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

I am Soul

I seek to be submerged in a limitless ocean and this is what I call THE DREAM. In THE DREAM I am observer as well as all the elements in the ever changing picture. No use holding on to anything—it is all flux.

This is why when I am driving through town and see homes, cars, people hiking on their favorite trails or shopping at their favorite markets, although I participate, I am not attached. I do not identify as homeowner, sports fan, wealthy or poor, American, white race, religious, of a particular physical type . . .. I let go of ego identification and realize happiness is being in flux; part of the ever changing DREAM. I am soul.

My Studio

The high desert terrain stretched all around me as far as the eye could see—rolling hills dotted by short, round, Pinon and Juniper trees, with mountains in the distances and a vast cloud strewn sky above. Waving my hand, I proclaimed, “This is my studio!”

Yesterday I drove to a familiar place along the Rio Grande River between Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico. I have painted the landscape there in all seasons except winter. This day, the clouds were rolling low over the mountains that rose from either side of the narrow gorge, and I had to wait until a light rain shower ended. The air was perfect and I made my oil painting, standing on the river bank. After I was done, I put on my bathing suit, marched up stream and waded into the rapidly flowing water. Soon I was floating, bouncing over rocks in the shallow area and then drifting free in the deeper part of the river. When I returned to my van, I looked around and gave thanks for such a wonderful studio and a beautiful life to experience.

My studio in New Zealand

My studio atop a camel in Morocco

My studio in Chiang Mai, Thailand

 

 

 

 

 

My studio in Paris, France

My studio in the Serengeti, Tanzania

My studio in Kashmir

 

 

 

 

 

Arranging To Be Free

Me, in Venice, 2007

Time sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a snail; but a man is happiest when he does not even notice whether it passes swiftly or slowly.

-Ivan Turgenev

 I have two months to set my affairs in order before leaving on prolonged travel. In July, I travel to Michigan and Wisconsin for art shows and will probably spend three weeks on the road. Then in August, I will be busy consolidating my life so that beginning September, I will be free to live in Venice, Italy. From there who knows? 

Consolidating means selling off possessions and arranging to be free. I have done this before and so know what to expect.

 

Venice, just before sunset . . .

It is strange that the years teach us patience; that the shorter our time, the greater our capacity for waiting.

-Elizabeth Taylor

Minimalism

If there is any doubt that art shapes our way of seeing the world, a recent experience of mine will shed light. Yesterday, my home and studio were open for the Artists Studio Tour, an annual event where artists open there studio to the public for one weekend. This year, the studios are open for two weekends consecutively.

A woman came by and liked my art, but she focused on only a section of a couple paintings. She wanted a vertical piece of art for a particular place in her home and she already had in mind a concept. My landscape paintings attracted her for the colors and nuance of tones, but in a limited way. And this is what she wanted—an abstract painting with only a few colors. This is called minimalism. I told her I could do what she envisions, and have sent her samples.

Before the twentieth century, nobody would dare imagine such paintings. It would have seemed insane to consider it art. But modern art changed all that.

A patron viewing a large color field abstract painting by Mark Rothko, (September 25, 1903 – February 25, 1970),