The Water Coupe

The Open Studio says thanks.

2009-07-30T13:09:00.000-07:00

TALISMAN 7, (2009) oil on canvas, 24" x 24"

This past weekend saw many of my friends coming up, over and out to visit the lair and see what I've been doing instead of hanging out with them. My thanks to you all for the kind words, support and generosity.

I ended up selling a few paintings, a "Happy" print, and had some nibbles on a few other pieces, so it was a good weekend, considering the limited amount of traffic I had.

That will change for the (I hope) better in September, when Atelier One will be having a building-wide open studio event, featuring many of the artist/inmates showing their stuff. Still in the planning stage, the idea is to have dee-jays, bands and a lot of publicity surrounding the two-day event September 12th & 13th.

In the meantime, after a short break, I'll return to the studio to finish the last two of the Talismans (one of which was sold in its fetal stage of development--never had that happen before) and to begin a new series of works.

But, like I said, many thanks to everyone who stopped by. As for the rest of you, you can check out the new stuff on the website.

Why Does My Food Co-Op Hate Me?

2009-07-10T10:22:00.000-07:00

As everyone knows, the purpose of a blog is to make any slight, affront or incident which happens to the blogger a matter of global significance. To that end, I am going to relate a shocking expose of a situation happening at my local community food co-op and perhaps at yours.

I am referring to the practice of buying certain products in bulk, or, more specifically, buying dish soap in bulk. A couple of years ago, I decided that it made more sense to buy a soap bottle once, and refill it from the bulk dish soap bin at the co-op. Cuts down on the plastic in the world, and would save money in the long run, right? Better for everybody, and creates the illusion that I am "part of the solution", right?

So, I've been doing this for a while and feeling pretty good about myself, and yesterday I decided to see just how much I was saving by reducing waste, cutting down on the production costs of the dish soap manufacturer and the store, and trying to determine exactly how much dish soap I'll have to buy to get myself out of debt.

A lot more than I thought, it turns out.

Buying 32 ounces of dish soap from the bulk bin, using my own bottle (bought from the co-op, by the way) runs about $6.20. The same amount of dish soap in a plastic bottle sitting on the shelf costs $4.69. So, if I understand, I am paying 25% more to reduce the production costs of a dish soap manufacturer. Cool.

I'm certainly no expert when it comes to capitalism, but it would seem that if you wanted to encourage recycling, re-using, reducing plastic waste, bulk purchasing, and all the other things that make shopping at community markets so great, wouldn't you want to incentivize, as they say, your customers to buy from the bulk bins? Long, long ago, when Patti Smith was new, and I first began to shop at these kinds of stores, you actually SAVED money by buying in bulk. Peanut butter was cheaper. Granola, too. I'm sure of it. Or, goddess help us, perhaps the entire thing has been one giant holistic scam.

On the other hand, maybe somebody should talk to Costco.

Fishy Go Swim Swim (studio version)

2009-07-06T11:11:00.000-07:00

TALISMAN 1, (2009), oil on canvas, 24" x 24".

The long gap in posts here results in some part from working in my new Graton studio. In April I moved into #28 at Atelier One. This was the space formerly occupied by Adela Akers, who had added sheetrock, track lighting and other details to make it seem as much a gallery as a studio. It is a beautiful, inspiring space, and one that encouraged me to open it up to show my work.

In May, I began a series of paintings which were based on an encounter I had a few years ago with a feng shui consultant. While in our old home in Albany, she commented on my paintings and suggested I make one with eight red fish and one black one, as that would encourage prosperity. I was one to other things at that point, and sort of forgot about it (which probably explains my finances, I suppose).

My wife reminded me of the idea as I was unpacking into the new space, and I began to contemplate the idea of "chi" being able to recognize fish on a painting, let alone the "correct" number and color of those fish. That led to wondering how recognizable the fish had to be, and to whom (or to what). What are the cognitive functions of chi and what does it mean to create artwork for the pleasure of some kind of energy. If the existing depictions of these arrangements are any indication, chi favors fish that anyone can see are fish.

Or so one would believe.

Some additional research showed me that in actuality the fish (as well as their surrounding water, also a wealth attractant) only need to be understood by the owners of the art to be nine fish in order to be "effective". Freeing up the sensibilities of the human involved is a relief to all concerned, however more questions began to pop up.

The artwork now functions as an intermediary between the spiritual and material realms, and, wrapped in the mystical "other", takes on a new value aside from its intrinsic properties. Imbued with alleged powers from both ancient beliefs and a current agreement with its owner, the painting works as an object more inline with a fetish object or charm.

So, I decided to create a small group of paintings exploring these ideas. They are all identical in size and shape, though they use varying levels of representation of the nine fish. As they are finished I'll post them up here and on my website. I certainly can't make any claims as to their ability to generate prosperity, at least not yet, but I invite you to come by and check them out.

My studio will be open Saturday and Sunday July 25th and 26th from 1 to 6 p.m.

Its located at 2860 Bowen Street in Graton. Discount refreshments will be served, and know that there are plenty of other great things to do in the area should you want to make a day of it.

Fishy go swim swim

2009-04-04T09:47:00.000-07:00

Well now, today's Press-Democrat has an interesting story about the "battle" between Sonoma County farmers and coho salmon. Low water levels in the Russian River, coupled with spring frosts threatening crops, created a situation where using the remaining river water to spray crops (the traditional method to save them from freezing) ended up killing off salmon fingerlings stranded in the dried out river.

Farmers say they don't want a "water master" telling them what to do, or at least being unable to protect their crops, yet the already threatened salmon are as vital a food source as agriculture, so they may not have a choice but to be "dictated to" by the state. They want to "solve the problem locally".

Okay, but I get the sneaking suspicion this will turn into one of those "you can't tell private property owners what to do with their land" routines all too common with agriculture issues. You know, the thing where whatever I do on my land is my business, not the gummints, and screw anyone downstream or next door. It is never pretty, as examples of extremes are held up by all sides as what will inevitably happen if things go this way or that.

And let's be honest here. "Agriculture" in this part of the world usually means vineyards growing grapes, a crop infamous for requiring massive amounts of water to prosper. The powerful wine industry will have quite a task convincing the rubes that Syrah should take precedence over salmon, but if they can figure out a way to bring the regions organic farmers onto their side, who knows?

Water is ultimately its own master, and once its gone frost on the pumpkins will be the least of our worries.

World Water Day

2009-03-22T17:12:00.000-07:00

Today is World Water Day (and frankly, this was the first I'd heard of it, too), so designated to help us think and act to promote awareness of the importance of clean water. The Charity Water Institute funds freshwater projects in developing countries. This video is about the Central African Republic.

Closer to home, I'm learning more about the attempt by well-meaning folks to use wastewater to irrigate crops and vineyards in Sonoma County. One of the main problems is that the plan requires storing the wastewater directly above the Dry Creek Aquifer. This aquifer is the source from which much of Sonoma and Marin Counties get their fresh water. Adding a twist is the continuing removal of the gravel over the aquifer by commercial gravel companies. If you've been following along in your study guides, you know that gravel is the way groundwater is purified on its way down to replenish the aquifer.

It is a tricky, complicated issue here, tainted with politics, greed and ambition. Details to follow very soon.

Happy Water Day!

My birthday is in October.

2009-02-12T18:30:00.000-08:00

But it's never too early to shop. Just sayin'.

Here and there.

2009-02-06T10:30:00.001-08:00

Last Thursday night was the opening of the "Weather Report" show in Petaluma, and I got a chance to meet three more artists whose work I really like. For a long time I've been pretty reluctant to try and meet other artists, but now that I'm actually producing a bit more work and showing it, connecting with other people has become a bit less intimidating. Amazing what getting off your ass can do.

Two paintings in the show really stood out to me (in that sort of "damn! that's what I want to do" way), and it turns out they were both done by the same artist, Kathryn St. Clair. She really knows her stuff. A great sense of color, light and form, and technically her work is captivating to look at, as pretty much everyone in attendance could attest to. I got a chance to briefly talk/gush to her, and was pleasantly surprised to find out we seemed share a couple of similar ideas about landscape and metaphor.

And, it turns out she made up some postcards like I did, announcing the group show(s) she was in. When I did it, I didn't know if it made sense to put out your own media, the same way you would if you were having a solo show, but, there you go. Turns out, it does.

Later, Tony Spiers and his wife, Lisa Beerntsen introduced themselves and said very nice things about my painting. This meant a lot, as I've been fans of both their work for some time now. We first encountered Tony's paintings all around Graton, and thought his way of combining nostalgia and humor with a lovely whiff of malice was really interesting. Lisa does beautiful things with layered organic shapes that seem to create a calm out of chaos.

Though their work is dramatically different visually, all three of these artists have a solid foundation in the fundamentals of art-making: drawing skills, a real understanding of light, color, form and design, but most of all discipline. They have painted a lot. And, not surprisingly, have gotten good in the process.

I remember my time in art school as spent in serious distrust of notions of craft, technique and proficiency. Infatuated with the aura of mechanical and electronic production processes, and juiced up on theories of Walter Benjamin and John Berger, not to mention the work of Robert Heinecken, I was much more interested in what these modern mediums did to and for the nature of art as communication. I loved the graphic quality of image degradation, the layers of meaning inherent in such, and what could be said about culture and politics using the current processes.

Sure I loved to draw. I loved color, and what paint looked like on various surfaces. I had a great appreciation for painters like El Greco, Toulouse-Lautrec, Matisse, Turner, and DeKooning, but any attempt to "emulate" them seemed like a total waste of time. Painting and drawing classes were quickly abandoned for video, photography, printmaking and a number of independent studies in sculpture and event production. Fast and cheap was the order of my day. Saying something about perception, experience and media was what was important, and even if exactly what couldn't always be deciphered, the work was rooted in improvisation, immediacy, chance and fun. I associated myself with various groups and individuals with similar ideas, and by the end of my time in college, I had taken part in enough exhibitions, events and publications, and received just enough encouragement to believe I was on the right track.

Thirty years later the belief in content over ability had somewhat played itself out. Combined with self-doubt and a lousy work ethic, I found myself at something of a dead-end. Having made video that looked like photographs, photographs that looked like xeroxes (and in many cases, were xeroxes), paintings that looked like cartoons, and drawings that looked like mistakes, there was nowhere to go but up.

Having spent the last few years attempting to re-learn painting has been the jump-start for a lot of things, not the least of which is a return to regular art-making. My attitude towards the work is that I'd like it to be more contemplative than eyeball-gouging. A sign of advanced age, I suppose, but also the recognition that there are plenty of artists out there using the techniques of illustration, shock and spectacle with better results that I could. Or did.

That's why its such a pleasure to see artists right here in my area who are able to convey personal, complex ideas about themselves and the world in interesting, seductive ways. They are extremely accomplished, passionate and determined, if not household names, and they make me very happy.

Save The Sandpiper!

2009-01-27T13:15:00.000-08:00

One of the great places to eat in Sonoma County is a little dockside spot in Bodega Bay called "The Sandpiper". It gently plays to our memories of authentic seafood joints from the past, with good, fresh food, inspiring views of a working harbor and a minimum of nautical kitsch. A place where a cup of clam chowder is mandatory and the fried seafood platter is offered without shame or irony. Where you can become a member of their frequent customer club, earning points for various entrees. My wife and I registered our birthdays with them, and every year we get cards in the mail awarding us a free dinner (offer valid for the entire month). This is the kind utterly charming, small town sort of, well, marketing seems too crass a word, and community-building seems too geekspeak, but it certainly makes you feel like eating there more often than you would.

And before or after dinner its always nice to take a stroll around the marina, looking at the boats and the funky little community of single and doublewides that make up the village of Porto Bodega. The RV park next door is full of interesting folks in their various encampments, fire rings and grills blazing, satellite tvs glowing inside. We've seen everyone from hipsters in a vintage Airstream pulled by an old DeSoto to Pentecostal families in tour buses worthy of Willie Nelson.

All of this makes for a lovely glimpse of what a working fishing community is like.

So why does Richard Battaglia want to destroy it? Good question. Only Richard Battaglia knows for sure, but if his past achievements are any indicator, it is so he can replace it with a theme park reflecting the charms of a traditional California fishing village chock full of thrill rides, entertainment complexes, unique characters, specialty shops and restaurants.

Wow.

Usually one has to go to Orlando for a clean, exciting, family-friendly simulacrum like that. Or, in a pinch, Vallejo.

Two years ago, Mr. Battaglia bought 15 acres of Porto Bodega, including the land where the Sandpiper sits. He has, according to sources, been engaged in a campaign of harassment and intimidation to force the owners of The Sandpiper to walk away from their seven-year lease and get the hell off his property. Nice.

Perhaps Mr. Battaglia is actually envisioning an upmarket, nautically-themed complex more in tune with the tastes of wine country tourists. Something like Nick's Cove.

God help us all.

Joe's Crab Shack for people who would not be caught dead in Joe's Crab Shack, Nick's is a former fishing community turned resort where meals are delicious as only Pat Kuleto can serve them, and a stay in a "rustic" cabin goes for over $600 a night. Art directed to the tits by professionals (and you know what that means), I stepped into the restaurant and felt like something in me had died. And not in a good way. What Paris must be like at Disney World. In other words, a fish camp for people who don't fish, but love the experience of being where that sort of thing might have happened. Tasteful, clean and modern.

And those are the hallmarks of Battaglia, Inc. projects. Exciting re-creations of reality. Better reality, if you will. The reality they've torn down to build the new reality. The Truman Show comes to mind.

Admittedly, you'd be hard pressed to stop or even slow the wheels of this kind of "progress", but in this case Mr. Battaglia does not have the law on his side. Still, the citizens of Porto Bodega and Sonoma County are outraged by this, uh, outrage. Anyone who has been to this area understands that its appeal lies in what is is now, not what it could be with just a little more development. Real estate goons never seem to understand that.

I encourage you to SIGN THE PETITION and do what you can to HELP KEEP SONOMA COUNTY REAL!

Art night in review!

2009-01-25T14:46:00.000-08:00

Had a fine time on the west side last night, seeing a few pals at the opening of "Invitational #3" at Graton Gallery. My two paintings garnered a few nice comments from polite friends and a couple of total strangers, so that was good. Met a few of the other participating artists, ate a shrimp or two and really enjoyed the afternoon.

With 26 artists showing their stuff, you never know what to expect, but a few things really stood out for me, among them the gorgeous intaglios of Isabelle Proust. Nicely erotic content and a very painterly approach to the medium put the whole "come up and see my etchings" routine into an actually believable light.

I always think my pal Lou Rosenberger's paintings are kind of subversive in their use of what seem to be orthodox abstraction. His twists on process painting I find pretty wry and caught myself staring for a long time into the layers of his small, bold entry. Of course, there's the usual fair share of representational landscape painters (cough) in this thing, so standing out in the crowd can be a hard thing to do. Still, no matter how jaded you are with this kind of thing, you can't help but dig Rik Olson's beautiful and/or goofy woodcuts and paintings.

Afterwards, it was off to an opening at Quicksilver Mine Company for a show of mostly sculpture by thirteen of their artists, and to meet, though our pal Maureen Lomasney (of Funeria), two lovely people in the form of Adela Akers and, you'll have to forgive me, but I forgot the name of a woman who is a filmmaker and lives half the year in an 800-year-old house in the South of France. The rest of her time is spent in the West of Sonoma.

Finally, we ended the evening with supper at Peter Lowell's and after a Macro Bowl, and a piece of fresh cheesecake topped with poached pears, I remembered again why this place makes you really, really, really wanna eat your vegetables.

And there you have my weekend o' art.

But don't forget, Thursday, February 5th from 6 to 8 I'll be greeting the multitudes at the opening of "Weather Report" at the Petaluma Arts Center.

See also: Glassy Baby! God these things are beautiful.

Gourmet bathing, then and now.

2009-01-15T11:29:00.000-08:00

Around 1980, I was involved with my pal Walton Harris and a handful of others in an excruciatingly small-caliber magazine. One of our big inspirations was the beloved Wet, "the magazine of gourmet bathing". With an uber-SoCal concept, cutting edge design, and a skew toward various art-celebrities of the time, Wet made you want to take off your clothes, and that is almost always a good thing.

Today we have an object of similar appeal, though updated to reflect a more environmental aesthetic. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the moss bathmat.

On the third night of Hanukkah a photographer gave to me..

2008-12-24T17:09:00.000-08:00

... an awakening to the pleasures of Gin and Tonic.

Who knew?

My only experience with Gin was back in art school, when, under the influence of Quadrophenia-era Who mythology, I tried my hand at Gilbey's. On the rocks.

I swore I could feel brain cells being incinerated with every sip. Tasted like ass, too.

Then last night, during the latkes and before the lighting of the candles, my photographer friend Zara said "Oh, you've really got to try one". It was her house (okay, her and her mother and brother's house), and so how could I refuse?

As we sipped Zara quipped "Ahh, the perfect drink for colonizing the world, eh?", and how true that was. Or for just relaxing at the club after a rousing game of quoits with the fellows.

Still, the drink was a marvel or refreshment, all limey and tonicy and delicious. Now I get it.

Thanks, Zara. Summer and my liver will never be the same.

And Happy Hanukkah to all.

In other news...went to Renga for some last minute shopping today and heard Alex Chilton's great song "Free Again". Thought it was Big Star (must still be fuzzy from the Gin & Tonic), but I was wrong. We met the folks who own the place and they are the kind of lovely, smart, funny, creative and committed people that make this part of the world so inspiring.

You never step into the same river twice.

2008-12-23T13:04:00.000-08:00

South Fork of the Yuba River, 2008.

Bronwen Dickey reflects powerfully on the legacy her father's book "Deliverance" has on the Chatooga River. In "The Last Wild River" (Oxford American Magazine #61), Ms. Dickey writes of what our insatiable desire for access to "nature" as adventure/entertainment does to both the land and communities involved. Does the government have a right to restrict access to public lands in an attempt to preserve a sense of "wilderness"? What is the impact of one person on a landscape? Ten people? Ten thousand people?

Does an area having its "wild"-ness admired in publication immediately start the process of its destruction? The people around the Chatooga undoubtedly prospered in the short term from tourist revenue, and were happy to do so. Some thirty years later, disgusted by the influx of "outsiders" insisting on what's best for the river, not to mention having to routinely fish out dead whitewater enthusiasts, there is plenty of resentment among longtime residents who used and most assuredly abused the river for their own ends.

Ms. Dickey's account is certainly good reading for those interested in the nuts-and-bolts aspect of our collective relationship with "the outdoors".

By the way, The Oxford American is one of my favorite magazines, especially their annual Music Issue (out now at very selected bookstores) . It always includes a great cd of Southern music from every genre and period. This year, they're going nuts with a 2-cd set, so you really need to get your copy NOW!

Additional viewing: Werner Herzog's "Encounters At The End of the World". Amazing stuff, and who knew that Henry Kaiser is a cinematographer?

Link Dump

2008-09-24T17:01:00.000-07:00

Bottled versus Eau de Faucet: ScienceCafeSF has it all laid out for you in five easy pieces.

Number one way to relieve your garden's thirst: Plus, it repels deer.

Not alone...

2008-09-24T16:04:00.000-07:00

UTAH (1983), Polaroid

Earlier this month, the area weekly ran a run called "The Conspiracy Issue". Replete with what you and everyone else on the list might imagine, it included a short piece concerned with the water quality of the Russian River. Though the writer has been a Sonoma County resident for fifteen years, she has yet to swim in the Russian. And for all the reasons you might imagine.

On a positive note (and thankfully the point of her article), there is an organization called Russian Riverkeepers dedicated to cleaning it up. From stormwater to non-native species to pollution to over use, RRK is on the job.

There's just one little thing.

In an attempt to persuade the author to go for a dip Program Director Don McEnhill assures the author "..if there were dangerous bacteria in the Russian River, Riverkeepers would know about it and would be doing something to solve the problem...", adding that "his 87-year old aunt swims in the river every day".

Now while I certainly give props to anyone with the discipline to swim anywhere every day, let alone the SewageLite™ fluids of the Russian, I have to ponder that the conspiracy here may be in keeping fetid reality away from an aging relative. While McEnhill may be justifiably proud of the work he is doing in cleaning up the river, to claim ignorance of the infestations of e.coli and algae blooms in the river is, well, I don't want to tell him. You tell him.

Thankfully, the author was not convinced and remains one of "us".

Upstream a piece, Friends of the Eel River are doing what they can to preserve the quality of one of California's major river systems.

Arts & Entertainment

2008-08-29T16:21:00.000-07:00

California (tipi), 1983, Polaroid

Scene Update

The gallery that is home of the most shocking event in Sebastopol cultural history is not pressing charges. It turns out the perp had no particular axe to grind with the art or the artist (damn!), or even the gallery. She just wanted to be arrested. As in a cry for help. Which I hope she gets. As told to this reporter by an eyewitness "She just had that look in her eye, you know? I've seen it once or twice before. She just smashed it and sat down, wanting to get arrested. She had nowhere else to go".

Throwin' in the Towel

Our San Francisco correspondent reports of finding out about Bolinas' "response to Burning Man" called Gushing Woman, wherein participants gather on the beach to celebrate women and the fluids they love. Or have. No one is quite sure at this point. Yet, when our man in parenthesis went online to check it out "all I could find was female ejaculation porn."

The two most terrifying words in the English language: Jazz Brunch

Hydrology and you, part 1

2008-08-25T15:31:00.001-07:00

HANS HAACKE: "Condensation Cube", 1963

The standard model of the Water Cycle (check it out, kids) is that there is a constant, finite amount of water on Earth, in an endless cycle of evaporation and condensation, all of it powered by the sun. No new water will be created and none will be destroyed. It will only change physical state and location.

This is all apparently true enough. If the planet were left to its own devices. The technicality is in how the cycle is affected by human use and manipulation of our little clear pal. We have dammed rivers, created and removed entire bodies of water, continuously pumped out groundwater at a rate faster than it can be replenished, and in other ways have altered the natural arrangement of how water evaporates and condenses.

This also impacts the amount and quality of groundwater in our aquifers, which contributes to springs and wells drying up. Let us also add to this doom and gloom cocktail a jigger or two of chemicals and/or toxins, which might be "removed" out by the process of infiltration, but it takes thousands if not millions of years and even that is arguable.

And then there are the legal maneuverings of governments and private firms diverting, manipulating and privatizing water in the name of the public good, which of course, means satisfying the desires of constituent/consumers in the name of survival. Whether these regulating entities are referring to their own survival or not is a bit too easy of a point to make.

In the solutions department, the most popular "fixes" are based on insuring water for human use: desalinization of seawater, filtration of greywater, and conservation. Discussions of more profound changes like dam removal are something else altogether.

Sebastopol Art Scene, Part 1

2008-08-24T12:47:00.000-07:00

From the Santa Rosa Press-Democrat:

Sebastopol gallery print smashed

A Sebastopol woman allegedly snatched a framed print from a gallery on Main Street and smashed it on the sidewalk in front of the shop, police and a witness said.

Melissa Goldstein, 32, was arrested on suspicion of burglary and vandalism Thursday and booked into Sonoma County Jail, Sebastopol Police Officer David Hairston said.

The woman's motive was unknown, and Hairston, who found her seated on a sidewalk bench, said she was "unresponsive to questions."

Sandy Eastok, an artist and co-owner of the Sebastopol Gallery, 150 N. Main St., said she was approaching the gallery when a woman emerged with the print. People from another Sebastopol business were yelling at the woman, who raised the print overhead and smashed it onto the walkway.

"It was kind of traumatic," Eastoak said.

The print, which was ruined, was by Robert Breyer of Graton, another artist/co-owner of the gallery. Eastoak said it was worth $345.

Wow! Shades of Tony Shafrazi!

In other news of Sonoma County's fine arts whirl, I was picking up my paintings from Far West (they're still available online, now at reduced prices), when I happened to run into Rik Olsen, whose work I really like. He seems to like mine, too, and said he'd like to invite me to the annual Invitational Show at Graton Gallery in January.

I am very excited to be thought of by Rik for this opportunity and can only hope that by then Melissa will be out on bail.

Cable Nudes Network

2008-08-21T23:24:00.000-07:00

"Here are some programs that will be aired on Northern Peaks, a Canadian adult-movie channel, according to its recently approved CRTC application.

50 Blow: "Showcasing the oral talents of middle-aged Inuit."

Saskatchewankin': "Highlights and sidelights of the best in Prairie-style masturbation, filmed live in Prince Albert National Park."

Bear Bonin' with Tim and Lester: "Wild and wooly all-male action cut tragically short by an unfortunate misunderstanding."

Shaved Regina, Volume 3: "Ordinary women, only smoother."

Moosejaw!: "That's a complement around here, eh?"

Quebec to Your Wife: "Swinging after curfew in downtown Montreal with host Gino Vanelli."

National Hockey Night: Tape delay from the CBC

AC/BC: "No holes barred action from suburban Vancouver trailer parks."

Y'know, after a while, they start writing themselves.

Real. Nice.

2008-08-20T14:32:00.000-07:00

TREE FARM (2008), oil on canvas. 24" x 24"

Now that the show of my paintings has closed, I still ponder the comments viewers have made on the varying levels of realism in the works. Some really liked the literalness of most of the images. Others favored the more symbolic representation of the remainder. Still others offered that they knew of painters who became much more successful after they'd gone to complete abstraction.

I could spend a bit of time positing the profiles of those who preferred one over the other, even though the feedback I got "skewed" toward the "city folks like the looser stuff" angle. I also get the sense that those urban dwellers tend to favor the energy and "freedom" of loose, gestural imagery because it enhances a balance of nature and culture that we all need. As a kind of non-linear information held in a series of linear containers from frame to room to building to street grid, etc., the painting becomes an object through which they can reflect on states of their humanity. I suppose.

Realist painting is viewed as being primarily about craft, discipline and hard work, as well as the dewey sentiment that those qualities are nearly obsolete in the current ethos. How well can you duplicate reality, or its photographic equivalent? And why would you feel the need to? Even for the cold, hard-edged photo-realism of guys like Richard Estes or Robert Cottingham, once you've gotten the point of view digested, it still boils down to the "jeepers!" factor of how they did it. Really well, it turns out, but still I find myself looking at works like that not for how tight and disciplined it is, but for the various inconsistencies in the brushwork, the "mistakes" that make it human. That's a hell of a way to appreciate something that's supposed to evoke "reality".

And plein air painting, god bless it, has the worst image of all. The realm of beret-topped retirees working their meepy impressionism on any even remotely scenic rural highway or cityscape, it is probably the most romantic ideal of the artistic lifestyle. Certainly less seedy than rendering naked women in a Parisian studio, and more productive than the existential loftspace ennui of a beatnik demimonde.

Sonoma County, for better or worse, inspires virtually everyone who lives here (and many who don't) to render its seductive charms. I certainly can't blame them. To be honest, I don't trust anyone who isn't inspired by such astounding, painterly beauty to not want to "capture" it somehow. And there are thousands of them, diligently creating souvenirs.

Which brings me to what I'm doing.

Put most simply, my desire is to convey content without the distraction of technique. Increasingly, that content regards the sensual nature of water, what that triggers in our memory, and what our reaction to that is in a physical sense. Desire at the molecular level.

For me now, this requires a recognizable representation of the scene, but not an infatuation with obsessive precision or clarity. Many people refer to it as "knowing when to stop". This nicely coincides with my current level of, ahem, technical competence, which one could charitably describe as plein air vernacular. What distinction there might be lies in my process. I don't paint in the field. Plus, I don't look good in a beret. I'm using a combination of photographs, both mine and others, recollection, and personal archetypes to determine what is produced.

At the time I began this new direction, some six or seven years ago, I was living in San Francisco, where realistic landscape paintings are somewhat rare. This made for a nice pretense regarding the "uniqueness" of where I wanted to go. Upon moving to Sonoma County, this conceit was rendered thankfully useless, and I could move forward, freed from the whispers of strategy.

For the time being , the works are still available online through Far West.

And I keep painting what's next.

Meanwhile, In Florida

2008-08-18T15:14:00.001-07:00

There's a slick, informative site dedicated to Florida's springs, with lots of eye candy and, of course, ways you, the Floridian, can help. And by help, they mean lessen your impact on the Floridian aquifer. Bottom line: get the hell outta there.

Or so it seems in this pdf file from Florida's Department of Environmental Protection.

Growing up in Miami, our summer vacations to Alabama, Georgia and other parts of the south inevitably led us past Florida's great spring-based tourist spots, Weeki Wachee and Silver. Weeki Wachee was home to "world famous" mermaids, lovely young women in tails sucking air out of garden hoses and posing for the folks behind the enormous glass windows of the "aquatheater" or "aquatorium" or whatever they called it. I remember my infatuation with it because it seemed like God's swimming pool. Or at least like color tv, which hadn't been invented yet. Silver Springs had "world famous" glass bottom boats, and was also the place where they shot"Sea Hunt" in gorgeous black and white.

Because I'd actually been in swimming pools, which by default have that same mix of crystal clear and turquoise and white, my frame of reference was always how great it would be to go swimming in there. I never did, sadly. We didn't have time. But I'd venture that that's what most of the other patrons felt: how great would it be if that was my swimming pool.

And so the troubles began.

Forty years later, both of these attractions are covered in algae, the result of too much nitrogen in the water. The nitrogen comes from agricultural runoff, stormwater pollutants from cars, roads, and chemicals, and the general effluvia that comes from having too many people around.

Fortunately, the State of Florida is trying to address these problems, both in the central part of the state where these two spots are, and elsewhere, by buying up the springs in private hands and attempting some kind of management of them. In addition, there is greater awareness of the limitations of the once perceived as limitless Floridian Aquifer.

Here in Northern California, on the other hand, our water comes from the Sierra snowmelt. Which is at its lowest level in years. But that is another post.

Riding Mower

2008-08-17T22:26:00.000-07:00

I was recently "back" east, in one of the lovelier parts of the country, the Finger Lakes area of New York. Hot? Sure. Muggy? Hello, it's back east. In July. But the land is just so beautiful. Massive, rolling lawns of perfectly trimmed grass. A fuzzy green ocean without a single patch of brown that those in the south or other parts of the country have to deal with on a daily basis. Oh, it was perfect. Some kind of payback, I suppose, for all those long, snowy winters.

Anyway, turns out the northeast is really the only part of the U.S. where lawns should be. Or, to be more precise, the only part of the U.S. where a lawn doesn't require obscene amounts of water simply to survive.

But, hey, its not our fault. We wuz duped!

Wide, wide river

2008-07-11T19:35:00.000-07:00

PRINCETON D, (2006) 10" x 10"

Fans of the long-lost sixties band The Fugs* will recall the song of todays posts title. Scatological in the truest sense of the word, the song aptly describes Sonoma County's Russian River. Dumping ground for the wine country's agricultural runoff, wastewater and treated sewage from cities and towns upstream, the river remains a tourist and recreational mecca for many Bay Areans. These people, whether oblivious or unconcerned, continue to canoe, kayak and, heaven help them, swim in the rivers dubious waters.

Friends who visit us here are often surprised when I reveal the content of the Russian's flow, and why I refuse to drop any body parts in or around it. It is especially tragic, given the beauty of the river as it runs along River Road and highway 116 to the sea. But the river also has the misfortune of being the easiest way for people to get rid of things. In large quantities. In the middle of the night. And broad daylight. Trash, wood, chemicals, sewage, only the last two remain officially sanctioned "products" of municipalities unwilling to bear the cost of responsibilities to their downstream neighbors, let alone the ocean, nature and the world.

The results of too much growth and not enough planning is the default history of America in general, California in particular, and Sonoma County in spades. The solutions are always "cost prohibitive" if you listen to the various councils, commissions, and assemblies. So, here we are. A river you shouldn't swim in is still hyped as a great river to swim in. When some poor bastard, knee deep in the stuff, shrugs "Hey, it's the river!" when told about its toxic levels of e.coli, you realize The Fugs* had no idea.

* Ed Sanders, one of the founding members, was the publisher of "Fuck You: A Magazine of the Arts", which to my mind, may be the greatest magazine title ever.

Link Dump

2008-07-10T07:29:00.000-07:00

NATIONAL:

Bringing it to the people: Adding waterfalls to New York's East River.

STATE:

Set it and forget it: Geegaw figures out how much water your lawn needs.

LOCAL:

Chablis uber alles: "Wine Country" locals are done with grapes.

Preface

2008-07-09T18:42:00.000-07:00

Most of the perfect times in my life have been spent either in, or next to water. Frequently naked. Sometimes high on something or the other. Almost always with friends. These details all but ensure that I was someplace secluded, remote, and what we tend to regard as "in nature". These were experiences of a primal comfort that blended sensual pleasure, solitude and, with any kind of luck, the glimpses of connectedness and enlightenment that usually only natural psychedelics can provide. Usually, but not always.

Years after those ecstatic experiences I would either hear sad stories of, or witness first hand varying degradations of these wonderful places. I could've seen it coming. What I had found amazing about these spots, so had others. And their friends. And their dogs.

Sometimes things were managed to provide access to these spots while limiting the potential impacts of human activity. Sometimes not. But the idea that sources of fresh water were being depleted was never discussed.

Seven years ago, I came across a small Qing Dynasty porcelain in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. About the size of a small teacup, this celadon container mesmerized me with what I perceived as a perfect shape, size, color, and finish. I thought it was declaring its purpose across culture, and language, and time. And it was called a Water Coupe. Coupe as in the French definition of bowl or cup.

The memory of this little object stayed in my head for some time, and in 2003 I began a series of paintings based on the relationships humans have with water. Paintings serving to "contain" water. The memory of water.

I had been making art for over thirty years with varying levels of intensity and success, mostly low-to-barely perceptible. Regardless of the media I was focused on, painting was a favorite method of expression, and so I decided to focus my direction on "re-learning" the process. The initial paintings of this effort can be seen on my website.

During the making of these works, I began to think that it was also important to do something, however small, to examine my own relationship to water in the world. The obvious survival issues are a given. The increasing coverage of water as a political issue between have and have-not countries warrants some kind of attention.

But even on an admittedly hedonistic level, shouldn't everyone have the opportunity to experience pristine water in the wild? A visceral and personal connection to where the water comes from? A chance to experience that kind of pleasure?

Now to begin.

I've been inspired by many of my friends who have used their creativity to provide something beyond their own desires and profession. Something that will help.

While I'm certainly not above including my own ruminations, artworks and pithy crackpot remarks, my desire is to gather information, pass it on, and perhaps enable discussion and community.