Being Alone

I have been feeling pretty indestructible during the last few months. My time has been filled with painting and attending the NYFA/ MARK seminars to improve the business of my art practice. The MARK program concluded last week with a two day retreat in Syracuse, NY. The brilliant and industrious Jackie Battenfield was our keynote speaker. Each artist received a gift of her book, The Artist's Guide and Jackie graciously signed copies. We were also given copies of ART/WORK by Heather Darcy Bhandari and Jonathan Melber. Curators indulged us with a panel discussion and we even had networking breaks. Connecting with artists across New York state has been rich and transforming.

Home, the trees are thick green and poppies bloom around the woodshed. I am alone with the geese dropping into the pond, the resident wood chuck and bunnies in the wet morning grass. It is difficult to paint. I am returning to my series, Paintings for a Waiting Room. These paintings started as a means for exploring the emotional and environmental space created by waiting. I have a friend- an anesthesiologist- who offered that waiting is an opportunity for introspection. While his patients wait for narcotic sleep, we wait for computers to boot, we wait for prompts, we wait attached to Blackberries and iphones in a kind of passive stupor. The space of "waiting" is actually big.

During the retreat I spoke with the painter, Bruce Adams about my work. I paint big in small scale with rhythmic form liberated from specific composition. He asked me why I was painting like painters from sixty years ago. We talked about the scale of my painting which made it a little more interesting- but perhaps not "ironic" enough from Bruce's point of view.

Paintings for a Waiting Room is an ironic jab- most often we wait among a detritus of "Real Simple" magazines and thermos coffee with plastic packets of Coffee Mate.The paintings- metal leaf superimposed with paint - express a radiance and missed opportunity. I have some crazy idea that "waiting" is a detriment to the sanctity of the individual and to personal liberty. Waiting is numbing. How long should we wait? Why do we have to wait at all? Finally, there is something jumpy about waiting- a hurry up into the future quality.

I find myself agreeing with my friend the anesthesiologist: waiting is an opportunity for introspection and here is the intersection for paintings. In the meantime my studio- filled with these works- has become a Waiting Room. The paintings are waiting for shows and I am waiting for a certain someone.

Preparing for an Artist's Talk

Troy MARK Artists' Talks

Throughout Spring 2010, 60 artists from five different regions of NYstate participated in MARK, a program of New York Foundation for the Arts. The Arts Center of the Capital Region, in its second year as a partnering organization with the MARK program invites you to attend artist talks by the 12 participating MARK artists in the Troy region.

Wednesday May 26, 2010 6p-8:15p

The Arts Center of the Capital Region (http://www.artscenteronline.org/)

265 River Street

Troy, NY 12180

I am one of the 12 artists in the Troy region preparing to give my first public talk. This is a rite of passage for most artists and yet public speaking- apart from subject consideration- is an art form all on it's own. I cringe recalling inexperienced public speakers and my harsh assessment of their skill. I marvel at speakers whom seem to hold the audience at rapt attention. What will happen when it's my turn; will I speak or will I fumble?

At the library I found a copy of Atul Gawande's "The Checklist Manifesto." I thought, "Ah, just what the doctor ordered!" Here was a little book with the subtitle: How to Get Things Right. Thinking that public speaking fit neatly in the category of "Things" I checked the book out. The book is terrific and while I have not exactly started a checklist, I do have a sense of preparing for the job at hand by breaking tasks down and methodically working on each.

Some tasks are more easily accomplished than others. For example, creating a work sample folder of images was easy if not a little boring. I found myself signing and reaching for the potato chips. Jotting down notes was also easy. Imagining myself in front of a room full of nice arty folk attempting to talk about my series, "Paintings for a Waiting Room," I feel clammy and like I'd rather take a ride on a rush hour train. Then I tell myself, "You can do anything for five minutes," this being an inspiring but somewhat daft phrase picked up at the gym during a difficult set of squats. While talking art and exercising may not be philosophically aligned, what the hell, this is my own private pep talk and I am telling myself, "You can do anything for five minutes.

My paintings evolve from a well of thought with questions like: What are we waiting for? How long should we wait? Why do we have to wait at all? Is waiting an opportunity for introspection or a waste of time? In Troy my goal is to connect these musings to my paintings and to make sense for the kind listeners.