World Presents: David Hockney’s Secret Knowledge Yesterday I was shown a fascinating and intriguing exposé documentary on the origins of the “camera obscura,” which is the first known use of optics in the creation of art. For those who don’t dispute the evidence of its existence, this primitive lens system (utilized several centuries before the invention of the modern camera) marked the birthplace of realism painting in 1420. After about 15 minutes of the video, the phenomenal significance of this research dawned on me. Because although I’d previously known about the camera obscura, I had never investigated the full story in any depth–and never realized the profound implications it has on the placement of my and all other realist painters’ art, in the canon of art history. Thanks to this video, I’ve had a very encouraging revelation about the tradition I am participating in, and I’m honored to be carrying on a nearly 600-year-old lineage into the future, adding my drop of life’s work into this magnificent bucket. Thankfully, some kind soul has uploaded the entire video on YouTube. If you’re a nerd, an artist, or both you’ll surely enjoy:

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November 15, 2012

In Review: Union of Art and Sport

The Rules of Basketball: Works by Paul Pfeiffer and James Naismith’s “Original Rules of Basket Ball” September 16 – January 13, 2013 Blanton Museum of Art at The University of Texas at Austin In an unlikely combination of history and psychology, this exhibit pairs basketball inventor James Naismith’s 1891 document “Original Rules of Basket Ball” with contemporary artist Paul Pfeiffer’s basketball themed digital works. In hindsight, the Naismith material seems like it’d be merely a passing curiosity for most, and only significant for true sports geeks and devout basketball fans, as the real philosophical and entertaining meat of the exhibit is the collection of work by Paul Pfeiffer. This basketball-specific compilation of pieces is dominated by enormous C-prints of mostly vintage and notable game photographs whose removed logos, names, and team colors imbue them with the ghostly hollow silence of a haunted house. Interspersed among these are tiny viewing vessels affixed to the walls, where short-length video clips run in fast highlight-reel styled loops. Pfeiffer’s knack for selecting just the right 3 seconds of game footage to convey his symbolism is evident in the same unexpected walk-through-a-graveyard, eerie feeling they impart. Some of the images and video border on absurd, utilizing the unreal juxtaposition of blanked-out team jerseys with highly memorable sporting moments. Taking all of this in, I found myself suppressing alternating fits of amused, snickering laughter, chest-vibrating tension, and fond childhood sentimentality. Paul Pfeiffer Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (08), 2005 Fujiflex digital C print, 60 x 48 in. Collection Glenn and Amanda Fuhrman NY, Courtesy The FLAG Art Foundation ©Paul Pfeiffer. Courtesy Paula Cooper Gallery, New York Like nearly all contemporary art, this work is primarily conceptual, deeply embedded within the theoretical realm of symbolism rather than in the organic lineage of traditional craftsmanship…what most tend to quickly appreciate as “skill.” As such, sadly, only the most informed viewers are likely to truly appreciate the full significance of what the artist has made (“Some photoshopped video clips–so what?”). And this, of course, embodies so much of what’s wrong with art in postmodern society, and isn’t necessarily the average viewer’s fault (but that debate gets complicated, and needs its own future blog post or 7). But, as guest curator for the Blanton exhibit Regine Basha insightfully describes, “Paul Pfeiffer frames media, spectacle, and masculinity [and, I’d add–race] in a way that sheds new light on the game of basketball.” His clever digital work “adopts today’s frenetic visual language in order to consider the role that mass media plays in shaping consciousness,” according to the exhibit’s press release. As such, Pfeiffer’s retouched photographs and manipulated video clips are sneakily at the epicenter of some of the most pressing and pivotal conflicts smoldering, unresolved, in the heart of our first-world empire of consumption and spectacle. In Germany in 2000 the Kunst-Werke Berlin e.V., Institute for Contemporary Art, presented the first comprehensive one-man-show of Paul Pfeiffer, offering a beautiful description of his symbolism and process: Pfeiffer’s digital videos are “moving still-lives,” challenging human perception as well as exploring long-standing issues of painting. Due to the accelerated repetition of short sequences, the essential codes of perception, such as the instant recognition of fore- and background, depth and surface, motion and unmoving, blur or cease to be of relevance. For example, in JOHN 3:16 Pfeiffer took found video footage of a basketball game and re-edited it in order to place the ball in the central foreground of the screen with the play swirling around it. The seeming fluidity of the image belies the painstaking nature of the production process: over 5000 individual video frames have been enlarged and repositioned to create the moving image of a ball in play. ( http://kw-berlin.com/deutsch/archiv/pfe/pfe.html ) As a lifelong sports fan, artist, and cultural deconstructionist I had three inherent and unlikely leverage points with which to appreciate this exhibit. Having long ago dissolved the barriers of the self-limiting, culturally-reinforced disparity between “jock” and “artist” stereotypes/archetypes within myself, I felt as though Pfeiffer’s work was made for–and was speaking intimately to– me. I was thrilled to stumble upon these eerily-altered iconic sports images on my recent museum trip, having planned my visit around the Blanton’s simultaneous exhibit of classic Western Americana paintings. Fragment of a Crucifixion (after Francis Bacon), 1999 (Filmstill) ©Paul Pfeiffer In one short video clip that’s both instantly terrifying and hilarious, digital editing and repetition turn the post-dunk celebratory scream of a basketball player into an unnerving, awkwardly aggressive expression of rage. What gives this art added significance to me–perhaps belying the original intent of the artist, who has purposefully removed any team, league, corporate or personal identifiers from the scene–is that I know the basketball player is former college and pro star Larry Johnson, who in Pfeiffer’s video was playing for the Charlotte Hornets, and whose promising career was disappointingly cut short due to injury. I used to watch him enact that primal ritual on live TV as a child, reveling in his athletic prowess, imitating it in my makeshift driveway basketball court, and collecting his basketball cards. It’s in this sentimentality that the work touches a deeper human chord within me, and I feel like a participant in Pfeiffer’s visions, embodying a small part of the very unresolved conflicts that his work calls forth.

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November 13, 2012

On The Road 4

A few weeks ago I spent two quick but relaxing days in the Middle Of Nowhere, rediscovering my medium format camera with some long-expired film, then hoped and prayed for some advantageous developing defects (which can be unpredictable on old color film). Lacking traditional darkroom access and skill, I get high resolution scans of my negatives, and do all editing in the “digital darkroom” with Photoshop CS4. For the non-purist photographer, this mixed-media, mixed-era process creates a satisfying blend of traditional and modern aesthetics, while exponentially increasing one’s creative options. Guadalupe Mountains, West Texas (Mamiya 645E medium format with 80mm f/2.8 on Kodak Plus X-Pan Pro 125. Negative scan to digital, Photoshop) Marfa, Texas (Mamiya 645E medium format with 80mm f/2.8 on Kodak Portra 400UC. Negative scan to digital, Photoshop)

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November 8, 2012

East Austin Studio Tour 2012

The 2012 East Austin Studio Tour (EAST) is in its 11th incarnation. This self-guided tour is a special opportunity to see work by hundreds of Austin artists. For several days in November, artists, studios, exhibition spaces, pop-up shows, and tons of fun art-centered events on the east side will be open and free to the public to celebrate the wide variety of art being created in our city. My studio is #48. I will be there painting this weekend and next.

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November 5, 2012

Escape From Flatland: Apostasy Redux

Last week while reading the work of my newest fascination Ken Wilber, I stumbled quite happily upon an eloquent explanation of one of the central themes of my ongoing series, The Apostasy. Wilber’s brilliant writings have been a huge influence as of late, on both my life and the conceptual side of my art. His staggeringly comprehensive, “post-postmodern” philosophical synthesis of every major tradition of human knowledge is called Integral Theory. The Quadrants: insides, outsides, singular, and plural. One of the central tenets of Integral is the quadrant system, which is a way of describing literally every aspect of reality (which Wilber calls the “Kosmos”), including ourselves and our perception. The usefulness of the quadrant system lies in the user’s ability to critique a person or movement who may be falsely claiming absolute truth based on partial or inadequate knowledge. That is, limited knowledge hailing from only one or some of the 4 quadrants, rather than comprehensively stemming from (and thus integrating) all of them. “The Kosmos” means everything. Enter here the postmodern reign of materialism and its hallmark of scientific reductionism, which flattens all of reality to merely what can be perceived, charted, or quantified with the physical senses. This phenomenon, while leading to remarkable advances in the physical sciences and Western/allopathic medicine, has ironically also led to devastating consequences on human health and happiness, as well as on the Earth and its fragile ecosystem. Ken Wilber has accurately dubbed this phenomenon–this mental paradigm– Flatland. This ripe contradiction, and the spotty veil of incomplete truth that the postmodern materialist worldview presents, were the fertile ground for many of the concepts I’ve attempted to portray through this series of paintings. Reading the words of Ken Wilber, which so succinctly summarized my intentions, inspired another revisitation of my central theme. Wilber describes the Flatland process as such: The flattening, the leveling, the collapse of the Kosmos. The universe was pushed through a strainer of objectification, and the result was thin soup indeed. All that was left of a richly multidimensional Kosmos was simply the sensory/empirical exteriors and outlines and flatland forms, much as if a sphere had been projected onto a plane surface, producing only a series of flat circles–all span, no depth–at which point we say, “What sphere?” In short, depths that required interpretation were largely ignored in favor of the interlocking surfaces that can simply be seen (empiric-analytic)–valueless surfaces that could be patiently, persistently, accurately mapped: on the other side of the objective strainer, the world appeared only as a great interlocking order of sensory surfaces, empirical forms. This…”view from nowhere”…could not prove itself–but rather was taken, literally, on blind faith, a faith blind to the entire Left half of the Kosmos. (Wilber, Ken. Sex, Ecology, Spirituality. Boston. Shambhala, 2000) This excerpt, when considered in relation to my artist statement which equates modern science with religion, sheds further light on these concepts: Surgeons and scientists alike have become the new priests of a material-industrial age, in which living organisms seem to be regarded as no more than an assemblage of mechanical parts…Science is the new religion, Big Pharma is the church, the doctors are priests, pills our Holy Communion, and sickness is our only hope of salvation when diseases are dollar signs that fortify the edifice. And lastly–moving from theory to reality (I think I can hear snoring already…)–here’s a progress shot of the latest and largest yet, at 48 inches square:

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October 31, 2012

On The Road 3

Some photos from a recent adventure to the tallest peak in Europe: (iPhone 4s, Photoshop Express, Instagram filter)

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October 13, 2012

Notes & Advice 3: Photographs vs. Paintings

The appropriate and effective use of reference material–notably, where and how to deviate from it to actually heighten illusions, ironically–has been an ongoing commentary of mine on this blog, being mentioned in a few past entries. I consider this issue a central concern for any painter working in the realist genre, or who depends upon “fool the eye” illusions for the success of their images. I’m always trying to increase my knowledge and refine my skill in this area, as well as find succinct and poignant ways of explaining it to others. Austin-based, British-born artist Edward Povey, whom I’ve recieved valuable instruction and mentoring from over the past few years, had an interesting take on this concept in a recent email newsletter: Artists and photographers are really both image-makers. The camera truly sees, and the artists could learn from its honesty. The photographers could learn from the artists’ profound sense of composition, knowledge of color, tonal value constructions, and expressiveness–relying less on the cleverness of the modern camera. I believe that the wisest artists will be intimately aware of this dichotomy, and will strategically use the best of each world for the overall success of their images.

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October 4, 2012

Artbook Archive: iPhone

Recently I wrote a post announcing the release of Artbook Austin, an iPad App featuring the work of yours truly, among many other Austin artists. Well, they just released the App for the iPhone as well, and it looks gorgeous. Just search the iTunes store for it, or read my previous blog post for a bit more description.

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October 1, 2012

Influences 2

Light Shines Through was a painting I completed in 2010 for a group exhibition memorializing artist and tattooer Monica Henk, whose life was tragically cut short in a still-unsolved NYC hit and run incident. Featuring a surreal depiction of one of Monica’s favorite pieces of jewelry, this piece is about the persistence of hope, and a belief in the triumph of mankind despite the potential for monumental sadness and suffering inherent in the human condition. Light Shines Through, oil on panel, 2010, 12in x 12in One of the original inspirations for my choice of theme and symbolism in this commemorative painting was the writing of pioneering logotherapy psychiatrist Viktor Frankl. A Jewish holocaust surviver, whose harrowing memoir of life and death in a Nazi concentration camp is a moving description of the unbreakable human spirit, Frankl’s work has been an ongoing influence in my art. Throughout Man’s Search For Meaning he describes his observations, and concludes: We must never forget that we may also find meaning in life even when confronted with a hopeless situation, when facing a fate that cannot be changed. For what then matters is to bear witness to the uniquely human potential at its best, which is to transform a personal tragedy into a triumph, to turn one’s predicament into a human achievement. When we are no longer able to change a situation—just think of an incurable disease such as inoperable cancer—we are challenged to change ourselves. Reiterating his powerful analysis, Frankl again poses the question and answers: How…can life retain its potential meaning in spite of its tragic aspects? After all, ‘saying yes to life in spite of everything’…presupposes that life is potentially meaningful under any conditions, even those which are most miserable. And this in turn presupposes the human capacity to creatively turn life’s negative aspects into something positive or constructive. In other words, what matters is to make the best of any given situation. … That is, an optimism in the face of tragedy and in view of the human potential which at its best always allows for: (1) turning suffering into a human achievement and accomplishment; (2) deriving from guilt the opportunity to change oneself for the better; and (3) deriving from life’s transitoriness an incentive to take responsible action. Though the hardships I’ve faced pale in comparison to his plight, my paintings have always been part of an over-arching narrative searching for meaning in suffering, and the process of finding hope through often difficult personal transformation. As such, I believe Frankl’s work appeared in my life quite auspiciously via energetic resonance rather than random coincidence (this, of course, in observance of the universal “law of attraction”). To my delight, this quantum phenomenon reared its head again when my recent foray into the Integral work of Ken Wilber revealed an unexpected connection to the symbolism of this painting, inspiring me to revisit and feature it here. Specifically, it was Wilber’s use of a poignant Ralph Waldo Emerson quote, which features the title of the painting and summarizes it perfectly: From within or from behind, a light shines through us upon things, and makes us aware that we are nothing, but the light is all.

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September 29, 2012

Street Anatomy

Thanks to the nice people at the very interesting and fun blog Street Anatomy, who just reviewed my Apostasy series. Check it out.

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September 24, 2012

Passion

In between paintings of my ongoing surgical theme ( The Apostasy ), I’ve been searching for little sparks of inspiration for my next series of paintings. Attempting new subject matter and freeing myself from the confines of a very specific painting process are two strategies I often employ for a creative jumpstart. So, last month I finished another experimental painting involving a splatter process and a strange juxtaposition of subject matter. I wanted to revisit what I’d tried in my recent still life Denial Vanitas with that splatter technique, and get even looser with it. As the painting came together over a few weeks, it increasingly reminded me of an older piece completed in much the same way, and with a similar aesthetic, called Comfort. Layer 1: multi-colored splatter. “Passion” (detail) Layer 2: blocking in and establishing form. More of the final glaze layer during application. Adding the final shadow glazes. Block-in detail. “Passion”, oil on panel, 16in x 9in, 2012 Splatter detail.

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September 22, 2012

Frackdown

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September 21, 2012

Artbook Archive

Attention: iPad users! I’ve been included in a project called Artbook Archive. This ever-expanding digital product is national in scope, featuring unique editions for several major U.S. cities, which showcase working fine artists in each locale. Essentially, it’s a digital “coffee table book of art.” I’m honored to be included in the Austin edition. You can download the app in the iTunes store, then make an “In-App Purchase” of Artbook Austin for $2, to see my paintings and artist profile on your fancy device.

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September 19, 2012

Notes & Advice 2: Darker/Grayer

There are certain tricks or techniques an artist can use to enhance the illusion of 3d form in their work. Picking any number of these tools from the mental drawer can drastically improve a painting, and they prove especially helpful in realism when an artist develops the intuition to deviate from the reference where necessary, in order to make a more successful painting (as opposed to a more successful reproduction). One such tool is knowing where and how to reduce the chroma (or intensity) of an object’s local color as it recedes into shadow. In the words of classically-trained figurative painter Shane Wolf: It’s crucial that the lighter value mixture be slightly higher chroma than the next darker mixture as this is how form works in nature. “Lighter brighter; darker grayer” is an old academic saying that explains that if an object is in light, it’s brighter; as it turns away from light into halftone, it gets darker and grayer. (Wolf, Shane. “Alla Prima, Three Hour Sketch.” The Artist’s Magazine. November 2012: 38-39) We all know that shadows make colors darker, but what we often forget–myself included–is that to complete the illusion in a painting, it may also be necessary to dial back the brightness/chroma/intensity of local colors to avoid shadows that compete for depth-space with foreground surfaces or objects, to the detriment of the overall image.

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September 18, 2012

Wildlife In the Post-Natural Age 2

This past Friday, September 14th was the opening reception of my friend Cara ‘s curatorial debut at the WIlliamsburg Art & Historical Center in Brooklyn, NY, in which I had 2 hand-retouched photographs featured. Tonight I found a rather heartwarming email in my inbox regarding the exhibit, and thought to share it here. I’m honored to be a part of this, and I’m proud of my friend’s accomplishment: Dear Cara, the participating artists, interns, volunteers and staff members and all. I and the WAH staff members want to thank you for bringing a great show to the WAH Center. It is a big duty for a curator to put up a show as big and as excellent as this one. Cara is not only a fine artist but also a great curator/organizer who could see with her keen aesthetic judgement and logistical abilities how to bring the show to fruition. The opening was a full house with many new and young visitors all celebrating with good cheer. We would like to share with you this video of the opening reception on Youtube. Since the show still goes on for another two weeks, please tell your friends and people whom you know to come and enjoy it, as it is a worthy show that one cannot miss. Many many thanks again, Much Love, Yuko Nii, Founder & Artistic Director WAH Center (Williamsburg Art & Historical Center) “WAH means peace, harmony, or unity in Japanese” Unfortunately I was not able to attend the opening reception, nor will I be able to view the exhibit in person before it comes down, but here is the video mentioned in the email above.

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September 5, 2012

Wildlife In the Post-Natural Age

I have two recent photographs included in a group show this month at the Williamsburg Art & Historical Center in Brooklyn, NYC, called Wildlife in the Post-Natural Age. This thoughtful and gorgeous collection of work, featuring several renowned contemporary artists (who I’m humbled to be showing alongside), was curated by my talented friend Cara DeAngelis. If you’re in the Northeast and have any interest in wildlife, ecology, or environmentalism, this show is worth checking out. Cara’s eloquent press release describes the concept that inspired the exhibit: “The show focuses on work that addresses the interplay between wildlife and our domesticated selves and spaces. It probes the persistence of wildlife in American culture and individual imagination through the work of a diverse group of city-based artists. The varied works evoke a reconsideration of the term ‘wild’ in what Gary Snyder has called a Post-Natural Age, and the role that artists are playing in exploring these issues.” The photos I submitted for the exhibition are from an ongoing series of macro studio photography I’ve been working on for approximately 2 years now. These digital images are a scientific document of the myriad lifeforms I discover or interact with in my travels and adventures on Planet Earth. This project was partly inspired by the Terry Gilliam version of 12 Monkeys, a surreal post-apocolyptic harbinger, which took hold of my teenage brain and hasn’t ever truly let go. The photos below reveal some of the process of preparing my prints for display, followed by the original digital versions of the images featured in the show. Stay tuned for more images from the series, which has a working title of Specimens. At Jeff’s house proofing the images. Taking an image from digital to print for the first time is tricky–this was an all-day affair. A print emerging from Jeff’s monster EPSON 5million (ok, thats not a real model number. But it’s huge). The reds in this image proved incredibly difficult to dial in. Back at the studio with all my proofs. Hand-painting, signing, and numbering each one to make a little series of prints I can sell. No sense in throwing away all these proofs that were nearly indistinguishable from the final full-sized print. Hand painting some effects on the full-sized prints that will be mounted and sent to the exhibition. Mounted up and varnished, drying. Detail of some of my paint/re-touching effects. “Frailty (Grackle, Austin, Texas)”, photo/digital, 2011 “Gluttony (Engorged Wood Tick, Turtle Mountain Indian Reservation, North Dakota)”, photo/digital, 2010

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September 4, 2012

Wash-In Value Study

I found this photo I’d taken a while ago of the value wash-in of my recent painting Sacrificial. I had written about this painting earlier this month, but forgot to include this progress photo. “Sacrificial” (value wash-in) In order to make achieving the final vision of a painting seem less daunting, I often break the process down into as many easily-approachable steps as needed. One way to do this, of course, is to begin with nothing but value, or light/dark relationships, in a heavily-diluted wash.

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September 3, 2012

Notes & Advice 1: Stepping Back

Words of wisdom, from the astoundingly skilled, 26-year-old, San Fransisco-based painter Hsin-Yao Tseng: “It’s important to squint your eyes while studying your subject and to stand back from your painting frequently. Squinting simplifies the details so you can see the big shapes and value patterns of the subject. Also, you get a sense of the lost-and-found edges. Standing back from your painting lets you evaluate the unity of the piece. Seeing the unity prevents you from overworking detailed areas or making unnecessary brushstrokes.” (Seidner, Rosemary Barrett. “Born To Paint.” The Artist’s Magazine. October 2012: 44-51) Great advice for perfectionist, detail-obsessed realism painters. Although aware of this advice long before reading Tseng’s feature this week, I too often forget to practice it. It was a timely reminder, as I was just about to put the finishing touches on a new experimental painting. The more experimental or unfamiliar the territory that an artist is navigating, the more important it is to have his trusty fundamentals and basic skills by his side, like a compass, should he suddenly realize how lost he is. So, Inspired by this painter wise beyond his years, I spent a recent afternoon in the studio focusing on this teaching. Being mindful to step back and gaze loosely at the overall image every 30 minutes or so, I found it a very refreshing practice. Note to self: do more of this.

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August 28, 2012

Artist Statement

This week I had to come up with an artist statement in 450 characters or less, for this year’s upcoming East Austin Studio Tour, an open studios event of dizzying proportions that takes over all of the East Side for 2 weekends every November. It’s an underground artist’s and crafty person’s wet dream of local creative energy. Here is my most concise artist statement ever (proud that I avoided my usual excessive written verbosity): My paintings deceive with photorealist illusion to unmask deeper truths of existence. From the mystifying expanse of outer space, to the visceral claustrophobia of surgical incisions, the beautiful flirts with the grotesque. Through these unlikely juxtapositions, I urge the viewer to question familiar assumptions, piercing the surface of what we often take for granted. Produced by Big Medium

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August 26, 2012

Realism Techniques 7

I finished painting #12 in the Apostasy series, now tentatively titled Sacrificial, a few days before my recent galavant to Galapagos. Didn’t get a chance to post anything about it before I left, but let me just say: That trip was crazy. So crazy that re-entering the studio upon my return was like landing in a time warp to a long ago era. Like a cat in a new home I sniffed out the place to make sure it was still real, still my life(?), in this current place and time, and then gratefully got the fuck to work on some prints for an upcoming group show (more coming soon on that). Good to get outta here for an adventure, but good to be back in the creative womb with some new entries in that cluttered/overflowing filing cabinet called mind. So, to get myself caught up, here’s the now foreign-seeming latest: “Sacrificial”, oil on panel, 12 x 12in, 2012 Mini-Layers For anyone actually reading this blog on the regular, the technique of layering to achieve high levels of realism should be at least somewhat familiar by now. Yet, within this broader process of applying paint in separate layers lies the specific technique of applying paint in small amounts, during the progression of a single painting session, or layer. In other words, a wet-into-wet paint application which mimics classic Alla Prima techniques, yet occurs within the quite contradictory process of indirect (or layered) painting. For example, the basic form and colors of the gloved fingers shown below had been established after one opaque paint layer (which I usually call the block-in). After that first layer of opaque paint was dry, subtlety and detail were added in the subsequent layer shown, but this increasing complexity, not surprisingly, requires increasing care during application. Towards this end, paint is added sparingly, in thin amounts, and blended down to join it seamlessly with the dried block-in. I move through an area, micromanaging approximately 1 inch square sections of the painting, each receiving the same apply/blend treatment. I use Galkyd Slow-Dry medium with all of my paint mixtures, and pay close attention to the viscosity of the paint when mixing on my palette, since overly fluid or thick consistencies can make this stage of the painting process incredibly difficult. Finally, where mini-layers come into play is when the application and blending process is repeated during the same painting session. I revisit many of the 1 inch square areas while the paint is still wet, and re-apply another thin layer of color, blending that out very carefully so as not to destroy the first application. …And so on, until these wet mini-layers have accumulated thick enough that I deem the layer no longer workable. At this point, the session is finished and I wait for that layer of paint to dry before revisiting the same area again. The sequence below shows some of these steps. If you look carefully, you can see tiny areas of paint being applied and then smoothed out. These same areas were worked over once more in the same fashion, with certain areas receiving a third pass during that same day’s work. Look at the purple shadow area first, then the off-white knuckle wrinkles, then the orange and deep red under-lighted areas. And lastly, a studio shot of my reference for the piece, which was perhaps the most complex and densely detailed of the series thus far: The scalpel was a final addition to the already heavily-Photoshopped reference image, replacing a much more modern cauterizing scalpel, whose unsatisfactory look of a Lego toy betrayed its badassness.

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August 25, 2012

On The Road 2.5

Galapagos Islands, August 2012, continued: III (Canon EOS 30D with Sigma 17-70mm F2.8-4 DC macro OS HSM, Photoshop) IV (Canon EOS 30D with Sigma 17-70mm F2.8-4 DC macro OS HSM & 100mm f/2.8 macro, Photoshop) V (in the Andes) (Canon EOS 30D with Sigma 17-70mm F2.8-4 DC macro OS HSM, Photoshop)

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August 23, 2012

On The Road 2

I (Canon EOS 30D, with 100mm f/2.8 macro & 50mm f/1.8 standard Photoshop) II (Canon EOS 30D with Sigma 17-70mm F2.8-4 DC macro OS HSM, Canon PowerShot SD1100 IS, Photoshop)

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July 28, 2012

The Inquisition

Painting #11 from The Apostasy series, finished a few weeks ago: “The Inquisition”, oil on panel, 12 x 12in, 2012 I wrote about some of the aesthetic decisions made during the painting process here. Regarding symbolism, this piece–along with “First Judgement”–deal with gender and the genesis of personal identity. For all domesticated humans born in hospitals, there is no escaping this moment of truth, which begins a lifelong process of psychological conditioning by the all-seeing eye of culture. To be binary: male or female. Gender assigned and reinforced. A life indoctrinated, molded. An inquisition of the vulnerable by archetypes of power, the first judgement (literally) marks the first loss of innocence, the beginning of a differentiation between self and other that many spend a lifetime trying to erase, or simply comprehend. And what of the uncertain ones? The ambiguous? Born damaged or incomplete? What happens when the wrong judgement is handed down? What happens when the gender binary facade is shattered at birth…when the entire construct collapses later in life? When we get sick of playing our roles? Get sick of enforcing the roles on others? Who do we find at all, when we question who we are underneath all that we cling to? “First Judgement”, oil on panel, 12 x 12in, 2012

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July 24, 2012

In The Studio 2

After completing painting #12 in the Apostasy series this week I cleaned out my solvent rinse cup which I’d realized had possibly reached an all-time record toxic sludge accumulation. Over the past 9 months of painting this series (and a few randoms) the usual 80/20 solvent/debris ratio had been reversed (no wonder my brushes weren’t getting too clean anymore?). And it had turned a weird gray color? Not sure what that’s about. Naturally, I had to document my little contribution to the degradation of ecosystems and immortalize by posting on the internet–life, circa 2012. Oil paint sludge: the excrement of art.

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July 21, 2012

Realism Techniques 6

After a few experimental forays I returned to the studio recently to continue work on The Apostasy series, which has been my major ongoing project for the past year. Due to time and size constraints, only the first 10 paintings in this series debuted at Last Rites Gallery for my solo show in May and June. I’m still very inspired by the themes and subject matter of these images, so it was great fun diving back in–I felt like I picked up right where I’d left off before my show. The most recent painting I completed was a perfect example of the realism artist’s need to deviate from a strict reproduction of the reference material in order to maximize the intended symbolism or desired aesthetic qualities. Using Reference Effectively In this case, my reference image, which in itself had been highly manipulated from its original photographic state with Photoshop, featured a metallic instrument rather starkly silhouetted against a harshly lit background of tender skin. I was faced with the artist’s “executive decision”: to ride the simple, graphic power of the flat black silhouette, or to increase the nuances of its surface texture in order to emphasize the effects of the hard light behind it. Either choice works just as effectively within the overall composition, but caters ever so slightly to a different level of meaning within the piece. Power of steel instrument to manipulate the fleshly realm, or power of the light of truth usurping man and all his manipulative tools? I chose the latter. So, this involved the invention of some extreme lighting effects on the surface of the instrument. These I hoped would more fully express the metallic nuances and form of this foreground object, as hard backlighting bends around it, creating a bit of a warm flare. In general, I thought this increased action would add some more life to the piece. You can compare these deviation attempts in the provided sequence of photos, which starts with the specific area of my reference image, and ends with the corresponding section of the completed painting. (Image of the full painting coming soon…) Intentionally painting the instrument too light at first allowed more control in creating subtle variations of lighting on the object. Ultimately this entire issue is of minimal impact to the outcome of the entire image, and for those unfamiliar with the quirks of extreme realist painting, may seem like an exhaustingly trivial matter. However, I enjoy it as yet another example of the myriad opportunities for creativity in a genre often mistakenly deemed uncreative. Often, the creativity in ultra realistic styles simply operates at an unexpected and far subtler level than most viewers are trained to recognize. Far from a mere copy-machine, the experienced realism painter works often with fully premeditated intention on every minuscule aspect of the painting, making a countless number of creative decisions and unique departures rarely noticed by the undiscerning eye. In fact, if the artist’ technical skill is strong enough, there’s no way that these aspects can be noticed. Like a magician, full acceptance by the audience signifies completion of the ultimate illusion.

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July 17, 2012

Influences 1

“Denial Vanitas” Redux You know that thing that happens when you stare at a single word for too long, and the letters start to separate themselves, become individual symbols, and your brain starts to mistakenly think you’ve misspelled the word? The original form and meaning of the word dissolve into the existential void and our primal phenomenological sensing ability comes back to the forefront, from the recesses of our “reptile brain.” (Comedian Chris Farley’s hilarious take on this concept from the incredible movie Black Sheep featuring the word “roads…rooooads…rowads…rroowwads” comes to mind…) Well, um, anyway. That happened. When I was composing my last blog entry about my new painting, I kept staring at the words “Denial Vanitas,” checking for misspellings before going live with the post, and this psychedelic subconscious shift took place: Denial Vanitas Daniel Vanitas Daniel Vitalis I’m a huge Daniel Vitalis fan so this is not nearly as surprising as it is amusing. Just thought I’d share. “Re-wild yourself.” And while I’m at it, I should share another amusing corollary: there’s an excellent documentary about the death-denial work of Ernest Becker (mentioned in the previous post) called Flight From Death that was envisioned and co-produced by a longtime acquaintance of mine, Greg Bennick. I’m also a huge Greg Bennick fan. But I originally know him from his long run as vocalist for the seminal hardcore/punk band Trial –one of the most inspiring hardcore bands ever. Here’s why, some sample lyrics: In The Balance while i choke strangled by the hands of time my life slowly slips away the dollars i save aren’t worth the days i’d spend with images of freedom as lies in my head the hand that feeds will always bleed me dry though these hours, these minutes, these moments, are mine intensify no one else will guide the way break the silence before it breaks us… down to a point from where there’s no escape where regret destroys whatever life remains and you, when you’ve told yourself a lie the path of least resistance destroys you in time is it heresy to want to live today? that’s not asking too much so many are barely getting by, and starving in the streets while in denial of death, yet still afraid to be free we grovel beneath the pantheon of security assured as we sell our dreams to buy our pain that “the meek shall inherit” when only the strong will reign all life hangs in the balance, i won’t wait until it drops i can’t wait, they might not have another day i have to live, i might not have even one more day Live in Chicago. I am buried somewhere in that pile of humans. I find it interesting how my influences–both personal and artistic–show up in everything I create. So maybe this is all more proof that everything is connected? There are no coincidences.

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July 12, 2012

Second Skin Group Show: Denial Vanitas

Below is a preview of my submission for the Second Skin group show opening this weekend at Copro Gallery in California. Previously I blogged about the technical process involved in creating this painting here and here. Thematically, the painting and its title “Denial Vanitas” refers to the pioneering work of Ernest Becker, cultural anthropologist, who studied the phenomenon of mankind’s denial of death. He came to believe that each individual’s primal fear of death is a subconscious motivational factor in nearly all of our actions–especially in aggressive or violent ones–which culminates, finally, on a societal scale in the form of wars, bigotry, or genocide. Download the full map of Becker’s ideas here. This theory coincides with Buddhist teachings on the nature of self, or Ego, as a psychological construct constantly seeking to substantiate itself in concrete terms, as an (ultimately futile) antidote to the fundamental groundlessness and impermanence of existence. A human ego (either individually or collectively) reaches a pathological state when it resorts to acts of aggression or violence in order to claim power and thus prove it exists. I worked these concepts, using very non-traditional subject matter, into the long tradition of Vanitas still life painting as a statement on the tragic ironies of postmodern consumer culture. “Denial Vanitas”, oil on panel, 11 x 14in, 2012 Death permeates our lives in these times where everything seems designed and destined for the dumpster, quickly disposed of, after a short and meaningless servitude. Yet surprisingly, a collective denial deepens as the energetic, smooth-skinned bodies and carefree attitudes of the young are fetishized and promoted as the ultimate achievement. Death is taboo, a relic buried under layers of styrofoam and sealed in cardboard boxes, forgotten in dusty attics and closets. But skeletons emerge from this denial, as wars rage across the earth and the planet’s very life-sustaining capacity threatens to collapse from our industrialized aggression. Only after we’ve uncovered the denied aspects of our motivations, finding wholeness in a once-fractured psyche, can we truly embrace each fleeting moment and deeply appreciate the preciousness of all life.

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July 6, 2012

Realism Techniques 5

My Black Sauce In order to add richness, subtlety and depth to the darkest areas of my paitnings, I avoid the use of the color black entirely (i.e. Ivory Black, Lamp Black, etc.), opting instead for my own dark color blend. I’ve found through my experience that the mixture of several dark colors creates a new color approaching the solidity of true black when applied in enough thick layers, yet yielding enough translucency in thinner applications to open up a much wider range of subtle color variation. This flexibility and translucency in turn creates the possibility of much more realistic shadows and a truly convincing “absence of light” that the viewer can still see into. Mixing up my special black sauce at the start of a new painting. This recipe consisted of Ultramarine, Burnt Umber, Veridian, and Alizarin. I use a simple demonstration during my instructional seminars to prove the necessity of what I call “translucent shadows.” I find a well-lit patch of space in the room and hold an opaque object in front of my outstretched arm, casting a prominent shadow across it. I then invite the audience to answer the following rhetorical questions: Did the colors of my arm magically change into the colors of the shadow, like a chameleon’s skin changing to match its surroundings? Assuming not, did the colors of my arm therefore stay the same as they were before being cast in shadow? Similarly, were you able to still see the shadowed area of my arm, or was it completely swallowed up by an opaque, black, absence of light? Assuming it was visible, would you conclude that there was still a percentage of indirect light still present within the darkened shadow area? What this demonstration makes obvious is the need for mimicking the processes of physics and light in the natural world within our paintings, as a method of making them accurately replicate that world. This means painting objects or spaces close to their fully lit appearance and then obscuring them by using translucent shadow glazes, to the proper degree, and with the necessary color hues. Of course, with experience, shortcuts can be taken on this process and this rule of sorts can be effectively broken for even further nuanced results. In my own work, I don’t paint every single object or space in its fully lit colors before glazing it into shadow–instead I often aim for a middle point, knowing that after one or more glaze layers it will have the same appearance as if I hadn’t taken the shortcut. This saves time and effort, while maintaining the high level of control necessary for realistic illusions. Logically, it also follows that if you take too big of a shortcut by matching a shadowed object’s final color during your underpainting, then glaze a translucent shadow over it to create the convincing, full-bodied richness of a realistic shadow, the cumulative effect will obviously make it darker than you had originally intended. Simple trial and error yields the correct steps, shortcuts, and glazing formulas to achieve the exact results you had intended. Translucent shadows place the objects within the murky depths of the space without completely obscuring them. Immense amounts of time and sanity were saved by glazing over whole areas of completed forms (“indirect” painting) rather than precisely matching every shadow color contained within each object through “direct” or opaque painting methods.

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July 4, 2012

Photo/Digital Manipulation 2

Happy Independence Day. “Postmodern Sunset”, photo/digital, 2012

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July 3, 2012

Realism Techniques 4.5

Here’s the followup and conclusion to my earlier post featuring a texture experiment with some new subject matter. The results are now in, and personally I feel that the styrofoam packing peanut texture attempt #1 was a success. Here’s a detail sequence of the major steps of the layering process. Descending into madness, otherwise known as, the building of styrofoam texture. This painting will debut at a Copro Gallery group show curated by renowned dark pop-surrealist Chet Zar, which promises to be an amazing display of the elite fine art talent in the tattooing scene–which has long been denied access to and credibility within the mainstream, or establishment art world. But, times are changing, and Chet is an impromptu ambassador of sorts, working on the forefront of this shift while treading the boundaries between several art scenes with his own career. Many thanks and much respect goes out to him for his efforts.

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July 3, 2012

Sad Little Whale

I like having a blog where I can document all the random creative whims that comprise a large portion of my time here on planet Earth. Although losing private little moments forever in the vast oblivion of time is something I find quite romantic, I also derive a supreme satisfaction from the obsessive documentation of creative minutiae. I guess the (percieved?) contribution of manifested creative energy to the great human project of Enjoyment On Planet Earth is also quite romantic. “A few grains of sand on the beach came from me” is a satisfying thought sometimes. Anyway. Randomly I drew this sad little whale (oxymoron), blogged about it here, then randomly decided to color it in with some Prismacolor pencils and give it as a random gift to a friend. The excrement of fun diversions. Boycott BP Civilization

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June 28, 2012

Kingdom Animalia Preview

Tomorrow night, June 29th, in California is a group art show organized for a great charity: Big Life Foundation. The lineup of artists who agreed to submit works for this generous effort is quite impressive–I’m humbled and flattered to even be considered, let alone included. A few weeks ago I posted a detail shot of my painting which will appear in this show, and now here is the whole thing. See the attached flyer for more info on the show. “Proximity”, oil on panel, 11 x 14in, 2012 And note that the host, Land Rover of Anaheim Hills, is keeping no money whatsoever from sales at this show: all of it goes to help animals in Africa. Awesome!

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June 22, 2012

The Moleskine Diaries

Here’s a recent page from my trusty and well-traveled Moleskine sketchbook. I refuse to ever be bored or sacrifice creative time while stuck in airplanes. Inspired by a recent trip to Puerto Rico. Ball point pen, graphite, and col-erase.

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June 21, 2012

In The Studio 1

I had these studio pictures laying around, so I figured I’d post them. They’re from my recent series “The Apostasy” which is still on display for a very short time at Last Rites Gallery in NYC. See the blog archive for previous posts about the series, and view it now in its entirety by navigating through the “2012” category to your left. Thanks to the generous collectors who bought paintings! “Baptised” in progress, with reference, November 2011. “Baptised” palette madness. Painting the final image of the series, “Communion” at the Paradise Artist Retreat in New Mexico, February 2012.

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June 12, 2012

Realism Techniques 5

Just as a tiny version of a future full-size drawing is referred to as a thumbnail sketch, the term study is often used to refer to a smaller, quick, “warm-up” or practice version of a future painting. If memories of sitting in your school library reading textbooks in preparation for a final exam come to mind with the use of the term, you’ve got the right idea. Artists’ preliminary studies are exactly that: a chance to recap the ideas and memorize the information before embarking on the final challenge, in order to ensure success. It’s a professional artist’s studio practice dating back hundreds of years, becoming a necessity for many artists as they began to undertake works of monumental complexity and extreme precision. The practice of completing preliminary studies wasn’t something I undertook until I started painting larger dimensions a few years ago. I had always found that the time and work involved in painting at extremely small sizes didn’t warrant a practice run beforehand, as the potential mistakes to be made at that scale would themselves be smaller in scale–and able to be corrected in a reasonable amount of time. Essentially it seemed like I’d be completing the same work twice. "Anointing" (Study), oil on canvas board, 12 x 12in, 2011 But as I took the plunge into attempting larger scale paintings, I suddenly realized the larger scale problems that could occur, costing days or weeks of time, money in expensive materials, and frustrated energy backtracking and correcting. It was time to take up the age old tradition of completing a practice run to head off any potential problems before they occurred. At first it seemed like a hassle–an extra step preventing me from diving right into the joy of spreading those first layers of fresh paint on a new surface. But now that I’ve gotten into the habit, I really savor the opportunity to “prime the pump,” get familiar with the subject matter, acquaint myself with its nuances and palette, work quickly, intuitively and loosely…and most of all, make mistakes as I work out any ideas I may have. I’ve found that the painting process following these studies goes much more smoothly, resulting in works accomplished in less time with less hair-pulling moments of indecision or bewilderment. As I’ve written before, the degree of meticulous patience and strategizing that goes into the thin layer buildup of my paintings is crucial for their success. Thus, anything that allows for more opportunities to plan and prepare, such as completing one or more preliminary studies, in turn allows for more complexity and refinement of the final illusion, which is the ultimate goal. The studies you see here were completed in around 5 hours or less, and are actually way more refined than a preliminary version needs to be. They can potentially be completed in minutes, and can be incredibly sloppy. As long as you figure out what you need to do in the final version of the painting, the study has served its purpose. (Untitled Study for an upcoming painting) oil on canvas board, 12 x 12in, 2012

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June 5, 2012

Kingdom Animalia

Recently I was invited to participate in a group show to benefit the kind people working to save wildlife in Africa from poaching and related horrors. Naturally I’m stoked on this amazing cause and flattered to be included with a great group of artists. Here’s an advertisement for the show, and a detail shot of a painting I just finished, which will most likely be my contribution. "Proximity" (detail), Oil on Panel, 11 x 14 in, 2012

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May 26, 2012

The Apostasy

The following text is an artist statement I wrote early this year to accompany my latest series of paintings, which opens tonight at Last Rites Gallery in Chelsea, NYC. "Anointing" I thought it wise to warn you, gracious reader, that the essay is intentionally provocative. Generalizing statements are made with the intentions of eliciting the emotions contained in the work, as well as inciting critical thought and dialogue about its themes. It needs to be said that I don’t perceive all modern science and medicine as a negative force—on the contrary, there are a great many caring and compassionate doctors, surgeons and other practitioners trying to help people every day. In fact, in a tremendous twist of irony, the very hands I was fortunate enough to be able to portray in these paintings are those of a world-renowned surgeon performing a life-saving procedure. But, that being said, the purpose of my art has always been “to confront the moral, religious, and aesthetic foundations of Western Civilization” (to borrow the recent words of photographer J.P. Witkin). It is a shot aimed at the constructs and constraints of modern life that so many of us take for granted, a plea for deeper understanding, and an attempted progression towards vast new dimensions of awareness. "Hand Of God" The Apostasy By Nick Baxter A·pos·ta·sy  [ uh – pos -t uh -see], noun, a total desertion of or departure from one’s religion or faith. These images represent an inquiry into the medicalization of modern society. In our time, the specialized knowledge of an elite group has been canonized and made gospel, resulting in the learned helplessness of an increasingly ill populace. Surgeons and scientists alike have become the new priests of a material-industrial age, in which living organisms seem to be regarded as no more than an assemblage of mechanical parts. Cultural edicts handed down have portrayed our bodies as flawed, as if still soiled by original sin and in need of salvation. So we prostrate before possessors of a seemingly divine knowledge, an authority built on the upturned ruins of the common sense that modern man has forgotten. With nature gutted and wild instinct thwarted, a remaining paper-thin veil of scientific belief is all that divides story and reality. It is mere faith that separates benevolence from malevolence. Shrouded in mystery, alien hands descend from the darkness. Otherworldly appendages of the vicars of the corporal levy power upon trembling flesh. Sworn to heal, while possessing the means to harm, they are like iron fists in latex gloves. Science is the new religion, Big Pharma is the church, the doctors are priests, pills our Holy Communion, and sickness is our only hope of salvation when diseases are dollar signs that fortify the edifice. So this is my apostasy, my leap for sovereignty from the dungeon of a castle made of glass and steel sterility. A journey back towards wholeness in The Garden that made me. A breach of faith in hopes that I may rejoin the wild world and be healed in its immeasurable and immutable wisdom. "The Reformation" “We domesticated humans have lost our way. We have misplaced ourselves outside of the ecosphere. Like astronauts on a strange and foreign world, we have sought to create sterile bubbles of lifelessness in which to dwell, forgetting our interconnected, symbiotic reliance with all species of our planet’s life. This symbiosis is the umbilicus that feeds us the nutrients of joy, fulfillment, and thriving longevity that are the gift freely given to all of the children of our Mother Earth. …. Our collective expression of health is but an expression of our relationship to the ecosphere, as we can never truly exist independently from it.” —Daniel Vitalis “Whatever medical science may profess, there is a difference between Life and survival. There is more to being alive than just having a heartbeat and brain activity. Being alive, really alive, is something much subtler and more magnificent. Their instruments measure blood pressure and temperature, but overlook joy, passion, love, all the things that make life really matter. To make our lives matter again, to really get the most out of them, we will have to redefine life itself. We have to dispense with their merely clinical definitions, in favor of ones which have more to do with what we actually feel.” —CrimethInc. Ex-Worker’s Collective “The human body is not a closed or static object, but an open, unfinished entity utterly entwined with the soils, waters, and winds that move through it—a wild creature whose life is contingent upon the multiple other lives that surround it, and the shifting flows that surge through it.” —David Abram “The word ‘health’ comes from the word ‘whole.’ In this holistic view, we can experience illness as an opportunity to generate spaces for transformation, create supportive rhythms and move towards balance. Symptoms of illness, then, are not enemies but friendly movements that guide us again towards wholeness. Healing involves re-balancing that which takes place in the spaces between formation and annihilation.” “Illness should not be viewed as a curse, but as a challenge to the human spirit, a stepping stone in the process of soul evolution, a crack in the door that, when opened, reveals inspiring vistas of the mysterious workings of the universe. The doctor can give potions and guidance, but each patient must make his or her own pilgrimage.” —Thomas S. Cowan, MD

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May 21, 2012

Realism Techniques 4

Splatter technique is one of my favorite methods for laying down a foundation of random texture on a painting. This is usually done somewhere in the beginning stages of the piece and layered over until the desired illusion is achieved. Naturally, the opacity of subsequent layers dictates how prominently the random splatter pattern/texture will feature in the final result–determined according to the needs of the chosen subject matter. Just having finished a major series of paintings with a very tightly focused aesthetic and subject matter, it’s time to mess around and try some things out. Stir up the creative juices in order to open myself to spontaneous discoveries and new visions. This is usually when toothbrushes turn into paintbrushes and messiness moonlights briefly before suffocating yet again underneath the lead blanket of clinical precision. Here’s a progress shot of an experimental piece I’m hoping to complete for an upcoming group show. My first attempt at a realistic styrofoam texture. Level of success to be determined… Packing peanuts: not merely a pain in the ass in real life, but also in painting.

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May 11, 2012

Realism Techniques 3

Working Smarter, Not Harder Here are two more quick paintings from my visit to Jeff Gogue’s studio last summer, which I’ve blogged about here and here. These paintings were executed (almost) entirely in Jeff’s very direct Alla Prima working process, with his stripped-down palette of Titanium White, Alizarin Crimson, Prussian Blue, and Transparent Orange. "Extinguished 1" Oil on Panel, 12 x 12 in, 2011 The goal during the several hours it took to paint each of these was, first and foremost, to let the spontaneity and expressiveness of each brushstroke remain apparent, to let the paint breathe in all of its wet, visceral uneven glory. In other words: not turning into a self-indulgent artist and over-brushing everything to death. Or, in other, other words: not using my normal sharp-focus realism techniques or process. "Extinguished 2" Oil on Panel, 12 x 12 in, 2011. These candles are a metaphor for the passing of time and worldly things, the aging of mind and body. The still-smoking wick represents the fundamental stillness of mind, accessible through meditation, which becomes clear once all thoughts, concepts and constructs have been extinguished. The half-melted candle represents the slow aging and decay of the body, our physical vessel. The theory behind this approach is that over-working the paint takes you out of the moment, masking the raw emotion that may be transferred from body to brush to canvas, that infuses a picture with a sense of life and mystery. Emphasis is placed on accurate and efficient reproduction of what you’re seeing: hold brush confidently, make your mark with discriminating force, leave it alone. As a realist, this exercise is a valuable lesson in efficiency, allowing you to access the ability to commit the most information with a single stroke. More accuracy with the least amount of physical brushwork or artistic manipulation. Its simplicity is quite beautiful, really, like Buddhist meditation practices. It’s also quite painful for the neurotic who wants everything to be smooth and perfect, everything resolved and solved so that the final illusion is primary while the physical surface of the painting melts into oblivion. The working process I’ve developed over the years is patterned after many of the Renaissance masters who used many layers and subtle glazes to achieve convincing illusions. These results are often dependent upon a process of highly refined brushwork, and arrived at through precise technique, planning, and strategy. So, needless to say, each of these candle still lifes were a monumental struggle from start to finish, as I forced myself to make marks and then leave them alone–moreover, to make “mistakes,” and then leave them alone. Ultimately, I’m pleased with the results as well as the experienced gained from the exercise. When I returned home and began painting again in my usual manner, I found myself able to loosen up my brushwork to achieve illusions more efficiently. Incorporating the ‘observe, make mark, move on’ attitude helps me, as a painter of realism, focus on committing only the necessary information, more accurately and more quickly. I see this as the next level of learning, after an artist learns simply how to work with paint. It’s the process of learning how to work smarter, not harder. To achieve greater results, in less time and with less struggle.

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May 3, 2012

Art & Life 2: Artistic Karma

(The following is an excerpt from a longer text I wrote a few years ago, posted here in order to explain in detail–with helpful hints–the concept of Artistic Karma mentioned in my previous post.) Finishing What You’ve Started: Your “Artistic Karma” One all too common obstacle for artists, especially beginners in a particular medium, is abandoning projects before they’re completed. We’ve all done it from time to time, but some more than others, and it can become a hindrance to our artistic progress. What commonly happens is that the painter’s vision exceeds their technical skills at that time. Whether they’ve set their expectations too high, attempted something too difficult and got stuck with a technique problem they couldn’t solve, or improve so fast that they dislike what they’ve previously done to the piece, the end result is often frustration and discouragement. This type of failure is unnecessary, and it pains me to see talented artists hold themselves back with lack of follow-through. I call this “artistic karma.” Unfinished paintings and abandoned projects accumulate bad artistic karma; they’re like a book with a bunch of incomplete sentences. Imagine trying to read that book and learn something from it—it’d be so much harder with the author withholding all that information from you, just teasing with partial thoughts and no conclusions. With our art, we are that author, and we’re constantly reading our own book—our completed work—in order to learn via hindsight and grow as artists. We need to have finished paintings, no matter how unsatisfactory the end result, to be able to critique (and have others critique), so that the lessons of where we need to improve can fully sink in. Direct experience is the quickest and most profound way to learn something, because we live that lesson firsthand. By abandoning paintings and losing sight of the ultimate goal, one can only learn the artistic lessons of that attempt conceptually, through the incomplete means of “woulda, coulda, shoulda.” The knowledge and insight of where to go next don’t sink in as far this way. The classic example to illustrate my point is the child told not to touch the hot stove who remains skeptical, versus the child who actually touches it and learns the lesson directly and beyond a doubt. So having the discipline, patience, and work ethic to put our minds and abilities to the task of making the best of a painting that we hate, will help us much more in the long run. We can ensure our growth and progression by “finishing the thought,” completing the piece at hand in order to give ourselves a necessary sense of accomplishment and closure, a building block to the next artistic step. By keeping a few concepts in mind, this kind of laziness and resulting discouragement, frustration, and hindrance to progress can be largely avoided. The most important thing to remember is to pace yourself. It’s crucial for your long term success not to take on more than you can handle when just starting out. We all want to paint the next great masterpiece, but we have to remember to be patient—achieving greatness takes time! Learn to set yourself attainable goals for each session, each day, each week, or each painting. Similarly, it’s often wise not to have more than one painting in progress at a time, especially if you’re tattooing full time or have some other kind of day job. After taking care of all the other tasks of your life, you can be more effective with the time and energy you have left if you concentrate more intensely on a single goal rather than spreading yourself too thin. Being able to make changes on the fly during the course of a painting, based on what your progress is presenting to you, is a skill you will develop with experience. Each and every painting is an experiment, even more so as a beginner. Sometimes when things don’t go according to plan it’s necessary to re-evaluate and come up with a new plan, or two. Constant critique combined with a goal-oriented mentality will serve an artist well in addressing problems that arise, and in never giving up. If all else fails and a project becomes too frustrating or bewildering, instead of abandoning it, put it aside temporarily. Do so for a long enough time to get a fresh perspective on what you need to do, but not long enough to lose interest and motivation. For paintings that may take weeks to complete, keeping your momentum is crucial. To ensure this happens, keep it displayed in a place you’ll have to see it every day. Walking by it and glancing at it briefly may yield an unexpected, spontaneous flash of inspiration. Sitting in front of a painting for hours on end, staring at it from up close, and working logically and deliberately the way sharp focus realism often demands, causes our thought process to tighten up and dulls the immediacy of our creative urges and artistic intuition. So it can really help with any piece of art, to literally take a step back, look at it from 5 or 10 feet away, and “see the forest for the trees” once more. Another way to loosen up and regain your focus on “the bigger picture” during this break is to have some fun messing around with a different medium, or just fling some paint around on a different canvas or board and see what happens. “Happy accidents” may occur that give you new insights, ideas, and fresh energy to get back to completing the original task at hand. Although this bit of advice contradicts the “one painting at a time” guideline, it may still be appropriate and productive at times, so use your best judgment. Some people do great with multitasking on several paintings at once, while others get hopelessly distracted and might maintain their focus better with the other suggestions. What often works for me during a longer painting session, is to take a break to do something active like a short bike ride, walk, basketball in the driveway, or something similar. This brief activity releases endorphins, shakes out the tension from sitting or standing still for hours, clears my mind, and allows me to come back to painting with a fresh focus. At this time I often re-critique the piece and figure out whether to stick to my original plan for the session or layer of paint, or make some adjustments and set a new goal. It’s worth repeating that you need to be self-motivated in order to succeed in the arts, and of course with demanding mediums such as painting realism. If you’re not capable of being your own drill sergeant at times then all of these tips for sticking with a painting will be for naught. Having a community of artists you’re involved in helps with this, but sometimes you just have to push yourself if you want to have any hope of being an artist whose work really stands out.

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April 17, 2012

Death & Rebirth

I’ve noticed throughout the various efforts of my life that the completion of any large, time consuming project ushers forth what I’d like to call an energy vacuum. In this cosmic void is where, given the abrupt surplus of “free time” and mental energy, I suddenly grapple with all manner of restless limbs, anxious neuroses and existential crises which had no life in the formerly airtight seal of goal-oriented focus I’m capable of (for better and, clearly, for worse). I’d compare this phenomenon with what many historians and political scientists refer to as a “ power vacuum.” This comparison, to me, seems obvious, as I believe the phenomenon follows the fundamental metaphysical principles of the universe–and of all matter, for that matter. Life, or energy, rushes in to fill all voids; the kind of energy involved is irrelevant, as is whether it’s great or it sucks for nearby humans. Anyway, this time around, trying to avoid the free-fall after a steady climb up to that cliff called “achievement,” I seized the opportunity to run off the fumes of my recently finished painting series and finished some older abandoned pieces, a few random and experimental “lesser works.” One of which was the topic of a recent blog entry. Here’s the end result of that experiment: "Rebirth" Oil on Canvas, 18 x 36 in, 2011-12 Which segued perfectly into remembering I had a tiny 5 x 7 inch half-assed underpainting laying around the studio, mocking me for the past 3 years. So I silenced its unconsummated, jeering voice and finished that sucker, thus reversing the Bad Artistic Karma I’d accumulated from that former abandonment. (Note: Artistic Karma is a concept I explain in my painting book that I put out in 2010. Look for a future post on that. But for now, how’s this for some more good Artistic Karma: my previous post featuring a reference to Leonardo Da Vinci was written and made live–unbeknownst to me at the time–exactly on Da Vinci’s birthday.) A barren, scorched landscape dominated by a central phallic symbol, imposing and rough. The aftermath of mankind’s masculine aggression against Mother Earth. The finish line of industrial civilization’s race to oblivion. Totally Fucked. Still unsure of what to call it… “Endgame 1”? I like the sound of that for now. A little nod in the direction of one of the more important contemporary writers on this topic. Nothing too impressive, but nonetheless, a satisfying little exploration of atmospheric effects on a small scale. I can see some more experiments with this theme and subject matter in my future…I really want to tackle some realistic landscapes–with a twist. But for now, here’s to beating ennui and apathy and Living Without Dead Time.

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April 15, 2012

Then, And Now 2

While looking through a file cabinet today I unearthed a relic from one of my more memorable childhood artistic phases, centered around a lively obsession with the comic book, cartoon, toy, and eventual movie franchise Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’m not sure how old I was when I produced this mess masterpiece, but thankfully my skills have developed since that time. I often wonder, with no shortage of amusement, if the seed of my current deep appreciation for the Italian Renaissance masters was planted as a child by these cultural icons of my 80’s generation. I find it fascinating, in hindsight, the attention I paid to more intricate anatomical details like veins, even at this young age......considering how this focus has remained and evolved up to the present day.

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April 1, 2012

My Palette

There’s this thing that happens when I’m preparing my palette at the beginning of any project, when fresh paint hits freshly-scraped, pristine plexiglas. It’s a moment of reverie and deep satisfaction sprinkled with a faint crackle of nervous anticipation. Arranging the colors in just the correct sequence is the code that opens the gate. The familiar smell of Linseed Oil is the painter’s incense, an invitation do dive right in. Sometimes, though, the untouched cleanliness of the whole setup is religious like an altar and I’m afraid to touch it, to muddle the perfection. So, recently I decided to preserve the moment. My usual palette, for the last 10 or so years. I’ve arrived at the following palette through a natural distillation of my working process over the last 15 years of making paintings: Titanium White Flesh Tone (Gamblin)/Buff Titanium/Naples Yellow Cadmium Yellow Medium Yellow Ochre Raw Sienna/Burnt Sienna/English Red Cadmium Red Light Napthol Red/Grumbacher Red Cadmium Red Deep Alizarin Permanent Burnt Umber Ultramarine Blue/Viridian green Cerulean Blue Although highly refined and realistic images may potentially be achieved with a much smaller palette, each color listed above fills a unique void in the spectrum according to which I see and use color, for my particular style or version of high-realism painting. This is especially true with the 4 reds I use. The bulk of my preferred subject matter is dependent on a wide range of subtle variation in the red area of the color spectrum. Highly specific combinations of these reds are a crucial part of my technique on most paintings. There’s a formula for the most convincing fresh blood that must be followed. As indicated above, in three areas of my palette’s color spectrum are alternates of a similar hue that may be rotated in, according to the particular needs of a piece. And of course, there is no true Black included. “Black” in all its subtle variation is achieved from several combinations of the darkest colors, which is a method that’s more conducive to a highly realistic result. Furthermore, teaching oneself to recognize the subtle nuances in such a strong color as black is an important step in being able to create lifelike and convincing illusions. An aftermath.

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March 23, 2012

Realism Techniques 2

After recently finishing my newest series of paintings for my show in May/June at Last Rites Gallery, I had a chance to revisit an experimental painting I’d started this past summer while attending a workshop by my friend Jeff Gogue, a phenomenal painter and tattoo artist in Grant’s Pass, OR. To backtrack a bit: I convinced Jeff to lead a workshop for me in an attempt to break away from my well-worn habits and artistic routine. I find the intentional abandonment of familiarity and comfort to be a crucial element of any learning process, and knowing that Jeff has a drastically different technical approach than I do, I knew I could round out my own knowledge and expertise by absorbing some of his. Jeff and I in his studio. This proved to be quite challenging and downright frustrating (perfect! or in the words of comedian Will Arnett, “that’s how you know it’s workinnng!”), as I grappled with my ingrained artistic tendencies. (Side note/Cliffhanger #1: I’m preparing a thorough explanation of this concept for a future blog post). I started a simple painting that week, abandoning myself to Jeff’s process, with no clear vision of what my end result would look like nor how I would get there. My stay in Oregon ended before I could see this painting through to its conclusion, and I quickly forgot all about it for months while keeping busy with other projects. How it looked when I left oregon. Fast forward to March, and here I am with a unique challenge of revisiting what I’d learned at the workshop in order to finish what I’d started several months prior. I finally had a vision of where I wanted to take this piece, and I made the decision to adapt the foreign process I’d started the painting under, to my own familiar process for finishing pieces, creating an interesting synthesis of two peoples’ techniques and approaches. A mental collaboration, with only one person executing the plan. Here’s a step-by-step document of a portion of the painting, consisting of wafting tendrils of black smoke, being completed with my familiar glazing process. Glazing over previously dried layers is the only way to build up smooth transparencies of color–perfect for the illusion of smoke. I’ll post the entire completed painting once it’s been properly photographed. (Interesting side note/Cliffhanger #2: In deconstructing this process by studying the progress photos I’d taken, I realized a much more efficient method of layer buildup that I could have used, which I predict would also be conducive to even more realistic results. A compare and contrast to the 2 approaches will be the subject of a future Realism Techniques post.) The smoke was completed in 5 stages, each a transparent glaze layer, consisting of a high alkyd-to-pigment ratio, applied over paint that had been allowed to dry completely.

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March 15, 2012

All Play and No Work…

…Makes Jack a dull vibrant boy. I just discovered this near-perfect quote by filmmaker Jane Campion last night: “Build up your enthusiasm so that it’s higher than your fear. Have fun. Playing in your work is the way to find your energy. You can’t do this work if you don’t have a lot of energy because it requires everything. It shouldn’t feel like work. You’ve got to find a way to make what you’re doing feel like play.” For most of my life I’ve found that my work–my life’s work, my art–is indistinguishable from the enjoyment of leisure or “play.” This results in an instinctual and dramatic departure from one of the most pervasive beliefs of our society: that so-called “work” and so-called “play” are sharply delineated, incompatible areas of our lives, in perpetual competition and conflict with one another. The results of such an outlook, and the resulting actions one takes in life while under this defeating spell, are disastrous. They divide life into misery and enjoyment, fracturing the human spirit in the process and falsely placing responsibility for one’s own happiness into the hands of employers and entertainers. More false dichotomies. Make no mistake, to be truly dedicated to one’s art, to put your heart and soul into it, is exhausting. Finding success in a chaotic, fast-paced and fickle world takes as much as you can muster and then demands more. But when ultimate reward is synonymous with ultimate sacrifice, work and play lose their traditional meaning, and the exhaustion and overwhelmedness become peculiarly enjoyable–or at least, deeply satisfying–elements of the game. Giving one’s all to a larger mission is a particularly fulfilling state of being for us humans. The quote above is clearly spoken by someone who knows this firsthand. And just for the sake of thought and critique, I have two minor criticisms of the outlook expressed in this quote: 1. The finality of the word “can’t.” You can actually do this work without a lot of energy–plenty do. But their experience and their success ultimately will be limited as a result of this limited input. Perhaps merely just a matter of semantics, but an important concept worth pondering: “you get out of it what you put in.” And furthermore, one may find that periods of rest or relaxation are a necessary or desirable stage within a lifelong context of hard work. We should be in this for the long haul, unless we’re not planning on living very long. 2. The limitation of the word “shouldn’t.” It presupposes that the feeling of “work” can’t actually be subverted, expanded, and redefined on a personal level as needed, in order to find enjoyment or satisfaction within it. In other words, to lose its distinction from “play” altogether. This alone has a revolutionary potential that could transform the scope of human happiness. Find work that you love, find aspects to love within the work that you do. For a beautifully expressed, in-depth critique of this concept that’s had a profound impact on my attitude over the years, check out this essay.

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March 5, 2012

Art & Life: 12 suggestions for breaking through artist’s block

Artistic blocks and dry spells are a phenomenon that nearly every artist expereinces at one time or another in life. A recent email from an artist friend of mine inspired me to compile a list of suggestions, based on my own experiences, for getting past personal hurdles and into the studio to create anew. 1. Read more classical literature, or fiction in general. Creativity in writing–describing imagery and emotion through the written word–translates very nicely to mental images and from there, into visual artwork. Well-written books contain beautiful creativity with language and often deal with inspiring ideas and themes. 2. Read the book “Art & Fear” by David Bayles and Ted Orland. It’s basically a big career peptalk from artists who know what the struggles of creating are like. I found it very inspiring and encouraging, and then went out and produced my “Rebuilding” series after reading it. 3. Go to more gallery openings and art museums. Even just a quick stroll through a museum can be enough to fill your head with fresh imagery or new ideas, or artists to research further and thus get inspired. 4. Seek out artists you look up to or admire and try reaching out to them via email or other means. If they’re willing, pick their brain, ask their advice. 5. Draw from life! All that’s needed are graphite, paper, and an object or figure placed in front of you. Take all the pressure of creativity and concept out of the equation by simply drawing what you see, accurately, efficiently, like recording data, with no importance placed on the final outcome. Set a time limit if needed. And keep it as simple as possible so that in no more than 5 minutes you can be set up and already drawing. Let your mind go while you simply record visual information. It will jog your “muscle memory” and your artistic instincts will activate after a while, once the creative pump has been primed by the physical act of mark-making. 6. Do “loosening up” exercises like painting or drawing with your canvas or composition upside down, working in 2-value light/dark only, setting a time limit to force yourself into instinctual decisions and spontaneity, fingerpainting or splatter painting or palette-knife painting, etc. Put no emphasis on the quality of the final product, simply get into the act of carefree, unhindered, un-self-conscious mark-making. Through this, various exploratory avenues may likely suggest themselves through ‘happy accidents.’ 7. Take an art class, even if it’s something you’re already familiar with. Surrender yourself to the teacher’s process and instruction just for the sake of loosening the restrictive frustrations you’re under, giving yourself the positive experience of ‘a fresh start.’ 8. Simplify your life—maybe you’re taking on too many burdens or unsatisfying and daunting life projects, leaving no energy left over for other needs and desires, like making art and expressing yourself. For many people, a complicated or overdramatic social life can take over. Not to mention vices such as intoxication or substance abuse. Learn to set boundaries and achieve balance. 9. Visit another artist’s studio and watch them work. Imagine yourself in their place, picture yourself solving the visual problems they’re currently working with in their piece. This can jumpstart your creative and productive mindset. 10. Experiment with a meditation practice, such as mindfulness of breathing or more inquiry-based methods like Vipassana. Taking the time to clear your mind or simply look deeply into the thoughts that arise can lead to valuable insights or momentary glimpses into fascinating subconscious realms lurking just below the surface of mundane or stress-based thought patterns. 11. Keep a dream journal next to your bed so that it’s easy to write descriptions of the bizarre worlds and situations you encounter in your sleep, immediately upon waking. The free-formed, non-linear nature of the dream state is fertile ground for unique and highly personal creative ideas and symbolism. 12. Travel. Simply put, going somewhere–anywhere–that is outside of your daily routine or environment stimulates the mind and the senses like nothing else. New experiences in different places force us to activate the creative and problem-solving areas of our brains, making the sights, tastes, and smells incredibly poignant to our previously under-stimulated minds. This often translates into powerful impressions, memories, ideas, and inspiration.

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February 26, 2012

Phoenix Trades Depot, Austin, TX

Recently I was accepted into a local group show. Here’s the flyer, for any Austinites reading this blog who may be interested in checking it out: Group show in Austin at a brand new East Side gallery space!

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February 6, 2012

Minds In Morpheus

Last year I gave my friend Emily a secret preview showing of my Reclaiming series before shipping them off to Portland for their debut at a gallery there. Emily’s first impressions of the images I had created resurfaced powerfully in a dream soon after. Long the recipient of intensely detailed dreams, with the gift of remembrance, she recollects these on her (often quite entertaining) online dream journal called Minds In Morpheus. Step into Emily’s Baxter-illustrated Surrealist dreamscape here. I always appreciate the connection of my work to the unconscious or subconscious realms, as my paintings are often adaptations of visions from my own dream life. Emily’s narrative featuring my images was a fun little escape, a creative exercise in stream-of-consciousness association not all too dissimilar from the parlour game Exquisite Corpse popularized by one of my foremost influences, the Surrealists, during the height of their 20th century artistic movement.

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January 31, 2012

Photo/Digital Manipulation

I’ve always been just as in love with photography as I am with painting. Because I paint in a highly realistic style, they’re two disciplines that go hand in hand in supporting my overall aesthetic and conceptual goals. Photography is arguably the most convincing lie of the visual arts. It intersects with cultural conditioning and social norms in a way that I find intriguing and inspiring. What I mean is, as 20th and 21st century human beings, we’ve been more or less culturally and socially trained to accept the photograph as a factual–even scientific–representation of physical reality, due to its ubiquitous use and massive omnipresence throughout our entire lives. This belief, which can approach the level of faith, presents an irresistable opportunity for manipulation of perception by illusionists and countercultural provocateurs such as myself. Long having been an artistic obsession of mine–to subvert the audience’s assumptions and paradigms–the advent of Photoshop was a digital godsend. I’ve spent years honing my craft of button-pushing and mouse-clicking in order to take my illusions one step further into disorienting believability. Whether the end result is a reference image for a painting, or a finished piece of art in its own right, the aesthetic I attempt to achieve is the same. This is how the two mediums work in concert for my overall artistic advancement. This practice of “wanting-to-be-believable” manipulation to the visual field is also quite important to my conceptual mission as an artist: to inspire the viewer to question everything, to dig deeply behind the limiting surface appearance of not only reality, but their own selves, to take nothing for granted. In this way, I hope to make my art the embodiment of one of my favorite quotes: “Art is the lie that tells the truth.” –Pablo Picasso Here’s my latest experiment combining photography and digital manipulation: "Glass & Dust", photo/digital, 2012 And a few other favorites from recent years: "Call It A Day", photo/digital, 2010 "Archetype", photo/digital, 2009 "Capsized", photo/digital, 2008

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January 21, 2012

Shapeshifting

Or, The Transmutation of Artistic Critique. While reading Becoming Animal, a beautiful treatise on the sensual interaction between humans and the perceptual world around us written by David Abram, I came across a startling bit of truth that resonated with my visual artist’s mindset. In this passage Abram brilliantly describes the perceptual shift that occurs within the author upon receiving the critique of a peer or colleague–and even more poignantly–the mysterious shift that occurs before the critique is even rendered, like the extrasensory perception of a wild animal fleeing from an as-yet unnoticeable oncoming storm. Abram elucidates (and I can confirm with my own experience) that these mental shifts are very real phenomenon stemming from our almost-forgotten animal awareness of the perceptual field our consciousness is not only immersed in, but continuously creating. Below is an adaptation of Abram’s passage (Shapeshifting: Magic II, pp.232-33), with all words referring to being an author adjusted, by me, to instead refer to visual art. I think any experienced artist will powerfully relate to the concept described here, and find that it holds true through any of the creative disciplines. “It is a type of transmutation well known, I suspect, to many artists, although precious few probably notice how bizarre this phenomenon really is. It shows itself when, after laboring over some painting, I send a draft to a couple friends or colleagues in hopes that they might view it. Whenever one of them subsequently mentions (on the phone, perhaps) that she is now perusing the piece, then–at that moment–a curious change occurs in the picture. When I glance at my original painting, I find that every brush stroke has been altered, some dramatically, some only slightly. It’s the damnedest thing. But wait: looking closer, it appears that the precise marks I’ve rendered are still the same, as is the color of those marks, and the space between them. Yet the whole thing looks different. Problems I hadn’t seen before are glaringly apparent, while previously unnoticed elegances also reveal themselves, gleaming like half-hidden gems among the clumped grass of the rendered marks. For now I’m viewing the image with eyes very different from my own. My colleague has not even called me back to tell of her reaction to my piece. In all likelihood, she hasn’t yet viewed it. It doesn’t matter. I do not need to know if she likes or despises the thing, only that she is viewing it. That knowledge, alone, suffices to activate a dramatically different encounter for me with what I’ve painted. And if I learn that another friend is viewing it, then the image will transform yet again. “Once I discovered this shapeshifting, polymorphous capability in my visual works, I realized that as a painter I’d be much better served if I could effect these transformations on my own, before sending the photographed painting out to be viewed by anyone else. After finishing the frst layers of subsequent paintings, I undertook to view them from the imagined perspective of various colleagues. But to no avail. I was simply unable to conjure, on my own, any clear change in the texture and feel of what I’d painted. Only by sharing it with others did the metamorphosis occur… “Even at this very moment, then, your perusing of the images on this site is already influencing them, changing their tones, torquing the way they feel to others, and to me.”

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January 12, 2012

Realism Techniques 1

This is the start of an occasional ongoing series on this blog where I’ll be discussing the process and techniques of sharp-focus realism oil painting. Here’s the evolution of the painting I began at my parents’ house during a recent visit. The phases of development you see here represent approximate divisions into layers, i.e. major progress stages of the painting (click on the image below to make it larger). In actuality, there were a few more partial layers and back-and-forth adjustments made to various areas of the piece which are not shown here, as they didn’t constitute major turning points. Generally speaking, after the first two complete layers, it’s then possible to break off into intense development on one section of the piece if desired or needed, since at that point enough information has been recorded to establish a failsafe foundation upon which to build endless subtleties. I believe that the most convincing photorealist paintings cannot be achieved through anything other than this subtle progression of multiple layers. This piece is part of a new series nearing completion, which will debut officially on May 26th at Last Rites Gallery in N Value study, block-in, development of detail and form, final adjustments and refinement. YC. More details of that show will be available in the coming months.

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January 10, 2012

On The Road

“ Live without dead time!” One of the slogans, courtesy of the Situationists, that I try to live by. To me it means making productive, efficient, and enjoyable use of one’s short time on this earth. I find it easy to embody this ethic at home in the familiar environment of the studio, where steady progress is made on paintings and other projects. But it can be tough to halt progress and pull away in order to travel, and even tougher to get back into that same productive, creative sweet spot after returning. One solution to this interruption is to bring the studio with me, if I suspect I’ll have some free time during my trip. I’ve developed a system that helps me fit all my painting necessities inside a cloth-bound, folding brush and paint holder that’s approximately the size of a thick 3-ring binder. This makes it easy to travel with art supplies and be ready to work wherever I may be. My most crucial travel items consist of: approx 10 small tubes of paint approx 30 brushes small vial of Alkyd medium small vial for OMS collapsible mahlstick small rag I usually stick to smaller sized paintings while traveling, to make packing and transport easier. To save space in my bag, I wrap my painting panel with my packed clothing, for padding and protection. Sometimes a simple tripod-style collapsible easel is necessary, but often enough my destination has adequate desks or other furniture to take advantage of and provide a makeshift studio setup. I make sure to work with quick-drying mediums while on the road, so that my painting will be dry enough to pack again into my luggage, after working on it the day before departure. Painting at my parents' house: mid-afternoon, overlooking the water.

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January 7, 2012

Then, And Now

The dawning of 2012 brought me to my parents’ house, an eclectic vortex of saved childhood possessions and weird emotional frequencies densely packed into a many-acred patch of wilderness falling off the eastern edge of the North American continent. Visiting this environment never fails to bring back a flock of the old ghosts that made me into the artist I am now, as I walk past the dusty shelves of my childhood picture books haphazardly assembled into stacks and rows. Many fond moments have been spent revisiting the sense of awe and wonder these books created in me—indelible impressions that formed the foundations of my artistic sensibilities, despite the difference in my current chosen subject matter. Childhood inspirations. These books went missing from the shelves, but were just as important.

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October 22, 2011

Begin Transmission

Welcome to my new fine arts website and blog. Thanks for looking. I hope to feature content related to my painting and creative process, as well as updates on shows, exhibitions, original works for sale or giclee limited editions. Check back for behind-the-scenes updates on my current series of paintings, in progress, for an exhibition debuting May 26th, 2012 at Last Rites Gallery in NYC.

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