The Locust King

The Locust King (in progress), oil on canvas, 2016, Rico

I tend to work in series, and on occasion a series will be centered around a very clear narrative.  Something will spark an idea or an image and I will begin a process of trying to push it from my mind.  If I am unsuccessful, the idea will take hold and root and pester me day in and day out.  I'll go to sleep thinking about it, and I'll wake with it clear in my mind.

I'm currently reading Anthony Doerr's All the Light We Cannot See, a masterfully-written novel that takes place in WWII and intertwines several character's perspectives.  Really, really good book and you should read it.  There's a line early on, "the locusts have no king," that jumped off the page at me.  I often keep a notebook next to me when I'm reading and I immediately jotted that line down, thinking I might just use it in full for the title of a painting.

As the days went on, I just found the concept so provocative, and I kept wondering, "what if they did?  What would that be like?"  I worked out some sketches, but I wasn't happy with any of them; the image in my mind's eye was stronger than anything I could get down.  

As with The Forest and the Sea, a story began to form around that idea.  So I sat down and started writing the story to get a better handle on the idea.  Though I've written a considerable part of the narrative already, the whole thing is still hatching.  This painting is the first fruit.  

It's been years since I produced a book of paintings and this, along with the Via Dolorosa paintings for NYC next March, may be my next project.  TBD as to when that actually gets done and whether I will seek out a publisher or self-publish again on Blurb, but the wheels are turning.

The artist's sketchbook

I received an advance pdf version of a friend's new book of paintings today.  He dedicated himself to a painting a day for an entire year and published the results, which, even looking at on my laptop screen I have to say are remarkable, lovely, and improbable moments of joy in material.

Many feel like sketches.  They have the hand-drawn rectangle borders to signify the parameters of an imagined canvas.  The lines of pencil or ink bleed through the delicate acrylic washes in flirty ways that feel intimate and immediate.  I love sketches.  What we lay down in expediency is often so much fresher than the eventual works they may or may not become.  Drawing (and I include drawing with oil stick, paints or other mediums) is such an essential and personal act for the artist.  It is the unfiltered expression of the mind.  I could look at my friends' sketchbooks for hours, we should all post more pictures of our drawings.

I come in and out of my drawing practice, but I don't do it nearly enough.  It pays dividends in terms of creativity and productivity, and many expressions live solely in dusty sketchbooks along my bookshelves or stacked in my studio.  My figure drawings number in the hundreds, dozens of them of the same model, Marge, with whom I worked for several years.  It seems strange that I don't show my nudes, and despite the abundance of them in my house (my wife periodically stole some and framed them) I've never exhibited them.

With how I'm painting now, I'm relying heavily on the shorthand of drawing with oil stick on black paper.  Some come from gesture and some come from a concept like a phrase or clouds I see as I walk through the world doing other things.  I read a line in a book at the pool the other day and it will be the title of the next painting I make; sometimes it happens like that, like I can see something in words and it won't let me go until I paint it.

Last call for exhibition, #GreenvilleSC

via Facebook

My show, "That was yesterday, that day" comes down at the end of this month.  I want to send a big shout out to the folks at Coldwell Banker Caine for supporting the show and my former classmate Kate for making it happen.  If you haven't seen the show, there are only a few weeks remaining.  I don't anticipate another South Carolina exhibition for some time to come, as my efforts will focus on Atlanta, NYC and L.A.

It's been a crazy year so far.  I'm still making work for my first solo exhibition in New York City next March.  I'm still submitting work to a few select juried shows, and communicating with Pryor Fine Art, which represents me in Atlanta.  There's always news and announcements coming up, so check back regularly.

A reminder that, if you're interested in any of the work currently in Greenville, please contact Teresa Roche at Art & Light Gallery.  She's graciously agreed to handle all transactions for this show.

I recognize that buying art is a deeply personal thing.  It seems like a lot of money when the world of "home decor" offers so many less expensive options.  But consider this; the median home price in Greenville is around $125K (good luck finding something for that, but I digress) so is 2% of that amount really that much to spend on something made to last longer than the house will stand?  Something one of a kind that tells guests you are not afraid to be who you are and like what you like?  There is also the investment factor.  Enough said.

I hope to be down at 428 S Main Street before the show ends via Periscope.  Look for an announcement on Twitter.