Dunedin Art Harvest

The challenge and ultimate satisfaction of an artist is the willingness to simply let things happen. Give up control for awhile. Let go of preconceived ideas. Get out of the way and just paint.

For the upcoming Art Harvest show, I allowed myself to paint on black masonite squares. I dared myself to use water based oil paint, and wondered what would happen if the surface was sprayed with glue.

The wonderful Japanese sculptor, Jun Kaneko, said his art comes from intuitive ideas based on a lifetime of experiences. Perhaps the experience provides a comfort zone that prevents us from falling off the edge into chaos. Within that shelter the artist is free to try something new, to be bold.

Fu Lions And 15 Minute Art

Over the years, I’ve collected snippets of conversation overheard at outdoor art shows. The open nature and family entertainment atmosphere of this type of show encourage sidewalk critics emboldened by cups of brew and funnel cake.

A book I’ve always wanted to write would be full of these funny and sarcastic comments that have little to do with art appreciation. Several remarks were repeated enough to make me wonder why I work a certain way. In this respect, even cynical asides can be of some use.

1. How long did it take you to paint this, 15 minutes?
To most people, something is worthy of value only if it took a long time to create. There is no room in this way of thinking for gesture and spontaneity born from a lifetime of experience. Neither do people think much about process. They only see that an artwork had a beginning and after a lot of work was finished. They fail to appreciate the many stops and starts, self doubts and anxieties along the way until an artist felt sufficient confidence to exhibit a 15 minute piece of art.

2. My grand-daughter can paint better than this.
I have seen children’s art that is quite remarkable, fun pieces full of color, energy, and joy. But when asked to repeat their effort, the children often struggle, becoming restless and distracted. They are eager to move on to the next thing that catches their eye. An experienced artist arrives at a mature style after many years work. Such an artist intends to repeat their efforts. They eagerly make one painting and another and another because they must. They cannot not do it. No six year old grand-daughter would put up with that.

3. Why don’t you paint pretty pictures?
The easy answer would be that I can not improve on the beauty of Nature. Nature is perfect just as it is and my art is not. That does not, however, stop artists from trying over and over to transcend Nature’s beauty. For my own art, I am often reminded of the fierceness of Fu Lions. Great snarling stone sculptures were often placed in front of Indian and Chinese temples for protection. A cute bunny or beautiful maiden would be of no use when faced with evil spirits intent on mischief. No one messes with an ugly guardian creature that can bite your face off. Lately, I’ve come to the conclusion I don’t paint pretty pictures because they don’t give me enough protection.

Pay Per View Art

The humidity just dropped ten percentage points in Central Florida, which means Fall must be on its way. It is still 90 degrees outside but people are reappearing on the streets, eager to shake off four months of air conditioned hibernation. Businesses here in Tampa Bay hold "come on in" sales and art galleries advertise their roster of fall exhibitions.

I recognize some of the well known artists but notice a number of newcomers to the local art scene, all eager to make a name for themselves and perhaps a few sales. If they stick around long enought, it is possible they might make a name and even sell some art. Making a living from their art will prove much more difficult.

Artist's expenses continue to rise and the cost for a substantial one person show can run to thousands of dollars. In spite of a slew of advance publicity, great galleries, and exciting art, the promise of art sales might never materialize. Most call-for-entry art exhibitions now charge a hefty entry fee, which is non-refundable. For those accepted, up front expenses must then be regained before any profit can be earned. People wonder why artists look so glum at outdoor shows. An artist can not survive for long when the trickle-down of cash flow never reaches them.

Part of the answer could be pay per view art. Art galleries and outdoor art shows would charge an entry fee to view the art. This is not a new idea. Most museums already charge entry fees as do some high-end galleries and cash-strapped outdoor shows. It could be pay at the door or in a contribution box, but the main difference would be that the artist has a share in the proceeds.

This kind of arrangement would guarantee better quality art works and more visitors willing to spend a few dollars to see great art. Art galleries have become expensive consignment shops and outdoor shows promise all kinds of entertainment for the family. None of that is promising for the artist. Pay per view art could make a difference.

Amedeo Modigliani

I knew nothing of the personal life of Amedeo Modigliani when first introduced to his art in college. Only later, after reading his biography, did I learn about the man and a life of sickness, poverty, and addiction. Dead of tuberculosis before the age of thirty-six, Modigliani had only one solo exhibition in his lifetime, and gave away many of his paintings for food.

No introduction to his art was needed. The pain, sorrow and dark beauty of his life were present full force in his paintings, making an immediate and profound impression. Yet there is another element of Modigliani's work that I find particularly appealing. I cannot look at his sublime portraits of women without also feeling a sense of allure, a hint of danger, and, above all, mystery. And isn't that, after all, what we look for in women.

The Watery Heart of Florida

My friend and I made another and this time slower trip down to West Palm Beach. I'm happy to say that the Atlantic Ocean continues to surge ashore in Palm Beach County. The Gulf of Mexico still flows under the magnificent Sunshine Skyway bridge into Tampa Bay.

Lake Okeechobee I'm not so sure about. In two trips, we have yet to glimpse the full expanse of the 730 square mile lake. Surrounded by a 30 foot dike after a devastating 1928 hurricane, the Lake lies hidden from view for most of its circumference.

We stopped at the Clewiston boat launch and climbed to the levee's top, expecting to see miles and miles of big water. No luck, the view was blocked by huge grassy islands dredged up by the Army Corps of Engineers.

Driving home Sunday, we passed through the town of Okeechobee on the Lake's north shore. Friends said the Lake's vastness could be enjoyed from the town fishing pier. Lake Okeechobee is a natural wonder of Florida and headwaters for the mysterious River of Grass, the Everglades. The only mystery we found was a total lack of directions or advertisements for the Lake.

After driving up and down country roads, we gave up and continued west into the flat belly of Florida. Once home, Google Maps informed me that we were only two turns away from the road to the Lake. The big watery heart of the state lies contained, waiting for our return or perhaps a Catagory 5 visitor.

Take Me To The Water

The idea sounded simple enough and fun - deliver a bunch of artwork to the Armory Art Center in West Palm Beach and return in time to watch the sun set while crossing the Sunshine Skyway. My friend Melissa and I had hopes of success, but rain, photo opps, and detours in Belle Glade conspired against us.

Landscapes along the way more than made up for the missed sunset. Seeing the Gulf of Mexico, Lake Okeechobee, and the Atlantic Ocean in one day became the icing on my journey. In between, massive thunderstorms rolled over endless fields of sugar cane. And the stark contrasts of Palm Beach County - rows of migrant worker shacks in sugar cane towns and thirty minutes further on, the million dollar mansions of Palm Beach.

As a lifelong Cracker Boy, I thought I had seen most of this fascinating state, but drive away from the crowded coasts and bits of Audubon's Florida still exist. The Fakahatchee Strand lies in wait.

Object Lesson

In 2004 the Museum of Fine Art in St. Petersburg held a major exhibition of renowned glass artist Dale Chihuly. In what would become a prelude to a permanent Chihuly presence in St. Petersburg, the Museum filled its first floor galleries with the maestro’s art.

My friend Rima persuaded me to go, with the promise of lunch and a quick ride in her sleek BMW. I was not disappointed - by lunch, Bavarian cars, or Chihuly. At the Museum we wandered from gallery to gallery, astonished by the sheer exuberance and versatility of Chihuly and company. His swirling sculptural creations have become for many the epitome of the beautiful object.

On the way out, we passed through a room with a small collection of Pre-Columbian Art. My senses had been primed by Chihuly’s flashy glass, but they were pounded by the sight of Meso-American pottery pieces – clay statues of gods and goddesses, warriors, priests, and effigy animals. These works, from before the time of Christ to the 15th Century and all artisan made, radiated primal energy, earthiness, and mystery.

Their self-assured presence reminded me of Archaic Greek statuary, but with more power and scariness. I was so transfixed, my friend had to pull me away from the glass cases. I saw my own art in there, or what I wanted my art to be.

Two exhibitions – one of beautiful objects and the other of mysterious objects. Both are legitimate modes of expression and both have their respective advocate groups. Which am I?

Several years later, Chihuly made a personal appearance at the Arts Center in St. Petersburg. Rima surprised me with the gift of his splashy coffee-table book and we stood in line for an hour to get his signature in it. The book now sits on my shelf, lost among others of African, Mexican, Indian and Oceanic art.