Archive for the ‘art festival’ Category

Sweet Evening Solitude & Recovery

July 30, 2022
Working Lightly in Studio Eidolons Tonight

Current wisdom, especially that propagated by the various schools of psychoanalysis, assumes that man is a social being who needs the companionship and affection of other human beings from cradle to grave. It is widely believed that interpersonal relationships of an intimate kind are the chief, if not the only, source of human happiness. Yet the lives of creative individuals often seem to run counter to this assumption.

Anthony Storr, Solitude: A Return to the Self

Storr’s book has been like a Bible in my collection for over thirty years now. This was the first book, read when I was in my thirties, that convinced me I was O.K. even though I didn’t have much of a social life. The ministry dripped with a sense of alienation. Graduate school meant long solitary days in a library carrell. Welding-well, how many people stand around to visit with you when you’re under the hood while the arc lights up the room? Public education for nearly three decades saw me scrambling for privacy at the end of each school day. So yes, I have regarded myself, despite having a family whom I love, as largely private.

I don’t recall the last time I was ill; it hadn’t occurred since 2017 when I retired from teaching. And I don’t recall the last time I missed school due to illness. I have lived a life for the most part without need for doctor’s visits or medication. I wasn’t prepared for what happened when I tested positive for COVID yesterday morning. The good news was that Sandi was already in Palestine to run the gallery in my stead, leaving me to attend tonight’s artists’ reception in Granbury. She has since tested negative, so she will be staying out of our house till I am past all this. To repeat–I wasn’t prepared for this enforced isolation. Yesterday and today were among the longest days in my life, here in my home and studio, alone with a pair of small dogs.

This afternoon, while the isolation had reached its bleakest moment, the phone calls started coming in. Three of my paintings sold, two of them major works.

Six Subjects in Search of a Painter. SOLD

The New Owners

I was elated to learn that a student of mine from fifteen years back purchased my large still life at Baron’s Creek Winery in Granbury. I was deeply saddened that I was unable to attend this event.

He Was Here Yesterday SOLD

And then . . . Sandi phoned from our Gallery at Redlands. She had just sold another large watercolor of mine to a local automobile restoration artist. She told me he was fascinated with my collection of gas station compositions and chose the large one from among the pack.

Evening Hole. SOLD

Sandi also sold this mid-size watercolor of me fly-fishing Troublesome Creek in Colorado.

Needless to say, news of the triple sales (and boy, Sandi sold quite a number of other artists’ works the past three days in the gallery!) created somewhat of a soothing balm for my tortured feelings the past pair of days. Though absent in body, I’m glad that my “spirit” somehow lingered in the events where my work was on display. The affirmation helps, believe me.

I believe I will sleep better tonight. I have completed the first day taking dosages of Paxlovid, and already am feeling some physical relief from this dreaded illness. And news of the art sales has certainly provided a strong measure of good will; I feel much less isolated now.

More tomorrow. 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.

Packing and Loading Day

April 28, 2022
Organizing paintings on panels

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.

“Executive” time

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.

Adjusting Sails to Catch the Wind

April 26, 2022
A Happy Patron from Artscape 2021

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.

ARTSCAPE 2022 Musings

April 25, 2022
Artscape 2021

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.

Next Stop: ARTSCAPE 2022!

April 24, 2022
Shot of my Booth from Last Year

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.

Awash in the Memories

April 10, 2022
Last Night’s Art Reception at Barons Creek Vineyards

. . . really like a Byzantine city.

Willem de Kooning, describing New York City art culture

New York City is a Constantinople, a great Bazaar

Robert Motherwell

I woke this Sunday morning while it was still dark, and Paul Goodman’s poem “To Dawn” was in my head:

Gray-suited Dawn O Day

of many voices, ma-

            trix of moments, speak

            to and bring this thing I seek

My mind this morning is awash with memories of last night co-mingled with ideas and aspirations of what is yet to come. We attended the Spring Art Show last night, hosted by Eyes of Texas Fine Art Magazine, and the Barons Creek venue was perfection. I have had the rich pleasure of attending myriads of art openings, but this event far exceeded all my previous experiences. I cannot say enough Thank Yous to my friends who drove all this distance to be a part of this enchanting day. Please know that you are loved and appreciated.

For over a year now, I have been reading with delight New Art City: Manhattan at Mid-Century by Jed Perl. I finally finished the lengthy book a few days ago, and have no intention of letting its rich material fade from my memory. My experiences of Palestine, Texas, from the time I entered The Gallery at Redlands in 2017 till Sandi and I took over the lease last year, have had striking parallels to what I read about the New York City art scene. Stories ranging from the Abstract Expressionists, through the Pop Artists to the Minimalists have convinced me of the cohesive power art exudes over people looking for something meaningful to experience. After more than twenty years of this odyssey through the tangled woodpaths of festivals, exhibitions, competitions and parties, I truly believe I have found the multi-dimensional Byzantium in places including Palestine, Granbury, Cleburne, Crockett and Tyler, Texas.

Vol. 7 of the Magazine coming out next week
Publisher Gloria Hood and Me
Signing the Poster with Co-Cover Artist Sabrina Franklin

In the coming weeks, Palestine will have a party to launch the new Eyes of Texas magazine, volume 7. Our city will be featured in at least ten pages of advertisements including artists and businesses currently thriving in the area. Art, music, theater and literature are combining to inject a new, vital spirit in this community like never experienced before. I’m thrilled to feel this vortex of inspiration swirling round us, and invite any of you in the vicinity to come and experience the magic with us.

I cannot close without some pictures of my friends who made the long trip to be with us. Thanks to you all.

Gallery at Redlands artist Stacy Campbell with my wife and gallerist Sandi Jones
Stacy and Me
With Suzanne Severens, librarian and friend from the Martin High School days
Gloria sits for a Caricature
Friends Christine and Greg

With that, I now return to a day of grading stacks and stacks of essays and preparing for a class in the morning. I’m ecstatic that this will be my final semester and days ahead can be devoted to doing what I choose.

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.

Bowery Bum Fatigue

March 20, 2022
Outside The Redlands Hotel Sunday Morning

And we’re standing outside of this wonderland
Looking so bereaved and so bereft
Like a Bowery bum when he finally understands
The bottle’s empty and there’s nothing left

Dire Straits, “Your Latest Trick”

The words to the song above struck a profound chord with me last year when we finished the Dogwood Art & Music Festival followed by our Gallery at Redlands reception. It expresses how I feel after a big event. I find myself on the day after “standing outside of this wonderland” but actually NOT “looking so bereaved and so bereft.” What I feel was expressed perfectly by an elderly high school English teacher long ago, following a state convention of “Teachers of English”. Sitting in the convention hotel coffee shop, she said: “after these things are over I feel like a bowery bum with an empty bottle–just totally trashed physically though happy spiritually.” That was what I felt last year and this morning.

First Gravesite of Cynthia Ann Parker

Greg Gunnels, President of our Dogwood Arts Council, picked Wayne and me up at 7:00 this morning for some meaningful sight seeing around the Palestine vicinity. We had always wanted to visit Foster Cemetery to see the first resting place of Cynthia Ann Parker, mother of the last free Comanche chief, Quanah Parker. From there, we visited other cemeteries around Anderson County and viewed graves dating back to the late eighteenth century. The experience was sobering for me, as visiting burial sites always are. As I continue to age (I’ll be sixty-eight next month), I come to that serious thought that one day I won’t be doing this ever again–painting, drawing, blogging, journaling, thinking, remembering. One day I will cease even as these others have. And so of course I begin to question whether or not I’m doing anything of value during these final years (besides having a great time!).

Elkhart, Texas

Always looking for the next painting, I stopped by this ghost sign in Elkhart, Texas while the morning sun was still spashing the side of the building, and for the first time not finding an SUV parked on the concrete slab blocking my view of the entire sign and the grass beneath. I’ve been looking for the next ghost sign since painting my last one, exactly a year ago:

Hot Springs, Arkansas
View of the booth Wayne and I shared beneath the Art Tent

Wayne, Stacy and I had a blast sitting side-by-side in our booths this year, both Friday night and all day Saturday. Though we’re weary to the bone tonight, we have grateful memories of what we experienced this weekend.

My artist friends Wayne White and Stacy Campbell, joined by the ones who inspire me always–Ron and Dian Darr

Ron and Dian Darr (like family to me since 1990) made the 4 1/2 hour drive from San Antonio to spend time with us Saturday. Not only did we get to hang out in the booth, we also got to “party hearty” at The Gallery at Redlands anniversary gig that night.

The first guests arriving
Sharing Some Words from the Heart
Jeffie Brewer’s “miniatures”

Palestine native sculptor Jeffie Brewer had a knockout weekend under the tent and in the gallery as he kicked off Art Tracks 2022. His miniatures have been sold like hot cakes out of the tent, and continued so the first night in the gallery. These steel miniatures sell for $150 each and they’re going fast!

Fabulous Cake and Cookies shaped like Jeffie sculptures!

The cake and cookies were a big hit, compliments of Lulu & Kakes: Cupcakery and Sweet Shoppe, as was the food provided by the chef at Queen Street Grille. There would be no excuse for anyone leaving the party hungry tonight.

A relaxed moment with Jeffie at the end of the day

As our partying neared its end late last night, the artists began to sag as well. Stacy Campbell left for her Bedford home after the party, and Wayne departed for Belgrade, Missouri shortly after finishing the tour with Greg Gunnels and me. Sandi and I still had plenty of packing, tidying and loading in front of us. We got home about 9:00 tonight. The pups wore themselves out leaping about the house when we staggered in, and now, like us, they are ready to crash for the night.

Patches
Paddington

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.

The Big Day

March 19, 2022
Completed “Bison in Snow”. 11 x 14″ framed $150

The mark of the brush is always a decision–an intellectualism painterliness, you might say, though the thinking is so heartfelt, so intense that it registers emotionally.

Jed Perl, New Art City: Manhattan at Mid-Century

In the reference above, Perl was discussing the work of Fairfield Porter. The comments about brush strokes reminded me of matters Henri Matisse and Robert Motherwell wrote concerning the directness of brushstrokes and the focused thought behind them. I’ve come to the realization that I have always painted by correction, often reworking my initial brushstrokes, washing all the spontaneity out of them. I believe that once we get this Dogwood Art & Music Festival behind us, that I’m going to take a close look at Chinese brush painting and see if I can trust myself to paint more freely, allowing the initial brush strokes to stand. I did some of that with my last bison watercolor (pictured above) and recall how much I loved that feeling of freedom and freshness in painting faster and not going back over some of the areas that were laid down initially. I love the festival atmosphere that envelops us presently, but always look forward to the days following when I can return to Studio Eidolons and engage in fresh work.

As I write this, the festival is still two hours from start time, and this chill time is a genuine luxury. The four-bedroom suite we lease on the second floor of The Redlands Hotel is full to capacity–Wayne White, Stacy Campbell, and the restaurant chef and his wife have brought a warm collegiate vibe to our lodging. Right now, we’re enjoying French-pressed coffee at the table, and I’m feeling like the scribe who took notes during Martin Luther’s “Table Talks” in the sixteenth century. Or maybe I could be a fly on the wall at New York’s Cedar Tavern in the days of the Abstract Expressionists and their nightly gatherings. I swear, there is nothing better than listening to artisitc spirits talking from the heart during leisure times such as this.

Martin Luther’s “Table Talk”

The festival today will run from 10 till 4:00. The streets will be filled with booths, food vendors and musicians. And the tent will continue its show with the twenty artists that were set up last night. At 6:00, Sandi and I invite anyone in the area to celbrate our one-year anniversary of ownership of The Gallery at Redlands. Sculptor Jeffie Brewer will be our honored guest and we have ordered up the finest food from our Queen Street Grille chef and desserts from the bakery at Old Magnolia Cafe down the street. A good number of our gallery artists will be on hand to greet you as well. We’ll begin at 6:00, and end when the last person leaves. Then who knows, another party late tonight? Come and find out.

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.

Palestine Dogwood Art & Music Festival this weekend

March 16, 2022
Just completed a 5 x 7″ longhorn, ready to frame

As time draws nearer, Sandi and I find ourselves proportinately busier. Yesterday was a blur; today promises the same. I’m now framing a new 5 x 7″ watercolor I completed fo a longhorn that photographer friend Dave Shultz photographed while out in the wild. My friend Wayne White is on his way to Arlington, Texas from Belgrade, Missouri. We expect him to arrive late this afternoon or this evening. We have a 48 x 48″ canvas that Stacy Campbell (who will join us under the VIP tent Friday and Saturday) painted of sculptor Jeffie Brewer, the one we are honoring in our Gallery reception Saturday night at 6:00. Jeffie is kicking off Art Tracks for 2022, having already installed thirteen enormous sculptures around town (and one in our gallery).

Emotions are running high for me. I’m looking forward to connecting with our gallery artists again, some of whom we haven’t seen since last year at this time. If you can make it to Palestine, the VIP event in the artists tent begins at 5:00 and lasts till at least 8:30 Friday night. Admission is $20 for the presale of art work, meeting celebrity artists William E. Young and Jeffie Brewer, and enjoying an open bar, heavy hors d’oeuvres, a wine-pull and other activities.

Saturday night beginning at 6:00 is our Gallery at Redlands reception. Jeffie will be our featured guest and we’re serving wine, food and desserts throughout the night. We’d love for you to come join in the fun.

Thanks for reading.

The Dawn

March 15, 2022
Early Morningin Studio Eidolons

In every painting there is all of your life coming back at you, not just one flower or piece of bone or sky. That’s just what you see at the end when the work is finished. But at the start you look at the empty canvas, you see your whole life looking back at you.

Georgia O’Keeffe

When a man walks into a room he brings his whole life with him.

Mad Men, “The Summer Man”

I woke this morning with the words above whispering to me in my waking consciousness. Reaching for my phone, I found a message from my friend Wayne White who will travel tomorrow to join us for this weekend’s Dogwood Art & Music Festival followed by The Gallery at Redlands anniversary reception. On Friday night, his work will be on display and sale under the VIP Artists Tent along with me, Stacy Campbell, Deanna Pickett Frye and the twenty selected artists in the show. Wayne’s words, along with photos he sent of last year’s inaugural show, conjured up all the wonderful moments I experienced as if in a dream.

Early morning writing
Slumbering Dogs

This is how we spend our mornings. Pure perfection, as far as I’m concerned. Coffee, books, journal, thoughts, serenity. A perfect way to open every day to new possibilities. The madness of the weekend will arrive soon. Gathering, packing, loading, traveling. And once we arrive in Palestine, the fast-paced action will be waiting to greet us. An enormous tent raised over the parking lot. Artists checking in and setting up. A festival and gallery reception to cap it all off. I’m excited, nervous, anxious, grateful–all of these thoughts and emotions rolled into a squirming package. Following are some of the photos Wayne sent me:

Stacy and Me Setting Up
Stacy Campbell happy in her Space
Deanna Pickett Frye, happy in her Space
Gallery at Redlands awaiting its 2021 Reception
Wade and Gail Thomas (who opened the Gallery in 2017) with Sandi and Me
Group Hug–Leigh, Stacy and Me at the Reception
Wyne and Stacy over Breakfast the Morning After

The memories are so thick this morning I have to brush them away from my face. I’m just aching to see all my friends in one place again this weekend.

Thanks for reading. Hope you can join us!

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.