Posts Tagged ‘David Tripp artist’

Tommy Thompson–New Work at The Gallery at Redlands

July 2, 2021
Hot Cats Jam, 19 x 22″ framed giclee print $175

Fort Worth watercolorist Tommy Thompson has been our hottest selling artist since we took ownership of The Gallery at Redlands last March. We sold out of his work completely a few weeks ago, and are happy now that Tommy has restocked our space with new work. I’m taking a moment now to put all his new pieces on the blog for viewers to see. These are also available unframed for $45 each.

Dixie Banjo Memories, 22 x 28″ framed giclee canvas, $300
Lone Star, 24 x 20″ framed giclee canvas $200
Gypsy Spray, 19 x 23″ framed giclee $175
Hummer & Thistle, 19 x 23″ framed giclee $175
Texas Home on the Range, 21 x 27″ framed giclee canvas $300

Thanks for reading. Sandi and I are at The Gallery at Redlands till closing time Saturday night. If you have the time and are in the neighborhood, please stop by. We always have coffee and tea available for our friends.

Saturday Experiments in the Gallery at Redlands

June 26, 2021

The tensions of “publication” had been followed by a rest–now I notice that it is over, and the demon is beginning to rummage and push me again.”

Martin Heidegger, in a letter to his wife

Saturday has been a whirlwind in The Gallery at Redlands, and now the evening is already underway. I have tried throughout the day to find space to launch a blog and finally a space seems to have opened. Last night I finished the Sacred Heart Church watercolor, framed it and put it in the window. The previous blog shows that work on display.

A strange turn has happened with the bison subject matter. About a month ago, I taught a watercolor class on bison painting, and the demo I created laid about in Studio Eidolons for weeks. Every time I noticed it “out of the corner of my eye” (Andrew Wyeth’s favorite expression for evaluating his own finished work), I liked the simplicity of an iconic bison against a white background. So, on a lark, I framed the sample in a 5 x 7″ window mat and placed it in an 8 x 10″ frame and priced it at $100. It sold the day I set it up in the gallery. A week later I decided to try another one, and it sold. Yesterday, a third one sold. So now, I have a fourth and fifth to present, prices remaining at $100 each. I have no plans to make reproductions of these; as long as I have enough imagination to experiment with color and different techniques I believe I can create an authentic image and continue to offer if for sale as an original framed watercolor. We’ll see how it goes. In the meantime I am enjoying the changes in the palette as I seek ways to introduce more color into this magnificent animal.

Shelton Hall is slowly but surely taking shape. I know I won’t finish this one tonight, but will take it back to Studio Eidolons to work on the following week.

Things are getting busy again, so I’m going to close and say thanks always for reading.

Friday Evening in The Gallery at Redlands

June 25, 2021
Beginning a new 8 x 10″ watercolor of Shelton Hall in old town Palestine
Completed the Watercolor of Sacred Heart Church

I’ve been trying in vain to launch a new blog all night, but the Friday night traffic from the Queen Street Grille and bar has been continuous. Nevertheless, I wanted my readers to see what’s been happening today/tonight. The church is finished, framed and in the gallery window. And I’ve barely begun this 8 x 10″ watercolor of Shelton Hall, a popular night spot in old town Palestine.

My intention is to paint as much as I can throughout tomorrow. Sometimes Saturdays are busy here, but not always. We’ll see what happens.

Thanks for reading.

Morning Salute from The Gallery at Redlands

June 25, 2021
Another Day with Opportunities for Creative Eros

What underlies our metaphysical questioning and hence metaphysics itself is not a foundation but an abyss. It is not solid ground, it is nothingness.

. . .

In this sense the ideological and philosophical structures that human beings construct for themselves to cling to as a guide . . . to equip themselves for this world, and make it as bearable as possible–distract from the essence of existence.

Wolfram Eilenberger, Time of the Magicians: Wittgenstein, Benjamin, Cassirer, Heidegger, and the Decade that Reinvented Philosophy

Sunlight floods The Gallery at Redlands this morning and the horn of Charlie Parker punctuates this artistic space as I read while listening to The Savoy Recordings. The book cited above has provided excellent company for weeks now as I read this intriguing biography of four great thinkers who steered their intellectual careers through the turbulent waters of 1920’s Europe.

Years ago I was rocked when my worldview changed from the illusion of my standing on a solid stationary ground to the reality of being perched on a spinning orb wobbling through space. I likewise experienced the existential shock when my philosophical view of life changed much like that described in the text above. In my early years, I knew everything and the future was secure. And then one day I faced my own mortality and transience.

Such thoughts paralyze some with anxiety. But once they are faced, a dizzying freedom has the potential to show itself. Not wanting to oversimplify, I just want to express my gratitude for waking this morning to a new day, offering new opportunities, new adventures, hopefully some quality art. I love my Studio Eidolons at home, but am grateful for quality light and this gift of a drafting table in The Gallery at Redlands. Wherever I am from day to day, I have this gifted space to pursue creative dreams. Personally, I cannot envision a better morning than one that includes coffee, journaling time, quality reading and then walking over to the drafting table to lean over my latest attempt at art.

I wish all of you the best of days, and invite you to check out new images I’ve posted on my website www.davidtrippart.com. If you are in the Palestine area, I’ll be in the gallery all day today and Saturday till closing at 9 p.m.

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.

New Additions to the Gallery at Redlands

June 24, 2021
We have added a new plaque to our gallery display
Lovely Plaque displaying recent article from County Line Magazine

Greetings from Palestine, Texas at The Gallery at Redlands! As is the custom, I arrived here around noon Thursday and will remain till 9 p.m. closing time Saturday night. We just proudly hung the plaque that arrived a few days ago, containing the entire article from County Line Magazine published April 28 to celebrate the gallery re-opening under our ownership and featuring The Twelve. I also spent the bulk of this Thursday afternoon hanging new work and rearranging the display of earlier pieces.

Cecilia Bramhall has brought out a large collection of new work!

If you have not been by the gallery recently, you will want to check out Cecilia Bramhall’s new body of work. Some of this was on display last weekend for our city’s first “Art Walk”, but I myself did not see it as it was displayed on the other end of town in one of our area businesses. Now we proudly make a provisional home for it as patrons begin the adoption process.

Grace Hessman pastel

We have also just received word that Grace Hessman, one of our pastelists, has new work coming into the gallery soon. It is currently being framed for presentation.

Grace Hessman work
Nearing the finish of this watercolor of Sacred Heart across the street from the gallery

I am hoping to finish this “Sacred Heart” watercolor by the end of the weekend. Recently I’ve had more time to work on it while in the gallery during the quieter hours.

If you are in the vicinity of Palestine, Texas, I’ll be here at 400 N. Queen Street, Suite 109. The Gallery at Redlands has brought in a considerable amount of new work waiting for buyers to come in and claim it. On behalf of The Twelve, let me 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.

Sunday Repose

June 13, 2021

All that mankind has done, thought, gained or been: it is lying as in magic preservation in the pages of books.

Thomas Carlyle

What a serene Sunday! Dragging in at 11:30 last night after a 48-hour gallery weekend, I was quite bedraggled, but happy. Happier now, rested! My reading this morning over coffee yielded this remark from Carlyle that I had recorded 15 years ago in my journal, and forgotten (I really should spend more time digging up the old bones I’ve buried in those notebooks since 1985). I cannot exaggerate the power of books to light creative fires for me. When I’m feeling flat, someone will always pull me out of the funk with what s/he cared enough to write for others to find. I still love the quote from the film Shadowlands: “We read to know we’re not alone.”

I have decided today to push further with this “Lone Bison” series. It began in Utah last September when I encountered a herd and took dozens of photos. Not long after, I used the photos as models and began drawing and watercoloring in sketchbooks my experiments with color and composition. I am becoming more daring with my colors of late and want to see how far I can push it.

When it comes to selling my art, I often find myself talking out both sides of my mouth: I’ll sell anything. However, there are particular pieces that I’m attached to for various reasons, and while in my possession, I spend time looking at them and contemplating how I can repeat the painting or extend it into a new direction. When a new work sells quickly, I’m robbed of that contemplative, composting time that has come to mean so much more in these later years.

Case in point: The Lone Bison. Last weekend I pulled from my collection at home a solitary bison, 5 x 7″ inches, that I painted as a demo for one of my “Watercolor Wednesdays” classes. I liked the way it cropped neatly into a 5 x 7″ inch matt, so I framed it and set it on the display case in The Gallery at Redlands. That very evening, someone bought it. So . . . all week long I could not stop thinking of that small watercolor study. Yesterday, in the gallery, I painted another one, using the same model as before. Before I could get it into the frame, a dear friend I’ve known since high school texted me that he wanted to purchase it. So . . . in the evening, I painted a third one, matted and framed it, but left it in the gallery in case someone just might see it this next week and wish to purchase it. So now here I am, at home in Studio Eidolons, thinking of all the possibilities I want to pursue with that solitary bison. We’ll see what happens today. I’m grateful for the time, the space, and the quiet.

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.

Thoughts on the Lone Bison

June 12, 2021

Today we are searching for things in nature that are hidden behind the veil of appearance… We look for and paint this inner, spiritual side of nature.

Franz Marc

Vacationing in Utah last year brought me in close proximity to a herd of bison. I was moved profoundly as I gazed upon those behemoths grazing quietly on a broad plain, continually kicking up dust as they moved about. I attempted a pair of watercolors of them and was satisfied with the results. However, I found myself far more engaged as I continued sketching them in my watercolor sketchbooks and even once taught a watercolor class on bison sketching. This morning, waking in The Redlands Hotel, I determined that after breakfast I would make my way to the gallery downstairs and attempt yet another bison watercolor sketch, just a simple 5 x 7″ one.

In my most recent bison experiments, I am trying to open up and use Daniel Smith quinacridone colors more aggressively. This morning as I attempted my latest one, I thought about Franz Marc, the German Expressionist who founded the Blue Rider movement (Der Blaue Reiter), something that started as a published journal and eventually drew about it a circle of artists including Wasily Kandinsky. Marc imposed a vivid array of colors on the animals he painted, and I’ve never been able to get those images out of my head. So I decided “Why not try this on the bison?”

I’ve decided to mat this 5 x 7″ piece and place it in an 8 x 10″ frame and price it at $100 in The Gallery at Redlands. While I’m at it, I’ll go ahead and post the other two already hanging in this space.

Utah Evening Serenity, 21 x 20″ framed watercolor. $450

Bison Herd in Utah, 23 x 31″ framed watercolor. $600

The Lone Bison, 8 x 10″ framed watercolor. $100

Saturday in The Gallery at Redlands is proving calm and productive for me. I’ll be here till we close at 9 tonight.

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.

Waking to a New Dawn

June 12, 2021

Presumptuous is the artist who does not follow his road through to the end. But chosen are those artists who penetrate to the region of that secret place where primeval power nurtures all evolution.

Paul Klee, On Modern Art

I woke at 6:30 this morning feeling that I could shake paintings out of my shirt sleeves. Looking out the second-story window of my dining room in the Redlands Hotel, I felt the historic Carnegie Library looking back at me, affirming and encouraging me to follow my bliss.

Before retiring to bed late last night, I read from Paul Klee’s lecture On Modern Art, and stopped on the passage posted above. The word chosen arrested my attention as I came to the realization that I didn’t choose Art. Art chose me. From my childhood, it was the only talent I had, the only interest I pursued.

I recalled the scene from “Life Lessons”, a selection from the film New York Stories. Nick Nolte stars as Lionel Dobie, a Willem de Kooning-type artist who has dominated the New York art scene for years. Now he is deviled by his attractive assistant who frustratingly wants all the art success to come to her right now. She cries out, asking if he thinks her art is any good. His answer: “What different does it make what I think. It’s yours.” He goes on to tell her that artists make art because they have no choice.

I make art because I have no choice. Taking a page from Aristotle, art is in me, and it must come out. Does the bird singing in the morning have any idea that the sounds it makes are beautiful to the human ear, or is the bird just doing what birds do by nature? Does the spider spinning at dawn have any idea of the beauty, the geometry, the symmetry of its web, or is the spider merely spinning out the essence of its character?

My own artistic impulse was set free the day I realized that the world doesn’t need my art. The market doesn’t wait breathlessly for my next piece. That is liberating. Grateful to be retired and on an adequate pension, I can pursue my own bliss without apology or permission. And as I work (play), I am not deviled by questions such as “Is this any good?” or “Will this sell?” I make art because I have no choice. And while making it, the world is better, for me anyway.

Before closing, I would like to post Paul Klee’s remarks in full, for anyone wishing to read his powerful words:

Presumptuous is the artist who does not follow his road through to the end. But chosen are those artists who penetrate to the region of that secret place where primeval power nurtures all evolution.

There, where the power-house of all time and space–call it brain or heart of creation–activates every function; who is the artist who would not dwell there?

In the womb of nature, at the soure of creation, where the secret key to all lies guarded.

But not all can enter. Each should follow where the pulse of his own heart leads.

I am David Tripp. And this is what I do. 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.

Thoughts from the Redlands Hotel

June 11, 2021

June 2, 2021

Hello, Sandi?

“Hi there. I suppose you’re in the middle of a class?”

“Actually, yes.”

Well . . . I’m gonna have to ask you to cut it short . . . There’s been an accident. Christine is driving me to Huguley Emergency Center.”

I put down the phone, in shock.

“Really sorry folks. I gotta go. Now. Sandi has been in an accident involving her horse. She’s being taken to the emergency room. I have no details.”

I fumbled to gather my art materials, struggling to think of what to put in which container.

“We’ve got this. We’ll lock everything up for you . . . you need to get outta here.”

I don’t remember the 45-minute drive through traffic from south Arlington to south Fort Worth. All I could think of was: what happened? Did she take a fall from her mount? Did the horse trample her in the stall (Sandi is petitie; her horse is 17.3 hands tall)? There were no details shared.

Arriving at the emergency room, I immediately saw Sandi being admitted, seated in a wheelchair, and forgetting protocall, I nearly fainted at the thought of paralysis.

The news was serious, but not nearly as serious as I’d feared. Struggling with a 120-lb. hay bale in the back of her truck, Sandi lost her balance when the hay hook tore loose from the bale. She pitched headfirst off the tailgate, hitting the ground below squarely on her face. Raising her head, she saw that the hay hook had plunged all the way through her hand, from the palm through the back. The medical staff, concerned about broken bones, immediately performed CT scans to see if there was any vertebrae damage or broken arms or wrists. Everything negative. Examining the injured hand, the specialist marveled that only muscle was damaged, no bones, tendons or ligaments were touched by the spike. Therefore, Sandi’s hand should heal in time without surgery or rehab.

All this happened nine days ago, hence a blog hiatus. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t read. Couldn’t write. This past week-and-a-half has been a fog. I have spent some time alone in the gallery, but couldn’t concentrate much, thinking of Sandi back home recuperating, and grateful for the many friends who came visiting, bringing food, and working to keep our chins up. Sandi is mending and in better spirits now. I’m at the gallery for two days only, then heading back to be where I really belong and want to be.

Now to catch up on Gallery at Redlands news . . .

Palimpsest, 22 x 33″ framed watercolor. $1500

I am proud finally to hang my latest framed watercolor Palimpsest in the Gallery. Today has been busy with traffic and sales in the gallery. If things slow down later tonight, I plan to resume work on my Sacred Heart watercolor. So far I have worked only on the night sky. This beautiful church is across the street from The Gallery at Redlands and I see portions of its upper story through the windows of this space throughout the day.

The Gallery is taking on a new look as we continue to add new work and new artists to our mix.

Wayne White, Fork in the Road 16 x 21″ Fractured Glass Photograph, $200

Photographer Wayne White, my friend since second grade and also the muse for my “Hank” stories in an upcoming book, has just submitted his latest fractured glass photograph to sell in our gallery. We have it on display currently in the lobby window. You will want to check this one out.

We are also proud to welcome painter John D. Westerhold to our gallery family. John has been featured several times in southwest art magazine, and we’re proud that his latest published painting Reflections of a Fat Boy is now on display in our window looking out to the street.

(Sorry about the reflections!) Reflections of a Fat Boy, Acrylic, 36 x 48″ $8500

It feels good to be in the Gallery again and blogging again. I’ll be here till we close around 9:00 tonight and will be around all day Saturday till our 9 p.m. closing.

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.

Dawn in Studio Eidolons

May 24, 2021
Early Morning in Studio Eidolons

Motherwell’s varied imagery was a product of his complex, anguished inner being, and also an expression of his deeply held convictions about the nature of reality, which he believed to contain not a single truth but many relative truths, which could be only partially revealed and not explained. This is reflected in his fascination with the idea that the ancient Greeks had no word for truth. As he told an interviewer, “Socrates says something and it’s translated, What you say is true Socrates.” But as Motherwell pointed out, the Greek word was aletheia, which meant revealed, or hidden. “And so a literal translation,” he noted, “would be you’ve unhidden that point, Socrates.”

Jack Flam, “Introduction: Robert Motherwell at Work,” volume one Robert Motherwell: A Catalogue Raisonné, 1941-1991.

5:37 a.m.–the dogs dragged me back to consciousness. Something triggers inside them, telling them it is time to eat, and they immediately pounce on me. This is good though. I retired early to bed last night thinking of what I could do when I return to my studio vacated since the middle of last week. I love being back in the space where I can pursue creative eros. By the time I entered this morning, the light was just breaking, and I felt my breathing change.

While making Cowboy Coffee, my eyes lighted on the three-volume Catalogue Raisonné I purchased for myself as a retirement gift four years ago. Re-opening it over coffee, I decided to re-read portions I had marked (and forgotten), and came across the thought-provoking passage quoted above.

We acknowledge that we are complex individuals. The longer we live, the more we seek understanding of our complexities. We reach for an explanation, pattern or key phrase to encapsulate our persona.

Early in life I sought role models. Later, wishing to find myself rather than copy the character of others, I looked upon my assembly of heroes as templates, finding pieces of my own life amidst the collage of attributes among them. I turned to Robert Motherwell this morning, not because of his artistic style (of which I share little-to-nothing), but because of his lifelong struggle to balance a life of art and scholarship. Art Digest labeled Motherwell as “one of today’s most thinking painters.” He was frequently criticized for teaching and publishing instead of focusing all his time on developing as a painter.

I laid down my brush for a decade to study theology at a seminary. Once I emerged from the halls of academia, I entered the teaching field. Within a year of teaching, I once again picked up the brush, hungry to make art again, but never able to walk away from the books. Motherwell is my friend, because I see in him a complete man who never apologized for pursuing both worlds–art and scholarship. Art feeds my scholarship and scholarship feeds my art. At this age, I make no apology for living a life of the mind.

This morning’s reading brought my attention again to this notion of “truth.” Learning Greek years ago in seminary, I knew the word translated “truth” (aletheia), but never paid attention to its etymology till late one night (in that wonderful rustic general store in the east Texas wilderness) reading Martin Heidegger’s notes on the pre-socratic Heraclitus. It was then that I learned the word (aletheia), often rendered “truth”, is better translated “unforgetting, revelation, uncovering, or discovery.” The word “lethe” we know from the River of Lethe. It means “forget”. The prefix “a” (alpha privative) is the negation, hence “the un-forgetting.” Continuing with Motherwell:

“In that sense, I wish the word truth didn’t exist. Because one of the reasons I’ve been able to move all over the place is I take that for granted. Everybody has his own revelations, but the mass of the totality has never been revealed to anybody.”

I am going to try in my future to redefine this notion of “truth” that has been misused and understood throughout my life. The word denotes an uncovering, a revealing, a reminder (un-forgetting), a discovery.

Thanks for reading.

I make art in order to UNCOVER (seek the truth).

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.