Soul Mates

Life is change, and a big change is coming for me soon. After four years of being single and footloose, I am now engaged to Heidi Of The Mountains, and we will be married on the island of Kauai, Hawaii, November 4. Over the past two years, we have grown steadily closer, so that this is a natural evolution and culmination of our relationship.

I have enjoyed my four years of singleness and done things that I was only able to do alone. I have many experiences, and memories of adventures that will serve me the rest of my life. After we marry, Heidi Of The Mountains will most often be by my side, and I can be a trail guide for an enthusiastic explorer.

In our relationship, she has been bolder and more of the trailblazer. She has been the one to proclaim the supremacy of love, and press the bonds of affection. As if under a spell, my castle walls made of sand have steadily crumbled into the sea of love.

We are a team now. Heidi Of The Mountains quit her job of fifteen years to manage my art gallery. We make daily decisions together and plan our future. She does not stand for negativity and constantly affirms positive results. Getting married is a result of both of us thinking positive together. We have both been married twice before . . . so I feel slight trepidation, but Heidi Of The Mountains confirms that we are “soul mates” that have found one another.

Raspberries

Heidi Of The Mountains is an outdoors type, and this week amidst the whirlwind activity at my gallery, she said, “I have to go to the mountains . . . and soon.”  I agreed to stop work, and today, we drove together to a ranch outside of Santa Fe that is renowned for raspberries.

When we arrived around noon, I was surprised to see a dirt parking lot crammed with cars, and looking out to the raspberry field, about 100 people ambling through the rows, buckets in hand, picking berries. We gathered our baskets and set out io the raspberry patch. A field manager took us to a row, and said, “The field has been picked over, especially since so many people were out on Saturday, but look under the leaves along the way here, and you will find berries.” I asked him about the growing season, and he told me the plants would continue replenishing berries for a few more weeks. “By Tuesday, they will all be back” he said. We stepped into the field, and soon, found ourselves each alone in our own meditative space, looking down, concentrated on spotting the ripe, ruby red berries amidst the green leaves and prickly stems.

While picking the berries, it is impossible not to sample the juicy fruit. To taste a freshly plucked raspberry is wonderful. The soft flesh almost melts in the mouth, oozing sweet and slightly tart flavors. The tiny seeds are all that are left to crunch upon before swallowing. In forty-five minutes, the two of us had gathered about 2 ½ pounds, for which we paid $12.00.

After our picking, we went to the quaint ranch café and ordered a slice of raspberry pie, then sat in the shade and shared.

As the sun moved slowly across the afternoon sky, I took my paints and easel out, and while Heidi Of The Mountains stood next to me making a watercolor painting, I captured a scene of an old adobe warehouse standing along the road. Its weathered tin roof pitched at an angle and reflected the bright sky, while the faded stuccoed whitewashed walls stood accented by deep green shrubs, sunflowers, and a few decrepit windows. A grand old tree grew at the end of the building, almost like an exclamation point.

On our way home, Heidi Of The Mountains massaged my head and neck while I drove, saying, “Oh thank-you . . . I had a wonderful day!”

Perplexed At War

There are events that happen in life that have a way of embedding themselves so deeply and suddenly into the psyche that they seemingly cause time to stand still. The news is such that when it is delivered, a person stops as if frozen, then takes account of his surroundings, as if checking to see if life will pick up and start again.

On November 22, 1963, I was playing with my best friend at his house when the maid entered his bedroom and announced in a sad and incredulous voice that President John F. Kennedy had been shot to death. That was 48 years ago, and I still remember the moment like it was yesterday. Our happy play stopped and all three of us shared a bewildered silence, not particularly knowing how to carry on.

On September 11, 2001, I was in my home when a repairman came to work, and when he entered the house, announced that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York City. I turned on the television and the news was unfolding, with pictures of the airliners hitting the towers, played again and again. It seemed unreal, and also unreal that life could continue normally.
Today is the tenth anniversary of the attack on America that killed 3000 innocent people.

The event will never be forgotten . . . and yet life continues as it has since the beginning; toward an uncertain future.

I have traveled around the world and seen our beautiful planet in its glorious diversity and splendor. It is such pleasure to be friends with strangers and overcome outward differences. The human heart has a deep yearning toward unity. This is why I am constantly perplexed at war.

An Emotional Link

Leo Tolstoy (September 9, 1828 – November 20, 1910) thought that art must create an emotional link between the artist and audience. Usually, an artist creates his art, then it goes forth into the world to be appreciated—or not. Most often, connoisseurs act as middlemen, promoting the creation to the public, and if they sell the art, they make a profit. Usually, the artist works alone and never meets the purchaser of his work.

Now that I own The Steven Boone Gallery, I have the pleasure of meeting the people that appreciate and buy my art. It is mutual happiness. The collector is choosing my work to include in the intimacy of their home surroundings, so they are glad to meet me and become friends, and I am pleased to get know those who value my work and are willing to purchase it.

Previously, I made paintings, and then delivered them to galleries for exhibition. Most often, when a work sold, I only heard about it and later received payment. I could only imagine the collector and their prompting. Now, I shake hands and look into the smiling faces of people, and then take time to converse and become intimate with them. It is a fuller experience, so that we can enjoy and remember each other. When the buyers take my art into their home they have a richer association and knowledge of it’s origin after having met the creator. The value for me is that when I make my art, I put all my self into the creation, and letting go of it is bittersweet. Knowing firsthand where it is going to be cared for, and seeing the depth of feeling and intellectual satisfaction that it gives is rewarding for me.

Best of September

September is a few days away, so here is a collection of my best blogs from September:

Places Unimagined    September 5, 2010

Visual Vocabulary   September 13, 2009

How Awesome Is The World     September 14, 2008

Finishing One Part Of Life   September 29, 2007

Passion and Inspiration

 

Your time is limited; so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition—they somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.   Steve Jobs (born February 24, 1955)

Starting my own gallery without forethought during these troubled economic times might seem to many as unwise. Yet I have never been averse to taking risk. Just being an artist is risky, since there is so much uncertainty regarding money. But artists live by passion and inspiration—that is their food, not materiality.

My gallery is like a newborn horse that is able to stand, but wobbly on its feet. I have a full-time staff and we are working to put our hopes and dreams together as a team. We will progress and not give up. For me, the emotions might be a little higher because the “product” is me, . . . my creations.

If we listened to our intellect, we’d never have a love affair. We’d never have a friendship. We’d never go into business, because we’d be cynical. Well, that’s nonsense. You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.   Ray Bradbury   (born August 22, 1920)

The important thing is not being afraid to take a chance. Remember, the greatest failure is to not try. Once you find something you love to do, be the best at doing it. 
- Debbi Fields (born September 18, 1956), founder of Mrs. Fields Cookies

This week I managed to build a website for the Steven Boone Gallery, so take a look!

To Live Fully

VAN GOGH, ALL HUNGUP, 24 x 26 inches, oil on linen, in the collection of the
Van Gogh Foundation, Arles, France

We hope that our life will be as we dream it to be, but to live fully, we must allow uncertainty and risk. Risk is when something valued is subjected to a situation where it could be partly, or entirely lost. The reward is that the valued thing could become greater, and of even more value. If no risk is taken, entropy and stagnation might ensue and true value might never be established. There are different types of risk. A woman takes a risk to become a mother. Explorers might risk their lives adventuring into unknown parts of the universe, encountering unexpected hardships, in order to chart discoveries and become conquerors. Investors take risks with their money, investing in new enterprises that hold promise of success and great financial returns. Athletes take risk by devoting their lives to training to be the best in their field and come out on top, though the competition is great.

When I opened my gallery recently, I jumped in suddenly and decided to take the risk. I have signed a two-year lease and must earn over $100,000.00 per year just to break even. In essence, I am testing my strength as an artist and entrepreneur, and there are many risks. The challenge for me is to stay calm and positive, and enjoy the unfolding DREAM.

A Leap Of Faith

I have taken a leap of faith and opened my own art gallery. I like surprises and sometimes, surprise myself. Only one week ago, Heidi of the Mountains and I were making the rounds of gallery openings as we do on Friday evenings. We passed a storefront where a gallery has existed for years, and I noticed it empty, with a “for rent” sign on the window. Intrigued, I jotted down the phone number. After visiting a couple more gallery openings, out of curiosity, I called the number and heard a recorded message, then left my phone number with my inquiry. By the next evening, I had met the owner, visited the space, meditated on the possibility, and confirmed my intention to sign a lease to rent. All by way of surprise.

Everyone around me has been surprised as well. The owner of the gallery where I formerly showed my work was shocked when I told him. At first he offered me wishes of success, but by the time I had taken all my art out, he was seething mad. He owes me money too, and plans not to give it to me.

I have been a gallery owner in the past, so I already had a sign to hang outside. I have a credit card terminal, and nice oriental rugs that I bought in Kashmir. In one day, I hung the gallery, and the lights were already in place. Heidi of the Mountains has quit her job of fifteen years, and has come to work for me. I have hired an expert salesman I have known for years. The first day open we sold a painting—and I did not have a receipt book! The stock market had dropped 250 points and on the third day dropped another 500. That was the day we sold another painting, and despite my concern of economic woes, the clients were happily oblivious.

I am relieved to be out of my former gallery and now able to hang the full range of my work. People that visit can see a broad spectrum of my creative impulse, including paintings, drawings, photography, mixed media, and even publishing.


I do not have a gallery website yet, but click to view the Steven Boone art website.

Best August Blogs

This weekend I am posting some of my best blogs from the month of August since 2007. Here they are:

Eternity In An Hour, 
August 19, 2007

Ducking,  
August 17, 2008

THE DREAM Unfolds, 
August 24, 2008

Woven Together Into Eternity,   
August 02, 2009

Monsters, 
August 30, 2009

Gifts, 
August 08, 2010

A Marvel,
August 21, 2010

Primordial Essence

“A man’s house is his castle.” ~ James Otis, Jr. (February 5, 1725 – May 23, 1783)
This famous saying seems to mean that every man is king of his own home, and therefore rich indeed. In his own home, he can live according to his taste and be satisfied knowing that he has arranged his surroundings for his comfort, safety, and pleasure.

I once owned a home. My former wife Jean and I built it on six acres of land in the rolling hills just outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico. We thought about the design, and then made a beautiful passive solar house. Over the years, we added on to it until it came to be almost 5000 square feet, with beautiful landscaping. The views are breathtaking, especially from the upstairs deck where the vista sweeps unobstructed to the horizon in every direction. My artwork adorned the walls and our children and pets grew up in the house.

Our daughter Sarah eventually went to college, and my first child, Naomi, from a previous marriage died. My wife and I had comfort in our home, but not in our marriage, and we divorced. Jean said she loved the house and could not imagine being without it. She bought my half, and since then, I have traveled the world and lived happily without a home.

I have come to treasure independence and liberty more than possessions and property. When I first set out upon the path of adventure, I told friends that I would disappear into the matrix of the earth. As I traveled around the globe for over a year, indeed, the matrix was my home. I use the term matrix to mean the primordial essence of creation; where life emerges into form and also disintegrates to become born again. It is always in flux and eternal, because it is creation. If we believe in a Creator that is eternal, then so too must creation be eternal for the two must be together and inseparable.

I have come to love the matrix and the Creator above all else and only long to be flowing easily, a deep swimmer in the ocean of life, open to change, flexible and free. My curiosity about the world and universe is immense and because I learn viscerally, I love to flow over creation like the wind, caressing it, being one with it.

When I enter a home, I pray for blessings to come to it, but I also relish my freedom from it. I do not want the responsibility that comes with ownership. No pets, mortgages, debts to pay, contracts, et al. I rent houses that are furnished, move in with a suitcase and move out when I please. In five years, I have not lived in one place for more than one year. I am nomadic and unconstrained. After all, I feel like I am just visiting the planet, and it is temporary anyway.

Three Hands

Voices of the Ancestors, oil on panel, 16 x 20 inches

Two hands are natural and emblematic of human beings—one hand is tragic—but what about three? I have a series of paintings using the theme of three hands. For most people, the images are perplexing, and that is okay with me, because I like mysterious pictures.

My first painting with three hands was made while I lived in Granada, Spain. My apartment was high on a hill in the Albayzín neighborhood, near the flamenco caves where dancers and musicians performed every night. I could paint, and walk around shooting photos during the day, and go to the caves at night. The house was great. I entered from a small street that had no cars, and passing through a narrow kitchen and living room, a couple stairs led to a spacious patio that overlooked housetops and the tree-lined river that flowed from Sacromonte into town. Directly opposite on a hill stood the walls and towers of Alhambra, the World Heritage Site. Another door on the patio led to a cozy bedroom.

Artist models are sometimes hard to come by, but with a mirror, a self-portrait can be made. I started a self-portrait, but wanted expression, so I included hands reaching to my face. Maybe because I was alone, and desired company, I added a hand coming from the top of the painting.

Soon, a French woman I met in Venice, Italy arrived to visit. We had become great friends in Venice, especially since she is a professor of art in a University in Nimes, France. I had visited her where she lived in Provence, and now she visited me. I did a portrait of her, and again, added an extra hand reaching down from the top of the painting, as if to touch her head. She liked the result, and also the self-portrait I had done. “You must do a series”, she suggested. I liked her idea, and in the next several months made more paintings with three hands.

Anne, oil on canvas, 20 x 20 inches

When I went to Berlin, I made a painting of my young German friend Anne, and used my own hand as the third one. Another time, I painted an abandoned house, high on a hill, in Andalusia, Spain. I put in three hands, as if gesturing. I call the piece “Voices Of The Ancestors”, as if spirits were re-visiting a place on earth they were familiar with.

Sometimes, while artists work, their unconscious is emerging in the process.   “Great art is as irrational as great music.  It is mad with its own loveliness.”  ~George Jean Nathan

I cannot entirely explain the meaning of having three hands in these paintings. It is to offer an element of mystery and surprise, and also my belief is that I have a muse, and I surmise I am including one hand of my muse in the paintings.

Self-Portrait With a Rose, (made while in Berlin), oil on linen, 18 x 24 inches

“Art is a collaboration between God and the artist, and the less the artist does the better.”  ~André Gide