recent paintings and news

recent paintings and news

Monday, January 28, 2013

further a field


In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in   
to fill the spaces
where my body’s been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.

 Keeping Things Whole

Further a Field, encaustic on canvas, 11x14in, 2013, available

Sunday, January 20, 2013

phantom fading

Since we have learned how beauty comes and goes:
A phantom fading from the hills like light,
Summer and slow disaster in the rose,
An April face that wanders toward the night,--
It is not strange that we who linger here,
Are haunted by the colours of the sky,
The ghost of beauty in the stricken year,
The thought of beauty gone too swiftly by.

So that men strive with chisel, pen and brush,
To save the lifted brow, the transient spring,
Happy if they may fix the fading blush,
Or make the mood a memorable thing,
And snare one glowing hour from fleeting time,
A golden bird, caged in a golden rhyme.

David Morton: Salvage

Salvage, encaustic etc on found panel, 10x14in, 2013, available

Saturday, January 19, 2013

kindred spirit

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver. The Journey

Salvage 1, encaustic etc on found panel, 7x7x2in, 2013, available

Friday, January 18, 2013


 In winter
all the singing is in
the tops of the trees
where the wind-bird
with its white eyes
shoves and pushes
among the branches
Like any of us
he wants to go to sleep
but he's restless
he has an idea,
and slowly it unfolds
from under his beating wings
as long as he stays awake
But his big, round music, after all,
is too breathy to last.
So, it's over.
In the pine-crown
he makes his nest,
he's done all he can.
I don't know the name of this bird,
I only imagine his glittering beak
tucked in a white wing
while the clouds—
which he has summoned
from the north—
which he has taught
to be mild, and silent—
thicken, and begin to fall
into the world below
like stars, or the feather
of some unimaginable bird
that loves us,
that is asleep now, and silent—
that has turned itself
into snow.
Mary Oliver

 Winter 5, encaustic etc on found panel,  6x14in, 2013

 found panel

Wednesday, January 16, 2013


a. The act of saving imperiled property from loss.
b. The property so saved.

3. Something saved from destruction or waste and put to further use.
tr.v. sal·vaged, sal·vag·ing, sal·vag·es
1. To save from loss or destruction.
2. To save (discarded or damaged material) for further use

Winter 3, encaustic etc on panels, 10x109n, 2013, available

As mentioned in a previous post, I am deconstructing in order to reconstruct and have made a conscious effort in my art-making to incorporate only what I HAVE and only what is around me . I will not purchase new canvas, tools or panels -the latter of which I will paint over and use in new ways. And although I require paint and wax, the challenge is to stretch their use as  far as possible.

 In the above image, the top portion was made in 2008. 

The lower panel consists of another early painting, but I have layered it with a beautifully aged oxide roof shingle from a dilapidated shed that I see, walk by and take refuge in when painting in rain and snow. 

The wee building has been vacant and weather worn for 30 odd years but was originally built for the farm workers to store fruit picked from the orchards. 

 The wire used to embellish the image is aged as well. At one time it was used to anchor the vineyard posts and organize the vines.

The vineyards have long since been torn out and the velvety looking wire now sits piled  in the back field, overgrown with vine.

I find the linear quality of vine and wire to be irresistible and it is relatively easy to manipulate. Portals are appearing in the field.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

on winter’s margin

On winter’s margin, see the small birds now
With half-forged memories come flocking home
To gardens famous for their charity.
The green globe’s broken; vines like tangled veins
Hang at the entrance to the silent wood.

With half a loaf, I am the prince of crumbs;
By snow’s down, the birds amassed will sing
Like children for their sire to walk abroad!
But what I love, is the gray stubborn hawk
Who floats alone beyond the frozen vines;
And what I dream of are the patient deer
Who stand on legs like reeds and drink that wind; -

They are what saves the world: who choose to grow
Thin to a starting point beyond this squalor.
Mary Oliver

 Winter 2, encaustic etc on panel, 6x12in, 2013, available

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Lines For Winter

Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself --
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon's gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.
Mark Strand

Winter 1, encaustic on panel, 6x10in, 2013, available

Friday, January 4, 2013

the more things change

 detail, January, departure, encaustic collage on found panel, 2013

I have been re visiting earlier work with the intention of deconstructing and reconstructing with new ideas and approaches. I like to do this every few years. After all, inspiration and interpretation are subject to change. Or are they?

This image was made in 2013

January, departure, encaustic collage on found panel, 9x10in,  2013

The below image was made in 2004