I regret that I lack time to blog when buried in a three-day art event. Yesterday began at 4 a.m. and ended at nearly midnight. Today is the first of two 10-5:00 days and then we break down and go back home. My hope is to blog again Monday. We are having a great time at Artscape 2022, and hope any of you in the area will come by and see us!
Friday we rise at 5 a.m. to drive to Dallas for a 6:00 load in. Times like now make me glad this is not my first rodeo. In former years, I would wait till the day before to prepare for an art festival. For Artscape 2022, preparations were underway a month ago, and every day this week has had quality time set aside to tend “last minute” details. All that remains today is to decide which paintings go on which panels. I have one set up that I use for that arrangement (the other six remain in the garage). The process: hang the paintings, take the picture, pack the paintings into my vehicle, then repeat the process six more times. The final result: Paintings are loaded and panels are still in one place to be loaded. Once I arrive in Dallas we’ll set up the tent, install the panels, then look at my phone at the pictures to know what hangs where. This leads to a much more leisurely set up at the festival site. No decisions left to be made, just follow the prearranged instructions.
I regret that I didn’t blog yesterday, but I had a morning class at the university, and then the rest of the day got away from me as we did enough organizing to guarantee that today, our last day before showtime, wouldn’t be chaos. I’d like now to share the best of what happened yesterday morning and this morning during “executive” time. I still laugh at that word, because I’ve read articles published by CEOs that I’ve found invaluable, about how they set aside quality time daily (at least an hour) to settle their minds and spirits and contribute to a “better” day at the office. I’m not an executive, but I like to refer to this quiet moment as Executive Time.
In my early days in the ministry, we used the word “Quiet Time” that now passes for “Executive Time.” It is still the same. A minimum of one hour of solitude to precede a day that could likely be filled with appointments, tasks and deadlines. I practice this hour religiously, and have for most of my adult life. And this is what it involves: Morning Pages (suggested by Julia Cameron). This is twenty minutes to fill three pages with all the negativity, rot, stinkin’ thinkin’, and wastful thoughts. This is how I prime the pump. Emerson wrote that a pump first brings up dirty water before it brings up clean. That is how I feel about my writing. I don’t want my journals filled with sludge; I like to go back and re-read what I’ve journaled in past years, and I don’t want to waste time reading negative whinings. So the Morning Pages are three pages not to be saved. Three pages of junk to prime the pump.
After those twenty minutes I am ready. If my mind is overflowing with quality ideas, I scribble them out in my journal as fast as my hand can write. Once that stalls, I open a book. I love to read, always have. And I keep my reading fresh, and nearly every morning I am recording quotes in the journal and/or responding to the quotes. I read poetry, novels, essays, philosophy, theology, history–I love it all.
Yesterday and today I’ve been reading John Cowper Powys’s A Philosophy of Solitude, published in 1933. I purchased it in 2003 at Booked Up Inc., when Larry McMurtry was still living and working in that store up in Archer City. Now is yet another example of my purchasing a book that sits on my library shelf for years before I finally take it down to read. And the timing could not have been more perfect.
A well-managed solitary life, whether surrounded by people or protected from people, is a very delicate and a very difficult work of art.
Routine plays the leading part. . . . Without routine all is lost. Just as without some kind of rhythm all is lost in poetry. For routine is man’s art of copying the art of Nature. In Nature all is routine. The seasons follow one another in sacred order; the seed ripens, the leaf expands, the blossom and the fruit follow, and then comes the fall.
Routine is the rhythm of the universe.
I guess what I’m admitting is I have a routine. My mornings, usually beginning at 7:00, commence with French-pressed coffee, then propping in bed with books and journal for at least an hour (even when I have a morning college class). Sometimes the hour stretches into two or three. I always know when it is time to get up, shower, dress and get on to the rest of the day. But that morning routine–quiet time, executive time, solitary time–sets the tone for the day. If the day is filled with Quality, I can chalk it up to a good beginning. If the day is Rot, I can at least say one good thing happened, and it happened first.
Time now to shower, dress, hang paintings and load for the festival. Thanks for reading.
I make art in order to discover.
I journal when I feel alone.
I blog to remind myself I am not alone.
These old religious cults, these old metaphysical systems, were desperate attempts to wrest its secret from the universe.
John Cowper Powys, A Philosophy of Solitude
This morning’s reading was timely. We are neck-deep in preparations for Artscape 2022 at the Dallas Arboretum Saturday-Sunday, April 30-May 1 from 10-5:00. I’ll be in Booth #60 and fellow artist and gallery member Deanna Pickett Frye in #65.
I write this with no disrespect (I was a minister long ago)–art festivals, gallery openings and magazine launches have many striking parallels with evangelical revivals. In all the above cases, people fervently build altars, prepare their hearts, organize their resources, and hope the creative, spiritual winds will blow. All this is an act of faith. We know we cannot make the wind blow; we can only adjust our sails to catch it when/if it does blow. After a lifetime of preparation for public events (church or art), I have seen zero return on hours/days/weeks of hard work and preparation. And I have also reaped abundant harvests. I go into these events with eyes wide open. When success occurs, I do not assume repeats. When failure occurs, I do not quit. I continue. I believe. I prepare.
Artscape is my biggest event of the year. And my heart swells with gratitude for recent gifts offered to make this year even better. Our magazine launch last week was very well-attended and a warm spirit is in the air. Volume 7 of The Eyes of Texas Fine Art Gallery magazine has featured one of my watercolors on the cover, and we will have issues in our booths to offer patrons who are interested in shopping its contents. Our Gallery at Redlands has a full-page ad, I have also taken out a full-page ad, and several of our gallery artists have taken out ads as well. We are proudly distributing these magazines as I write.
The main thing on my mind this morning over coffee is this tendency of ours to try and “wrest” secrets from the cosmos, to study the market and seek success in our endeavors. As an artist, I have looked at marketing over the years, read books and articles, listened to advice, and sent up various trial balloons. I believe in the value of those efforts. But I also have to confess our limitations–we can pour all our energy into getting attention (look at me, working on this blog!), but we cannot bend the public to our will any more than we can make this weekend’s weather behave for an outdoor event. The more I acknowledge that, the better I handle the outcome of a festival.
While reading the above passage from A Philosophy of Solitude, I recalled a striking parallel that I read last week from New Art City pertaining to sculptor Donald Judd and his perspective of the market:
Judd wanted to avoid or at least to pull back from a growing sense that art was pushed forward by overwhelming forces, whether market forces or the eternal verities of art (and who any longer knew where eternal verities ended and market forces began?).
I guess what I am trying to state is this: we can read all the tea leaves we wish, and doing so might give us a sense of direction. But in the end, all we can do is adjust our sails to catch the wind. Preparations are invaluable, and I actually find satisfaction in the process of preparing; I’m nearly always happy in the work. And making preprations is an act of faith. And the faith might be rewarded, might be. But if it isn’t, I’ll merely move on to the next event, and still work faithfully to prepare properly. I love the art life, all of it–making art as well as setting it out for display and sale. And this week is yet another highlight in my life as I lean forward to Artscape 2022. I hope you’ll have time to stop by Booths 60 and 65 if you attend this magnificent event.
Thanks for reading.
I make art in order to discover.
I journal when I feel alone.
I blog to remind myself I am not alone.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
William Butler Yeats, “Sailing to Byzantium”
Waking at 4:45 this morning was not part of the plan, but here I am, still in the darkness of the pre-dawn, tapping at the keys on my laptop. I have a class in five hours and forty-five minutes for which I am already prepared, so while awake I intend to glory in quiet reading, scribbling and thinking through the events coming soon . . .
The Yeats poem was in my ears as I awoke. Maybe it’s because of a birthday last week. Sixty-eight years now on this sojourn. And Yeats stated it well–“an aged man is . . . a tattered coat upon a stick, unless . . . ” Yes, unless! Despite every opportunity to dwell on the negative, I’m grateful that my soul has continually clapped its hands and sung. My soul sings out this morning. I’m happy to be still alive. Happy to swim in the sea of literature and art that floods my studio daily as well as my consciousness. And yes, happy to be sailing toward Byzantium.
Byzantium. The city of William Butler Yeats’s imagination. The sixth-century culture when art and religion were one. When intellectual and practical were one. When Art was the soul of the population. I have felt that for awhile now in Palestine, Texas where I am privileged to live out a significant part of my life (a college job still has me chained to the metropolex the first three days of each week–but only for a few more weeks now). Byzantium has thrived in Palestine recently, and I believe this weekend will thrive in the Dallas Arboretum as an enormous host of artists will descend upon the park, erect their tents, and spread out their creations for the throngs to peruse. And I’m honored to be among that host.
But there is something else buoying my spirits this morning–what lies beyond Artscape 2022. Only a few weeks left of college, my last semester to teach. I retired from high school teaching in 2017 but continued signing college contracts. No more. May 16 and I’m fully retired from teaching. Then I intend to sail to Byzantium. Then I intend to let Art take my life where it wills.
I feel this sense of eudaimonia this morning because, upon waking, I looked at my phone and saw in my email DailyOM “Working Through Transitions”. I subscribe to this daily meditation, and occasionally read it. This morning’s read was very timely for me. I was going to quote some of it, but noted the copyright, so I best not. At any rate, the reading was thoughtful, and reminded me that it is way past time for me to retreat to the wilderness. I’ve been engaged in the art business and the college business round the clock for a long spell now. So, after Artscape and after the semester final exams, my plan is to escape. And once I find that solitude, I intend to “be”. Already, I lean forward in breathless anticipation of that respite. But as for now, I have college in a few hours, then just a few short days to gather and load my gear for Dallas’s Artscape 2022. I would love to see you there! I’ll be in Booth 60 and my friend and colleague and fellow artist Deanna Pickett Frye will be nearby in Booth 65. This is her first Artscape, and she is filled with nervous anticipation.
Thanks for reading.
I make art in order to discover.
I journal when I feel alone.
I blog to remind myself I am not alone.
Every culture, it seems to me, gets a handful of writers each generation or so who have the talent and ability to reach beneath the surface of things into those deeper currents that run through us all as fellow members of the human tribe.
Bill Wittliff, Foreword, From a Limestone Ledge, by John Graves
Sunday morning finds me enjoying coffee in bed and thinking ahead to Artscape 2022. Sandi and I will be in Booth #60 at the Dallas Arboretum Saturday and Sunday 10-5:00 and would love to visit with you as you enjoy the rich offerings of this festival gathering. Our friend and fellow gallery artist from Palestine, Deanna Pickett Frye, will be in Booth #65. Both of us have managed to crank out a large body of work the past couple of months that will go on display for the first time. And we will have boxes of the new volume 7 of Eyes of Texas Fine Art Gallery magazine to hand out from our booths.
My framed watercolor of The Fort Worth Scat Jazz Lounge will be in the booth as well. I’m still walking on air to see it featured on the cover of the new magazine. On May 9, I look forward to headlining a new exhibit with the other cover artist Sabrina Franklin. We will be at Baron’s Crossing, 115 E. Bridge Street (on the square) in Granbury, Texas. Limited edition giclee prints will be available and on sale at that event.
I am deeply stirred by the quote above from Bill Wittliff, because he has testified about writers what I feel about artists in a broad sense: there are a few who manage to “reach beneath the surface of things into those deeper currents that run through us.” This is what has moved me my entire life–a desire to create and experience art that touches our core values, that excavates to the foundations of a quality of life that inspires us. Julia Cameron says it this way:
Think of the mind as a room. In that room we keep all of our usual ideas about life. . . . The room has a door. That door is ever so slightly ajar, and outside we can see a great deal of dazzling light.
I have always sought to capture that light just outside my open door when I’ve picked up the brush to paint, or the pen to write. Right now, there are so many images in my head that want to be put on paper and all I can do is promise to respond to them when this schedule allows it–I will have over sixty essays to grade starting tomorrow while at the same time gathering all our gear to pack and load for a Friday morning 6 a.m. set up in Dallas. I’ll paint later, I promise. Meanwhile I’ll try to be faithful and report to you all that is going on around here. Palestine last weekend was incredible with the magazine launch party, the raising of the Jeffie monument in our gallery, and all the new friends I made who visited The Gallery at Redlands.
Thanks for reading.
I make art in order to discover.
I journal when I feel alone.
I blog to remind myself I am not alone.
Sorry it took so long, but thanks to Tim Keating and Dave Shultz, the three of us together managed to get the large Jeffie sculpture up on a raised platform. This greatly enhances the view of the piece from the street.
This sculpture is titled Meditations on Looking and Seeing. The monumental piece was created to honor the late John Daniel who was Professor of Sculpture at Stephen F. Austin University in Nacogdoches, Texas. Professor Daniel was Jeffie’s mentor, and the two of them spent many precious times together in the professor’s final years. Alzheimers eventually claimed Professor Daniel’s life, and Jeffie speaks warmly of those final years spent together, sketching.
Under the beloved Professor, Jeffie took Drawing I, II and III, and Figure Drawing. Then he took the course Expressive Drawing, where the student was encouraged to “forget all that you had learned and just draw spontaneously and subconsciously.” In the final years, the Professor began mistaking Jeffie for his brother, and as the mental shifts between lucidity and confusion increased, Jeffie began drawing and making sculptural abstractions of heads turned in various directions and with this latest piece, eyes doing the same.
Though tragic to watch someone losing his faculties, Jeffie is grateful for the memory that his friend “remained creative till the end,” and this particular sculpture is the artist’s meditation over the distinction between looking and seeing.
Thanks for reading. We have great things happening at The Gallery at Redlands. We hope you’ll visit us at the Dallas Arboretum next weekend for Artscape 2022. The event is Saturday and Sunday 10-5:00. Sandi and I will be in booth #231. Deanna Pickett Frye will be in booth #300. We’re happy to bring a piece of Palestine to Dallas!
Good day, from The Redlands Hotel. It is Saturday, and our main task is raising the “Jeffie” sculpture on a base so it can be viewed from street level through the window.
I’ll have more to write about this once the task is completed. I’m waiting for a pair of men to arrive so we can set to work. Jeffie Brewer’s miniatures have been a hot item lately. These sell for $150 and six have already gone out the door, with more requested. Presently we have a dozen still in stock.
Thanks for reading. I’ll try to post more later today. People are already starting to come into the gallery . . .
A pure instrument is certainly sure to give forth pure sound. So has this instrument of 291 kept itself pure as possible that it thereby gives out pure expression.
Marsden Hartley, commenting on Alfred Stieglitz’s Gallery 291
Artist Marsden Hartley described Gallery 291, opened by photographer Alfred Stieglitz at 291 Fifth Avenue in New York City in 1905, “the largest small room of its kind in the world.” My blood is stirred by everything I read concerning the energy that flowed out of that small attic room. And my blood is stirred now as I write this, having experienced what we did last night in The Gallery at Redlands as we held our Magazine Launch Party. My prayer is that The Gallery at Redlands will prove a “pure instrument” that will “give forth pure sound.” We are an extension of this long twisting path of art history, and proud of the opportunity to contribute a chapter.
Before I post pictures from the party, I want to record this special time spent with Greg and Kevin as the event was winding down. Taking our inspiration from ancient Byzantium and the New York City art scene, we found ourselves absorbed in conversation over possibilities in East Texas as this art movement continues to build momentum. Art, live music venues, theater performances and literary circles are humming with greater intensity in Palestine, and we have lately sensed the same kind of renewal in neighboring communities. With his extensive background in radio, Kevin Harris is exploring ways to promote the arts in Palestine and build relationships with the other cities around us. This magazine launch is just the tip of the spear.
Concerning the visual arts, I’m thrilled that fellow gallery participant Deanna Pickett Frye and I will open next weekend at Artscape 2022. This will be held in the Dallas Arboretum. Friday night is the VIP event for members of the Arboretum. Saturday and Sunday, the art festival will run from 10-5:00. This is my biggest art event of the year and Deanna is trembling as she prepares for her debut there. We’re delighted to know that our booths will be in the same “neighborhood” in this large sprawling festival, and we will have boxes of this new magazine to hand out to art enthusiasts.
May 9 will open a new show in Granbury, Texas at Baron’s Crossing, 115 E. Bridge Street (on the town square). New limited edition giclee prints will be made available of the two pieces of art on the cover of the new volume 7 of The Eyes of Texas Fine Art Gallery.
Sabrina Franklin (painter of the Leddy Boots sign) and I just completed the arrangements with the printer this morning to produce 11 x 14″ reproductions of the paintings for the show. Other artists featured in the magazine will also have work hanging in the exhibit opening May 9. More details will follow.
The Gallery at Redlands was packed with artists, sponsors and interested patrons from all across the community. Gloria inspired the crowd with her remarks charged with visions of what we can expect to see in the months ahead as we continue to promote the arts. Once the magazines came out, we had great fun as artists and sponsors autographed their ads in the magazine, and we laughed that we were acting like high school kids when the annual yearbook comes out and everyone wants autograph mementoes for future perusing.
Gallery artist Cecilia Bramhall was among the first to join the Gallery at Redlands when it opened in March 2017. A local oil painter, Cecilia often runs the gallery in our absence, and in fact will be keeping gallery hours next weekend while we show at Artscape 2022.
Deanna Pickett Frye and Cecila Bramhall were the first artists to join The Gallery at Redlands with me when it opened in March 2017. They have become family to us, and Sandi and I cherish every memory with them. As mentioned above, Deanna will enjoy her first Dallas Arboretum experience next weekend. Deanna has also been lighting up downtown Palestine with her public murals of late.
Jodi Davis has been a wonderful art patron, and when taking out an ad for the magazine, requested to be photographed with the painting she purchased from me “so I can market David.” I’m still touched by the memory of the words I heard that day. Thank you, Jodi, for all you do for our community.
Gallery artist Kathy Lamb entered our family after Sandi and I assumed the ownership of the Gallery last year. She also has her own studio and showroom down the street from us at their home in the historic Nickel Manor. Her passion is oil painting and her fame around the city is widespread.
Mary Raum, Tourism Marketing Manager for the City of Palestine, is the one who exploded the city’s presence in this new magazine issue, successfully landing Palestine as a “Destination City” with her three-page spread. Grace Hessman of Elkhart, Texas, also joined our gallery “family” last year shortly after Sandi and I became the new owners. Grace, a pastellist, has remarkable vision and imagination and I enjoy every opportunity of discussing art with her.
Gallery Artist Orlando Guillen joined our family recently at the close of the Dogwood Art Festival under the tent. Orlando sculpts from raw materials recovered from the local salvage yard, and his enormous Bedroom II depicting Vincent Van Gogh’s painting of the artist’s bedroom adorns our gallery window display.
Celia Campbell Polster pours all her creative energy and enthusiasm into promoting the arts in Palestine. She was the prime mover behind our recent Dogwood Art and Music Festival and continues to seek ways to elevate the presence of the Dogwood Arts Council in spreading the spirit of good will among artists and art enthusiasts.
Well . . . it took two days before I could finish this blog. The first picture taken the morning after the party encapsulates the afterglow felt by Sandi, Gloria and me as we sat around the breakfast table recalling every good detail from the night before. Descending to the gallery at 10, I was to find out that there would be zero time to blog; the laptop was on my desk with the first picture mounted from 10:00 till I closed at 9:00 and drove the two hours back home. Today was no different. We finally arrived in Palestine around 3:00 this afternoon, and now, at 9:24 p.m. I am finally proofreading this to send up the flagpole for all our patient readers. Thank you for waiting for me. I cannot describe the love I feel for these artists, sponsors, and art lovers of Palestine who have embraced Sandi and me and given us a genuine home where we can live out our dreams.
We cannot say enough about The Redlands Hotel and the perfect home they have made available for our gallery and lodging. Jean Mollard and Mike Searcy are always on hand to support every effort made on behalf of the arts. And they are never without a kind word of encouragement for what we try to accomplish.
Our thanks also goes out to local photographer Dave Shultz who does all the website work for the gallery, hotel and Dogwood Arts Council. Dave took all the pictures posted above, and many, many more. Thanks always, Dave, for all that you do!
And we thank you for reading.
I make art in order to discover.
I journal when I feel alone.
I blog to remind myself I am not alone.
Destination City
Muses again whisper in the air.
Healing breezes stir.
Like monks in their cells, creative spirits toil
in the city.
Believing.
Anticipating.
Believers once again are painting, carving,
writing, singing, acting.
East Texas again awakens, breathes,
stretches the limbs.
Railroads once united communities.
Art becomes the New Railroad.
And all Railroads lead to Palestine.
David Tripp, April 20, 2022
Good morning, Friends. I wish I had more time to write, but we’re packing and loading for our journey to Palestine, our new Destination City. From 5 till 8 this evening, we’ll celebrate the coming out of volume 7 of The Eyes of Texas Fine Art Gallery magazine. The city is proud to join the host of fine arts communities of East Texas featured in this magazine, and we’re anticipating exciting days ahead. I’ll try to continue writing and sharing this new spirit in the air that has refreshed our arts community. The poem above was my first attempt, and I have several other pieces in the hopper that I’m still trying to edit. I’ve laughed at the metaphor of nailing Jell-o to the wall. That is exactly what I feel when I try to describe the happenings around here of late.
2:15 a.m. this morning marked the 68th year of my entry into this astonishing world. I cannot say that life has diminished for me, yet. Funny, I thought when I was younger that these senior years were to be the most pitied. Who would have guessed that they are far better than any era I’ve previously encountered. I am grateful that I have been allowed to remain. It would have been tragic to miss the past five years I’ve known since the Palestine community entered my life.
I’ve posted above five of my favorite limited edition giclee prints recently framed and ready to hang in The Gallery at Redlands.
Thanks for reading.
I make art in order to discover.
I journal when I feel alone.
I blog to remind myself I am not alone.
Good Day. My agenda is again packed to overflowing, so I’m sitting now in a doctor’s waiting room and tapping out a Hello to fellow bloggers and readers.
My literary friend Clarry Hubbard from Missouri just sent out a poem from Mary Oliver that I found warmly soothing, especially in the midst of these days packed with errands and responsibilities. It is titled “Wild Geese” . . .
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
Over and over announcing your place in the family of things.
Thanks Clarry. I wish I could convey to you how timely these words were for me. I’m glad I’ll be seeing you soon.
Recollections 54 The Art of David Tripp 