We had to rise at 5:00 this morning if we hoped to be showered, dressed, fed, and arrive at our Palestine gallery by 9:00. Fortunately for me, I managed to squeeze out a little time to read and settle down before commencing our two-hour road trip.
Seated at my drafting table, I peered out the window into a dark, pre-dawn suburban landscape and decided to open a couple of books for some quiet, leisurely reading. How amazing, the conversation springing up between these two disparate authors . . .
The twenty-first century is full of people who are full of themselves. A half-hour’s trawl through the online ocean of blogs, tweets, tubes, spaces, faces, pages, and pods brings up thousands of individuals fascinated by their own personalities and shouting for attention.
Sarah Bakewell, How to Live, or A Life of Montaigne
In Manhattan, my apartment is one set of lights amid millions. In the galaxy, Manhattan is just a sprinkling of lights on something known as planet Earth. . . . Seated at my writing desk, looking out at the glittering lights, I strive for a sense of optimism, a feeling that as small as I am, what I am doing still matters in the scheme of things.
Julia Cameron, Finding Water: The Art of Perseverance
From the time I began posting on social media, years ago, I was conscious of the tension between self-absorption and self-abegnation. It hasn’t gotten any easier; I still find myself second-guessing what I write before sending it up the flagpole for others to read. I was happy to read this pair of writers during this morning’s darkness. I thought about their statements nearly the entire two-hour drive down here.
As soon as we hit the gallery, I had to shift into high gear and get my work back up on the walls and easels. Recent festivals and workshops resulted in me removing most of my work from this venue, and I decided it was time for me to emerge once again in the Palestine community. Below are most of the watercolors I hung today, and plan to keep in place for a few weeks . . .
“Tasting the Winter Mist”
“Utah Bison Tranquility”
“Fishing Solitude”
“Snow-Bound”
“Lubbock Caboose at Rest”
“Snow Bison”
“Crosby’s Dream”
Today is the April Art Walk for Palestine, sponsored by the Dogwood Art Council. Gallery traffic has been heavier than normal, which is a good thing. It also makes it difficult to blog (smiling).
I forced a wedge into my calendar to open a space of four days to return to St. Louis and visit family. Lone Elk Park provided me an opportunity to photograph more bison up close for future watercolor studies. Though the herd yielded more pics, I still find the solo bison most engaging to my eye.
This is the first time I’ve been able to visit my Dad’s burial site since we held his services in August. I love the layout of Jefferson Army Barracks, especially the deer that visit the thousands that have been laid to rest.
I still think of Dad every day and miss him, but remain deeply grateful for the long history of memories he made.
The art business will continue in full swing when I return to Texas. This weekend we are hosting Tyler photographer C. Michael Rogers for a Gallery Talk Friday night at 7:00. On Saturday, a large exhibit of his photographs will be in The Gallery at Redlands and in the hotel lobby from 2 till 8:00 during the annual Wine Swirl event.
A man’s got to have a philosophy of life, why he works, and that’s mine. You get older and you wonder why you do what you do.
Philip Roth, Letting Go
I love the dark and rainy cold morning that greeted us today. Lighting my Dad’s lantern, I cozied into Studio Eidolons and faced a stack of work that had piled up on me in recent days.
This evening, Studio 48 will participate in the Gracie Lane Boutique’s VIP shopping event from 6-8:00. Tickets must be pre-purchased to attend (on their website, $45). All kinds of exciting offerings are being made. I’ve just had my “Snow Bison” watercolor framed and will put it on display for the first time. It is priced at $450 and is 14 x 18″ in size. I’ll also be at my easel working on a watercolor tonight during the event. If you’re in the neighborhood, please drop in, say Hello, and enjoy the shopping.
Art Walk is at high tide. Plenty of people coursing through the hotel & gallery. I wanted to take a moment and post a pair of watercolors that are near their finish.
I do notpropose to write an ode to dejection, but to brag as lustily as chanticleer in the morning standing on his roost, if only to wake my neighbors up.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden
And so I sit in the glow of this dining room floor lamp in Room 207 of the Redlands Hotel, already with my pulse slowing down and my soul breathing a word of thanks for another day to live, to dream, to make art.
It was not my plan to wake up at 4 a.m., but now I am happy to be upright, and proud to own a gallery downstairs. I lean forward in anticipation of patrons arriving in five hours to enjoy a festive brunch in the Queen Street Grille across the lobby from our gallery. Artists and musicians will be stationed throughout downtown from 10-3:00 today for the Dogwood Art Council’s monthly Art Walk.
And I will be cheerfully at work in the Gallery at Redlands, seeing if I can complete this snowy bison watercolor.
Don’tthink about making art. Just get it done. Let everyone else decide whether it’s good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they’re deciding, make even more art.
Andy Warhol
After a month’s absence, it feels good to be back in The Gallery at Redlands. And even better to have heart-to-heart talks with residents I’ve missed desperately. One of my gallery artists confided this morning that she feels as lost as I when it comes to deciding what to do next, creatively. I’ve lived long enough that I’m no longer surprised by dry spells. Nor discouraged. The creative winds will blow, and when they do, we’ll be ready. Artists make art because it is in them, and we cannot step back for very long. I’m grateful for the Warhol quote, because too often I wonder over whether or not I am making something that anybody out there would want to purchase. The only thing we can do is continue to turn the crank, and believe that what we do has quality.
My work area in the Gallery
I enjoyed our watercolor class today as we painted a bison. My demo is nearly complete, and I intend to do some more work on it tonight before we close at 9:00
Thusthe artists–in which term I hereafter include the poets, musicians, dramatists, plastic artists, as well as saints–are a “dew” line, to use McLuhan’s phrase; they give us a “distant early warning” of what is happening to our culture.
Rollo May, The Courage to Create
I’m much happier and relieved to report that today for the first time Dad was lucid, feeding himself, and totally alert to his surroundings. It was such a joy just to sit next to him and feel the connection of genuine communication. It wasn’t long before he became drowsy and needed sleep, so I left, but left lighter and happier. I look more forward now to tomorrow.
I opened Rollo May, trusting that this dear sage would speak to my deepest needs. And he didn’t disappoint. Before I finished a chapter in this volume, I took out my sketchbook and began sketching quickly with a glad heart. I don’t know that anything I create could ever serve as a “dew line” for our society, but I can say with clear authenticity that making art does something special to me. At this late age, art has become more important to my day-to-day living than any other task I’ve been trained to perform.
Weare called upon to do something new, to confront a no man’s land, to push into a forest where there are no well-worn paths and from which no one has returned to guide us. This is what the existentialists call the anxiety of nothingness. To live into the future means to leap into the unknown, and this requires a degree of courage for which there is no immediate precedent and which few people realize
Rollo May, The Courage to Create
I received the call last Thursday. Dad was being rushed by ambulance to downtown St. Louis for emergency vascular surgery. He is 94 years old. I crumpled. Then I packed a suitcase and items I felt I would need, and began my drive to St. Louis. At age 69, I don’t possess the energy for these long road trips that I used to know. Leaving Arlington, Texas after 3 p.m., I found myself sleepy in Strafford, Missouri by 11, and pulled over at a truck stop parking lot to sleep behind the wheel for three hours. Then on to St. Louis, arriving around 6 and looking for a 24-hour restaurant for breakfast. My sister phoned around 8 and I felt comfortable going to her house where they graciously provided me a guest room. Showered and dressed, I arrived at the hospital in the late morning to find my dad in the ICU, looking small, crumpled and helpless. Now it is Monday, late. Dad is in a private room, still speaking incoherently (this is expected from the anesthetic effects on the elderly). But today he fed himself, requiring no assistance, so I found something on which to plant hope.
Tonight, sitting up in bed reading, waiting for sleep, I came across the Rollo May observation posted above. I found it timely. I know all too well the existentialist anxieties spawned by uncertain futures. The past few days have beaten me down, with twice a day travels downtown to the hospital and twice a day visits to my childhood home to check on and comfort my mom the best I can. By the time I get back to my sister’s house at night I am wrung out like a moldy sponge, and I’ve had difficulty beating back despair. My home is far away, my family, my gallery, my circle of friends. And I needed someone like Rollo May to encourage me to push forward into the abyss and do what I know how to do.
Tonight I went ahead and laid out my plans for the four watercolor classes I’ve scheduled for the rest of this month. If any of you, my readers, wish to participate in any of these classes, please notify me through this blog, or my phone (817) 821-8702, or email dmtripp2000@yahoo.com.
My calendar is as follows:
Wednesday, May 10, 1-4:00–painting the bison in the snow at Studio 48, 4720 S. Cooper, Arlington, Texas, in the Gracie Lane Boutique building.
Saturday, May 13, 1-4:00–painting the bomber fishing lure at Gallery at Redlands, 400 N. Queen St., Palestine, Texas.
Saturday, May 20, 1-4:00–painting the Oxbow Bakery, Gallery at Redlands
Saturday, May 27, 1-4:00–painting the bison in the snow, Gallery at Redlands.
Vintage Bomber lure lurking in the depths
Palestine’s historic Oxbow Bakery
Bison in the snow
Making art is the only way I know how to push into the uncertain future and assert myself in the face of the abyss. In a way beyond describing, I have found peace tonight, and invite kindred spirits to join me in these creative activities that lie ahead.
I’m looking forward to seeing Dad again in the morning, and hoping to see more progress. My thanks to all of you for the notes of encouragement you have sent my way.
Jason Jones photograph of me in today’s edition of The Palestine Herald
We hit the ground running upon arrival in Palestine today. Our monthly Art Walk is Saturday, 10-3:00, and I’ll be teaching a watercolor class 12-2:00, and offer an additional one if needed, 5-7:00 for the same price. We’ll paint a colorful bison in our two-hour exercise. All materials are provided. Cost is $35. Students and seniors over age 55 will pay $30. I’m posting the bison below, followed by the article appearing in today’s Palestine Herald. My genuine thanks goes out to editor Penny Lynn Webb, always a supportive friend of the arts, and reporter Jason Jones who interviewed me a few days ago.
Our subject for the watercolor class
The Downtown Art Walk will once again feature painting classes during its monthly event this weekend. Classes were added to the event in August and the Dogwood Art Council is excited to continue the instructional series.
The featured instructor for October is renowned watercolor artist David Tripp of Recollections 54. He will instruct classes starting at noon on Saturday, Oct. 1 in the Redlands Hotel conference room.
Tripp, a native Missourian, grew up in St. Louis and studied art in rural northeast Missouri while earning his bachelor’s degree from Truman State University.
“I’ve been drawing since I could hold a pencil,” Tripp said. “I was a terrible student and had zero interest in school, but my art earned me a full ride at Truman State University in Kirksville, Missouri. Somehow during that time, I woke up intellectually.”
Tripp went on to earn his Masters and Doctorate before spending the next three decades teaching high school and college. Since retiring he has focused full time on art.
Tripp’s watercolors feature small-town American sights fading from our landscape, but not our memories.
“I like to focus my art on American nostalgia,” Tripp said. “I find inspiration in relics from the past that are still standing. Old architecture especially seems to invoke an emotional response.”
Tripp has been the owner of The Gallery at Redlands since 2021 and splits his time between Palestine and his home in Arlington every week.
The Art Walk takes place from 10 a.m. until 3 p.m., but the class will be from noon until 2 p.m. Cost is $35 per person or $30 for students and seniors age 55 and above.
“We’ll be watercoloring an 8 x10 bison in bright colors, ‘Southwest Art’ style,” Tripp said. “All materials will be provided.”
Seats must be reserved in advance by calling David Tripp at 817-821-8702 or emailing dmtripp2000@yahoo.com. Seats are still available and all major credit cards are accepted.
The Redlands Hotel is located at 400 N. Queen St. in Palestine. For more information call 903-922-5794 or visit www.dogwoodartscouncil.com.
First Morning at Stone Creek Ranch. Mountain Home, Arkansas
“Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for people to dwell together in unity”
Psalm 133:1
The quiet of Studio Eidolons on a Sunday evening grants me this opportunity for silence and grateful remembrance for all the events of the past couple of weeks that time didn’t afford for recording and posting (wi-fi was also nil). My experience of making art with six precious souls who showed such warmth and reception to others filled me with feelings of beatification. Several times I heard remarks such as “doesn’t this beat sitting at home watching cable news?” Someone else responded, “At least artists are not hurting anybody or spouting negative remarks.” We truly felt the warmth of dwelling together in unity.
Over a year ago, I was booked to teach this watercolor workshop at the Women Artist Retreat. The day finally arrived September 7, and the picture above shows the lovely Stone Creek Ranch with the resplendent sunrise that filled me with gladness.
Lovely morning light
As I awaited the arrival of twelve artists and the other instructor (six students apiece for oil and watercolor classes), I strolled the grounds to seek out plein air subjects. It didn’t take long for me to select the one above, particularly because the separation of warm sun and cool shadows was equally attractive during the “golden hours” of morning and evening.
I found oil painter Sandy Arnault to be a genuine delight, and regret that I could not attend her classes, especially when I witnessed her demo the first evening. She will soon travel to Kentucky to pursue her equine studies. Her oil paintings of horses are superb, and she is still fervently studying this craft.
Everyone immediately set to work
It seems that every workshop has its “firsts”. This one was no different. My tenth-grade art teacher, Mr. Leo Hoeh, an ardent watercolorist, taught us to stretch watercolor paper on canvas stretchers, explaining that the paper would dry more quickly than if we used watercolor blocks or taped the paper to a board. When I returned to making art in my mid-thirties, I resumed this practice, assuming all watercolorists did. Boy, was I wrong. Every class I teach and every demo I perform before watercolor audiences brings surprise from everyone. They ask me where in the world I came up with such an idea.
I prefer 90-lb. D’Arches paper, not only because it dries the quickest, but because it is the least expensive, and proves to be a quality, sturdy surface that withstands all my abuse of masquing and scraping. So what was my “first” this time? That every single student, upon watching my demonstration, immediately got out her tools and began stretching one, two, and three surfaces for her own use, before the first class even got underway. Walking around, watching them work with such focus, brought back warm recollections of those (rare) moments in public school when an entire high school art class would enthusiastically pursue a new task.
First Session Underway
The first day scheduled a pair of three-hour sessions. I surprised the students when I presented my plan for them to create two 8 x 10″ watercolors by day’s end. Every single student completed that task. The paintings featured a lone bison and a cowboy seated under the stars, leaning back against his backpack. Throughout the day, we moved back and forth between the two works, allowing one to dry while picking up the other. It was amusing, watching the traffic flow out into the sunlit ranchland to lay paintings out to dry, and return to resume the other painting, then repeat the process. This assured that no one would overwork a watercolor by overpainting it while it was still wet. It also allowed them continually to put fresh eyes on a resumed piece that had been out of sight drying in the sun for 15-to-20 minutes. Without fail, each student presented a pair of completed, fresh watercolors by the end of the day.
All the ladies enjoyed Shiner, our studio assistant
Throughout the day, we were accompanied by an eighteen-year-old Siamese cat, the only Siamese that I have ever found to be affectionate and cuddly. The little fellow always sat in the chair next to me when I worked alone in the studio, often climbing on the table to shove his face into my hands and nuzzle my wrists and arms while I worked. I could never express adequately the gladness I felt at the women’s conversations while painting. Oftentimes, there would be silence for several minutes as everyone focused on the work before her. But then the comments would resume, and all of it was positive, engaging, and affirming. The bonding experience was one I’ll never stop recalling.
Plein Air Pleasure
The second day was plein air. As usual, several students admitted they had never tried it, had always felt too intimidated. I tried to take the sting out of it by reminding them that plein air was more about sketching, experimenting, information-gathering; many times our plein air pieces do not result in completed, frameable paintings. They help us turn corners, open new chapters. I gave about a five-minute talk, covering these points, and I could sense the enthusiasm beginning to percolate. And of course, they spread out over the acreage, forcing me to walk many, many steps in order to see their work and offer instruction. I’m glad my smart phone was able to record my steps; I went far beyond my quota on that day.
My own Plein Air Setup
My own Plein Air Experiment
Three Meals a Day
I doubt that anyone looks forward to mealtime more than I. But dining with this crowd was superb! Again, the conversations, the laughter, and oh, the jokes! But as I wrote earlier–artists don’t hurt people. The togetherness was great as was the food.
Dana Rowell Johnson, our Chef Extraordinaire, oil painter and leader
Debby Lively, our watercolorist and leader
Dana and Debby not only pulled together this complex event; they also participated in the classes, so every artist had the privilege of making art alongside a leader. Their confidence and positive attitudes kept the event lively and light-hearted. I’m very grateful to both of them for pulling off such a successful event.
And of course, Shiner
I cannot close out this blog without one last reference to Shiner, my companion in organizing and setting up our watercolor studio. He had no problem spreading his love around to all the participants, and was never bereft of attention and affection. I miss him (but don’t tell my dogs).
My notes for the plein air session
Today, while finally unpacking my gear, I came across this napkin on which I jotted my talking points for the plein air session on the second day. I decided not to throw it away, but keep it among my memorabilia on the shelves here in my Studio Eidolons. Every time I pass by this shelf I’ll be reminded of those special moments spent at the Women Artist Retreat.
Yes, today has definitely been an afterglow. My love goes out to the women artists of this retreat that I will never forget.
Recollections 54 The Art of David Tripp 