"Valley of Shadows"

"Valley of Shadows" is taking shape, and it is haunting. This is really the most difficult piece I've ever done. I find I can only work on it for about 20 minutes at a time. The texture is nearly laid and should be ready to cover with the aluminum leaf shortly. I really enjoy painting beauty and this is not beautiful at all. I hope it's powerful though.

I find it difficult to interact with people coming into my River Arts District studio while I'm working on this piece. Seriously! "Oh!" says some woman from any random state in the U.S. upon entering the studio. "Look George! The artist is working!" (This is my studio. Of course I'm working.) "What are you working on?" she asks excitedly.

How do I explain what I'm working on? "Well, I'm depicted corpses at the moment". What do I say? I try to work on this first thing in the morning, before many people are wondering in. Folks, this is really difficult.

Everything else I paint, I am completely fine with being interrupted with questions and with people coming around my desk for a closer look at what I'm working on at the moment. This one is different. I feel like the time I am working on this is holy. Truly sacred. I don't want it interrupted.

So if you're reading this and you're a recent early morning visitor to my studio and wondered why the artist was so aloof and in his own little world, well...now you know. I apologize. I really was in my own little world, but I had to be there. I had to be focused. I had to listen in my head. So difficult. I would much prefer painting mountain scenes around Asheville. 

Mystic Summer Morning

"Mystic Summer Morning" (30" x 24") is a summer version of an autumn scene I've done before, and it's reminiscent of most summer mornings here in Asheville. Oftentimes because of thunderstorms the afternoon before, mornings can be rather foggy. That fog burns off usually by 10:00 or shortly thereafter, and then it's clear for just a bit. That fog then gathers into cumulous clouds and then becomes an another afternoon thunderstorm. But in the morning, that fog softens everything and dampens all sound.

I make it a habit of walking the 3 miles to my art studio in Asheville's River Arts District every morning (and then back again at night) but on foggy, cooler summer mornings, there's a longer route I can take that eventually leads right along the French Broad River. It's a very quite walk and when I need some extra rejuvenating and the weather is right, I walk the extra miles. It's so worth it. Before that trail gets to the river, it goes through quite woods and on foggy mornings, it's mystical. It's really beautiful that time of day. I love Asheville!

Valley of Shadows

While we were in Germany the last couple of weeks, one of the things I needed to do was to visit what remains of the concentration camp at Dachau, just outside of Munich. I needed to see it because several weeks ago, a gentleman visited my Asheville studio and asked me to consider doing a painting commission based on the Holocaust, which was the strangest and most daunting request for an art commission I'd ever received. But I felt like this was something I needed to do.

The commission itself did not work out, but the idea was planted in my head and it's been growing. It will be dark and disturbing, but artists before me have depicted dark and disturbing subjects before (Goya comes to mind). So I wanted to visit Dachau (since it's so close to Munich where we were staying) and soak it in -- let it do in my heart whatever it wanted to do so that I could then depict that in my future painting.

It was not pleasant.

The only way I could take it in was to not fully take it all in. I don't know how anyone can "fully" take it in. I felt myself hardening while I strolled slowly through the grounds. Row upon row of barracks foundations still stand, and I felt a horrible weight. I've never felt anything so miserable and dark and dreadful before.

Row upon row of barracks.

Close your eyes and you still can't imagine the pain of the place. These were real human lives and I wanted to hear them but again, I felt a self-protective "deadening" of my heart. It was the only way I could keep walking; could keep "listening".

It got darker still.

We walked into the very room where people were told to strip. We walked into the next room, tiled floor to ceiling as though it were a shower. I walked into that dark room, silent now but you can still feel a horrible weightiness there. Crushing.

We saw rafters in front of crematory ovens from which people were hung, so that the last thing on this earth they would see would be the open oven door.

No one speaks at Dachau. Communication is in short whispers. It is a holy and horrible place. No one knows how to take it all in and comprehend it. How can you? How can you even begin?

How did this happen? Germany was not a third world country full of back-woods people controlled by superstition. They were a major western civilization, full of creative people. It was a country full of world famous musicians, painters, writers and scientists. But it was a struggling country. They felt like they were not in control of their destiny anymore. They wanted Germany to be great again and they found someone who promised the moon. And then they turned their head when the horrors began to happen. How could this have happened? I think the scenario sounds hauntingly familiar. Similar things could happen anywhere in any generation unless we remember and learn from the past. If you listen, in places like Dachau, the past still has a voice and it is dark and absolutely crushing.

I know now what I need to paint. Some would say it's a waste of time because it may never sell. But art is my voice. And right now, I want to speak.

More to come.

When the Sun Went Dark

What an amazing day yesterday in Andrews, NC right under the very center of the area of totality. So many interesting things about the eclipse...1) the temperature dropped from 87F to 63F in about an hour. 2) cumulus clouds that had been building in the heat and humidity dissipated. 3) the sun, even at just a sliver uncovered kept us nicely lit and then...the sun was covered completely, thousands cheered and it was like someone switched the light off. Instantly, stars appeared and streetlights went on. The event itself is impossible to describe -- the terrible beauty of the black hole in the sky surrounded by streaming tendrils of light. Absolutely incredible. And 4) it brought new friends together! We noticed Daryl walking around with his two adorable little girls (Layla and Jasmine) and we invited them to join us on our picnic blanket. Joy jumped right in and pumped the girls with cookies and we had a really great time getting to know each other. What fun! I love random friendships like this!

The energy and elation at witnessing 2 minutes, 38 seconds of this spectacle has deeply affected me and will I'm sure affect my work at the art studio in Asheville. I doubt I'll start painting eclipses, but experiencing that level of absolute awe can't help but move you and inspire you. Let's see where this goes! 

One of the Best Days Ever!

Me with my amazingly beautiful daughter Ceilidh on her wedding day (July 28, 2017)

Of all the creative works my wife Joy and I have been involved with, there is none like this. We work at an art studio in Asheville, North Carolina and have created literally hundreds of oil paintings; landscapes and abstract. We've experimented with different textures and glazes. And we have a great deal of joy and healthy pride when it comes to what we create. But honestly, it all pales to the family of six that began with just us two. Our children were and continue to be the most wonderful and challenging and rewarding creative projects we have ever dreamed of taking on. And this last Friday night, in Cleburne, TX, our last and youngest child (our daughter Ceilidh) was married. There is no way to describe the satisfaction, happiness and pride I feel because of her. She chose a wonderful guy, Schyler Shaffer who has been embraced by my whole family as being every bit as weird and wonderful as they are (good thing!)

Ceilidh and Schyler,

‘“The Lord bless you
    and keep you;
 the Lord make his face shine on you
    and be gracious to you;
 the Lord turn his face toward you
    and give you peace.”

All my kids and grandchildren. So thankful for these people.

Inspiration and Rest

Fishing on the lower Blue Lake, Breckenridge, CO

Last week, my whole family (kids and grandchildren) were given the opportunity to spend time at a cabin of some friends/clients in Breckenridge, CO. We spent the week hiking, biking, fishing and a lot of laughing (especially during endless games of Settlers of Catan). If you ever need to be recharged and inspired, the Rocky Mountains will do the trick. Awesome and severe and covered with wildflowers this time of year, we left them inspired and ready to dive back into the Asheville summer season!

I enjoy my job so much as a painter in my studio in Asheville's River Arts District. I usually am not even aware of the fact that it would be good to get a break. See, painting FEELS like my "break" and I get to do that five days a week. For those of you who have purchased my artwork...THANK YOU for giving me the privilege of doing what I love to do. It's not lost on me that I can joyfully create because people like you support and encourage me by actually purchasing what I create. 

But I can get so blissfully caught up in the creating of art that it's really easy to miss the fact I need a break, and that even with art, I need to take time to recharge and to fill my depleting creative tank. 

Well, now that creative tank is full again. I left the Rocky Mountains rested and inspired and with some new ideas I want to try. If these ideas work, then some exciting things are in the making in the next few months, and I'm really excited about that. 

Oaks on the Water

"Oaks on the Water" (34" x 36")

This painting commission was an interesting assignment. About a month ago, I got a call from one of the owners of the art gallery in Charleston, SC that carries my work (Mitchell-Hill Gallery on King Street) and Michael Mitchell asked me about a commission based on two paintings I'd previously done. The photo Michael had sent me to use for inspiration was fused together in Photoshop, the upper half being two gnarled old oak trees and the lower half had a peaceful stream of still dark water (from a completely different piece). The original "oaks" painting was more of a summer scene, with green grass and a pathway or narrow road in the foreground, but I liked the idea of going to golds and more autumnal colors and I loved the idea of adding the stream. So I tackled the assignment with excitement. 

Today, this painting is complete and will be packed up for shipment momentarily.  I absolutely love taking an older painting and examining it again after some time and deciding to rework a new priced based on that original, tweaking it and "re-mixing it" so to speak. The process is a blast and the end result is usually well worth the effort. 

Oak Tree by Bernard Shaw

I took an acorn and put it in a pot.
I then covered it with earth, not a lot.
Great pleasure was mine watching it grow.
The first budding green came ever so slow.
I watered my plant twice a week
I knew I would transplant it down by the creek.
One day it will be a giant oak, 
To shield me from the sun a sheltering cloak.
Lovers will carve their initials in the bark, 
An arrow through a heart they will leave their mark.
It will shelter those caught in a fine summers rain, 
Under its leafy bows joy will be again. 
Creatures of the wilds will claim it for their own, 
Squirrels will reside here in their own home.
Birds will build nests and raise their young, 
They will sing melodies a chorus well sung.
Under it’s branches grass will grow, 
Here and there a wild flower it’s head will show.
My oak tree for hundreds of years will live.
Perhaps the most important thing I had to give. 

Giverny: My Homage to the Man

A few weeks ago, Joy and I were up in Pittsburgh visiting our oldest daughter Camden, her husband Joseph and our baby grandson Elisha (who is amazingly cute). Well, one of the days we were there, we went to the Carnegie Museum of Art(which was truly amazing). After snaking our way through corridors of modern art and the medieval art, we (finally) got to my personal favorite: the impressionists. And oh my gosh -- Actually being able to get up close and personal with a Van Gogh was almost a holy moment! And then...and then I saw it: water lilies. Claude Monet. My favorite of all my favorites. I was transfixed on this massive panel of water lilies. I could see the brush strokes and understand the mixing of paint. It was beyond incredible. And Camden said, "you know, when you get back to your studio, you should create a water lilies painting as an homage to your man here." 

So I did. When I got back to my studio in Asheville, I began building water lilies on my canvas. 

This piece is entitled "Giverny", named after the home of Claude Monet, who lived at Giverny, France for forty-three years, from 1883 to 1926. I think one of the big reasons I love Monet was that he was seemingly fascinated by the play of light and reflections on the water. He worked on many paintings executed on a floating studio (in Argenteuil or on the Dutch canals). He was obviously taken with the inverted reflections you find in these "liquid mirrors". In 1893, he purchased a piece of land situated at the end of a narrow arm of the River Epte (side note: this is the same river where the St.Claire's originally settled down after a life of being Vikings, but that's another story). And this piece of land became his home. The water lilies and painted and re-painted and re-painted nearly ad infinitum were all done here (in his back yard). I really want his back yard!

So this piece is my way of "taking my hat off to the master". It is my take (with my own technique and materials) on a well familiar theme. Thank you Claude.

My Largest Painting to Date...

Last August, I was hiking with my wife Joy around the mountains of western North Carolina and my mind was relaxing. I could feel it. And when that happens, when my soul "breathes deeply"...that is when I come up with crazy ideas. I can't help it. I'm convinced Joy was brought into my life to consistently bring me back to reality when I start a conversation with "Hey, I have an idea!"

But this time, she just listened and said, "I think you should try it." The idea I had shared was to create the largest painting I've ever done by far. Most of my paintings take about one month to complete. What my mind was questioning whilst hiking that day was "what would a six month painting even look like?" I had no idea. Hmmm.

I still have no idea. This baby is going on nine months now, but it is 90% complete thanks to yesterday. See, yesterday was the last day of studio stroll and it was pouring rain most of the day which was perfect weather to get going on the final stretch of my "big mamma" painting, since no one was exploring the River Arts District in such horrid weather. And because I needed to be there all day, I painted through the downpours and now I'm nearly done.

"Is this a commission?" people ask. "No," I explain. "This is the most impractical art related idea I've ever had." But I had to do it. I am so incredibly thankful that my wife Joy blew on the spark and didn't douse it. Will this ever sell? Is it actually worth the time and effort I put into it? I have no idea and for this one, it doesn't matter.  I want this to be the absolute best oil painting I am capable of creating to date. That is what it is for.

Most of what I do is for very practical reasons, but now and then, I am convinced people need to be okay with doing something simply and only for the joy of doing it. This monster painting is giving me great joy. And when I complete it and it's hanging on the wall in my studio, I will have a party and celebrate. And you'll be invited.

My Creative Muse

I will never get over Claude Monet. He is my artistic hero and by far my favorite artist of all time. He was prolific (with over 2500 sketches and paintings that we know of) and he was an innovator, the father of French Impressionism. His style is all his own and even without his signature, we know precisely who the artist was. He was inspired by nature -- his garden pond at Giverny, sunset on haystacks in the field and rows of poplar trees along the Epte River. What he did for artists was to introduce us to the wild use of color and light. His paintings glow. Each one is a visual feast, leading the viewer to curiosity, exquisite joy and hushed stillness at the mastery of this artist. He was amazing.

Look at the above painting of the poplars. Have you ever seen blue trees? No, but it works here in this painting. The blue shadows he uses accentuate the warm red and orange and gold used to illustrate the sunlight. And that really is the color formula he teaches us -- warm colors and their complimentary cool color right up against each other simulates the play of light and shadow in the real world.

Here is another of my favorites. This second painting depicted above is the same subject matter as the top painting but handled differently. This is a much warmer piece but again, notice the trees -- blue shadows right up against warm gold-green in the background and directly beside bright orange in the upper foreground trees. I love this!

Monet is exactly the kind of artist I want to emulate. I don't live in rural France, but I too am inspired by the awesome nature so close at hand right here in Asheville and Western North Carolina. And being half artist, half mad scientist, my style is all my own and I want people to recognize my own art even before they see the signature. And painting on a metallic background, I too am playing with color and light. And my goal is to present a visual feast to the viewer, leading them to curiosity and exquisite joy. These are all what I aspire to.

So basically, I am just like Monet. Oh come on. Let me dream.