Click image to enlarge.
Scroll down for social media links.
A modest painting, a man and a dog, their backs to us. What do they see, and for what or whom do they wait? Why is the sky red – is it twilight, or dawn, or something else entirely? All I know is that I wanted to paint the waiting, the anticipation, which is itself a movement, though still, from one state, to another.
A nearly abstract work on panel, sparked by Rilke’s first Duino Elegy. The poem begins:
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the Angelic
Orders? And even if one were to suddenly
take me to its heart, I would vanish into its
stronger existence. For beauty is nothing but
the beginning of terror, that we are still able to bear,
and we revere it so, because it calmly disdains
to destroy us.
Movement, passages, are more importantly spiritual and emotional than physical. We can move not a whit and yet be slowly, or instantly changed.
A “3-D” painting collage, with found objects. The professor taught at one of the liberal arts colleges that dotted Minnesota 100 years ago. Where was he from, what teachings did he impart, what did his students think of him and what lives did they later lead? Their life’s migration led them to his environment and then on, yet he stayed… for how long?