Rainbow Of Chaos

Art is food for the soul. Everyone buys food to eat, but few can afford the luxury of art. Thankfully, where wealth exists, also there is art, and artists have always existed. I live in the second biggest art market in America. Amazing, that a little mountain town like Santa Fe can claim this distinction. People come here for many reasons, but especially for the offering of art.
Paul Cezanne once said that, “We live in a rainbow of chaos.“ Last Friday, my gallery told me to bring a large painting from my studio to the gallery because a collector from Houston wanted to see it. This man is a lawyer, and needed a painting for his office. An appointment was arranged. I brought the painting, and it was hung in a room devoted to my art. Meanwhile, a couple from Dallas walked in who happen also to be collectors and already owned six Boone paintings. We had a delightful meeting, and presently they fell in love with the new painting. Then the Houston man and his wife arrived and began deliberating the paintings while the other couple kept in the background. They also liked the new painting. After discussion, they chose another, called Blustery Summer, (shown above), a smaller piece, because it would fit better. The woman from Dallas gave a whoop in delight, and every one came together in jubilation. Each person was happy . . . and this is what art can do.

Eternity In An Hour

“When I judge art, I take my painting and put it next to a God made object like a tree or flower. If it clashes, it is not art.”
Paul Cezanne  (French, 19 January 1839 – 22 October 1906)

This is a beautiful statement because it simply accomplishes so much in the way of art criticism, which often is full of hyperbole. If we think of nature, we naturally think of beauty: flowers, sunsets, beaches, forests and misty mountain tops. Let me add that it is also: naked flesh, all creatures, bloody wounds, storms, wide eyed babies and old folk croaking their last breath. There is much to compare and all quite stunning. Great artists have to accomplish breadth in their work. Not a task for the faint hearted.

“To see the world in a grain of sand, and to see heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hands, and eternity in an hour. ”
William Blake  (English, 28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)

What Is God?

What is God? This is a question that man cannot solve. Even if the brightest minds of all time gathered to ponder and arrive at an answer, they would inevitably fail, insomuch as the thing created can never comprehend that which created it.
In thinking about creation and eternity, I realize how severely limited I am, being a finite point in the infinite.
God is All-Wise, Perfect, and All-Knowing. He alone is without limitation. Being Perfect, He also beholds perfection. Can we behold perfection? Baha’u’llah has said: “Nothing do I behold except that I behold God within it, God before it, and God after it.” This must mean then that He is beholding perfection. Somehow, He must have closed His external eye and opened His inner eye. The external eye could not fail to see human misery, abnormality, suffering, war, famine, disease, premature death etc. Who sees perfection with their external eyes? Yet Baha’u’llah was not blind to the world and its dilemmas. So how could He perceive these predicaments and behold God within them? I will ponder this for awhile. In the meantime, feel free to post a comment if you have thoughts to share.

Nothing Stays The Same

Nothing stays the same. The moments we enjoy are fleeting. This makes the loveliness of the rose more precious since we know its beauty will soon fade and vanish before our eyes. Likewise, if we are in desperate situations that we long to escape, patience will see us out, for change is a given. In some seemingly inextricable situations, death is the savior from life. In those situations we can only try and change our inner perceptions of outer circumstances. As Naomi said, “Hardships can make us stronger. Every situation in life has some good in it.”
Andy Warhol said, “They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” The freedom to change is a blessing and curse. If we are stuck in routines which are unfulfilling, but are afraid to shift into new ones, then the unfulfilled promise of freedom becomes our curse. Likewise, sometimes, shifting paradigms at first are painful and can make us curse. This is like an athlete training for gold, feeling such pain he thinks he can’t go on, then, remembering his goal, says to himself “no pain, no gain.”

Circle In The Water

"Glory is like a circle in the water,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself,
Till by broad spreading it disperses to naught."
William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)

I wonder at the circles my life is creating. Many have already “dispersed to naught,” and some continue to ripple outward. Interestingly, my artwork will ripple in the world for many years, since it is designed to have a lasting impact as long as it is seen. Relationships continually send ripples; when we interact with others, we are changing each other in subtle ways that carry forth in subsequent moments.
My book “A Heart Traced in Sand,” continues rippling in the great pond of life. People continue to write me letters of praise, telling how moved they have been reading it.

Each life sends out ripples, and we are all in the same water, so must know on some level the movements. Even thought can ripple waters . . . how many times have you heard someone say “It is amazing you called, because I have been thinking of you.” Their thinking rippled the water enough to wake your unconscious into sending messages to your mind and cause you to call.

In the end, we have to be aware of the ripples we send into the world, making them positive. Think what our planet would be like if we all were positively conscious this way.

The Artist’s Fortunes

Artists are often romanticized for living lives of creativity and passion, outside the typical norm of society. It is also a sometimes brutal path, as Van Gogh and many other famous artists have shown. Being married to a creative muse is a fulfilling and demanding relationship. The outer world comes second. But the outer feeds the body, and has rules for gaining favor and privilege. The inner muse could care less. And this leads to conflict that often ends in some inevitable suffering. How often has it occurred that an artist is consumed in his creative work, making masterpieces that the world is not ready to absorb? Meanwhile, the artist’s fortunes steadily diminish to poverty. So many have died paupers, and later, the world throws accolades on their graves. Mozart, Rembrandt, Turner, Van Gogh, and the list goes on . . . all impoverished when they died. Yet, we would be impoverished if such beings did not give us of the richness of their inner life.
I am exhibiting this weekend at PhotoArts Santa Fe, and although there are many people who give me compliments for my work, sales are not happening. So I think of the good company I am in, and I am thankful for my creative comrades, living and dead, and I send them my love. It is the best companionship.

Dreams

On weekends, I go to a movie. Usually, it is hard to choose, since there are more than one I want to see, and more coming all the time. Last night I went to Paprika, a movie that reviewed favorably in the local press. It is an animated Japanese film with the plot based on the thin line between our waking and dream life. In the film, the protagonist is a researcher who has one foot in both worlds, and finds herself embroiled in a fight to keep a new tool that allows people to experience each others dreams, from falling into power hungry hands that would use it to control lives.
Imagine, we spend one third of our lives asleep. How much of that time is dreaming? For a long while I have noticed that when I wake from sleep, I am a bit sad. I guess that it is because I am stepping from the rich, boundless world where dreams live and spirit roams free, back into life as usual in a very limited body within this material existence. Also, my dear Naomi, ( A Heart Traced In Sand ) who I am so bonded with, exists in the other world, closer to Spirit and the freedom of dreams.
Well, at least in my creative living, I can bring the unconscious and dreaming into relation with conscious existence and make art.

Adventures in Wonderland

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't much care where --" said Alice.
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"--so long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.
Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

The wide-eyed wonder of Alice is understandable because she lived so fully in her moments. I comprehend, since I am in my little boat of existence, floating in wonderment in a fathomless universe. I trust currents and fate. The strongest current for me is creativity. These days, I am preparing paintings for my annual one-man show at Adieb Khadoure Gallery in Santa Fe, opening August 17. Also, I am a featured photographic exhibitor at the upcoming Photo Arts Santa Fe Festival, July 20 - 22. Stay tuned!

The World Is One Country

Europe has come home with me to the United States. Friendships forged in Italy, Spain and France, continue here. I lost weight on my travels, and now I eat less and ride a bike. Some of my attitudes have changed, and I see more clearly how all people and nations are interdependent. Baha’u’llah, spoke over a century ago, saying, “The world is one country, and mankind its citizens.” He also said, “It is not his to boast who loveth his country, but it is his who loveth the world.”
I took many pictures while traveling. The painting above is from a photograph I took in Puglia, Italy. To see more, go to the Steven Boone website.

Cinderella

Time is relativity, which helps explain why five days in Paris, now that I am leaving, seems like one. In Spain, my hours extended languidly in the mountains, like the sun crossing the sky. With only nature and a few friends to occupy my thoughts, lassitude existed in each moment. Stepping from that world into the swirling cultural vortex of Paris, a city with 2,160,000 people, the atoms of my being are stirred with a different excitement. Paris has over 70 Museums, monuments and cultural tourist stops. Some of the best art in the world is housed in Parisien Museums. Stimulation comes from every direction, jostling me to think and act. In a state of hyper-experience, moments pass by quickly. I am now engaged and dancing to the rhythm, but it is time to leave. I feel like Cinderella, who at the stroke of midnight, finds her time at the ball has been all too short.

This Is Paris

I sat down with a couple of friends at a table outdoors at a crowded Paris café in the Latin Quarter. The evening was approaching midnight, and as we began talking, straining to hear each other amidst all the other simultaneous conversations pouring forth from the boisterous mob, a slight, elderly Parisian woman placed herself firmly at the curb and began singing. It was hard enough to hear our conversation, and now there was singing nearby to contend with. The woman wore makeup and dressed daintily. Her voice sounded frail as she gazed upward, sometimes using her hands for effect, and threw her melodies out to the group gathered directly in front of her. For some people, it was too much to compete with, and soon someone shouted at her, “ Shut up!” She ignored the insult and kept on without the least change of expression. Another man went up, put money in her hand and began singing alongside, but mockingly. She was unfazed. In between listening to my friends, at times I caught myself listening to her, surprised to hear some pleasing melodies in her song. When she finished, she put forth a cap for contributions, and then walked to another street corner to continue singing. “This is Paris,” I thought. All sorts of characters thrive here, adding their distinct form of panache to the pot of stew.