Brushstrokes and Shutter Clicks

A journey of experimentation in painting and photography becomes a dance between colors and shadows, brushstrokes and shutter clicks. 

In the realm of my photography, each new technique is a portal to uncharted territories promising a visual adventure that transcends the familiar.  A click of the camera becomes a brushstroke on the canvas of my visual narrative, weaving together my unique story.

Mastering new lighting situations, experimenting with unconventional angles, intentionally blurring images with hand movement, creating double images in the camera or delving into the world of photoshop, the process of discovery is my constant companion.

Joy lies in the unpredictability of the outcome, the serendipitous moments when a blend of techniques gives rise to a photograph that echoes the essence of my artistic soul. It's about pushing boundaries, embracing the unknown, and allowing creativity to flourish. 

As a painter and photographer, the synergy between the two crafts fuels a perpetual cycle of inspiration. For years I have experimented as painter and photographer, using my talents to bring artistry to images I make on canvas and with a camera. Decades of dedication to both disciplines only serve to enhance the thrill of creative adventure. The well of creativity seems deep, and does not diminish. 

And now I am jumping into the world of artificial intelligence, or AI. I have only just begun, but immediately find the results astonishing. I understand computer work is all only numbers and code and will not replace what I accomplish by hand. Yet, as I say this, I am cognizant that I have only been using digital cameras now for about twenty years. When a picture is taken and recorded on a chip, it is all numbers.  Then it can be read by computers which translate information into actual images that can be printed. 

AI creation with touch-up editing in photoshop

Ultimately, my thrill of discovery in photography is a celebration of my artistic spirit's boundless curiosity. It's the joy of finding beauty in unexpected places, capturing fleeting moments that resonate with emotion, and continuously evolving my artistic journey. The same is true of my ever evolving artwork in paints. Since moving to Mexico my subject matter has changed dramatically⏤from exuberant landscapes, I have gone to gritty spectral images of skeletons. Though now I have gone back to still life and portraits. But it can change at any time. I am not so much painting for the public anymore It is for my soul. 

"Victory of War" oil on linen

AI creation with touch-up editing in photoshop

Excitement of discovery is my lifelong companion.

At The Crossroads

My mind dances between earth and sky, memory, and ever pressing facts of the present. I easily think, “What if?”  All my life I have been restless. From childhood I learned by feeling and touching, then putting facts together. Given only facts and no experience I am lost. If I had been educated with an arts based curriculum from the beginning, many years would not have been wasted in schooling. 

My mother, Chloris, as a young artist

I have always been on a creative journey. It is my temperament. From an early age, I felt as though the world was my canvas to create art. Thankfully, my parents, especially my mother, encouraged the artist within. She signed me up for special Saturday art classes at a downtown Washington DC museum. She bought me a silver flute and paid for lessons. My father encouraged cultural and social participation in society, and sent me off to work on the Navajo Reservation when I was a junior in High School. I won awards for my painting and writing. World literature was one of my favorite courses. Like my parents, I have been an avid reader all my life. By the time I was eighteen, I had read all the important books by Russian authors Tolstoi, Pasternak and Dostoevsky.

When I decided to go to art college, my parents paid for my studies until I graduated in three years. It has been a blessing that I have been able to make a living as an artist for four decades. Meanwhile I have written books and poetry, become a known photographer and travelled around the world twice, living in thirty countries.

My restless personality, prone to chaos, has been a wellspring and curse. I am in my fourth, and I expect last marriage. This time, thankfully, Amy is also an artist and understands what fuels my creative temperament.

I have two daughters; although my oldest, Naomi, died at age nineteen. I always say I have two children. Naomi my teacher, and Sarah, my joy.

Now, at a mature stage in life, I face a challenging phase of my journey with moments of indecision. It seems my sense of urgency is gone, and being on edge⏤that sense that fuels creative breakthroughs⏤is diminished. Lately, when standing at the crossroads of creativity I have felt at task, whereas earlier in life excitement prevailed. The charging stallion is more apt to walk these days.

Each talent calls out, yet my storehouse of energy has faded with age. I do not have self-doubt or anxiety yet I am cognizant of how my physical powers have faded with time. That said, some of my most important paintings have been made since we moved to Mexico several years ago. That change of life, in itself was no small feat. More new and different paintings are to come for sure, as will the photographs and the writing. Instead of choosing one passion over another, through the years I have explored synergy between creative pursuits. I have blended talents. 

I hope my work reflects a multifaceted soul, resonating with people from all walks of life. Maybe I am a true renaissance man.

In the end, instead of limiting ourselves to a single path, we can weave together our diverse talents into a tapestry of infinite possibilities. Each one of us holds the power to carve a unique path, blending our passions in special ways. 

It is at the crossroads that we discover our truest selves.

The Unknown

Oil on linen, 17 x 21 inches

To throw oneself into an activity with passion and abandon, and then lose the comfort of what has always been safe and known . . . this is the path of artistic discovery. I imagine Michelangelo, (1475-1564) confronting an immense slab of white marble, and wondering what is waiting for his hands to bring forth. No doubt he felt a bit of fear to embark on such a grand task as to chisel a sculpture such as the masterpiece David. What did Christopher Columbus, (1451-1506) feel when he looked out to the ocean's horizon and wonder what distant land waited for discovery? The immensity of the sea is quite capable of swallowing everything puny in its path. More recently, in art annals, is the story of Jackson Pollack, (1912-1956) who abandoned painting recognizable figures and instead hurled fluid color in all directions across his canvases. He famously said, "When I am in a painting, I'm not aware of what I'm doing. It is only after a sort of 'get acquainted' period that I see what I have been about. I have no fears about making changes, destroying the image, etc, because the painting has a life of its own. I try to let it come through. It is only when I lose contact with the painting that the result is a mess. Otherwise there is pure harmony, an easy give and take, and the painting comes out well."

There have been many great artists who have come face to face with the unknown and been challenged to enter the ring, rather than stand to the sidelines. Perhaps this was a reason Pablo Picasso, (1881-1973) loved going to bullfights. When the matador enters the ring with the bull, the outcome is not known . . . certainly either the animal or the man will die. The man depends on his talent to guide him and gain the adulation of the crowd.

Recently, I have begun experimenting painting with three colors only: red, black and white.

Essential Substance Of Life

Self-portrait, taken in Montevideo, Uruguay

Matrix is a word that I arrive at often when thinking of my creative process. During my one-year sojourn around the world, I intended to disappear into the matrix, and from there, let my creative energies flow. What does it mean? For me, matrix describes the essential substance of life from which everything is born. It is always in flux, receiving the dying forms and casting forth the newborn upon the shores of existence.

The perfect place from which to create is one of boundlessness. A musician is in the flow and notes seem to come from out of nowhere. A painter is fluidly creating his painting and his marks sometimes are surprising . . . he has gone outside his boundaries and is in the realm of discovery.

Creation is timeless, and when an artist is creating he often is not aware of the passage of the moments. He begins, and when he looks up again, is finished, and then wonders, where did the time go?

Self-portrait, Paris, France

A Gathering Of Men

“What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies.” Aristotle

This weekend I took it upon myself to join a gathering of men, mostly strangers to me, gathered in the remote seclusion of a pine forest, far from civilization. New Mexico Mens Wellness is an organic, from-the-ground-up organization devoted to mens wellness that has been active about twenty-five years. The main yearly event is in the fall, attended by about 100 men. The summer gathering is much smaller. I attended the big gathering once, in 2006. The theme for this summer’s conference was Intuition and Inspiration.

I only knew a few of the guys, but it did not matter because this was a time for male bonding and everyone would leave as friends. Without women around, men could relax without feeling competitive, or bound by a partner, and simply turn to each other in brotherhood and accord. I felt immediately at home in the forest, prepared to sleep in my van two nights.

I suppose a gathering of women would be similarly supportive and bonding, but they might need more comfort. It rained hard twice and none of the men complained, although two guys had their tent flooded while they were away hiking and had to leave a night early because their sleeping bags were soaked. The firewood was always covered so we always had a campfire lit at the center of our morning and evening circle gatherings where main topics were discussed and each man had an opportunity to talk. When someone had something to contribute, he picked up a special, sacred “talking stick”, and while he spoke everyone else listened. Then, he would place the stick down to signal that he was finished and someone else could pick the stick up. Serious discussion ensued and we also shared jokes, ribbing and laughter, musical recitations, singing, poetry, prayer, introspection and observation, and great appreciation of nature. Although women were not physically at hand, they were present in spirit because every man had deep relationship with females. The women could let their men go to this gathering knowing that it was good for them and they would come back home refreshed and stronger.

During an afternoon practice, the group became silent and each man went into his own inner space to be quiet. One by one, sacred sage smoke was waved around each body, using an eagle feather, and a prayer scarf given as a gift before the man was led to walk alone into the forest and find a special spot to stop and ponder in solitude. Everyone was directed to walk as though giving light to the earth with each step. As I stepped peacefully forth under a blue sky in the balmy air, all of nature seemed happy and whole. The earth underfoot was soft from moisture and covered with pine needles. I noticed delicate flowers and wild grasses, feeling my way among shrubs spread loosely under the tall trees. Before long, I had found my spot and sat down under a pine, near a young scrub oak tree. A flat rock with a delicate pattern of lichen spread on its hard surface was partly buried in the ground in front of me. I reveled that the plant was living not in ground, but thriving on the unyielding, barren surface. A slight breeze blew the nearby green oak leaves in unison, making a rippling chorus of light. I dug my fingers under the matted pine needles to feel the cool soil, and scooped up a handful to smell the pungent earthy fragrance. On the same ground were deer droppings, and I picked them up and crushed them in my fingers. What appeared was the same plant matter that was all around me. The deer are composed of the same elements as the forest.

As I pondered my inner life, I realized I have strength and happiness, but also pain and sorrow always within. This proves the manifest direct relationship of mental and physical forces—and I know something of the origins. For instance, I have always had throat issues, and this I trace back to a frightening dream I had as a small child. In the dream, I was laying sweetly on my back, in bed under the eaves of an attic, beside an open window with lace curtains. A gentle breeze swayed the fine lace and wafted across my peaceful body. In this idyllic setting, a beautiful woman appeared next to my bed, dressed in fine cloth that also swayed gently in the breeze. She leaned over me as if to plant a kiss on my forehead. Then her hands reached my neck and she began strangling me. I awoke, and tried to scream but could not move because I was so paralyzed with fear. When at last my body recovered, I leapt out of bed and raced screaming to my parent’s bedroom. And also of course, the loss of Naomi will always be an inner wound. I realize these issues are “scars”, and might always be with me. They are indelible elements informing my life—part of the unique assemblage that I am.

One of the men, Michael Schvarzkopf wrote a poem during one of his meditations. I was struck with it and include a selection of it here:

My heart sees deeper than my eyes
My eyes can see into your soul if you let me

How can my heart see?
We know it’s as true
As my heart knows . . .
How can this be?

Intuition may be the truest knowledge
Ritual, our greatest tool
Heart our best guide
And mystery is our greatest hope


I managed to get away for a couple of hours and make a painting, and include it here.