Welcome aboard, texture. How do you feel? What are you made of?

packing a bag

I'm ready to begin writing again. Winter is leaving, making room for song and poetry in my bones. The last eighteen pages of journal include: a blind contour of Andy at the pulpit, some math, a description of a smell on my jeans, the titles of a few Rauschenberg and Twombly paintings, documentation of a recent NYC trip, something funny Carlee said, and a thought about hand-clapping. Sure there's more.

I moved again (see photographs below).

I'm getting back in the habit of packing a bag and heading downtown; lunch, camera and a foul-weather coat - because I never know how long I'll be gone for. I walk to work. On cold mornings I keep my hands in my pockets. When it's warm I read John. I've learned all the sidewalks and I don't trip like I used to.

This is a post I drafted a while ago that never made it live. Until now. I had this lengthy explanation of why I take photographs, 
but this is all I really want to say:

I don't ever want to forget some of things I see.

So I'll shoot film, pay to have it developed and build digital libraries.

Ten freshly pressed and stacked bow ties ready for shipment is a beautiful sight.

And my paintings know these images.

Two opportunities to show this month! Thank you Casey and Daniel for including me in your work.

I want to say a few words about the work on display this evening in Charlotte. Details here.

Empty Quiver, the Sum of a Week, You Have a Good Look About You Sky is over a year old now. It was the opening piece to the series Neighborhood (on pause for the moment but possibly forever ongoing). I got the idea for the piece when I was living in the two-story apartment with Lingerfelt and Hinson over on Ebenezer Ave. My bedroom window gave view to the east. Most mornings, with chin in hands and a cup of tea on the sill, I'd watch the sun come up. I loved that home. The mulberry tree in the back yard. The bathtub garden. The short walk to the studio over the Oakland/Dave Lyle bridge (I always hoped for the train). Yea, all was pretty sweet. There was a week I got sick though. Three or four days I spent in bed. The painting isn't about bodily illness as much as it recalls the snarled and thankless posture of my heart (later to be eclipsed by the truth, goodness and beauty of Jesus) while I was sick. The painting joins a slew of thoughts and earthly longings I failed to moderate with a surge of truths that eventually found me out on my sick bed. This happens almost every time I get sick. Not all the marks and shapes in the painting represent something, not to say they weren't addressed compositionally or without any thought to the principles and elements of design. I'm not trying to fool anyone though - I'm still a beginner at abstraction. It rained most of the time I was sick, those three or four days, but in that same hour I was coming to realize the greater redemptive work of Jesus and everything I had to be thankful for, the sun came out. And well, then I decided to make a painting. See for yourself...tonight.
Above: Empty Quiver, the Sum of a Week, You Have a Good Look About You Sky
Photo by Zan Maddox


Then there's the piece I did for Casey's violin recital. Prompted by Philip Glass' Sonata for Violin and Piano. The painting renders a breadth of elements observed in three movements, nearly twenty-three minutes of Glass goodness.

Above: Casey performing with Untitled
Photo by Kathryn Funderburk

Above: details of Untitled, more documentation coming soon


Lastly, this one. Of course I have more to say, but I gotta go! Hold tight.

Above: 366 Days of Dying
Photo by Aaron Rich

We removed the summer garden, returned the lawn and now we're drinking tea.

Later tomatoes. Taste you next year.

I had off from bow ties today.

After knocking on a few doors, realizing there was nobody in the neighborhood to play H-O-R-S-E with, I went and painted. Now, when I say I went and painted I really mean I was in the studio most of the day listening to Andrew Peterson's new album and planning the next step for 5 in-progress works. Oh boy do I have ideas.

Everything is moving quickly and I'm trying to keep a right pace. That's why I've decided to start doing matte medium image transfers. Recognizable objects and events: give me something to respond to. That's a command. I don't have time for blank canvases.

Don't get me wrong, I'm thinking thoroughly and figuring out how to put it all in words. So nothing is random and a lot is beautiful.

It wasn't an easy morning. I don't remember what my breakfast tasted like. And darn, Lell caught me crying from across her restaurant. That's when I gave up and pleaded with the Lord to remind me of his victory because I just couldn't see past the sin infection.

I let go of something this month, when I burned it in a loaf tray. I also gained something this month. A dainty, pale-blue teacup that I look forward to using often.

Don't worry friends, I'm back in the studio. Sheets of color, image transfers, repetition. 
Rauschenberg, Andy: thanks for the push.

i remember art school, when i worked so hard it burned. i used to throw my arms out like wings cycling down college avenue in the middle of the night headed home for deep rest. haven't been sleeping well lately. maybe i'm not working hard enough.

ruth, good to hear your voice yesterday.

hey mom, dad, i love you. and my love grows.

you keep me up all day, so i pray

the clean clothing heap. sort of haunting. stares at me in the middle of the night.

that darn magnetic plate at the top of my dresser!

never mind the excuses. bad habits, interesting sights.

Some mornings it takes a shutter button to get out of bed.

Merry Christmas, from me

Marge and Phil's greenhouse, my backyard, American Main. St., Christmas tree farm (or not), fabric rolls, Gettys Art Center, studio, fire, neighbors, studio

This one's for you uncle Domenic

One of the pieces that set Already, Not Yet into favorable progression 
"This series is a statement on endurance, refinement and potential. I've poured into this work the gestures of both my honest longings and joys. The series explores the exhaustive but rewarding toil of being formed into the person I've already been declared. It's about my internal restlessness and tangle, combed with the hope of eternal solace." - August 2011

"...training the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled."

a weekend set aside for studying biblical womanhood

shot with my 35mm

the Already, Not Yet series continues

I will try my hardest to explain this series with clarity on Thursday September 1 at 6:30p at Gallery Up. Until then have a look at this Q&A interview.

home sweet home, on ebenezer avenue extension