friday flow

while the whole moves, and every part stands still

oil on canvas; 24" x 24"; Rico '11

It's amazingly warm and sunny and the work flowed today. All 50 canvases have paint on them and are in various states of completion. The black studies are drying off to the side, waiting for the next movement to begin.

I peeked in a space today that I happened upon while walking Agnes. It would take an amazing deal for me to leave this space, but eventually I do want to own my studio outright. I have the dream building in sight of the present space, but that requires selling consistently at a much higher price bracket than I do now. Not impossible, but not here yet.

Today is thank a teacher day, and I am indeed thankful to my teacher Mark Raymond Anderson. He was one of the first people I met when we moved here ten and half years ago. He was immediately someone I could bounce ideas and opinions about art off of, and his canonical knowledge of art history is both formidable and like an endless fount of learning. He helped me become the painter I am today more than any other person I know, and though we did not become the friends I had hoped we would, I owe him my respect and gratitude.

I was an adult when I went back and took undergraduate art classes. I squeezed my teachers, -all of them, for knowledge. I made them prepare to come to class, because they knew I would press them if I disagreed. I always viewed the study of art history as a choose my own adventure book; being able to look out over the vast cannon of centuries of art always gave me comfort that I was joining an important Way of craft and perception. I worked my butt off in school, at times from the prideful need to be the best, -ruthlessly if need be. It is true I crushed a peer every now and then, but only if I perceived them as lazy or apathetic. In retrospect perhaps I should have been more gracious, but what is done is done.

for maybe what was disappeared into ourselves

oil on canvas; 24" x 24"; Rico '11