In the Studio

No adequate description encapsulates such bliss. This evening is my first in the watercolor studio in over a week. Behind me, on the TV, I listen to the beautiful BBC presentation of "The Impressionists: Genius is Seeing the World in a Different Light." I just purchased it on two DVDs. The narration, dramatic script and music are beautiful enough, even when I'm not watching but only listening while I paint. When I do turn around and look, my eyes are overcome with the light and color.

Before me, a couple of sketches begin to take shape. One is of a solitary tree that I tried to bathe in Matisse-type colors. I also threw unorthodox colors in the shadows on the grass. A nice change for me. One of the gallery visitors on opening night, a retired watercolor teacher from Hill County College, was overheard telling another patron that I "was afraid of color." I find that amusing, seeing that my subject matter mirrors that of Andrew Wyeth. Maybe he is afraid of color as well. At any rate, I see little color in rusted automobiles, abandoned frame buildings, and winter ground cover.

Nevertheless, this pair of sketches before me are taken from Texas summer settings, and therefore will employ plenty of green, and who knows what I might throw into the shadows. For now, they are only sketches, but maybe they will lead somewhere. At the very least, they have filled my mind and soul with a sense of bliss this night.

Renaissance musings

Still I fight through the weariness of the past week's labors. I have made 120-mile round trip treks to the Hillsboro gallery seven days in a row. Today is my first respite. And I'm back to the brush.

Yesterday I ran the gallery by myself, and with no other employees around me, I took advantage of the time to resume watercoloring. After doing five acrylic canvases in a row, I was more than ready to get back to what I really do best. For the first time in my life, I'm rendering a horse grazing in a pasture beneath winter trees. Animals have never been my forte. It's looking alright, and I'm interested.

Maybe today, after I get the health club behind me, and the business at the guitar repair shop, I can focus better on the watercolor. I need some quality space around me right now. And I need for the calendar to disappear. And I need for time to become the "stream I go a-fishing in." Yes, Thoreau is always whispering from the darkened corners of my quiet consciousness.

The Day After

I'm weary, but basking in the afterglow of another successful Gallery Opening. Burson Gallery in Hillsboro, Texas opened last night with "From Boston to Mexico." I have about 28 original watercolors in the show, and a large quantity of signed and numbered giclee prints. I sold three last night. I believe the real highlight of the night was the sight of two teacher colleagues, and two vice principals entering the gallery. I had sent them handwritten card invitations through the mail, but the gallery was a one-hour drive, and I really had not anticipated them coming. A real bonus.

My band played their hearts out. Drummer Dan Darr had his first public gig with us, and he was superb. Sound engineer Patrick Coffman mixed us wonderfully. We have never had such a rich vocal blend on our Crosby, Stills, Nash covers. "Southern Cross" was particularly rousing. Bonnie is going to try to get us a performance at next month's Hillsboro Outlet Mall exhibition. I will have 5-6 acrylic canvases hanging in that venue.

This is my third summer as an artist, breaking from the school teacher routine. It just keeps getting better. I'm cranking out quite a stack of work, and I'm selling. I couldn't ask for better.

I'm weary to the bone. The gallery show is finally hung. The Artist's Reception is seventeen hours away. And I'm surprised at what the gallery director chose of mine to serve as a centerpiece to the show. One never knows. Until tomorrow then . . .

Do you keep a journal?

October 22, 1837: "What are you doing now?" he asked. "Do you keep a journal?" So I make my first entry to-day.

Thus begins the first entry that opens the Journals of Henry David Thoreau. The questioner was Ralph Waldo Emerson. He was the guiding force that launched the young Thoreau's journal odyssey.

June 25, 2008: My first blog follows a long day of transporting Boston watercolors to a frameshop and pottery to the Burson Gallery in Hillsboro. I painted in the loft for a portion of the afternoon, then rendevouzed with my band as we hammered out a set list for the Gallery Concert just 48 hours away. Songs include:

Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out
Helplessly Hoping
Dimming of the Day
Looking Forward
Hank to Hendrix
Closer to Fine
Southern Cross

Tomorrow, I'll head back to the gallery with more paintings from two other submitting artists.