(5 January 2006)

It was a bright, sunny morning as I headed out to paint.  For some strange reason things seemed much more clear in my head this morning too.  For the last few years I feel like I’ve been laboring under a blanket of frustration, self-doubt, and malaise.  It’s not like the whole veil was lifted this morning or anything, but it did feel lighter.  Now, if only my leg would mend!

          I headed downtown, thinking that I should do a few pieces that would be of interest locally before I try to get into a gallery.  On one of my scouting missions in the last couple of weeks, I had climbed the fire escape of the Spokane Club to the second floor balcony and thought that it would be an ideal place to set up my easel to paint a cityscape with the Spokesman-Review building as a primary subject. 

It was still a little early when I parked my truck and the sun was still on the eastern side of the buildings that I was interested in.  I spent a few minutes up in the new library gazing out at the beautiful scene from up on the third floor.  I have always thought that a painting from this view would be fun to do with the full vista of the Monroe Street Bridge and the falls and the north side spread out like that.  I did a painting from the street level back in the 90’s before the new library was finished.

I know -- I keep calling it the “new” library, when it was actually finished in ’94.  I had become used to and fond of the old library and didn’t really like the fact that they tore it down.  It was a landmark.  The new building was too modern for my taste … but one of the wonderful things that they did when they put it together was to install floor to ceiling windows on the north side of the building in a grand arch giving quite the diorama to those who would take the time to indulge themselves in such a wonderful view.

I have become a big fan of this new library because of the view and the interior space.  Libraries have always been magical places for me.  I love to treat myself to their vast selections while enjoying the peace and quiet and the views.  I practically lived in the library at CMU for the past three years.  It’s one of the biggest things that I miss the most about college.  Well, that and all of the coeds strolling by!

I wondered if it would be possible to bring my paint box up into the library and work from life right there on the second or third floor.  What kind of red tape would I need to fight my way through to do that?  A question for another day.

Even though it was still a bit early I decided to go ahead and set up my easel and paint.  By the time that I got it roughed in the light would be just right to work with.

I probably could have gotten permission to paint on the balcony … although I’d never ask.  My philosophy is to just be bold and set up my easel and start painting.  The chances are that people will assume that you have permission and won’t bother you.  Even if they do ask, I’ve never had anyone tell me to stop painting and to go away.  I wonder if that would work in the library.

But I opted to set up on the sidewalk beside the Spokane Club instead of up on the balcony.  It wasn’t that I was afraid of being chased off of it – although that was a distinct possibility – it was more of a business decision.  What I need right now is to make connections.  I might draw attention up on the balcony with my easel but it wasn’t very likely.  I knew, though, that I was bound to meet at least one or two people who were either into art or who were just curious.  Being that close to the newspaper office, too, there was always that chance that I would draw some free publicity out of the deal … although, again, a long-shot.

Don’t get me wrong, though, it wasn’t that I like to have all of that attention.  Preferably, I’d be up in the Spokane Club in a private room painting from a window.  I don’t like a lot of attention.  Anyone who knows me at all would testify to that.  I do, however, like my work to be seen and, in order to be able to do it with more financial freedom; I need it to be seen.  I need to be seen.

I have a hard time believing that I spent three and a half years here in Spokane and hardly had any commissions and never displayed my work in any of the local galleries or shows.  This time round I am going to be much better about it.  I’ve got to get myself out there and make a real, honest to goodness career out of my work.

The day, as I said before, was bright and clear – maybe a little too clear.  As I started painting I was almost blinded by the sun that was peeking out from behind the spire of the Spokesman-Review building where the clock was just ringing out eleven.  It was a real rough start painting directly into the sun like that but once I got it all roughed out the sun had moved and my eyes had great respite.

 The very first person to pass me as I was squeezing out my paints was a lovely looking businesswoman.  “What a great way to make a living,” ihr sagt, “Beets going to the office every day, huh?”

I smiled at her and had to choose between a plethora of responses.  “If you don’t mind goin’ a little hungry now and then.” I said.  Apparently it wasn’t engaging enough as she continued on here way.

The under painting was tough.  The temperatures were low enough that the linseed oil didn’t flow right.  It wasn’t as bad as working with it at the real low temperatures like I have been doing, but it was like trying to work with an off brand tooth paste … it just didn’t work the way that I expected it to.

The light did eventually get to the point that was perfect for the painting and I was at a good point in the work for it’s cooperation – which just meant that I had to paint very fast because it wasn’t going to stay that way for very long.

The painting was going well when I met a guy named Garrac who has also been away from Spokane for ten years or so and has recently moved back.  He is in the process of putting together a gallery and was interested in my work and feels that plein air work would be great in his gallery.  I gave him one of my cards and got the address from him of the place that he is setting up.  I was right about the connection thing.

  The shiver factor was getting out of control by the time that I packed it in – just as the clock tower struck one o’clock.  It had been a fairly successful outing.  I’d met a few people, given out a couple of business cards, and made a connection or two – although I wasn’t all that thrilled with the way that the painting looked.  This was one of those strange paintings that takes several turns.  It started out difficult but okay then became a real struggle, then went real well, and then turned into a real challenge.  In the end I knew that I’d have to either come back to finish it or work on it in the studio.

My leg was killin’ me and difficult to walk on by this time – coupled with the cold and a full bladder.  In spite of the physical problems, though, I spent the afternoon going to galleries and art stores and finding more spots to paint from.

In the evening I went to a figure drawing workshop that I’d found in one of the newspapers and was pleased to see that Garrac was there also.  Small world.  I made more connections at the figure drawing session – in fact I think that I met more artists today and made more art related connections than in the whole time that I lived in Spokane previously.

I’m starting to have a real positive feeling about the way that things are going to go here.  Yeah, sure, it’s going to be a long, uphill struggle, but the battle will be much easier if my attitude remains positive.

And so … with sword held high, I enter a new year to make my mark as a freelance artist.

(Saturday, 10 December 2005)

           Yesterday my brother, Mark, bought a used pickup to use for hauling stuff and all of that.  He’d been lookin’ for one for some time he said.  He made a deal with me that I could use it to my heart’s content and that I could buy it from him at some time if I waned to … he even signed it over to me (for insurance purposes).  Once again my family has come through for me – and once again I am mobile!  Thanks, Mark!

            It’s amazing what the psychological effects are of simply having transportation.  After we picked it up from south hill I drove it home and didn’t go anywhere else all evening, but just knowing that I could made a big difference in how I felt.  Knowing that I have transportation now to get a job too has helped to make me feel so much better.

            So, this morning I packed up my equipment and set off to try out my new wheels and to explore a little of my old stompin’ grounds.  I find it kind of amazing how easily the lay of the land has come back to me.  It’s been ten years since I lived here and yet I’m finding it very easy to navigate my way around.  When I first came back I thought that I would get a map of the city and relearn it – but just ridin’ around (and doing quite a bit of walkin’) has brought it all back pretty well.  Course, I have lived in this area three other times for a total of almost seven years combined, I suppose it should be no big surprise that it comes back easily.

            After fiddlin’ around with the truck for a little while, checking and adding fluids, etc, I headed west.  I went down to Riverside state park.  The roads were slick and snow packed so I stopped at a turnout above the river and put on my tire chains.

            I had been sneakin’ peeks at the scenery as I drove but now I could take it all in without the risk of driving off of a cliff or something.  It was breathtaking.  The weather, although still in the low teens, was beautiful.  Snow still hung in trees and covered the rocks and cliffs across the gorge.  I have probably been down to Riverfront park half a zillion times over the last thirty years and it never ceases to bring a deep sense of reverence and awe to me … and since it’s been ten years it was even more overpowering.

            I spent the next hour just exploring and taking pictures before I realized how crucial the time was.  Because the sun never goes above a 25 or 30-degree zenith at this time of year and because the place that I want to paint is down in the gorge, I needed to get to work before the light was gone.

            When I had set out this morning I knew that I was going to paint down there and I had entertained thoughts of painting in the exact spot where I had first painted the river about fourteen years ago.  Back in those days I wasn’t much of a landscape painter and had only done one true plein air piece and that – of a Florida swamp – was not very good.  Back then, though, in ’91, I didn’t fully appreciate the purity of the moment – it was still about the product and nothing ethereal.

            I was more than a little annoyed to find that there is now a fee for parking down at the river.  I can understand that the state needs to bring in revenue for its rangers and to keep up the camping areas and so forth … but I really don’t think that charging people to park their cars is the answer.  I know that there have been times in the past that I have gone down there just to escape for a few minutes.  Besides, I don’t have five bucks to just throw away.

            I didn’t want a ticket though.  I pulled out one of their little registration envelopes and wrote them out an I.O.U. explaining that I didn’t have the cash on me and that I hadn’t known that there was a parking fee … but that I had come down to paint.  I told them that I’d pay double on my next visit and that they could look for the painting on my web site in a few days or so (hopefully).

            I didn’t set up in the exact spot that I had before but it was very close.  My fingers were already extremely cold by the time I started even with gloves on.  There are some things, though, that must be transcended.  It’s the very fact, sometimes, that the elements rage against me that make plein air painting a challenge and therefore a fun adventure (in that same sick, twisted way that running a marathon can be a grand venture).

            As I began working I reflected on the past ten years and how my life has changed in so many ways … how I’ve changed too.  The last time that I stood here painting I was in my early thirties – my boys were only seven and nine.  Now the kids aren’t boys anymore – Ben’s 22 and Tim is 24.

            Life hasn’t exactly turned out to be what I’ve wanted and I am at a set-back period right now once again, but I do feel positive about the way that it will go from this point on.  I actually have some plans for the future building in my mind too!  Most of the plans are marketing ones.  I already know what I want to do in a general sort of way – I want to travel, paint, and write.  That’s pretty much it when all is said and done.  My task is figuring out how to make a respectable livelihood out of those things.

            I changed some of my techniques for painting in below freezing temperatures … but I think that some adjustments are still necessary.  Turpentine, it seems, makes a kind of slush when mixed with oil paint too thinly.  I skipped the addition of linseed oil altogether.  I had to paint much more simplistically.  I broke it down to dark/light, warm/cool, lean/fat and all of that quickly – rapid decisions with swift executions.

            I was amazed at how quickly the light became a factor even though I had known it would be one to some degree. By that time I was also shivering and having difficulty controlling the brush with my heavy gloves on.  I was sad for my time to come to an end and sadder yet that I would probably have to finish the painting from photographs and memories.  There are few things more rewarding as an artist than working on a painting that’s going well out in the field.  I could try to come back and finish it, but chances are slim that the conditions would ever be exactly the same.  Besides, the next time I return it will be to paint a new scene and to have a new adventure.

            I drove back home with a lighter heart than I’ve had in quite some time … still a little lonely but full of freedom and a sense of accomplishment.  It’s amazing the changes that just a few days can make.  And forward I strive, starting with baby steps.

On the Rocks

6 December 2005

          It has been two and a half weeks since I returned to Spokane, Washington.  Some ten and a half years ago I left in order to be with my children in Michigan – to help raise them and be with them.  The original plan was to be there and be involved in their lives until they graduated high school – then I would return.

          This is one of the reasons that I don’t really make plans – it seems like nothing ever goes as planed (it’s a hell of a notion).  What ended up happening was that I got custody of the boys when Belinda moved to Texas shortly after my move to Michigan.  I would have loved to have moved them to Washington then but they had been in the same school in Michigan for a couple of years by then and I promised them that they could stay in the same school all the way through.  Having grown up in a military family I knew how it felt to get a bunch of friends only to leave them in a few years, perpetually bein’ the new kid and startin’ all over again.  Personally I actually liked it sometimes, but I couldn’t ask that of them.

          Timmy graduated from high school in 2000 and began school at Central Michigan University.  Ben graduated in 2002 leaving me free to return to Washington as he went off to college.  But I decided to go back to school myself and began full time at CMU along with Tim.  Ben transferred up to CMU in the spring of 2003 so we all went to the same school.  It was great.  I still saw the boys quite a bit and yet they were off on their own.

          Tim and I graduated last spring.  Ben remained in Mt. Pleasant while Tim and I spent our summer separately wandering the face of the earth.  Eventually I did, indeed, make my return to Spokane in the middle of November.

          As usual with moving, it’s been a very emotional time for me.  Getting work with a Bachelor of Fine Art degree is not the easiest thing in the world.  There is also a whole psychological bag of worms associated with being jobless … another one associated with moving … still another one being separated from loved ones (even though there are many members of my family living in Spokane) … and then there’s the whole artistic temperament … and the fact that there are elements of depression in my life anyway.  When you put all of those things together … well, let’s just say that there are days when I struggle just to find a reason to get up out of bed.

          I hadn’t really realized that I had run into some artistic blockage until I became conscious of the fact that it had been almost three weeks since I had painted.  Then I looked back and remembered all of the times when I had prepared to go to work on a new painting but had distracted myself or put up a series of delays.  I had made a few halfhearted attempts but it began to dawn on me that it was, indeed, a real problem.

          As happens with most artistic blockages, then, the more I tried to force myself past the impasse, the more it became a dilemma.  Rather than give in to doing the cliché things that Hollyweird has portrayed artists doing when they are blocked, I sat down to work it all out.

          I had been hovering on an obstruction to my creative flow for a while.  It was a combination, I think, of the stress in my life – financial and emotional – and a chemical imbalance.  I remembered having a conversation with my niece who has also done more than her share of battles with depression.  She, being the very smart and educated psyche major that she was, talked mater-of-factly about her bouts with depression being a chemical thing.

          On many levels I knew that depression could, certainly, be a product of a chemical imbalance … but I’ve always labored under the misconception that something else also drives it.  How could the malaise simply exist by itself?  Ah, but it can – and does.  Does it in me?  That’s something that I need to explore.  I’ve always associated my feelings of melancholy with something else in my life – even seeking things out to explain them.

          So, I’m depressed much of the time as of late.  I’ve usually associated those feelings with loneliness or a relationship that either wasn’t working or which had just ended.  I’m sure that I’ve ruined more than one perfectly good relationship just by linking these unrelated thoughts.  There are real reasons for the depression – as I mentioned – on top of the natural chemical problem if that is part of it.

          The answer, then, is a relatively simple one: just paint!  It sounds too simplistic, doesn’t it?  But the problem isn’t a physical one; it’s an emotional and mental obstacle.  If I can clean windows and paint walls, why can’t I paint a picture?  The thing that I need to do is just to put paint onto a canvas and try to leave all of the desperate, emotional qualities that are painful for me to go out of it.  Perhaps by performing the act itself will help to heal the emotional side of my work – and I may end up with deeper, more meaningful work in the process.  It’s a good theory anyway.

          When I went into my studio and painted on Monday night, I started listening to the “Phantom of the Opera” sound track with my headphones on.  That just made me have immediate emotional connections – how could I keep away from thoughts of loneliness and longing with songs such as “Think of Me” playing in my ears?  It’s not that I want to keep my paintings void of any emotional elements – not at all – I want them to be full of emotion and expression, but I need to be able to work right now … to get past these crushing, suffocating, yearning feelings of despair and agony.  I took the headphones off and worked in silence until I had been working for a little while and felt more comfortable, then put them back on.  I was able to overcome the first hurdle, anyway, I was able to paint.  The emotions that came back to me while I worked were of a positive nature and some of the depression lifted for the remainder of the night … not just as I worked.

          Like Binx in Walker Percy’s The Moviegoer, I may come to the realization that some of this is spiritual too – I mean – how could it not be?  I fully intend to explore my relationship with God now too.

          Okay, enough of the psychobabble, this is a story about me going out into the snowy Washington winter wilderness to paint, right?

          Spokane is a beautiful city.  It is surrounded on all sides by rolling hills and cliffs, it’s cut through the middle by the beautiful Spokane river.  Much of the landscape is also covered with gigantic rock formations, looking sometimes like ancient monuments or architectural ruins.  It’s not unusual to see mega boulders in front yards throughout the area.  One of the things that strikes me, too, is the towering coniferous trees all through town.  Having just moved from out east it’s a great contrast.  Pennsylvania and lower Michigan both have beautiful deciduous trees whose changing colours in the autumn are truly spectacular and I’m glad that I stayed out there long enough to see that change once again, but I continue to be bowled over by these wonderful pine and fir trees.  When they are covered in snow, as they are now, they are even more wonderful to behold.

          As I was about to get out of the truck with my easel, Chip asked me if I needed some cash for lunch.  At first I tried to decline.  I didn’t know what I’d do for lunch since there was nothing but crackers to eat in the apartment, but I hate being a drain on my family.

          It really touches me how everyone has been so generous over the last year or so.  My family has reached out to me and given me so much that I’m gettin’ all choked up just writin’ about it.  I know that, sure, I’d help them out too if I were in that position, but it has made me see so much more clearly the importance of family.  Thanks each and every one of you!  There have also been some friends outside of the family who have been especially sweet and I’d like to thank them as well.  I do hope that someday I will be able to bestow on them some great niceties – not as a repayment, which would cheapen their loving gifts – but because of my gratitude toward them.

          Chip handed me a fiver and suggested that I stop at Zip’s on my way back home.  I’d forgotten about Zips.  I thanked Chip and wondered if he knew how much I really appreciate all that he’s been doin’ for me. 

As I headed off into the snow I thanked God for all of His guidance and help … and for the people that He’s put in my life lately.  That’s the one thing about bein’ devastatingly poverty stricken … you don’t take too many things for granted!  I may have next to nothing – but I sure am thankful for what I do have.

I hiked down the river taking pictures of the beauty that unfolded before me.  It was fantastic.  Of all of the doubts that have plagued me for months … there was never a doubt in my mind about the beauty of the Great Northwest and that I had to return to it.  The northwest is as close to the feeling of “home” that I’ve ever experienced and that feeling, which had been rather evasive since my return, finally wrapped itself around me and welcomed me back.  I felt emotional … but tears at these temperatures wouldn’t do!  I’d hate to have to chisel teardrops off of my face!

           After wanderin’ around in the snow for about an hour trying to choose among so many great scenes, I found a place to set up my easel and began working.  My spirit was buoyant as I worked.  Again I had arrived at that moment!  This was that exceptional instant when I felt an almost disembodiment – I could look around and feel the uniqueness of the occasion.  I felt the simple beauty of nature – visually and physically.  The cliffs, snow, trees, and bright blue sky titillated my visual senses while the deep cold of the air stimulated my body – juxtaposed against the incredible warmth from the noonday sun in spite of the chilly atmosphere. 

          Surprisingly I was not uncomfortable.  I was afraid that I would actually be too warm, if anything, because I’d dressed in so many layers, but it ended up being the perfect blend – helped too by the boots that Chip had bought for me last week as an early Christmas gift.

          The paint, on the other hand, was not a perfect blend.  The viscosity of oil paint is quite different at temperatures below freezing.  It wasn’t my first time painting in these kinds of conditions, but it’s always something of a astonishment when it occurs to me that I have to change the way in which I apply paint.

          Thinning the paint with turpentine in the beginning to rough out the work is, essentially the same except that the paint doesn’t dry quickly as it would under normal circumstances.  The idea is to work from thin to thick: “fat over lean” as the expression goes.  But the viscosity of the linseed oil is quite unusual at these temperatures.  So, instead of building up gradually thicker paint using less turpentine and more linseed oil I had to skip the linseed oil almost all together because it tended to make the paint itself uneven and gloppy. 

          Any of you who paint also know that with oil paint one usually works from dark to light.  Dark colours are generally painted first and, therefore usually thinner and easier to cover over with the thicker, lighter colours.  However, since my darker colours weren’t all that thin I had to use thicker than usual light colours and they became substantial indeed by the time I got to the whites.

          All of this was made more difficult, too by the quick pace of the sun on its low, winter azimuth.   The shadows were changing very quickly and I had to work at an intense pace.  I tried to leave most of my critical thinking from getting involved in the effort and to let out my emotions, which were deep, reverent, and hopeful.

          Part of my blockage, I began to realize as I worked, was the pressure that I’d put on myself since school ended.  I had very unrealistic goals of making a name for myself traveling and painting.  For some reason I thought that it would be such an easy thing to sell my work and make a living.  I had poured all of my energy over the last four years into one goal … graduating with a BFA degree.  I even set myself unrealistic academic goals through those school years – and reached them! 

          As Denise, my aforementioned brilliant niece, has pointed out, I am an idealist – with all of the unfortunate consequences that fall under that category.  It’s probably harder for me to accept the things that I can’t accomplish than it should be.  And I found that I still had some of those naive notions that I would come to Spokane and everything would work out splendidly for the newly educated artist.

          I know, though, that it’s a long, slow climb ahead for me now.  But realizing all of these things while I was painting helped me to be able to relax and enjoy myself.  The moment.  Pure and simple.  No pressure.  This was not a work for a specific client or gallery or even for my website if I decided not to publish it.  It was only what it was.

          The composition was uncomplicated enough and I thought that it worked well.  I was not happy with the application of the paint as there were many nuances that I couldn’t achieve, but I was, by and large, happy with the accomplishment – mostly the achievement of gettin’ my ass out of the apartment and out into the field to paint.  I will almost certainly do a little work to this painting when it dries (as thick as this paint is it may be after spring thaw) but it’s probably slated for the closet or to use as a study if I do another, more finished version of it later in the studio.

          I was starting to feel the slightest bit chilly as I packed up my box and headed toward historic Hillyard where the old Kehoe hotel awaited my return.  I will be doing a series of Hillyard in the future and I’ll give some of its history and an account of the wonderful building that I live in at that time.

Zips restaurant was on the way home.  It’s a chain of fast food places that sprung up here in the Great Northwest in the early fifties.  Their prices have remained reasonable and the fin that Chipper gave me for lunch purchased enough for me to gorge myself … and still take home a sandwich and a drink for dinner!   Again I thanked God for watchin’ over me and for such a generous family.

          Winter brings so many amazing things – although not everyone seems to agree with me – one of the things that I don’t like about it, however, is the short time of daylight.  By the time I got home at around three the light was already slanting in the western sky.  Mt Spokane had a slight pink tinge to it with violet clouds hanging above, casting deep blue shadows.  Perhaps I will paint that scene too someday soon.

          Now it’s back to lookin’ for a job and bein’ the new kid in town – startin’ all over again. 

    The castle that I painted was to be a gift for my friends Tim and Diana.  They are old friends from back in the day -- in the 90's when I lived out here in Spokane for a few years.  Diana and I had met down at the river while I was painting and hit it off real well.  There were strange coincidences to our lives ... we had the same birthday (though she was a few years older), our moms had the same birthday (okay ... that's just strange), and our fathers were both ministers!  Yikes!  Two preacher's kids together!!

    Over the few years that I lived here we became great friends and then messed it all up by fallin' in love with each other.  We were engaged but she didn't want to leave her kids here and go to Michigan ... and I couldn't bear to be without them any longer.  Well, at least that's as good a reason as we'll put on it.  There were other mitigating factors, too, I'm sure.  The thing is, though, that we were still wonderful friends when I left.  She married my friend Tim Gaston some time later -- a match that I thought to be a good one.

    One of Diana's daughters, Naphtily (who had a baby on Diana & my birthday!), was living in Germany where her husband was stationed. Tim and Diana were able to go over and visit and travel throughout Europe.  One of the places that they fell in love with was this beautiful castle in Germany. 

    Tim and Diana were so sweet to me when I moved here and even had me over for Thanksgiving dinner with their kids and grand kids.  When they were showing me their vacation pictures of Germany I knew that I would have to do a painting for them for Christmas.

    Okay, so this wasn't that much of an adventure ... but with moving around all month I haven't had much of an opportunity (or, really, the intestinal fortitude) to get myself out there to paint.  I did do several studio paintings although no out-door work .... but I couldn't very well leave the November page blank, could I?