Resurrection Sunday: Maize Gods, Hero Twins and the Popol vuh

This Easter Sunday I find myself gathering reference material for a newly commissioned project, illustrating a new imagining of the Maya Popol vuh. The author , who I will refer to as J Khan, is a poet of great sensitivity, and while I have read a good half dozen translations of this epic creation myth, his retelling is quite evocative and compelling . The  rich, visually dense language inspires me a great deal, calling to mind my own layering of esoteric ambiguity.   We both, artist and poet ,share a great love for William Blake, and though Blake’s imaginative, frequently Christian,  Romanticism may seem worlds away from this Mesoamerican pre-Christian narrative , the liminal, otherworldly qualities they both share make the association seem obvious to us both.

With that spirit in mind, I’ve begun the process of illuminating each verse, chapter header, not sure what the correct poetic term is , but the heading after each break will receive an associated spot ornament . 


The above is for passage A-J,  concerning the grandmother of the Hero Twins and her hut :

Maiden’s Journey to Grandmother’s Hut


Heavy with twins,

I walk two days

to her hut.

I place her hands

on my belly

but no smiles

welcome me. 

I love how the author conveys this chilly unwelcome yet at the same time there is compassion for this bitter matriarch who has endured ,for those familiar with the story, her own grave loss.


Spot illustration for U : Funerary Advice evokes the terror of the underworld, yet also evokes the buffoonery of the Lords of Xibalba (the Underworld). 

The Lords pulled our smoking corpses 

from the fire pit and laid us on the ground.


Xibalbans whistled and shouted, 

danced around us as we lay dead. 

The buffoonery of these nitwit demons is both horrifying and hilarious.


Of feathered serpents, “roaring blood and stacking skulls”; of  awe and wonder that one finds in visiting these ancient sites.



Of brujas (witches) and uncertain wanderings.

I am wary of stepping, 

of slipping on this unkiltered hill


pricked with burrows and bones,

glinting obsidian and reeking death.


Lastly, my latest, plate K-X.







Gifts at the House of Darkness

By firelight they lead us
to the House of Darkness.
The messenger of One Death
offers us a torch and two cigars
against the black night inside.
“These gifts from my Lord,” he says,
“must be returned at dawn unconsumed.”

My brother sets a scarlet feather atop
the torch, pins bright fireflies to the cigars.
The night watchman surely sees:
in the house a torch burns, two embers glow.
The Lords of Xibalba chortle at this news
thinking that by dawn their gifts will be ash.

In the morning we step
from the house, hand One Death
his two fresh cigars and unlit torch.
That rattles the Lords. Red-faced,
they decide amongst themselves

that we must be finished off.
“Boys,” they say, “bring your belongings,
we will settle this score
in a game of Ball.”

Marionette of One Death

I’ve explored the Popol vuh previously , I am pretty well acquainted with the Hero Twins, the sacrificed Maize gods, the foolish lords of the Xibalba (a  few examples follow below) but working with a dedicated collaborator, one who treasures these stories as deeply as I do is a real treat. I can’t begin to explain what a pleasure it is to need not explain each and every detail of what are for many unfamiliar (if not dreadful) tales.   Instead J Khan and I find inspiration in just how universal these narratives are. While integral to the  rich traditions of Maya culture, we  outside that culture can sense an element of the universal  in these very human  tales of  bravery, fortitude, honor and redemption; the Popol vuh 
possesses all the wisdom and inspiration  one finds in the more familiar mythologies of the Classical world.  

This project is only in its most nascent state but I am really looking forward to seeing how it developed. For now, some work from the past.

With that, happy Easter!

Saint George & the Dragon

Saint George & the Dragon, 2021, oil on panel, 16 by 20 inches

The painting above was a bit long in the making, inspired back in October by a beautiful painting I so admired at the Art Institute of Chicago (link below) ; I knew I wanted to make a painting as visual arresting and as rich in allegorical detail.

As is so often the case concerning my work, I employ traditionally recognized allegorical symbols with a visual language of my own invention- frequently blurring the lines between the two to such a point that even I fail to comprehend them. I simply go into an automatic mode in painting , and then after the paint has dried, attempt to understand my own intention.

My fascination with narrative painting is frequently out of step with contemporary taste, more in keeping with 19th century norms, especially the intentions of the Pre-Raphealites, who, according to D.S.R. Welland’s The Pre-Raphaelites in Literature and Art (1953):”Their insistence on every picture telling a story was the first step towards the affiliation of painting and literature…”. That pretty much sums up my own aim.

Welland goes on to explain how the Pre-Raphealites created subtle “inventions”, highly esoteric images imbued and embedded into the painting with meaning elusive to the less informed public but to fellow Pre-Raphealites were capable of being “read”. As Ruskin points out (in discussing Holman Hunt’s The Awakening Conscience) that every subtle detail “if rightly read” can in fact accurately reveal the “story in it”. This blending of literature and the visual arts first led me to love the Brotherhood (especially the latter Burne Jones and company phase), and also to admire in general paintings admired for more than just their “plastic” qualities.

Saint George & the Dragon, detail

As I mentioned, I do not always know myself what I intend with my peculiar symbology. My poor husband David ,a wise and learned fellow and a sensitive and scholarly psychoanalyst , often simply doesn’t know what the heck to make of my paintings- leading to some hurt feelings on my part.

Fortunately I have a dear friend Sarah Parvin who possess such exquisite sensitivity towards art and art making (check out her Pinterest page The Curious One ,it is a treasure trove), fortunate for me, she can in fact, and does, “read” my “inventions” with the greatest fluency. The following is from my recent Facebook post, where after having posted this hard won painting, I received very little in commentary -good or bad. For a painting which you’ve imbued with such heart, silence which reads as indifference, causes no small amount of anguish. Sarah’s comments however were a balm to that anguish:

“I have spent the last few days looking at this painting, as you have given me much to wonder about in the magic circle of creation where artist and beholder meet. As an artist, you are never afraid to tackle both the sacred and the profane, but I will admit to being pleasantly surprised by the feeling of high romance that is blossoming in this painting. I am reminded of all that influences you in the art of Victorian and Edwardian Britain, although seen through your own visionary lens. 

During this time of pandemic, I find much symbolism in Saint George exhausted from battling a terrible foe, as others helplessly watch, or choose not to look, whilst both death and the maiden wait close by. When I went searching for the medieval symbolism of your Field of Gold filled with glorious yellow roses and humble turnips, I found that Dante makes the best-known use of a gold rose as a Christian symbol in ‘Paradise’, seeing the whole of heaven as an infinite Eternal rose. The predominance of the rose as a symbol of divine love is evidenced by the many miracles that roses have played a part in which are far too numerous to mention here. A golden rose blessed by the Pope was offered as thanks to important friends of the Roman Catholic Church on the fourth Sunday in Lent, a day still known as Rose Sunday, whilst yellow roses denoted Christ’s majesty after the Resurrection, which was believed to be expressed in the flower’s fragrance. In sharp contrast, the turnip in medieval thought represented poverty, peasants, flatulence, foul smells and the greed and the vanities of the material world. In a year where we have shared a collective experience of a deadly enemy, where both the best and worst of humankind has thrived, I cannot help but view your Saint George and the Dragon as an allegory for our times.

In the UK we remain confined to our homes and neighbourhoods until after Easter, so I am intending to aim my sights towards your castle in the sky. In my wondering and wandering across your strangely verdant battlefield may I find the grace of renewal and I hope, on arrival, what will await me are better days.

An artist really can’t ask for more.

Check out Sarah’s excellent page, a rich resource for art lovers.

So with those encouraging words ringing in my ear, I post further details of my “inventions”.

Detail , Saint George & the Dragon ; the “Damsel” and yellow roses.
Detail, Saint George & the Dragon: Death Cometh
Detail, Saint George & the Dragon; who the heck knows what he symbolizes.
Detail, Saint George & the Dragon: rutabagas and castles in the sky.

I will close for now, but given that it is Palm Sunday, I will close this journal post with today’s drawing honoring Christ’s triumphant ,yet fleetingly so, entrance into Jerusalem. Perhaps a few of my “inventions” might be “read”.

Daily Drawing: Palm Sunday, 2021
Saint George & the Dragon 2021 oil on panel 16 by 20 inches

Royal Cambrian Academy

I am honored and delighted to have had two pieces of my work selected for the Royal Cambrian Academy’s Annual Open Exhibition 2021.

Currently the exhibition has been online, as so many exhibitions are during this challenging period.

However I have been in contact with the gallery and tentative plans are being made to have an actual opening. Fingers crossed I will be in Wales, a first, to see my work in what is for me its spiritual homeland.

The works accepted both deal with folk and fairy lore, deeply rooted in the Celtic imagination ; the first being Robin Goodfellow and the second being Goblin Market (inspired by the Christina Rossetti poem of the same name).

Robin Goodfellow
Mixed textile
63 by 36 by 32 inches

Goblin Market
Oil on canvas
122 by 152 by 5 cm
48 by 60 by 2 inches

Given the possibility of the show actually going on , I need now figure out how to get these rather large works to Wales. I’ve been in conversation with the very helpful RCA staff and will be working with them through shippers here in LA. I am now researching my best options (any suggestions most welcome); making large scale works has its satisfactions but schlepping them about, particularly overseas, feels quite daunting.


The Eternal Cycle

The Eternal Cycle
Acrylic on life sized plastic skull

I’ve recently finished a painting truly in the round, a fanciful forest-scape depicting a hermit, naturally enough, reflecting upon his mortality , painted upon a life sized plastic skull.

Let me tell you , painting in the round with some degree of  detail is no simple task.

The Eternal Cycle
Acrylic on life sized plastic skull

For this “painting” I have focused upon the memento mori theme, the endless cycle of life, death, and rebirth; hermits and Holy Fools and Death Angels populate this fertile sylvan scene.

The Eternal Cycle
(Death Angel detail)
Acrylic on life sized plastic skull

I’ve crammed the narrative  upon  every surface of the skull, deliberately treating the surface not as  a figure in the round but as a flat surface, allowing the surface narrative to meander as life itself.

The Eternal Cycle
(Holy Fool detail)
Acrylic on life sized plastic skull

My intention with the piece was to create an object of reflection , to be handled and meditated upon; a bauble for a wunderkammer.

The Eternal Cycle
(Hermit detail)
Acrylic on life size plastic skull

The ultimate reveal being its base, where Life defeats Death, cradling  slightly phallic Amanita muscaria toadstools.

The Eternal Cycle
(Life detail)
Acrylic on life size plastic skull

The piece was inspired by an international art collective I was to be included in, a plastic blank skull arriving by oversea  post. Initially I was excited by this joint venture, I do not collaborate generally but I was eager to see what I had hoped to be like minded folk from across the globe found inspiring in this most basic and eternal theme. Sadly, thus far, pretty tame: the usual “Steampunk” sort of treatment ; the gratuitous appropriation of traditional Oaxacan decorative arts and Posada’s Catrina; faux finishes, beads and sparkly bits . The occasional preparation of shot of a skull smoking .

Schoolyard stunts. I’m surmising Death might NOT have been pondered by my fellow artists,  a theme once universally explored, now it seems too terrible to bear contemplating. Hence the pretty beadwork.  I’m grateful to my neighbors here in LA with our annual Dia de los Muertos festival reminders, festive, beautiful, mindful.

But this is a theme I’ve long contemplated, making my peace with fear by walking side by side with Death, first in my youth through the AIDS crisis, and now to this day as I approach my final chapter. Never knowing when my spin of the  Danse macabre   will be upon me, I want to stay mindful of just how precious this miracle of Life really is.

This has lead to a large body of work reminding me time and again to be present, to be grateful , and to have a little fun with Death, making Lord Bones and Lady Skull laugh along with me.

A sample follows:

“D”, from Fairyland ABC, The Eternal Cycle

The Alpha & the Omega

Studio vignette

In the end I might decline the collaborative invitation, if the work doesn’t go beyond the superficial or decorative , I feel less inclined to participate . But nonetheless, grateful to reflect, brush in hand, on this great reality and chuckle a bit in the process. 

Source unknown to me; any information appreciated.

The Eternal Cycle
Acrylic on life sized plastic skull

Full Circle, Fairyland, permanent collection @ MOAH

Detail from The Anchorite’s Armchair, 2019


It was a great relief and satisfaction earlier last week when I saw four of my works , carefully packed, pull away from the storage unit (where they have languished in the dark since my 2019 solo show Fairyland at MOAH/Cedar) heading forward in the nifty MOAHmobile to the permanent collection of the Lancaster Museum of Art & History (MOAH)

With our upcoming moves, this new chapter in our lives, a new home in Chicago, the sale of our beloved Little Hermitage, renting an apartment in LA, so much needed attention, a prioritizing of intention and  a matter of settling affairs. I cannot deny that I know this next chapter, the Chicago period, is most likely my last. The previous chapters have been abundant and I have had the good fortune and opportunity to be rather productive; but that productivity , particularly the works I created for Fairyland  


have been larger than my domestic life can easily accommodate (not to mention collector’s). 

With this realization in mind, I have been determined to get my work out there, I’ve been encouraging collectors with reduced pricing on selected works (link above in Available Work), and I also want my work to be in permanent public collections. Having had the good fortune to have a solo show at MOAH/Cedar,

MOAH seemed a natural fit. Happy to say MOAH felt the same way, for that I am grateful . When I made the initial inquiry I felt quite nervous,  a bit like the goofy nerdy boy asking the pretty, most popular girl to the prom. Thankfully the pretty girl said yes.

The works included were the first two offered, The Anchorite’s Armchair (2019) and Lilith,the Mandrake (2018), the anchors to my installation Embodied: St. Anthony & the Desert of Tears:

The Anchorite’s Armchair
Mixed textile , acrylic painted canvas IKEA armchair
Approx 65″h, 42″w, 65″d

Lilith the Mandrake
Mixed textile, acrylic painted canvas
Approx.6’6″h, 6’w, 6″d

With these works enthusiastically accepted, I was gratified that there was interest in other works as well. With that in mind , two other pieces, another textile piece and an oil painting (also created for Fairyland) were selected :

The Swan Slayer Parsifal
Mixed textile, acrylic painted canvas
apron 65″h, 41″w 87″d

The Swan Slayer Parsifal,

Oil on canvas
24 by 36 inches

So with that, its full circle.


Detail from The Anchorite’s Armchair, 2019



A Critique, unsolicited but tickles the heck out of me…

Pluton ready for the holidays, 2020


The following is from my Facebook account, a response to a Christmas posting I made featuring my adorable Pluton, Prince of Fire, Governor of the Region in Flames. The review, arriving some time post Yuletide was in response to the below, uncensored version. Initially taken aback by its frankness, now just delighted by it. Compelled to save it, share it:

“This makes the Grinch look like Little Miss Muffit . When I look at your work I ponder would Pope Francis laugh or pass out . Hug you or summon the Swiss Guard . Invite you to do a showing or send out a global ban . Praise your creativity or retire to the Vatican Archives and ask some researchers to reasearch  unusual spritual conditions . Since your partner is an analyst I know your mind has been examined in every way possible known to mankind . I have to say your art shocks me every time . In a way that is often uncomfortable  and I always would love to modify it … This guy makes the scariest clown seem normal . I try not to project onto your art but can’t help questioning the inspiration behind it ? It is not whimsical . It borders on deranged serial killer but I know your instincts are contained by your religious upbringing , devotion , literary development , and obsessive compulsive  discipline that this art takes . Still  100 years from now :experts might be analyzing your work and hypothesizing  about core values , obsessions,  all kinds of stuff . There is a whimsey . Bosch and the other classicists inspire you I guess and this is modern . I could say carnival funhouse because you are such a lovely man . But the intuitive , spiritual , wholesome part of me always gets this uncomfortable feeling  about the source that drives you . The demons . You espouse humor yet some how  I feel other demons are channeling through you , using you . I would love to see the Pope’s and College of Cardinals response to your body of work in person and have the strength to accept the truth that I see .  In the least everything you do evokes the unexpected . Please do not be offended by my honest response . Your work is so brutally honest that I can’t help give you a response . No imitation here . Definitely  all from you : your own genre which yet needs to be named . You are not a student of anyone : no artist proceeds you : you qualify as an ” Outsider” I believe . Completely original , self taught . Even if you are school trained : there is no previous precident for your art . I cannot tell if your art is a Cautionary tale , a Psycic eruption , Deviant , Maudlin Whimsey , a Dreamscape ? My perception of hellish must be my projection . That doesn’t seem to be your overt intent . Could be considered modern Surrealism?  Or maybe you wanted to design children’s toys for Mattel and they wouldn’t hire you and here we are . I guess the purpose of art is to evoke?”

The image that elicited the above response.

Anyway, I was delighted.

Pluton ready for the holidays, 2020


A look back; a glance forward to a new chapter

        As mentioned in a previous post 2020 was by most standards a rather dreadful year. The dreadfulness obvious enough I needn’t belabor the point. Yet I worked through it, not only psychologically but in the studio. It seems, going through my photos that I painted about six paintings, stitched together a half dozen textile folk, made quite a few of my jumbo paper-dolls and my rather consistent studio practice of daily drawings filled quite a few folios- I fear quantity reigned more frequently than quality at times.

But studio wise, a rather decent year.


Selection of works from 2020.

      I’m sensing, hoping , 2021 might be better yet. I’m feeling a new chapter in my life. We’ve begun the incremental steps to relocating to Chicago, given David’s  psychoanalytic practice this requires delicacy and sensitivity , not my  general rash readiness to move, obstacles be damned, full steam ahead  forward. But given the constraints,  I sense one chapter closing and another beginning. We will be in an in-between limbo state for the next two years, my studio, his practice here  in LA, we’ll be renting a small apartment in Los Angeles close to the office/studio and once our Little Hermitage has sold purchasing an apartment close to Lake Michigan. We spent the new year downtown this (last) year and feel we’ve a better sense of what feels like home.

      But studio wise, I am feeling a new chapter as well. My work in Los Angeles has been frequently  bold (its been called tacky) in color, admittedly outrageous at times, overtly sexual initially (its been called pornographic), and frequently a bit smirking (but never intentionally ironic). I’m now feeling an inclination towards less of  that.  Not sure how this will develop but in clearing out my studio, a pre-spring cleaning, I found myself  eagerly tossing  out many of my frankly depressing thrift store schmattas  I had been using in favor of richer velvets and brocades.

   Perhaps an embrace of more “serious” intention is in store for me , a growing sense of confidence, an entitlement to a  personal voice, to not fearfully hide behind a smirking mask because , God forbid, I actually take myself and my work seriously.  Which I do, but in spite of self doubt so fundamental to my being,  I feel I am developing  confidence  that my voice might, can be, taken seriously and that recognition begins with me.  This heretofore has been contrary to my entrenched insecurities. 

   All that said,  a degree of humor will always be present in my work and in my personality; that is my nature as well

Detail , “The Temptations of St.Anthony of the Desert”, 2018, oil on panel

In the meantime I am very pleased with this interview with the Verum Ultimum gallery in Portland Oregon. I am honored to have one of my favorite paintings included in Generous Kingdom V,  a diverse and exciting collection of work. A great deal of gratitude to founder, owner and curator Jennifer Gillia Cutshall. Please visit the gallery’s website for a complete virtual experience.

The Temptation of St. Anthony of the Desert
Oil on panel
18 by 36 inches

The interview follows:


Detail , “The Temptations of St.Anthony of the Desert”, 2018, oil on panel

2020 Annus horribilus…or was it?

2020, good riddance
gouache on canvas
12 by 6 inches

    Complaining about 2020 is fast becoming a cliche as the annual reflection upon the year past is upon us all. I’ve complained myself, mostly about inconveniences that have interrupted my frankly spoiled life, dining out during COVID, when it was available , was an anxiety producing event-food tastes less a treat when your hands smell of 70% alcohol sanitizer (I did however recently  have one enchanting (and frigid ) meal in Chicago, in a twinkling tent fortified with  plenty of hooch to fend off nature’s bluster). 

      But truly, little to complain about, I am fortunate in so many ways in that the vicissitudes of this virus have had little impact. That is until recently when  my prince came down with COVID  ( I somehow continue to test negative and symptom free); he has at last recovered, rather quickly and without any long-term effects. For this we consider ourselves supremely lucky and have reconnected our commitment to the here and the now; a forced embrace of the realty that our lives are not our own, simply lent, a gift of Being, undeserved and ruthlessly impermanent .

     For an artist who spends a great deal of time exploring the theme of memento mori that should be obvious…but it isn’t. For now we are keenly aware of this tenuous situation we call our life, and while the scare is close to hand, I am deeply appreciative. I will slip into complacency all too soon, but for now, holding those I love close.

2020, daily drawing
23rd Dec 2020


   In so many ways 2020 was quite a wonderful year, my CV ( rather bulging with the exhibitions I’ve participated in- even rejecting a few ; close to a dozen high quality curated exhibitions , a record for me…seems it takes a plague to have my work considered.

I am self contained as an artist, my love of hermits such as St.Anthony of the Desert is not by chance. To be untroubled by social pressure, gallery openings, feigned social conviviality, competitive posturing and the fine art of humble bragging, to be relieved of all this  is an immense liberation for my soul . I feel myself breathing with ease and can only hope that when we do return to whatever we call normal, that I am able to remain true to this core of my identity. That I will possess the fortitude to resist the siren’s call of doubt, competitive insecurity and the fear-of-missing-out.


We are moving forward with our long term plan to move to Chicago, having spent our summer there, we are now more than ever eager to leave LA for green summers, wet springs, blustery winters and russet autumns. That and a serious art museum or two. Our game plan is to be resettled in a few years, we are about to  place our little hermitage on the market, a poignant first step in what we hope will be a halcyon final chapter.

Our sweethearted pugdog Viola delights us no end, we have one another, reasonably good health (for the moment), time (for the moment) to pursue our talents and the  means to explore our interests.

So in the end, 2020 wasn’t so horribilus after all.

2020, good riddance
gouache on canvas
12 by 6 inches

Samhain 2020, Punkie Night and the unquiet departed

Samhain is fast approaching as is All Saints Day, both observances that I find personally meaningful . For they provide a moment to pause and recognize that liminal in-between state of the Quick and of the Dead. Whether you are seeking the portal to Fairyland, or beseeching the intercession of the saints, it is a backward glance, one familiar and comforting as winter hunkers down. Given my general melancholic state , it is my favorite time of year. In order to best honor Samhain I annually create a drawing to celebrate this Punkienight, the haunt of woodspirits, fairyfolk and frightening rutabagas demanding one “Give me a candle, give me a light If you don’t, you’ll get a fright”.

What’s not to love?

Taken in my neighborhood , where napolitos replace rutabagas!

So today’s daily drawing honors this special time of year, where the dead, the fairy, the saint, are all in our midst. Enjoy their company. In my neighborhood, one with a vibrant Mexican American community, the Dia de los Muertos altars are being set up, bright with orange marigolds, culinary treats, candles, confectionary skulls and the wafting aroma of ancient copal, and clearly , most importantly, the gathering of loved ones, particularly poignant in this moment of isolation. Tomorrow I will burn copal (hopefully my smoke alarm will behave itself), I will read the mass of the Saints, I will reflect upon those passed and treasure those in my midst. honoring both the spirits of life and the souls of the parted.

Happy Halloween, good Samhain, a festive Dia de los Muertos and may the legion of Saints guide you to light and peace.

Punkie Night, daily drawing 30th October 2020, color pencil , gouache highlights on toned paper, 12 by 9 inches

Magnificent Insignificance or what the hell am I doing?

Detail : Self Portrait of the Artist as Saint Anthony of the Desert Facing Death , 2020

As I spend my time alone in my studio , methodically painting my dainty little paintings , aspiring to some elusive medieval-perfect lapidary finish ; filling day after day with early music, pug snores and cloistered reflections upon obscure seemingly irrelevant themes , I begin to question this existence – after all , is anyone REALLY interested in a third century Hermit and struggles with darkness ? does anyone give a fig about Fairyland, old gods , new gods and the same questions asked century after century, yet always left unanswered; is this “relevant”, to use an increasingly irritating word.

I begin to question all this and how ill-suited, frankly irrelevant I may be , my interests may be and most painfully , my art my be . I follow my heart, as trite as that sounds, led by my interests, waiting to see how the path unfolds; I’m fortunate that my day to day life allows such indulgence, I’m not unaware of that fact . But I think personal exploration to be an essential duty, an imperative in fact , the defining quality of being gifted with a soul .  But my highly personal expression frankly is just that , personal and I think leaves many, if I am lucky, perplexed but more likely just indifferent. I am not sure I blame them ( whoever “them” is ) , for in this frantic attention span challenged universe , where the consumer model is its core influence , just how exactly is my work to be hash-tagged, how best categorized? It isn’t technically proficient enough to be lumped with the MFA realists; it’s too content heavy, too narrative driven to please the non-representational crowd, is it illustration? is it anime ? it isn’t obviously political enough to gratify the identity obsessed awoken claque , it isn’t technically reckless enough to be shelved with the brush-dripped- art brut scrawls so in favor, so well suited, to this rough-and -tumble over shouting world we find ourselves.

I hadn’t thought of which category to select when I first picked up the brush .

I just knew I had to pick up the brush .

Self Portrait of the Artist as a PaperDoll

 As in all things , there is a fashion to the times , a collective defining mood, ours currently seems to be more angry than aesthetic, more retribution oriented than reflective , more inclined to group think than the nuances of individualism , defined by an us-versus-them obsession that frankly rejects the universal humanism I am so inclined towards. A society so collaboration obsessed that from my perspective seems to reject the quiet of A Room of One’s Own and in the end , I believe it to be a society that is just plain old anti-oddball.

I’m also becoming convinced that those who do more readily fit a preferred contemporary narrative and who are able to squawk the loudest about oppression , injustice and their righteousness gets the worm , be it the commission , the residency ,that elusive prize of recognition and relevance. That wiggly golden worm can be anything from an army of devoted social media followers, gallery representation and the ease that seems to embody and most validating, solo shows.

I guess for me , the painful question is , am I good enough , aren’t I good enough ?  Such an adolescent cry, yet in the school yard of contemporary society, seemingly fitting . I see friends audaciously brag about their accomplishments, shamelessly boast of solo shows, commissions and residencies; haughtily letting it be known that their gallery tends to all such mundane business as promotion, representation money gathering etc – mind you, all the while, never ceasing to talk endlessly about themselves and by extension their art.

 Or , perhaps more likely I’m just simply jealous. Just another old white guy (for there is no category of personhood seemingly more open to derision and contempt than the White Guy, preferably the Old White Guy ) dabbling with paint and dabbling not very well . But I’m not willing to accept that fact just yet. I’m going to keep dabbling . For in a dream I was told by that Unknowable Being found in all my dreamscapes that my insignificance is magnificent.

I cling to that contradiction. 

Detail: “Self Portrait of the Artist as Saint Anthony of the Desert Facing Death” 2020 Oil on panel