D rings

A  flurry of activity.

Remove blue painters tape.

Touch up places where paint seeped under the masking. Brush on one coat of white acrylic. Let dry overnight.

Check canvas edges the next day.

Brush on another coat of white. Let dry overnight.

Locate the drill bit box.






Drill steady holes while holding canvas upright indoors.

Find D ring box empty.

Look for shelved works to borrow D rings from.

Find screwdriver and short screws.

Wire roll is missing.

Plenty of wire in drill drawer. Whew.

Measure and cut wire lengths.

Loop wire thru ring.

Twist wire.

Pack both paintings in box.
Drive three hours one way to St. Joseph, Missouri.

Works from other artist members were there in the lobby of the Albrecht-Kemper Museum of Art.

Fill out paper entry forms.
Cut out and fix entry label to back of each work.

"Grass Along Moss Creek"

30 x 40 inches

Acrylic on canvas

Plein air 100%

"Vines"

40 x 30 inches

Acrylic on canvas

Plein air 100%

The 42nd Annual Membership Exhibition runs from January 16 to February 21. Each participating artist member was allowed to enter two works in eight categories. For more info click on http://albrecht-kemper.org/event/annual-membership-exhibition/.

new owners

From St. Joseph, MO -- my delivery trip continued south to Merriam, Kansas -- just off Interstate 35. A city next to Kansas City, Missouri.

 

 

Where I met with the Assistant Director of  Merriam Parks & Recreation, Dave Smothers

At the 2016 Kansas Parks & Recreation Auction, eleven of my works will gain new owners. Coming up Feb 1st, 2nd, and 3rd in Dodge City, Kansas.

Trunk No.3

30 x 27 inches

acrylic on cradled panel

2008 

     Poplar Aglow, No.18

36 x 24 inches

acrylic on cradled panel
plein air

2007

     Shanklin Ridge

9 3/4  x 28  inches

    acrylic on panel 

2004

South Bottoms, No.1

11 ¾ x 15 ¾ inches

acrylic on panel
plein air

2009

                     

 Meadow, No.1

acrylic on paper

matted & framed

2008

 Missouri City, No.2

acrylic on paper

matted & framed

2008

River Ridge

18 x 24 inches

acrylic on canvas

plein air

2013

Water's Edge

24 x 24 inches

acrylic on canvas

plein air

2013

Waterway,

16 x 20 inches

acrylic on cradled panel

plein air

2013

Cloud and Field

24 x 18 inches

acrylic on cradled panel

plein air

2013

For more info on KPRA auction 

Call Irene B. French Community Center: 913-322-5550

along with my family 1971

I was along for the ride. My parents took my brother and me out of school and during the 1971-1972 school year. And we went with Mom and Dad around the United States of America in a Winnebago motor home. It was a part of Dad's job.

I remember collecting vials of sand from different States to give to a friend in Seward whose name was Sandy. In the summer of 1971 and I met this neat gal my age at the Seward swimming pool. As a timid guy I had found something wonderful. Since I went to the pool every day it was a great to see her. Two weeks later my folks were on the road to who-knows-where. Bad timing as far as I was concerned. Though she was gracious to receive the sand gifts, she eventually got

interested in someone else.
    One aspect of the trip was loneliness. Sure, I saw my classmates in Seward every two and a half months, when one of the loops around the country had ended. My brother and I were around grownups and kids at Dad's workshops and that did get us used to being in large groups. But there were no friendships to form.
     Riding in the back of the mobile home, doing my reading assignments on the road, reading about each state from the encyclopedia Britannica that Mom brought with us (required by her), well, we were isolated.
    I know Mom typed letters. But just recently I got to read some of what she composed. She wrote to the tour secretary, her friend, Virginia Grabarkewitz, and to Glenn O Kraft, who was the AAL-CTC Tour Manager. Here is one thing she wrote:

"We seem to schedule time for laundry, advancing phoning, homework ...but we probably need some kind of looseness for inner communication. Karl said he didn't know how to talk to kids his own age, and cited an example. Pinned to the wall was my note to myself: 'Talk to Karl and Paul about CONVERSATION.'  The reminder was simply because I knew it was a thing that needed covering soon ...and we didn't get around to it." (Nov.12, 1971, Appleton, Wisconsin)

Bikes for each of us on the back of our home.

American literature and American history was the homework I had to turn in. Reading about civil rights while we drove thru the deep South. Enjoying the writings of Nathaniel Hawthorne and Edgar Allen Poe when we traveled thru the New England states.

Two minutes. Over break we washed and cleaned out our house-on-wheels. On the side was a blue butterfly and the words "Artist At Large to the Church."  I didn't know it then, but my dad was 49 years old. I was 16 and my brother was 14. I was a junior at Concordia High School in Seward.

My brother and I helped take photos with Dad's camera and shot Super 8 film cartridges of Dad's workshops. See clip from high school group in Los Angeles, next. Three minutes.

  Three minutes. Rare footage of the whole family enjoying a walk on the west coast beach. We took turns handling the Super 8 film camera. Mom liked to look at plant life growing on rocks. She and Dad liked nature. We saw historic forts, drove on the Big Sur, saw the bowling alley at San Simeon, went to Holden Village, listened to the 8-track tape album of Peter-Paul-and-Mary, and watched Johnny Rogers run for Nebraska on our portable TV set - in the parking lot of the Walkers Art Museum in Minneapolis while the snow fell outside. Dorris wrote these thoughts:

"I keep spotting the Appalachian Trail on all these maps, and maybe someday Paul and I may try it... all 2000 miles of hiking, Maine to Georgia. Think we should start north? or south?" (pg.2, October 13, 1971, Stanford, Connecticut)

"Paul's idea of excitement was to walk down the Washington Monument. They don't allow anyone to walk UP anymore. "Down" sounds easy... but it was a mistake. A mistake because we did it in the morning and by the time we were on the tour of the capitol, we were dragging badly." (October 13, 1971, to Gordon)

 "And the fall foliage scene, we had our fill. On that I cannot quibble. Because that was all around and ever new as we dashed back and forth. You'd need a detail map to realize how much back and forth there really was. We have a very very long list of what we hope to return to.   Even today, I kept thinking, well, we've seen all the possible color combinations... nothing more is possible and then we'd round another corner." (pg.2, October 13, 1971, Stanford)

Photos courtesy of Marxhausen Estate, Seward, Nebraska.

hook painting

    In the house I am doing something and as my eyes turn from here to there, they fall on the front of my shirt, and I stop to stare. From the window a patch of light rests there and it flickers for my benefit. A thought comes to mind and I whisper the words as a reply to the flicker: "I see you, God."

    That was how it was that Monday in November. Out looking for a subject to paint along Moss Creek. Some leaves were still fastened to the highest limbs. Bundled up warm in my insulated overalls, my feet walked along the edge of the wood over the cold ground, eyes taking in the textures, flicks of color, branches darkened by shadow

Halting. Observing where lined branches came to their end next to the blue sky. Listening to the stillness, the creak of branches, regarding a cheery rustle above me. Seeing many cottonwood leaves, but only a small cluster of them were fluttering. The thought came and my lips replied with a kind whisper: "I see you, God." I felt the smile grow at the corners of my mouth. Tears began to release. The motion of yellow was like the motion of firelight among coals, like that of a burning bush. The reference came and I understood. With a nod, the moment was not lost on me.

   Tiny chik chik chik sounds. I listened and turned. In a thick fence row I saw the silhouette of two birds hopping about. I regarded the delicate fluster, the breeze, the calm, the cold on my cheeks, the fresh sunlight. I would later write down in my journal, that the yellow suspended leaves were a pattern in the air, a pattern in motion, the presence of Christ. So here I was, walking, listening, being still. The subject I sought was not "a tree" or "the water" or "the sky."  I was there, drinking in Your Photoshop of complexity, Jesus. Reeds lay over curled lines, a forest of blonde blades, layer upon layer of bizarre otherworldly shapes in a strange composition, full of imagination, intention, and architecture. Whew! Where to begin? How to render? Those patterns were a vocabulary beyond what I was familiar with.

    I had been there since 8:30 that morning. First, surveying the west side. Then driving out and around to prowl on the east side. My notes indicate I was ready to call it a day at 9:20. I climbed back in the pickup. And drove slowly, reluctant to give up. And then, at 9:40, I SAW  IT !!!!!! (Double click on right sketch to enlarge.)

A close dark trunk and a distant lit up tree trunk reflected in the water. There was dark shadows in the foreground from which to practice. A branch that was both dark and light.

I would turn what I observed into ABSTRACTed components, patterns, dashes, contrasts, worked over and locked in this manner. The row of trees on the opposite bank would become feathery, like a mist, like a watercolor wash. Yes, that caught my senses. I jumped out of the truck and began setting up the easel and paint supplies. Energy rose in me. Work commenced and concluded after three and a half hours.

Details from finished work.

Afterwards,
after the paint dried, and the pigments were varnished, LATER ---- I would DELIGHT and REGARD this vocabulary, this juxtaposition, Your closeness to me, the way You come and remind me that I belong to You. You have made me become one of Yours, Jesus.

  First of three. Eighteen minutes.

See progression of painting, below.

 

Between these, COMPARE what areas were changed.

POINT to all the places you see one color used.

     Second of three. Twenty-eight minutes.

(Note---- In the first video from the seven-minute marker on, you can notice something small flit about in a dot-dash motion. It shows up against the back of me painting. It also showed up for the first half of the second video. I had not noticed it before. In keeping with this post, I believe the camera observed and caught "the flicker." With a smile and a chuckle, regarding this activity: "Thank You. I see You, God.")


Third of three. Twenty-four minutes.

Hook by Karl Marxhausen, 40 by 30 inches, acrylic on canvas, plein air 100 %, November 2015. Double click to see enlarged.

That work was a candidate entry for the 20th Annual Heartland exhibit. I will know in the next few weeks whether this and two other works were accepted for the March show.