Free To Wander

Piazza San Marco on a Sunday—with empty tables because of slight flooding.

To be free to wander is a ravishing pleasure that feeds my artist soul. And in Venice, to wander is extra pleasurable since there are no cars to threaten a person who is dreamy and in an altered state of consciousness. Altered states occur since it is a “floating world,” much like a dream. Accordions play, church bells ring, boats drift by on the labyrinth of canals and one cannot walk far without coming to one of 400 bridges that span the city.

Reflections—Piazza San Marco, Venice, Italy

 I have had a remarkable 24 hours. A friend from the United States arrived yesterday and we met at my apartment to have dinner and catch up with each other before leaving to meet with two Venetian ladies. My American friend, Neely, speaks Italian and immediately was conversing with her Italian counterparts as we walked together to a free baroque concert in a 700 year old church—Chiesa della Madonnadell'Orto. The concert was a fundraiser for ebola victims in Africa, and consisted of recitals from Antonio Lotti (5 January 1667 – 5 January 1740) an Italian Baroque composer. The massive church with soaring architecture and paintings by famous Venetian painter- Tintoretto, (Italian, October, 1518– May 31, 1594) soon filled up and we sat together in pews as the conductor and musicians came forth and stood facing us. The music and singing was sublime and as I closed my eyes I was transported through the ages to other times.

Stevie, self-portrait in Venice

Today, I have been walking with Cristiana for two hours, and amazingly we chatted most of the time, while she occasionally waited patiently while my muse stopped me to photograph something or other.

I realize that when I am in the artistic zone, it is an altered state where I am not really seeing people as personalities and buildings as shops or homes. Rather I am responding to light and reflection, texture and space, intriguing positions of humans in interaction or alone within the environment.

Cristiana recognizes me as an artist and says that anyone who is to be in relationship with me must understand this is who I am. I agree totally.

Venice . . . double exposure

Friendships Have Deepened

"Gondola, Moored Along the Grand Canal." Oil on board

One of the most satisfying aspects of travel is being introduced to people and sometimes becoming friends. All it requires is being open and willing. For instance, when I arrived in Venice, I was immediately introduced to the woman in the apartment next door. She works for the owner. Originally from Columbia, she has lived in Venice about thirty years and does professional work as a translator of Spanish and Italian. She speaks hardly a word of English and the same goes for me with Italian, but we smile at each other and our eyes meet in friendship. She has brought me hot food several times, and we have shared photographs on our computers and become Facebook friends. Thanks to an app called Google Translate, we can speak into my iPhone and have instant translation.

Last night I went to her place for dinner. She had invited me and had a friend of hers, and I brought my friend Cristiana who is good with English. Everyone was comfortable and we sat together and ate the delicious food. For two hours of conversation, I must say I could not understand most of it and a few times I became a bit tired. But mostly, I picked up what I could understand, shared our presence, and simply enjoyed the animation and intent. Throughout, we all had plenty of eye contact and felt at ease, and happy to be meeting.

At the end, everyone came to my flat to see my paintings and admire. I was given a big plate of leftovers, and my friendships have deepened.

Imagine Vividly

Gondola traffic in a narrow canal.

For many years now, when I awake from sleep I do not remember dreams. There was a time when I remembered and wrote prolifically in a dream journal. These days, perhaps my entire life is a journal and is not separated by boundaries—what happens in sleep is simply rolled into waking consciousness and woven into creativity. In conscious thought I imagine vividly.

Now, living in Venice, Italy, the waking hours are even more remarkably like fantasy. A huge window is in my kitchen and the first thing in the morning, I look out upon a small bridge that crosses over a canal below, which is often traveled by gondolas, the way it has been for centuries. Further on is a 1000 yer old stone paved campo lined with little shops and honored with an ancient church that sounds wonderful bell chimes.

When I first arrived in Venice, I bought a vaporetto (water-bus)  pass, but have hardly used it since I walk and explore. It is remarkable how little changed the city is from the last time I visited in 2008. Elegant instrumental groups continue holding court in the evenings at cafes on St. Marks Square, the Doges Palace gleams with gold mosaics, tourists from everywhere pour through the streets and empty starry-eyed onto the campos, and the air feels the same with a slightly pungent smell of sea and canals. One thing has changed and that is that many people are addicted to “selfies,” and walk around with smartphones attached to long rods taking videos of themselves as they go from place to place. They can't take their eyes off of themselves and I wonder how they see anything else!

Tourists, completely tuned into cameras.

Being Italian

"Saluto a Venezia" oil on linen, 16 x 12inches

It is wonderful to hear church bells chiming and the sounds of children laughing and shouting gleefully, with an occasional scream as an exclamation point. These pronouncements of life waft in my open window each day as I live beside the square with its ancient church in Venice, Italy. The area is called Campo San Giacomo 'Dall Orio. The sestieri (neighborhood) is called Santa Croce, and is in one of the oldest parts of Venice—the church goes back to 1200 AD.

I have been here a week and the days seem to race by too quickly—I feel my time is limited and want to slow them. I wake up, make breakfast, begin painting or go for a walk, and photograph. I shop for food, or meet my friend Cristiana. Always something to do and in fact, I have projects on hold. All this, and sometimes I just stop to absorb and assimilate into “being Italian.”

My first painting is complete, and I have good photos; with more to come.

Start Fresh

It is time to cross the water. I am willing to start fresh, be as nothing and merge with everything. To be surprised and live in a floating world. To hear my heart sing and join a strange chorus. To walk the path less traveled until shoes wear thin. To let light pour into my eyes until they overflow with gladness.

My journey from Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA to Venice, Italy, started last night when my beloved daughter Sarah drove me to my hotel at the airport. Today I board three flights: to Dallas, Texas, on to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and then to Venice. About 18 hours total travel time. Venice is 9 hours ahead of New Mexico, so if it is 1:00 in US it is 10:00 in Italy. My friend Terese has counseled me to do nothing for a few days when I arrive—just sink in to the newness. I know my tendency is to jump into the excitement of photography, writing and painting, but her words echo in my mind, and I will most likely listen to them.

Winds Of Change

The winds of change continually blow over the ocean of my being. A wave has formed and is carrying me to a distant shore. I see that it has gathered force and is sweeping everything in its path: soon I will no longer be living in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA, but instead, Venice, Italy . . . and from there probably Asia and South America.

The time this happened before, I wrote some blogs in advance that are worthy of review:

Depend On Love

Traveling Around The Sun

 

Grand Confusion

 

 

 

 

Magic Into Perception

In just two weeks I will be out of the United States and free of constraint. Life will flow with surprise and call me to respond in new ways that test my resilience. My home will be Spirit itself—not a place but a path with no beginning or ending that travels eternally free and unencumbered. Where might my address be? Perhaps in the heart of creation.

I will go back to beginnings, to being a boy once again . . . moments magical, since everything is new and never before seen. With no reference, spirit will weave magic into perception . . . because I am willing to die and be born again. Over and over until my last breath when the gates to eternity open and I step through.

Indian Market

The Santa Fe Indian Market bills itself as the “largest and most prestigious intertribal fine art market in the world.“ Truly, it is a celebration of indigenous peoples of North America and their handiwork as they arrive each year in Santa Fe, New Mexico to sell their arts and crafts. 

Having lived in Santa Fe for almost forty years, I have seen many markets. It depends on my mood whether I go or not. Sometimes I think of the big crowds and say “no way!” Other times, my curiosity takes me to the plaza to wander amid the tents.

This year, I am almost part of the festivities. I opened a temporary “boutique” gallery only fifty feet from the plaza—the heart of the market. (See Gallery.)

I am glad to be so close. I feel the warmth and excitement generated by the natives and a reciprocal response of non-native participants that buy the goods. I love the pride that the Indians have of their heritage and how they celebrate in dress, crafts, music and dance. It is quite awesome to see the tribes represented from coast to coast and Alaska too.

Pure Creativity

"Homage to O"Keefe," mixed-media, 24x36 inches

For most businesses it is essential to build a “brand.” Artists are self-employed so have to think of being profitable. Thus, more often than not, they develop their own type of brand.

"Aspen Trail," o/l, 24x20 inches, SOLD

"Traveler," Mixed-media, 24x18 inches

I have always experimented and been uncomfortable being branded. Pure creativity is primal impulse and can be vitiated by commercial pressures to conform. Fortunately, for most of my life as an artist, I have had my own gallery, and could show a broad range of work. Over three decades, I have seen popular taste shift. In the last couple weeks, the majority of the work I have sold is “experimental.” That is gratifying and leads me to conclude I can be authentic and received.

"Afternoon Leisure," oil/canvas, 12x12 inches

"Afro Mask," oil/linen, 20x20 inches

Life and Consciousness

Life and consciousness are interwoven with spirit. Divine spirit is the greatest force in the universe—love that binds together matter and protects creation from disintegrating into formless chaos.

More and more, I am going to that deep well of good fortune. When I feel pain, remorse, despair, or frustration, I know I need to turn my situation around and then I go back to Divine Love. It is closer to me than my life vein so that I can under all circumstances say, "thank you."

As I practice this and smile on existence, my fortunes change for the better.

In The Matrix

I have a plane ticket to Venice, Italy and an apartment waiting for me when I arrive September 15. Venice is divided into seven neighborhoods called sestieri. I have lived in most of them at one time or another and now I am going back to a favorite called Santa Croce. It is the oldest part of the city with some structures dating over a thousand years.

Homage to VanGogh, mixed-media on canvas, 24x34 inches

With six weeks to go, I have found a married couple to take over my home and make payments that cover expenses for three months minimum, maybe more. It works for them because they are looking to buy a home in Santa Fe. Meanwhile, I have opened a boutique gallery to show my artwork in the center of Santa Fe—on the plaza during August, the busiest tourist month of the year. Today was my first day and I had the good fortune to sell two pieces of artwork. (Shown here).

 During my sojourn outside of the USA, I will write, make drawings and paintings, and spend hours on streets doing photography. When I did this before, in 2008, I called it “disappearing into the matrix”. Friends, when I told them my plans, joked and replied that I was going to “disappear into the mattress.” Ha, that is not it at all. What the matrix is to me is the place where elements and primal forces merge in life and death—where creation transforms. It is also the calm place inside the swirling forces of nature, like the eye of the hurricane. A great place to be observer.

Homage to Monet, mixed-media on canvas, 24x34 inches