Going With The Creative Flow

Art, like life, should be free, since they are both experimental. George Santayana

When you're experimenting you have to try so many things before you choose what you want, and you may go days getting nothing but exhaustion. Fred Astaire

It is often said to me, when visitors to my gallery have seen the work on the walls and discovered that I made it all, “It is surprising to see the diversity!” The Steven Boone Gallery shows the full range of my work, not just what sells. Usually, artists find a formula that works for them and if it is successful, then they repeat it—making a “brand” that it identifiable to the public and drives sales. I admit I have a style of my own—landscape painting using a palette knife and thick paint with bold color, which has driven sales for me. Yet, along the way, through thirty-five years of being a professional artist, I have frequently left the familiar path and gone into the unknown. This deviation is from inner necessity, not for financial gain. In fact, trying new approaches to art is scary, since it requires going into the mysterious and the public may not want to go there with you.

Art flourishes where there is a sense of nothing having been done before, of complete freedom to experiment; but when caution comes in you get repetition, and repetition is the death of art. Alfred North Whitehead

It is winter, and this is the perfect time to go into the unknown. Sales are down because tourists are gone, and I am not distracted by needing to replace inventory. The hours are plentiful to just experiment.

Twenty-five years ago I went through a period of producing abstract art, and now, I am returning to that realm. I am going with the creative flow . . . using the palette knife and thick paint, but experimenting with surprising combinations. Entirely new for me are mounting my figure drawings on board, coating them, and painting. I am pushing the color envelope into new territory.

I would say to any artist: 'Don't be repressed in your work, dare to experiment, consider any urge, if in a new direction all the better.' Edward Weston

Nude Depiction

Yesterday's painting, oil on linen, 18 x 24 inches. Took about six hours to make.

Some of my greatest pleasures come when drawing and painting the human form. Thankfully, there is a tradition in art of copying human anatomy that goes back thousands of years, to the ancient Greeks, who exalted nudes in classical studies—especially sculpture.

Societies around the world have placed taboos on nudity, but in art, it is sanctioned. Why? Because for the most part, the nude depiction in art goes beyond sexuality and touches the sublime.

It is pleasurable when a model takes off clothing to reveal his or her form. The moment can be powerful, and there are anecdotes about famous artists not being able to handle it—Cezanne for instance could only paint clothed subjects.

Models come in all shapes and sizes. I have worked from skinny people, short and tall, and one woman so fat that her flesh rolled in waves over her body.

Nude, oil on linen, 18 x 24 inches.

I met my wife, Heidi Of The Mountains, for the first time when I showed up at a drawing group and she was the model. I have drawn her many times now, since she continues to model for artist groups.

Yesterday, I gathered with a regular Saturday group who hire models to take one pose all day. The group begins in the morning, takes a break for lunch, and returns in the afternoon. The model poses for twenty minutes at a time, with five-minute breaks, before resuming the same posture. Both men and women artists participate.

Every group is different, depending on who is running it and who participates. Sometimes, there is no talking while a serious work attitude prevails. The groups I have gone to for years are far more relaxed, and conversations unfold, with a fair amount of joking and laughter.

See: Steven Boone Figures

Charcoal on paper, 11 x 14 inches. "Heidi."

Holiday Cheer

It took me sixty years before I experienced being thrown out on the street. Thank God, I can laugh about it. My wife owns a home in White Rock, New Mexico, a community about 35 miles from Santa Fe, where my gallery and studio are located. I do not like living in White Rock, so I have kept a residence in Santa Fe. Traveling is my passion, and I choose not to own a home . . . that would tie me down. I rent places that are furnished, and come and go as I please. Heidi Of The Mountains stays with me one week, and then lives in White Rock the next and I go a couple nights to be with her.

Here is my story, to which I could laugh or cry—but mostly I laugh. A gentleman named Joe had come into my gallery, seeking representation for his photography. He owned a poodle dog, and became acquainted with Heidi, because, at the time, we owned a poodle puppy (since deceased.) The man and his wife had traveled out of the USA, and he called himself an “international” photographer. This fellow brought his wife in to meet us, then invited us to dinner at his house in the foothills of Santa Fe. We dined with them and began to become friends, sharing poodle stories and tales from overseas. I agreed to show the man’s photos for one month. Meanwhile, I had been occasionally sleeping in my studio, since I had a residential lease expire. The gentleman and his wife suggested that, since they had three homes in three different states, and they spent most of their time in Colorado, we could pay a small rent and stay at their home in Santa Fe, for a duration of four to six months. The woman, Sheila, told Heidi, “It is a win-win situation.” Initially, I had a slightly weird feeling about the suggestion, but agreed anyway.

The couple left town, and Heidi and I moved some belongings into the house. Although the home was outside of town, it was quiet and comfortable. Sheila and Joe had said that they might visit us for brief periods occasionally, but that we could remain. We lived at the house for three months with only one visit. Meanwhile, I took Joe’s work out of my gallery because it did not sell, and my own photography was selling. After that, things changed.

Just before Christmas, the homeowners arrived. I had known they were coming for a few days, so had done extra cleaning. Joe seemed less friendly, and I noticed that Sheila berated him when he tracked snow into the house. Heidi and I left after two nights, and went to White Rock. The day before Christmas, we received an Email demanding that we get our belongings out immediately. That would mean that on Christmas day, we were expected to move. Impossible, because we were with Heidi’s family that day, and furthermore, my daughter who I do not see often, had arrived from Chicago. Heidi said that from her experience as an officer of justice, they could not expel us on such short notice. But they did. They took all our belongings and piled them in their driveway, in the snow, covered with a tarp. They sent us an Email as explanation, citing several complaints, including that the kitchen dishes were not in the proper order in the cabinets, that we had clothes strewn around in our bedroom, and that we had tacked a blanket over the large window in our bedroom to block the cold air.

I have found another place to live—a sweet, furnished guesthouse, just a few minutes from my gallery, and close to my studio. Heidi told me she had sent light and love to Sheila and Joe but the message came back unopened. “Did you send them an Email?” I asked. “NO, it was telepathic,” she replied. And so, that is my little story of holiday cheer.

Worth A Thousand Words

My ritual of writing a blog every week has resulted in 350 posts to date. Once the cadence established itself, remarkably it took on a life of its own, so that the postings have occurred even from the far corners of the planet.

Usually, a story or theme presents itself during the week prior to my Sunday posting, but occasionally, Sunday arrives and I am at a loss to write anything. Fortunately, life is like a kaleidoscope, and with a little twist, fantastic shapes and colors arrive that offer new patterns for viewing.

I once took a poetry workshop from Arthur Sze, a poet laureate of the city of Santa Fe, where I live. It so happened that he collected poignant pictures, clipped from magazines and newspapers, and he used these images to provoke his imagination in new ways. I think that this is the power of images, for it is said, “One picture is worth a thousand words.”



The picture I include today is worth at least a thousand words.

While I was out photographing on the streets of Madrid, Spain, one summer day, I came to a bustling plaza, and as I wandered, I heard the jangling of coins in a cup. A man with no arms stood gripping a canister by his teeth and wagged his head to and fro, shaking coins to make them clink together. This was all he could do . . . his handicap was great. I felt pity, and wondered at his existence in such a state.

Later, I was on a street nearby, walking slowly, when I came upon the same man, seated on a curb, smoking a cigarette. Next to him on the pavement was a man with no legs. I stopped in my tracks in front of them. The man with no legs had lit the cigarette for his friend and put it in his mouth. I motioned to take their picture and they both grinned.

This photograph is worth a thousand words.

Heaven and Earth

“All Heaven and Earth
Flowered white obliterate...
Snow...unceasing snow”
― Hashin, Japanese Haiku: Two Hundred Twenty Examples of Seventeen-Syllable Poems

I live in a place that receives snow in winter, and although it can be inconvenient, it is also beautiful and poetic. When snow falls, the world changes in front of our eyes, it becomes silent, and shrouded, as if a blanket has been thrown over everything, and it is time to sleep.

"The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?" J. B. Priestley

Today, as I drove to my gallery, I had to detour to take pictures of the magical landscape. It is only ephemeral, this vision, because as the sun warms the earth, the blanket melts away and sharp forms spring forth once again.

Did you know that very light snow is known to occur at high latitudes on Mars?

Here on planet Earth, the world record for the highest seasonal total snowfall was measured in the United States at Mount Baker Ski Area, outside of the town Bellingham, Washington during the 1998–1999 season. Mount Baker received 2,896 cm (1,140 in. - or 95 ft) of snow.

Naked

Laocoön and His Sons, Greek marble sculpture, 25 BC

David, by Michaelangelo, Italy, 1501-1504

"Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither..."
(The Book of Job 1:21)

Artwork, by its nature and essence, is meant to be shared and provoke reaction. When I post my artwork on Facebook, I am sharing my creativity and passion with a community of friends and acquaintances. Usually, I am posting my landscape paintings and photography. Occasionally, after considered forethought, I may post a nude, but then, I have to appear before the court of moral judgment, (at least in my mind), whereas with the other artwork there is no such hindrance.

Since I have made friends in Muslim countries who are now Facebook friends, I especially do not want to offend them with my nude postings, or for that matter, any prim occidentals.

NU ACCROUPI, by Pablo Picasso, 20th century

In western culture, we are accustomed to seeing wonderful depictions of nudes in art. Especially, ancient Greek civilization glorified the human form in art and rendered fabulous and inspiring stone sculptures idealizing it. As the centuries unfolded, the nude in art came into conflict with religious doctrines, but had sufficient respectability and integrity to withstand wholesale persecution—and thus continue being included in some societies as an emblem of high art. Today, when you look inside of art history books, the pages include many nudes. It seems artists cannot be cut off from the body.

Melody, oil on canvas, by Steven Boone, 2011

Facebook, in a sense, is a universal country. It cannot be dictated by the mores of one sector of the population without the risk of being shut down entirely, as in China or as it is closely watched by authorities in Iran and other fascist type states. Facebook, and other social media sites also have safeguards against pornography, which is a danger to society. The history of the nude in art is not pornography, but celebration of the glory and beauty of our human form—that which is closest to us.


"Art is never pure, we should keep it far away from the innocent ignorant. Yes, art is dangerous. If it is pure it is not art."
 Pablo Picasso, (Spanish; 25 October 1881 – 8 April 1973)

Nobody Complained

Celebrating the festival of Diwali, Varanasi, India

Have you ever gone to a movie and been the only one in the theater? The lights dim and the movie begins and you have the entire space to yourself—your own private screening. Last Thursday, I was at work in my studio when Heidi Of The Mountains called from her desk at my gallery and said that only four people had come in since she opened. “Do you want to see a movie? The film Samsara begins at 3:45 this afternoon.” I thought about it a moment and realized that this is a very slow time for galleries on Canyon Road in Santa Fe, and said, “Sure, I will meet you.”

We arrived together at the ticket desk at the small art cinema. A young woman was the only person there. She took our money, gave us our ticket, served popcorn, and directed us into the theater. It was empty. My feeling was happiness that we could claim the entire space. We sat in the middle, leaned into each other and as we shared popcorn, the lights went off and the movie began.

The New York Times describes the documentary movie Samsara as “Around the world in 99 minutes, and no words.” Samsara is a Sanskrit word for the ever-turning wheel of life, and the film is a dream-like journey over the entire earth, with stunning time lapse filming that illustrates the constant flow of a changing world. A musical score accompanies the moving images, but no spoken words. We watched and discussed in normal voices the movie as it unfolded . . . nobody complained.

Nothing Is Lost

At the temple of Karnak, Luxor, Egypt

Today’s blog is number 347. That is about 6 ½ years of writing. In the beginning, I wrote to bring attention to my artwork, but quickly, the writing became fuller—to encompass life and death, philosophy, religion, art and travel, and more. As I think of it now, I became disciplined and rarely missed a beat, even while living out of a suitcase, traveling constantly. The written recording, augmented with photographs, is useful and has led me to ponder how experience is never lost, but is computed in the mind of God.

I love the term Akashic Record. It is described as containing all knowledge of human experience and the history of the cosmos. Many people who have died and reached the portal of the next world, when by fate have returned to a resuscitated body, describe seeing their entire life pass in front of them. "Nothing is lost of either piety or sin that is committed by creatures. On days of the full moon and the new moon, those acts are conveyed to the Sun where they rest. When a mortal goes into the region of the dead, the deity of the Sun bears witness to all his acts. He that is righteous acquires the fruits of his righteousness there." (Mahabharata, Anusasana Parva, Section 130, Ganguli trans.)

Ancient Egyptian Afterlife Ceremony


We all will do well to ponder our lives, and reflect on our doings. While I was in Egypt, I saw artwork that copied ancient hieroglyph’s depicting the journey into the next world, and the chain of events that marked that transition. A person’s deeds are recorded, and a panel of 14 judges makes an accounting for judgment. If all is well, the personality continues to meet the higher beings. If not, Ammut the god with the crocodile head and hippopotamus legs will devour the heart, condemning the deceased to oblivion for eternity.
For more about Ammut: .http://egypt.mrdonn.org/weighingheart.html
For more about Ancient Egyptian Afterlife Ceremony.

The Beautiful Landscape

"Old Adobe Wall" oil on canvas, 12 x 16 inches,  1986

I dream of painting and then I paint my dream.
Vincent Van Gogh (Dutch: 30 March 1853 – 29 July 1890)

Painting completed my life.
Frida Kahlo (Mexico:July 6, 1907- July 13, 1954; born Magdalena Carmen Frieda Kahlo y Calderón)

The beautiful landscape that is all around me begs to be painted. Often, here in Northern New Mexico, my senses have been filled to overflowing by the poignant colors, shapes and forms, illumined by pristine, arid light that subtly changes from morning until night. Being an artist for over thirty years, I have chased after the beauty I see, and sought to capture it on canvas.

"Abandoned Ranch Road" oil on canvas, 20 x 20 inches, 1994

When I graduated Art College in 1976, I left the east coast and went to New Mexico because I knew I wanted to live in the wide open spaces, and I had heard that an art colony already existed there. I arrived in Taos and was introduced to some famous artists. Eventually, I migrated to Santa Fe and managed to establish myself as an artist. Mostly, I am known for my landscape paintings. I also paint portraits, still-lifes, some abstracts, and draw. Photography, mixed-media, and writing are other creative pursuits . . . yet, my landscape paintings are most popular.  Here are some samples from the past decades.

"Church At Ocate," oil on canvas, 1995

Painting from nature is not copying the object; it is realizing one's sensations.
Paul Cézanne  (French: 1839–1906)

"Rio Drama," oil on linen, 48 x 60 inches,  2011

When I am in my painting, I'm not aware of what I'm doing.
Jackson Pollock (American: January 28, 1912 – August 11, 1956)

"Path to The Sunset," oil on linen, 48 x 60 inches,  2012

To see more, go to the website for Steven Boone

Linked Forever

I am with Sarah when she was about 1 year

Both of my children, Naomi and Sarah, were born at home, but to different mothers. My eyes were the first to gaze upon them as they were brought into existence from their mother’s womb. I assisted during the births to the extent I could, offering encouragement and support.  With my first child Naomi, I cut the umbilical cord.

Naomi and Sarah

Today is the birthday of my second daughter, Sarah. Two midwives and myself attended her birth. Jean’s labor began the previous evening and Sarah was born around six on a cold morning, November 11, 1986.

Both daughters attended Waldorf School from elementary through 9th grade. For that, I think that they gained a well-rounded education that did not ignore their soul, but rather encouraged harmony between spirit and the physical world. Both girls went to public high school. Naomi died of cancer the year after she graduated, and Sarah has gone on to finish University with a major in dance, and now lives in Chicago.

Sarah Boone

I feel entirely blessed to be linked forever with these two souls. One is ahead of me, in the next world, and Sarah is beside me in this one. Naomi, because of the tremendous difficulty she faced gallantly before she died, I regard as my teacher. Sarah is my delight and a reminder of beauty and grace.

Sarah, 2011, age 25

Juxtapose

"Quantum Of Solace" Kolkatta, India

Here is a word that is not often used but ubiquitously seen: juxtapose. It means to place together and contrast two or more separate phenomenon. Juxtapositions are everywhere, e.g. the position of the sun relative to the horizon, the temperature inside as different from outside, a fat person standing next to a skinny one, or an old person holding a newborn child. In the arts, juxtaposing brings drama to work. A bright landscape painting is made more thrilling with dark shadows, music is deeper with climactic surges mixed with interludes of softer passages, and theater is fuller when humor and sadness both enter the stage.

"Tango Passion",  Mixed-media

Juxtaposition can be embarrassing and detrimental as well. We see this in current political campaigns, where one candidate proclaims himself as good and points to the other nominee in contrast, as bad. Class prejudice is built upon juxtaposing of extremes of wealth and poverty.

I use juxtaposition in my art and photography to bring drama and surprise to the work. While I was traveling and making my street photography, I often sought stark juxtapositions, such as setting my camera up and focusing on interesting walls so that people walking in front of me became blurred while passing by. In the photo I am showing here, an innocent oriental child, dressed in her native attire, stands in contrast to a violent western poster proclaiming an action movie. The dissimilarity adds to the intrigue and drama of the picture.

In my tango images, drama comes from juxtaposing stark light with the tension of male and female interaction that is intimate and ritualistic.

Juxtaposition gives us reference and allows our imaginations to soar.