Archive for the ‘art festival’ Category

Sunday Morning Musings from Studio Eidolons

April 11, 2021
Glad to be back in the Studio for some Quiet Restoration

. . . finding you were able to make something up; to create truly enough so that it made you happy to read it; and to do this every day you worked was something that gave a greater pleasure than any I had ever known.

Ernest Hemingway

Today is restoration day. Sandi and I received our second COVID vaccine shots yesterday and are happy to experience no unpleasant symptoms. We’ve just been on the go for several days and are glad now to stop for awhile.

I’ve resumed reading Carlos Baker’s Hemingway: The Writer as Artist. I love the quote above, and that general sentiment of the artist–creating something out of the void. My life has been enriched in recent years by a mix of painting and writing. Last weekend while in The Gallery at Redlands, I met an author who invited me to join their writers’ group that meets once a month. The next one won’t be until May, but I am already leaning forward with enthusiasm to gathering with these writers and finding ways to sharpen my own vision of what to do with my own practice.

My latest watercolor has laid dormant on my drafting table for twenty-four hours, and I intend today to give it my next push. I’ve gotten bogged down with the bricks and ghost signage, so I may decide to return to work on the trees awhile. We’ll see.

Planning today to return to the Ghost Sign watercolor

I look forward to participating in Artscape 2021 at the Dallas Aroboretum April 23-25. Last year was canceled due to COVID, but I understand that there will be 80+ artists participating this year. This festival has been one of the highlights of my annual art schedule before last year’s cancellations. I am excited to bring out quite a stack of framed watercolors that have not yet been seen by the public. I guess that’s one positive to address concerning the lost year during COVID.

A new Greeting Card for my Inventory

Hank Under Oklahoma Stars

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,

When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

Walt Whitman, “When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer”

Reclining against his backpack, Hank savored the warmth of the fire that neutralized the chill of the October night. He had left Turvey’s Corner just this morning, but thanks to a pair of truckers, had managed to put nearly twelve hours between himself and the town he just left. Finding wide open plains west of the town of Vinita, he now rested his stiff body and gazed in wonder at the millions of stars filling the deep night sky.

The back of the Greeting Card (blank inside)

I have allowed my greeting card inventory to dwindle over the past couple of years. In The Gallery at Redlands, as well as my festival tent, I sell 5 x 7″ cards (blank inside) with my artwork on front and a descriptive text on back. They sell for $5 each, five for $20, and come with the proper envelope. A protective plastic envelope encases the assembly. Above is an example of one of my newest ones printed last week. Materials just arrived to print 250 new cards, so I’m excited to create new editions as well as replenish the ones sold out. Above is an example of one of my newest cards; below is a photo of another spread out.

(Cards are blank inside)

I’m ready to paint again. 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.

Raising the Tent for Art Alley

March 18, 2021
Workers assembling framework for enormous tent housing tomorrow’s V.I.P. event

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter to the world if you paint or dance or write. The world can probably get by without the product of your efforts. But that is not the point. The point is what the process of following your creative impulses will do for you. It is clearly about process. Love the work, love the process.

Ian Roberts, Creative Authenticity

Stepping outside The Redlands Hotel early this morning, my heart quickened when I rounded the corner and saw the framework for an enormous tent under construction. Friday night 5-9:00 kicks off the V.I.P. event for Art Alley, the fine arts portion of Palestine’s annual Dogwood Festival. V.I.P. tickets sell for $20 per person and attendees will have advance opportunity to purchase the art that will be under the tent when the Festival opens Saturday and runs till 4:00. Four of our Twelve will be under the tent enjoying the crowd along with the live music, heavy hors d’oeuvres and beverages. Our gallery artists under the tent, along with myself, will be Deanna Pickett Frye, Cecilia Bramhall and Stacy Campbell. Stacy is already on her way today, pulling a trailer down the highway, excited for the event. Deanna and Cecilia, local artists, don’t have the long travel, but are ecstatic all the same. And I, well I am in the gallery along with Wayne and Sandi, still stitching up details.

Rising this morning and sitting down to coffee, I looked out my favorite window again, in suite 207 of The Redlands Hotel, through the fire escape and at the stately Carnegie Library across the street, and breathed a prayer of thanks for being included in this endeavor. After years of grinding out work as an artist and coming to terms with the quote above that the world will get along just fine without my contributions, I have always wondered why it is that I was finally recognized and invited to participate in ventures such as this. Palestine is such a nostalgic town with this historic hotel, the Union Pacific yards down the street, a Catholic Church next door that gleams like a pearl in the sun, and people so friendly and unpretentious. I’m grateful to be invited to participate in these community events, and happy that I have a place to display my art, and even happier now to be surrounded by so many creative colleagues. We The Twelve breathlessly await the gathering Saturday night when we open the doors to The Gallery at Redlands and begin the next chapter in our journey.

Sitting next to the window in suite 207 of The Redlands Hotel

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.

Relaxing in The Gallery at Redlands

March 17, 2021
Wayne & Sandi Relaxed in Conversation

An artist learns by repeated trial and error, by an almost moral instinct, to avoid the merely or the confusingly decorative . . . to say what he has to say with the most direct and economical means, to be true to his objects, to his materials, to his technique, and hence, by a correlated miracle, to himself.

Irwin Edman, Arts and the Man

Wednesday night, forty-eight hours before our Art Alley under the tent outside The Redlands Hotel, the three of us have checked into the Redlands, unloaded most of our freight into the gallery, and have decided to relax into the rest of this night and get an early start to work in the morning.

Wayne and I drove all day yesterday from Missouri back to Texas, arriving last night exhausted. Then the three of us pushed ourselves all day today, completing tasks, packing, loading and then making the two-hour journey to Palestine.

As I write this, I am enjoying Wayne and Sandi’s engaged conversation in their shared passion of horses. Both of them ride, and Wayne is a retired farrier. Wayne has brought a relaxed presence into the midst of our recent frenetic schedule. So much still to accomplish. Friday night will be Art Alley. Details are below. We hope you will attend.

We invite you to join us again Saturday night when we hold our Gallery at Redlands reception for The Twelve.

Wayne, Sandi and I were so worn out when we arrived that we almost went upstairs to decompress and not even enter the gallery till the morning. But somehow we decided to come on in, turn on all the lights and sit surrounded by all this new art and just relax awhile and enjoy good conversation. Soon a man entered the gallery and began perusing the exhibit with intense enthusiasm. He visited with me a great deal in front of one of my watercolors of a defunct fireworks stand. As it turns out, his first real business venture involved owning a string of fireworks stands, and now, decades later, he was glad to stand before a painting and remember. I felt a kinship with him immediately as we both discussed how important it was for us to remember our formative past with gratitude and as much detail as possible. It now looks as though I will painting another fireworks stand in my future, and I’m thankful when someone else puts a significant idea in front of me like this. How fortunate that we chose to spend some time in the gallery this evening.

It’s been an exhausting but terrific day. I hope I can keep up the pace and send out daily reports on what we’re doing here in Palestine. Wayne, Sandi and I won’t be departing this place till Sunday. Tomorrow, Stacy Campbell comes down to join us and stay through the weekend. Lorraine McFarland is flying in day-after-tomorrow. The Twelve are beginning to gather and I feel enthusiasm rising. What a lovely world is being woven as we approach this weekend.

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.

Anticipation Rising: Thursday night working in The Gallery at Redlands

March 11, 2021
One-and-a-Half Weeks before we Open with our Meet the Twelve Reception

Enter The Twelve

We are The Twelve.

Ruminating, fashioning, presenting,

Offering creations, gifts to our brothers and sisters.

Pondering our world, we re-shape,  we re-cut, we re-color,

Inviting prismatic light to reach diverse eyes.

We are The Twelve.

In quiet studios we dream, we feel, we cry.

We say Yes! to the invitation to create.

Our creator fashioned us in His image,

The Imago Dei, the faculty to create.

We are The Twelve.

Our paintings, pottery, photographs and sculpture weave a tapestry

Of collective lives, tightly woven fellowship of belief.

We are The Twelve.

Converging on The Gallery at Redlands, we join in chorus

To celebrate lives immersed in the arts,

Adhering to words of our patron Saint Matthew:

Art still has truth.

Take refuge there.

We are The Twelve.

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Sandi and I gratefully received word that our initial COVID vaccines are scheduled for Saturday morning. Thus, we’re working in The Gallery at Redlands during mid-week. On Sunday I’ll be heading to Missouri to pick up Lorraine McFarland’s pastels in Rolla (she will fly to Palestine for the opening of our gallery, and forunately will not have to pack her artwork onto the plane). After Lorraine, I’ll head to Bonne Terre, Missouri to pick up Wayne White (alias “Hank”) and his photography, and together we’ll return to Texas. We have plenty of conversational catching up to do.

We earnestly hope you will be able to join us for the celebrations next weekend. Friday March 19 from 5-9 is the VIP reception for Art Alley. Eight artists have been selected to display and sell their work under a large tent with ten-foot spaces between each booth to comply with COVID protocol. Tickets are $20 per person and are required for attendance which will feature exhibits, heavy hors d’oeuvres, alcoholic beverages and live music. Four of our Twelve artists will be featured in this event.

Saturday night March 20 from 7-9 will feature our Meet the Artists reception for The Twelve. The conversations online between artists who’ve never met before has been so gratifying to read. Art lovers who read the blog and Facebook also have reached out with affirming words of praise to this group of artistic spirits. Sandi and I cannot wait to spend a couple of days with them as they begin arriving in Palestine.

Meanwhile, details continue to arise that must be addressed. The hour is drawing late, so I will close this and say 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.

Meet Wayne White (alias Hank!), One of The Twelve

March 8, 2021
Photograph developed onto glass 7.2 x 9.6″ comes with stand or can be hung on wall $110

(I have to get this out of the way, quickly!)–Wayne White, my school pal since second grade, has been the inspiration for my “Hank” series of paintings and stories I hope to publish in a book titled Turvey’s Corner 63050. Readers of my blog have already seen the stories and watercolors, but the paintings have not been on public view. When we open The Gallery at Redlands with our show of The Twelve on March 20 (7-9 pm), four of the paintings will be on view, and Wayne will be present, not as my mascot, but as a photographer/artist in his own right. In a few days I’ll depart for St. Louis to pick up him along with his work, and we’ll return together for the opening.

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Since the second grade, Wayne and I were in classes together and in friendly competition with each other and a third fellow, Glen Land. In drawing and painting we were always eyeing each other’s work and vying for first place in competitions and praise from our teachers. I believe I can safely say we were in a tight three-way tie. But when it came to athletics, there was no competition; Wayne was the premier athlete in every sport.

Once high school arrived, Wayne was in sharp demand for basketball, baseball and track. All the coaches wanted a piece of him, and he would eventually land the captaincy in varsity basketball. In Art I, we shared a jerk of a teacher (this story is parallel with what we published earlier with readers in our introduction to Cecilia Bramhall, another member of The Twelve). Early in the ninth grade, the art teacher, looking over Wayne’s work, said “Better stick with track.” Wayne was shattered, dropped out of art and focused his entire high school career on sports. At that point we went our separate ways and didn’t find each other again until Facebook came on the scene.

Though dropping out of formal art classes, Wayne was never finished with art itself. He laughs today at his memories of developing 110 Fuji film, reading photography magazines, and trying to understand the dynamics of framing photographs as works of art. In his everyday life, he looked at the world around, constantly musing, “How can I turn that scene into a work of art?” In 1976, Wayne’s art world expanded with his purchase of a 35mm camera, and then when the digital age arrived, he finally accepted it (reluctantly, he says, referring to himself as “old school”).

We can accurately describe Wayne as a Renaissance man, with an imagination that fuels several pursuits in his personal life. He has recently retired from work as a farrier, though he still has his own horses and frequently focuses his blacksmithing skills, shaping and fashioning iron. Wayne is also an avid fly-fisherman, freqently kayaking down the various rivers in his county south of St. Louis. I also like to call him the Cowboy Cook. Wayne is a master of Dutch ovens and cowboy coffee. Everytime he cooks for us on camping trips, I am flabbergasted at how he keeps several Dutch ovens going simultaneously along with a coffee pot hanging over the fire, and all the food items come out at the same time, steaming hot on the plate! His camping skills also amaze me; I’ve never seen him use a match or lighter to start a fire for cooking. He is strictly a flint-and-steel igniter. I am excited, just thinking about our next time setting up tents and camping alongside a stream somewhere. But both of us are much more excited to attend the opening of our gallery on the night of March 20. Please come and meet Wayne and see his excellent work.

Wayne is also a successful blogger. You can read his musings at https://ramblingsofafarrier.com/

Thanks for reading.

Meet Artist Deanna E. Pickett Frye, member of The Twelve

February 24, 2021
Daisies 48×48″ oil on canvas $1700

The Gallery at Redlands is proud to welcome Deanna Pickett Frye, an artist and professor at Trinity Valley Community College. Deanna has been teaching art since 2001 and loves to share her passion for art with those around her. She received her BFA in Painting and Art Education from the University of North Texas and earned her Masters degree from the New Hampshire Institute of Art.

Artist Statement

I make art because I like the creating process and ultimately the fulfillment of completion. I’ve always been drawn to environments that are enticing and bold, often relating to mid-century design and or forms found in nature. I often bounce back and forth from painting intuitive abstracted compositions to realism.

This specific series of large flowers on canvas focuses on beauty found at our feet. Throughout the pandemic, I found myself spending more time in my garden and enjoying the simplicity of nature. Therefore, I decided to concentrate on the elegance of botanicals. These works are intended to envelop the viewer with excitement through bold color and scale.

My art often focuses on patterns and repetition as related to paths followed through life, which mimics repetitions and cycles found in the blooms of a flower. I hope to paint works whose shapes, colors, and textures attract from afar then drawing the viewer near for a richer experience with intricate details.

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Deanna’s work will be featured at the Gallery at Redlands when we open our new show Saturday, March 20 at 7 p.m. We hope you will come meet her when we hold our Meet the Artists event.

Hank is Coming to Palestine, Texas

February 9, 2021
Early Sketch of Hank from Turvey’s Corner

Reclining against his backpack, Hank savored the warmth of the fire that neutralized the chill of the October night. He had left Turvey’s Corner just this morning, but thanks to a pair of truckers, had managed to put nearly twelve hours between himself and the town he just left. Finding wide open plains west of Vinita, Oklahoma, he now rested his stiff body and gazed in wonder at the millions of stars filling the deep night sky.

David Tripp, Turvey’s Corner 63050

Wayne White, fellow blogger and my friend since second grade, inspired me a year ago to begin writing a series of stories to support my long-term project of a watercolor series titled “Turvey’s Corner.” I hope one day this will appear as a published book. Turvey’s Corner is a fictitious town situated in the four-mile gap along U. S. Highway 30 between High Ridge and House Springs, Missouri where Wayne and I grew up. The past year’s cycle of stories and paintings have been featured in my blog posts, but none of the paintings have gone public to date. That will change on March 20, when The Gallery at Redlands opens under the new ownership of Sandi and me.

Not only will five of the paintings debut in the opening of the Gallery; Wayne White (alias Hank) will travel from Missouri to attend the opening, posting his own photography for first time public viewing. Among that weekend’s scheduled Dogwood Festival events, Wayne and I are planning a gallery talk to share the Turvey’s Corner vision. More details will follow in future blog posts. Meanwhile, I offer up my salute to Wayne and his role in giving birth to the Hank saga.

Wayne and I were competitive artists throughout our school years. With his superb athleticism, he excelled in sports throughout high school and later turned to photography as his avocation. Going our separate ways after high school graduation, we found each other later in life, thanks to Facebook. Wayne lives in rural Missouri, south of St. Louis and we get together up there several times a year for camping and fishing. In March he will come to Texas where we will resume our camping and fishing adventures, and participate in The Gallery at Redlands festivities opening to coincide with the Dogwood Festival March 19-20.

Wayne’s selfie that inspired the painting and stories
Hank Under the Stars. Framed 16(h) x 11(w)”. $500

We are still in the planning stages, but will update you as the event approaches. Our excitement grows as the time draws nearer.

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.

Painting on a Saturday Night

October 17, 2020
Getting Lost in the Myriad of Windows!

My thrill on this Saturday was helping an emerging artist friend set up for her first art festival in downtown Arlington. Two other seasoned artists joined Sandi and me in helping her set up and take down the booth. With so many hands in the mix, the booth and artwork was up in a snap, and came down at night even faster.

Welcome Stacy Campbell to the Art Market!

Stacy’s inaugural festival event proved a success with her landing a number of commissions. She’s already looking forward to the next one.

Finding myself tucked into the quiet of our home on a Saturday night, I’m pleased to spend quality time now in Studio Eidolons. Jazz music at night puts me in the mood to paint, and though I’m mired in the details of all those flatiron windows, I’m actually having a serene time. The pups have been in and out of the studio all evening, and Sandi has settled into a good book. All is serene here.

My goal tomorrow is to have all the windows on the facade completely finished. I truly believe the painting will move along considerably faster once they are in place. It would have been faster merely to paint every single window space black, but in the photo I took, something can be seen in the interior of each one, and it is not always the same pattern. I’m convinced that treating each of them in its individual appearance will pay dividends to the overall look of the painting.

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 Next Show Draws Near

March 11, 2020
Return to Ransom Canyon

To be an artist is to live suspended above the abyss between recognition and artistic value, never quite knowing whether your art will land on either bank, or straddle both, or be swallowed by the fathomless pit of obscurity. We never know how our work stirs another mind or touches another heart, how it tenons into the mortise of the world.

In our own culture, obsessed with celebrity and panicked for instant approval, what begins as creative work too often ends up as flotsam on the stream of ego-gratification — the countless counterfeit crowns that come in the form of retweets and likes and best-seller lists, unmoored from any real measure of artistic value and longevity. How, then, is an artist to live with that sacred, terrifying uncertainty with which all creative work enters the world, and go on making art?

The quote above I have lifted from an older post of Maria Popova’s “Brain Pickings” dated March 24, 2019. She nourishes my soul twice a week and I seldom miss reading her extended meditations. This praticular one came on a good day: I am kicking into a higher gear because I have an art festival in a little over a week. And though I love making art, I cannot help wondering while engaged in this enterprise whether or not the work is truly worthy. I have little trouble selling my pieces and for that I am eternally grateful. Yet still I muse over the quality of the art.

Palestine, Texas will kick off its annual Dogwood Festival Friday night March 20 with a V.I.P. event under the big tent across the street from The Redlands Hotel. I have been included among the artists selected to exhibit under the tent that night and all the next day. When my first spring festival rolls up on the calendar, I scramble to frame and package all the work I have created throughout the winter season. Currently I have six new paintings framed and ready that have not been offered for public view. In addition to this, I have revised and re-branded a select number of my greeting cards that I sell at events.

In the midst of this scramble to create and market new art, the ideas expressed in Popova’s quote do not cease moving within me. In fact, this morning’s scene at my writing table appeared quiet and serene. But there was nevertheless a subterranean surge of words, images and ideas flowing beneath the outward scene. The readings from N. Scott Momaday only get better, and last night I happened upon a copy of his House Made of Dawn, the first novel to earn the Pulitzer Prize for a Native American. This literary work is gripping from the very first page, and I am now about fifty pages into it. At the same time, I am continuing my sojourn through Momaday’s The Man Made of Words.

After several hours of framing, packaging, editing greeting cards and reading Momaday, the sun was high enough and temperatures reached the sixties. I had the itch to return to Ransom Canyon and begin a fourth work in plein air.

Beginning with a bluff on the left
Stopping with the outdoor work and preparing sketches for the right portion

I found the canyon quiet and peaceful despite the multitude of houses scattered over the bluffs. After working about an hour, I had done enough to the left side of the composition to shut down and head back to the house. I have several ideas for Native American subjects to place on the right side of the composition, and that is my next step. Meanwhile I have stopped at a neighborhood Starbucks for refreshment, Wi-Fi, reading and blogging.

Thanks for reading. Please check out my website at www.davidtrippart.com.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

Slowing Down and Savoring the Gift

December 9, 2019

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Precious Monday Morning Silence

The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

With overwhelming gratitude, I entered my suite at the Redlands Hotel last night after breaking down the weekend Christmas Show, loading, then driving two hours back to Palestine from Dallas. Deciding not to set an alarm, I slept in this morning, but woke from dreams so distressing that it took nearly an hour of wandering around the suite before I could shake the troubles loose and return to my comfort zone, pictured above.

At that moment, I changed my plans of departing by noon for my home. Instead, I am spending the entire day in the Gallery at Redlands, taking my time with the unloading of the Jeep and restocking the gallery, and making sure I give plenty of time for thanksgiving and reflection over the warm weekend I experienced at the Randy Brodnax and Friends Christmas Show at the Sons of Hermann Hall. This is my third year joining this assembly of twenty-or-so artists,  and their love has been so affirming for me during the holiday season. My pulse has finally slowed down, and I am reading quality material and thinking good thoughts. I’m glad the troubling dreams prompted me to slow down, linger, and enjoy this gift of life.

I posted the Emerson quote above because it reminds me of something I had been taught in earlier years about the thought of Immanuel Kant, the Prussian philosopher who crowned the Age of the Enlightenment. He wrote volumes about the way in which our internal mind organizes external stimuli. As an artist, I will never tire of studying this. While sitting through the weekend show, I continued my reading from Sir Joshua Reynolds, and yesterday came across this same idea of the artist organizing the data received from the world:

My notion of nature comprehends not only the forms which nature produces, but also the nature and internal fabrick and organization, as I may call it, of the human mind and imagination.

These words were delivered December 10, 1776. Tomorrow will mark the 243rd anniversary of their delivery into our intellectual atmosphere. This morning, refreshing these words in my journal, I decided to write a blog to discuss my core values regarding the making of art. As I present this, I want the reader to know that I am not trying to tell others how they should approach art. I love the diversity, the expansive constellation of creative spirits that comprise the artist network, and will never cease loving to hear of their perspectives. So, if you would like to respond to this blog, please let me know about your approach to art. I listen, and learn from others. Tell me how you approach this enterprise.

I shall begin by saying that my chief inspiration for art comes from my reading, listening to YouTube lectures, and observing objects with my eye. Though I gladly teach workshops, I don’t enroll in them to learn the techniques of others. At my age of sixty-five, I have already added a number of tools to my toolbox, and still add new ones as I discover them in my own laboratory, or hear from an artistic friend, or read of some new tool. But I do not focus on the tools of the trade nearly as much as I do the philosophical framework of art in the abstract. Hence, my ideas come from reading broadly, and I delight in the essay, the biography, poetry, history, philosophy, theology–all of these areas add contours and accents to what I am assembling.

At my age, I have also cut back severely on competition. Entering competitions requires money and following rules that sometimes are not my own. I don’t like an organization dictating to me the specifications of framing, or telling me that if I use India Ink (which I have done with two of the last one hundred paintings), that it must be less than a certain percentage of the surface area. I have also grown tired of researching the judge to find out what genre s/he prefers when handing out awards. And finally, I have never once sold a painting hanging in a competition, though I paid out money to enter and frame it.

Which leads to the next item: I am not pursuing “signature status” of any particular watercolor society. I already have a doctorate, and have never included Ph.D. in my signature. So why would I want to put initials following my signature to signify I have “status” with a professional watercolor agency?

Which leads to the next item: At my age, I no longer worry over my resume. I have deactivated my status with Linked In because I am not seeking a job. I am retired. I am no longer thirty years old. I have a very lengthy resume, and was required to update it for the university once a year, but now I am not at a university, and frankly, I never opened and read my resume unless I was required to update and send it somewhere. For me personally, resumes are boring. I never read them. Ever. Because I am not on some hiring board that is required to evaluate someone else’s credentials.

OK. So I have poured out some paragraphs of what I am not. Now, what am I exactly? This is the more difficult part of my confession. To start with, I am still a dreamer. I still have the fascination I had when I was four years old, standing in my yard alone on a breezy day, feeling caressed by the world, feeling observed while I was observing, and wanting in some way to respond to that Presence. That little boy is still in me, and I still tremble before the Presence.

My life is still a narrative, from one moment to the next, on any typical day. A story is always emerging from me, and the people who surround me continually pour stories into my imagination. Words they speak frequently put images in my head for paintings. Paintings are also revealed to me by the landscape, and by objects. My brain is drained from exhaustion when I spend hours in a museum, an antique store, a bookstore, or a lengthy walk through a different neighborhood. Everything I encounter puts out a call to create a drawing or painting.

Throughout my days, I sense a continual internal dialogue with other creative spirits who have long ago departed this planet–Edward Hopper, Andrew Wyeth, N. C. Wyeth, Paul Tillich, Robert Motherwell, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau. I continually return to their written and visual works because they created them to communicate with others, and I am honored to be counted among their listeners. And every time I complete something I feel is worthy, I breathe a prayer of thanks to them for their continued encouragement.

Though I have slowed down today, my art and furniture are not going to unload themselves, so I suppose the time has come to begin the task of re-organizing the gallery and tending to business affairs that need to be addressed today. But thank you for taking the time to read me, and please, if you have ideas you wish to share, I would love to read them, and I am certain many of my readers would as well.

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Thanks again for reading.

Shultz reduced

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.