Author: babylonbaroque

In my second week I am making decent progress and the encouragement and camaraderie of the faculty and comrades has been very helpful. But as the day sinks into dusk and you have been in the studio since the rise of Apollo , one becomes weary.

I’ve been working on the larger canvas today , I believe it is eight by five feet. It literally has been a daub at a time but I feel at last the painting is beginning to reveal itself. I think I’m naming it Orpheus’ Lament.

  I will be back at again bright and early , but for now dinner, and if I am particularly ambitious , laundry. 

What a fast and exciting life I lead…

  Anyone who knows me, our home or my work can sense a Catholic ( upper and lower case) influence . But although raised Roman Catholic I have not attended mass in well over twenty years, aside from a few weddings. 
I have been an on again- off again Episcopalian , but sometimes finding the churches a bit pretentious – who is more High Church than thou sort of silliness . Eastern faiths delight but mystify in an unhelpful way. So it has been the faith of my youth that has been how I identify when I identify as anything aside from a humanist . But with the Church’s mean spiritedness I have hesitated to attend ; until this new saint of a Pope. 

And an unlikely evangelist at the front door of St John the Evangelist Catholic Church here in town on 13th.

Last week my sister Kat and I were wandering about and we stumbled upon this lovely ,yet unremarkable for a city so rich in churches, Gothic Revival church. What made it remarkable was the little woman greeting visitors at the front door . So sweet and so welcoming . I believe she is Phillipina and aptly named, for Philadelphia anyway , Liberty. She invited us to mass but we declined but I promised her I would attend soon.

I made good on my promise and the church was as joyous as Liberty. The placard on the front door asserts that it is an inclusive place and from looking about from my pew I would agree with that. The church offers two masses in Mandarin, has a strong Asian American presence as well as an African American presence ( hence the music being so much better ). Young folks , old folks , babies and homeless people, all crammed in. The church is run by Capuchin Friars and it was delightful to hear the priest railing against capitalism and praising the Holy Father’s position on the environment . With his simple linen vestments the priest was a delightful opposition to High Church puffery; let the pretty architecture attend to that need.

It seemed fitting the church would be dedicated to John the Blessed, the Evangelist. I turn to him in my own work and I guess other gay artists have in the past as well. Most famously Leonardo, who painted him with such physical beauty that nincompoops have insisted it is the Magdalene and not John. So silly, this inability to imagine same sex bonding, chaste or not.

The other day I snapped this detail at the Academy of Benjamin West’ massive depiction of the Ecce Homo  presented before Pilate. As you can see he is quite a looker.

  Will I return to the Church when I return to LA? probably not. To be shallow, most are mid century monstrosities and the pretty ones offer mostly masses in Spanish. But for now , for the next six weeks , I will attend. Let me know if you want me to light a candle for you.
Pax vobiscum

  
The last week here at PAFA has been thrilling, yesterday I had a six hour Intermediate Drawing course with Roger Chavez- I look forward to five more classes; I’ve had two critiques thus far, one gallerist, Alex Baker, calling my work “singular” in that there aren’t many folks making such whimsical and fantastical paintings , he was speaking of Goblin Market.  I think that is a bit of a stretch but I take it as a compliment.

But amidst the highs I have been in a bit of a despairing state. The room I had rented from Airbnb has turned out to be quite grim, it reeked of cat and cooking grease and was off a dicey block. Philadelphia , like many cities varies from block to block , and sadly this was just two off where I would feel comfortable. I tried to rectify the situation by furtively crashing at the studio here at the Academy- a bit like Chinese Water Torture, the lights never extinguish and the janitors seem to revel in loud crashing noises. I’ve even crashed at my sister’s place , where I did enjoy a proper sleep . But the despair became increasingly alarming , my focus was upon where would I place my head each evening , the focus off of my work. It is stunning how basic and existential sleep really is when it seems so untenable; I sympathize with homeless folks and new mothers.

But last evening David secured me a new room off Rittenhouse Square, which is probably the loveliest neighborhood in the city. More extravagant than I would have allowed myself but I renounce my stoicism for a clean and charming room . As usual, tremendous gratitude to my husband.

The old neighborhood I was staying at was in many ways beautiful, some blocks offering delights such as these pretty Queen Anne houses.

    But that wasn’t my building …

Yesterday class was held in the Still Life Room, I love the fact that the school HAS a room devoted to still life painting. It looked like a heavenly thrift shop.

  So I check in to my new room today, much gratitude . I may attend an artist’s lecture, and later see my sister. After a sound rest in my new digs I can face what this program has to offer anew.
Again , thank you darling David. Apparently there is a new car waiting in our carport for me when I return to Los Angeles ( it seems he purchased an orange electric model for himself). I’m very lucky, must light candles at church this morning.

Tomorrow is my first critique, my studio  progress thus far:

 Blocking in Goblin Market and this untitled more expressive work. Both quite large, the second about 8 feet high, both in rough stages.
 Pardon the weird shadow, it is an open ceiling space .
So that’s it, wish me luck!

Day three here at PAFA and I am delighted how at peace I feel in “my” studio. Four clean white walls, ready to accommodate whatever I throw at them . I am working large , something I have had to curtail back in LA as my studio space was becoming increasingly more cramped with my work, my books , my supplies; it is incredibly liberating to not have my familiar “support”, be it my resource files, art books etc. It is now about my expression not another’s . I have always struggled with the greatness of past artists , comparing myself unfavorably. I feel freer of that.

My progress thus far is drawing out The Goblin Market , sadly it isn’t photographing well, I need to improve the rather paltry lighting . But so far it looks like this:

     In between studio hours I wander about , the following are some shots I have taken around center city Philadelphia.
   
    
    
 

I arrived earlier than I would have thought and was welcomed by the happy smile of my dear sister Kat . We spent much of the day setting up my studio,gathering  supplies and the furnishings that would not have flown well , but really just catching up and recognizing how much I miss her.

We tacked up the canvas I’m to work on tomorrow and she proved to be an admirable studio assistant.

   Walking about town in the midst of much gay pride festivity , I was struck by what a pretty city Philadelphia is and the richness its history provides.
   
    
   After what seemed an endless day of walking about,  we were happy for well earned dinner and drinkies. Tomorrow I begin anew …
  

It’s 6am EST, I’m bleary- eyed from a red-eye flight from Long Beach (adorable airport ), but now I sit in Boston awaiting my flight to Philadelphia.

Six weeks is long time , the longest time spent away from David and the dogs. My eagerness for the experiences ahead are tempered by melancholy. But onward, I will face my anxieties and see what unfolds .

For now , bad airline coffee …

The pressure is mounting as we approach the closing for our new place; deep in the throes of packing my work, carefully wrapping each painting in glassine paper. Satisfying work , labeling , archiving; looking forward . As I pack up the last of the small works I realized I hadn’t posted this small study of the ridiculously handsome Al Parker I made several years ago. Parker was a porn star who embodied the “clone” look of my youth ( early 80’s). He was celestial …and of course died too young .

For now he will be safely enshrouded in glassine , to resurrect another day.