I read in the paper that the Dana Point Boat Parade of Lights is themed, “A Galactic Holiday.” I had no idea we were thinking along the same lines when I painted my version of the Nativity. The difference: The yachts-folk were thinking Star Wars. I was thinking Jesus.

“Detail,” click on picture for larger view.

My friend Christine Gunn-Danforth asked me to do it. She commissioned ten or so artists to depict various aspects of the Christmas story to display in Barrington, Illinois, near Chicago. Mine was the Nativity itself. Two weeks ago Anne and I traveled there to present it. Above is a detail. Keep scrolling for the full picture.

“Creator of the Cosmos in a Manger,” oil on canvas print, 80×32.
Click, and then again, for larger view.

Now you’ll see what I mean by “Galactic Holiday.” Not only was it a starry night, if they’d had the Hubble telescope they’d have wondered beyond wonder. I heard on NPR that there are 100-billion stars in our galaxy, and there are 100-billion galaxies that we know of!  It’s too much to fathom.

Here’s another beyond fathoming: The whole thing was created and sustained by the One who came to earth that night.*

The names in the sky are two genealogies, separating off and joining back again. The documentation was necessary: Messiah would come through a certain line. Whether he knew it or not, step-father Joseph was qualified to be king. I took liberties; I gave him a purple robe.

The Virgin Mary would not likely have been wearing red, but I like red. So does God. Witness those bantam hens.

Then there are the shepherds who came to check. Not that gawking at babies is generally a man thing; they were confirming their non-hallucination in the field . . . radiant personages breaking though with a message not to miss.

Regarding that central star, a viewer identified it as Vega.  So I looked it up. Vega is our brightest star, 25 light years away, and still in our galaxy! It’s not the star of the Biblical account, but so be that, it serves a purpose in my painting . . . star reflecting star.

Here’s the painting as it was coming together. It’s the size of a door (on which it was later mounted). You’ll note my ironing board palette and my ladder for the upper reaches. As I painted, I listened to Handel’s Messiah, receiving new insights right along about the wonder of it all. Rarely do I call painting a “spiritual experience,” except this time.

It is a galactic holiday, indeed.
________
*Psalm 8:1-4, John 1:1-3, Colossians 1:13-20, Hebrews 1:1-3, 10

________

Painting Live Christmas Eve

I’ll be sharing all this, plus making a new rendition of the painting, live, during the candlelight Christmas Eve service at Heritage Christian Fellowship.
Times: 3:00 and 5:00 pm.
Address: 190 Avenida La Pata, San Clemente.
All welcome.
Would be great to see you there.

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Two weeks ago I was doing another one of those paintings long in planning and short on execution. This was for The Seed Company, an organization that sponsors Bible translation in minority languages by supporting native speakers to work in partnership. Here are some photos of the progress.

For this and all, click on the photo to view larger.

Here I am posing for a camera on Day 3. For part of the time I used a hotel dinner plate for my palette. But I’m getting ahead.

The Seed Company had retained the second floor of the 14-floor Sheraton in Arlington, Texas. There they held their week-long meetings for national and international staff. I arrived a day early to stretch canvas and get set up.

Here I am looking pretty formal before applying my first stroke of paint. I’d done the charcoal drawing ahead of time, working from a photoshopped layout that I’d also constructed. I chose to put it on three canvases for the sake of transport when it was finished. We bolted the pieces together on the back.

I used the business end of a short push-broom to get the background going. The charcoal drawing was sprayed with a fixative to keep it from disappearing as I applied the water-based acrylic paint.

Early on a young boy appeared, full of energy and really intrigued with what I was doing. So I gave him a brush and let him go at it. I figured I could always paint over it, and who knows, he might introduce something inspiring.

At first, it’s just a matter of getting paint on canvas . . . and just the beginning of over-use of that right arm. All day, every day I worked it, often overhead; I wondered if it would last. When I’d think to switch arms, I found my left totally uncoordinated and useless. Funny how that is.

It’s just a lot of square footage to cover with paint. I’d use different approaches, like that big sponge on the table . . . good for introducing drips.

This is all still on the first day. At this point I’d put a background color in, a foreground (the bodies), and now was working on color for the heads. Note the roll of paper towels, often used as a brush or a wiper. Very handy.

Here I was using a wetted and paint-soaked paper towel to “flop” paint onto the canvas. It’s a way of introducing randomness that can add to the charm.

I tried to keep my colors organized rather than be always hunting. Note the distant “palette table,” borrowed from the hotel kitchen, very handy with wheels. That whole canvas was propped up on drop cloth-covered hotel chairs.

Every day I worked into the evening. Most of the time the 400 staff members were occupied in their meetings, but they’d often come by during breaks and observe the progress. Their presence, and the looming due date, kept me working far more hours per day than if I were just at home in the studio. Even with 12-hour days, I felt no lack of energy. Only my arm complained.

That’s my new computer . . . with not a lot of paint on it yet. It’s a great tool, allowing me to enlarge and move around the image I was working from.

The point was to not give too much facial detail, as those featured were to be more “representative” than actual. Still, as faces emerged, guests had great fun trying to guess who among their colleagues I was painting.

My thanks go to two photographer friends who supplied most of these pictures, John Walton and Gary Coos. The little boy’s turquoise strokes are still seen in some of the lower portions, as they were even in the finished product. (I should have had him co-sign the painting.)

In the end, all those who had served as photographic models came by for a picture. Two extras are the painter (center) and Lisa Dammon (to my right) whose idea the whole thing was. The name of the painting: “It Takes Us All.” It’s of staff members interspersed with internationals, as it’s for them the organization exists. (Again, click for larger view.)

Here’s the finished product hanging in its permanent home, the new headquarters for The Seed Company in Arlington, Texas.

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If you’ve been seeing my “Blank Slate” blogs, you’ve got some background on our time in Idaho. At the generosity of friends, the Aleixos, we’ve spent ten days in their lovely “cabin” making art.

The view from the back porch.

The cabin is situated on its own trout pond with views to live for. Seems we took this picture several times a day, every day, and it was always different.

A view of the front of the cabin.

Fall is a lovely time of year to be here, with trees turning color and leaves everywhere, like paper-thin diamonds graveling every path.

Anne put ten hours a day at this table, or more.

Inside, we made temporary rearrangements of things to set up our studio. As usual, we brought Anne’s “smaller” press, a tall work table, and all her printmaking paraphernalia.

My studio. The writing office off to the left.

It looks like “plein air” work going on, but the landscapes were from photos I’d taken, maybe moments before, then viewed on a computer screen. It’s just easier inside.

What a way to spend a vacation. But who said it was vacation?

Here we are working together, separately. With each of us concentrating, conversation during these periods would be minimal. Pandora music would be on, or sometimes it was just nicer, quiet. Note two palate tables for me, one for oils, the other for acrylics. Anne, of course, uses inks.

Twelve “smaller” works.

Anne generally brings pieces to finish that she’d started earlier. Here’s a final shot on the last day, after all the clean up.

Fifteen “larger” works.

Since the monoprints are made up of multiple layers, multiple passes through the press, sometimes with parts scavenged from other prints pasted in, and then details scratched out with an exacto knife, it’s quite labor intensive . . . each requiring a lot of time before she’s happy with a piece.

Eight landscapes on the hearth.

Here are the oil paintings, large and small. There were two others, not shown. All are from local scenes, right around the house. The oils I worked on during the first half of our stay, to allow drying time for transport. All painting was done in the afternoons (and sometimes evenings) while the mornings were dedicated to writing and book projects . . . though sometimes this reversed.

Fifteen barns, acrylic on canvas.

Once again, I worked on barns. It’s a year-long project, which I’ve been doing in spurts. There will be some 100 pieces, for a motel in Ames, Iowa.

Underpainting.

Here’s as close as I got to plein air (outdoor) painting. It’s not that at all really, but rather a place to make a mess on an experimental abstract. Some of that tall grass wanted to get right into the painting. It fit right in, so I let it be.

It’s about rain and snow, watering the earth.

Here’s how that one turned out. As you’ll see, almost none of those early colors survived, though in person, up close, hints are evident, which is the intent. Same with the bits of grass.

The day begins.

The start of every morning looked something like this. I didn’t know Anne snapped this, from where she sat, doing more-or-less the same thing. It was our meditation time, reading, jotting a few notes, maybe a little conversation, often prayers. It’s the same at home, but here with a different view.

Anne, thinking? Or watching her step.

Another daily ritual was the walk, sometimes down a dirt road or on a path over to the river . . . for exercise, conversation, the beauty, and just the air.

Everywhere you look, patterns and textures.

Here’s the Snake River, as it divides and reconnects through a series of islands. Always we saw fishermen on the river, either in boats, or with waders out in the water, using flies.

Last day, last light.

One more view out the back. As I said, every hour it was different . . . this one taken on the last day, the end of a very fruitful trip.

.

Next:

Sandstone Gallery Show

For the month of November my work abstract figurative work will be featured at the Sandstone Gallery. The opening is during Laguna’s Art Walk, Thursday evening, November 5th, 6:00-9:00 p.m.

384 A North Coast Highway, Laguna Beach.  One block north of the Laguna Art Museum, near the corner of Coast Highway and Jasmine.

Art Under Pressure

The only book quite like it, 120 pages of Anne’s prints as well as an explanation of the process.

A beautiful book to page through for inspiration and intrigue. $24.95.

Order on Amazon or directly through this website here.

Sketches of Italy

Another book that’s one of a kind. This one all drawings, done during a week in three cities, Rome, Florence, and Venice (as well as a day in Siena). The drawings are of other art works, classic architecture, or people on the streets . . . also peppered with musings and comments, sober or witty. $14.95. Order on Amazon or through this website, here.

Home and Studio Show, Dec. 5-6

Save the date. It will have been a year since our last studio show and many have asked about it.  The next one will be the afternoons and early evenings of December 5 and 6. That’s the weekend after the Thanksgiving weekend.

33752 Big Sur, Dana Point, California. Come, and bring a friend.

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In Italy, where we traveled this summer, everyone was taking photographs. So were we. But besides all the majestic architecture and classic art, Anne found amusement following other themes. Here is an assembly of some of what caught her eye.

For all these photos, click on the image, and maybe yet again, for a larger view.

Anne, with her i-Pad ever handy, looked down as well as up, and would find all manner of interesting things. Here a prickly lizard was almost disappearing what with the camouflage of its skin and the color of the concrete blocks. Who knows if it was aware of this protection?

Somebody designed all these, and should be glad at least Anne noticed. Click to enlarge.

As she went (and we did a lot of walking), Anne began to realize that the utility covers in the sidewalks and streets were of different designs. I suppose it’s another example of Italy’s “art everywhere.” (One of these is actually not a cover, but the pattern on another floor. Can you find it?)

Notice the one where the faceplate is gone. Who knows if it was working?

Another theme Anne began to notice late was the variety of apartment building resident identifiers and doorbells. Again, all different. And, again, one of these is not a doorbell at all, but looks similar. Can you spot it?

Whimsical, entertaining, and scattered in whatever places. Click to enlarge.

Another thing that intrigued Anne was all the graffiti. Apparently in Italy making graffiti is not illegal. And there can be quite a bit of creativity to it. In Florence, she started noticing the simple graphic statements in black, red and white, all with the signature, “K.” Notice in one he’s even painting out a message, and in another he’s painted out. (By him?)

Click to enlarge, maybe twice.

Here’s a theme of mostly black and white graffiti of various sizes. And one more utility cover, this one in a wall.

Click to appreciate better.

It was fairly late in the trip when we started noticing these “under water” themes. I believe they were all in Venice, which, as I think of it, would be appropriate. Once again, the artist signed them all. But is his name really “Blub”?

Not a bad seat. Is this precursor to a “self-driving bike”?

The variety and the quality of the artwork was mixed, but generally done with some thought. The wording might be in Italian or English . . . or whatever. Here a bicycling enthusiast reads a newspaper entitled, in French, “My Bike,” and in English says, I think, “Cars Suck.”

The one with the fish in the bowl is about six feet high. Click to enlarge.

The final theme here displays generally quite large expanses of wall art, including one underground tunnel that was completely lined on both sizes. Remember, we were in Italy to look at art. And we looked at lots. Most, however, ignored the stuff on the streets and the walls . . . except Anne, with her eye for many things.

Sandstone Gallery Show

For the month of October Anne’s work will be featured in the window and entry space in the Sandstone Gallery. The opening is during Laguna’s Art Walk, Thursday evening, October 1st, 6:00-9:00 p.m.

384 A North Coast Highway, Laguna Beach.  One block north of the Laguna Art Museum, near the corner of Coast Highway and Jasmine.

Art Under Pressure

The only book quite like it, 120 pages of Anne’s prints as well as an explanation of the process.

A beautiful book to page through for inspiration and intrigue. $24.95.

Order on Amazon or directly through this website here.

Sketches of Italy

Another book that’s one of a kind. This one all drawings, done during a week in three cities, Rome, Florence, and Venice (as well as a day in Siena). The drawings are of other art works, classic architecture, or people on the streets . . . also peppered with musings and comments, sober or witty. $14.95. Order on Amazon or through this website, here.

Home and Studio Show, Dec. 5-6

Save the date. It will have been a year since our last studio show and many have asked about it.  The next one will be the afternoons and early evenings of December 5 and 6. That’s the weekend after the Thanksgiving weekend.

33752 Big Sur, Dana Point, California. Come, and bring a friend.

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Early this summer Anne and I went to Italy for three weeks. It was our first trip there, traveling with students and staff from the Laguna College of Art and Design. We toured three cities, Rome, Florence and Venice. I filled a sketchbook and have now published it. It’s available here.

Art appreciators and unknowing subjects themselves, quickly done in felt tip.

The schedule was preplanned and absolutely packed. Sometime we toured two art museums per day plus some magnificent church, also housing glorious art. And the people can be just as interesting, their moods and postures, as they let paintings speak to them.

Me, standing and sketching in the mausoleum under the Chapel of the Medici in Florence.

The students among us were taking it as a class for credit, and as such making entries in a sketch book was part of the curriculum. Being an inveterate sketcher anyway, it was no problem for me, and in the end I filled a third of the book in each of the three cities.

“The Triumph of St. Thomas Aquinas,” in the Santa Maria Novella, Florence.

We probably saw about ten-thousand works of art, all very high level, full of interest and history, of which we were treated to mini-lectures as we went. One couldn’t take enough pictures, which everyone was doing, but just a few of us drawing.

A brush-pen detail from the above.

As I’d go, I’d select some image that interested me and make a quick sketch, like this one of Thomas Aquinas, a famous renaissance intellect and thinker.

In the Basilica of Santa Maria Novella, Florence.

Once again, it’s not just the art that holds interest for photographing, but the viewers. I don’t know how many times these priests have looked at this art, but it seemed they were getting much out of it.

Pen and ink (ball point and felt tip).

It was from my photo I later made the entry in my sketchbook, with commentary.

In the Gallerie dell’Academia in Venice.

The giant painting was an artistic wonder and incredible depiction of an Old Testament story, The Miracle of the Bronze Serpent. Here I’m photographing hands and feet, details that can be a major challenge to paint.

Details from the above painting.

As I mentioned, hands and feet can provide a challenge in drawing and painting. Here are my practice depictions of a number in interesting positions.

“The Dying Gaul” at the Capitoline Museum, Rome.

“The Dying Gaul” is a famous piece of sculpture in marble that I’d never known. It is elegant in beauty and telling emotion, and a challenge to draw from any angle.

I couldn’t resist humorous quips sprinkled through the book.

All the students were to draw this piece right there in the museum, which made for quite a gathering. I made a fairly quick rendition and moved on, revisiting my drawing later for more shading.

“Pope Clement IV’ by Carlo Maratti. He holds his book, I hold mine.

The day we toured the Vatican Museum was a record for number of tourists, though you can’t tell here as I stepped away from the throng to examine this particularly beautiful painting.

Pope Clement IV, detail (pencil).

I carried just a few tools, a mechanical pencil (always “sharp,” HB lead), a fine felt tip pen, a couple of fine point ball points, and a small brush pen with black ink. The book reveals a variety of these media, not to mention drawing styles.

A rare day of rain in Venice.

It’s hard to see by this photo the make up of our group, most of which were in their 20s, though some older. Then there were a few teachers (art and art history) and a few extras, like Anne and me.

A rainy bridge, Venice. Pencil and brush pen.

It being a rainy day, and subjects continually moving anyway, I made this drawing back in the room from a photo. In the end, it’s all about design.

One of the many little squares in Venice.

More than once we encountered musicians in the streets, with some receptacle (here, his violin case) to invite coins from passers by.

A frozen moment in ever-moving ball point pen.

I drew this one, sitting on steps some distance away, all along enjoying his music. The scribbly style is to get the essence quickly and possibly later render more carefully; or leave it just like it is.

“John the Baptist” on a street in Florence.

We encountered art, good art, everywhere, this one, a bronze, in a not-particularly special place. The plaque said it had been donated by the artist.

Like subjects and styles are often gathered on a page.

As I mention in my caption, this street art was the best depiction of John the Baptist I’ve seen, a bit “scrawny” what with his locust and wild honey diet, clothing of animal skins, and his calling out with a life-and-death message.

Anne, on a “free day” train trip to Siena which we took independently.

Though I didn’t draw her (this trip), she’s always my favorite subject . . . on multiple levels. Here she’s likely reaching for her i-pad, which she made great use of for many wonderful photos.

Painting, in Cemetario.

Anne took this photo, unbeknownst to me, while sitting on a small monument in the Napoleon-built cemetery on one of Venice’s small islands. Here, unusually, I was actually making a watercolor, using borrowed materials from one of the students (and by then, a friend). She got the painting.

At 118 pages displaying 149 drawings, 8 1/4 inches square, it’s another small coffee table book.

As my sketch book was square, it was easy to publish it in the same format. Being a book of drawings only, it’s a “first ever” for me, and has received high interest––from those who’ve been to Italy, those who like art, and anyone who enjoys seeing another person’s take on things. The book is available for just $14.95 on Amazon and on this website, here. Great for gifts, too.

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Booth 34, my eight-foot wall space at the Laguna Festival of Arts, is ready for the summer. I had received a disappointing rejection notice after the annual festival jurying, but when another exhibitor dropped out, a space opened for me to return to this wonderful venue. We came home from Italy just two weeks before the opening, but with enough new work ready and help getting the booth completed, I was able to meet the deadline.

The annual Preview Party held July 3rd, before the festival opened to the public, was a huge success. In spite of a fire in the canyon and gridlocked Laguna traffic, throngs of people persevered to join the festivities. It was loud, crowded and full of energy. This woman, a collector and board member of a known art school, bought the framed print to her left. Several others bought unframed prints, making it a great start to the summer.

It was nice to have people stop and actually look at the work, something that doesn’t always happen as there is just so much other art to look at.

The festival gives an opportunity to show art to many people who would never see it otherwise, especially as Laguna Beach is a destination for visitors from around the country and beyond. They are often curious about my artistic journey, my printmaking techniques, how I get my ideas and designs. Each encounter is fun and meaningful for me, though I probably lose people when I get into details of the printmaking process.

Notice my new book there on the display stand.

Art Under Pressure, a book of my prints, came out a few days before the festival opened. It’s one more in a series that Hyatt has designed and published. This one is a collaborative effort as I did the writing and, of course, all the art is mine. We chose and arranged the images together. It is available at the festival gift shop, on Amazon.com, and through www.hyattmoore.com, here.

Pages 22-23, Benediction and By Still Waters.

Working on the layouts has revealed to me how few of my prints actually form a series . . . and yet there is a consistency. Perhaps it was choosing images with related colors that shows a commonality, not intentional when I made them, but there nonetheless.

Pages 28-29, Continuing the Search and Close Encounters.

Most of my prints are monotypes, i.e., one-of-a-kind, hand-pulled pieces done on a printing press. These two above  are actually monoprints, meaning they have a reproducible image, one using a drypoint plate, the other a collagraph plate, but manipulated so that each results in a unique print. In the back of my book I explain some of these differences.

Pages 34-35, Distant Homage and Finding My Space.

When I start a print I never know where it will go. I print one layer on top of another, which means that each stratum presents problems to solve in order to bring the piece to completion. Here are two prints using acetate stencils to introduce additional color, the ochre circle on the left and the turquoise half-circle on the right.

Pages 86-87, Resonating Rhythm and Solidarity.

Naming prints is part of the art. I’m always collecting words or phrases I hear or read, but when I’m finished with a piece, I can’t just plug in words I’ve gathered. Each title needs to feel right; it needs to fit the imagery. Resonating Rhythm (left) reminds me of a musical instrument. It feels kind of playful. Solidarity (right) is more sombre, weighty, weathered, anchored yet reaching toward heaven . . . like the solidarity movement in Romania.

Pages 88-89, Reference to Yesterday and Sustainable Peace.

Lately I’ve been trying to pull apart the simple rectangular format by printing several plates together. Reference to Yesterday (left) combines three plates, plus a linocut design to add a sense of calligraphy. For Sustainable Peace (right), I used alphabet stencils to add letters as a design element.

The process, illustrated in pictures.

Hyatt thought that photos of my printmaking process would be interesting. I always say it’s much easier to do than to explain as it sounds more complex than it is. Hopefully the photos in the book will make the explanations clearer.

(Click on photos for larger view.)

I often use asemic writing as a design element. That’s made up writing that doesn’t actually say anything. These pieces are done in what is called a trace monotype, a process that allows me to add line imagery and text to the print surface.

Here I am in the studio, a place I love to be, though it doesn’t happen as regularly as I’d like. Still, there are many on display at the summer-long show in Laguna. And there are many more in the book. Click here for more information and access to ordering.

Come to the Festival of Arts if you can. It’s open 11 am-11 pm daily, now through the end of August. I’m there most evenings and some afternoons. Check out www.foapom.com for more details.

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As of tonight, Thursday, July 2, my work will be featured at Sandstone Gallery in Laguna Beach. The big event is simultaneous with the monthly art walk. That’s always a fun and highly social time, as all the galleries in town are open late. In the Sandstone neighborhood that’s some ten such places, all full of color and life and energy.

Here’s the grand size Blond Boy, shining out 0f the gallery window at dusk. Click for info.

Though Sandstone is generally an abstract gallery, featuring nine artists, sometimes I slip in one of my more representational pieces. And sometimes a very large one. Last year I featured another of that series in the window, of a Tibetan boy, and it was happily discovered by a family from Philadelphia, where it now resides. Who knows where this surfer kid from California might end up? (I’m referring to the painting, not the painter.)

Beauty Walking on Red. Click for info.

The show features about a dozen and a half of my pieces, small, medium and large. Here are just a few, all favorites of course . . . this one and the following fairly abstract, the rest more representational.

Simply Elegant. Click for info.

Here’s a piece that has grown on me the more I’ve looked at it. It’s probably my most understated figurative painting, but says just enough. It was one of a pair, the other of which was sold through the gallery we’re at in Palm Desert.

Blue Smock.

The life-size Blue Smock has been hanging handsomely in our home for some time. And she’ll be welcome back, unless she wins the heart of another. As you’ll see, this is getting a little less abstract, what with the face more developed . . . though is still no one specific person.

Green into Green.

Often galleries like paintings of people with no recognizable face. Such paintings should represent a more general idea . . . one that we can put ourselves into. Like this one: walk with her, walk behind her, or be her.

Flamenco Golds Grand.

Here’s one I made some years ago. It’s been shown a number of places, always adding energy wherever it is. Now is the first time in Laguna.

The show at Sandstone will run for the month of July. The opening, at Art Walk, is the most energizing time. Also in the gallery are eight other great artists, including Anne. Sandstone is at 384 N. Coast Highway in Laguna Beach.

Coming Soon: Anne’s show and book

In just a week we will post another blog featuring Anne’s show at the Laguna Festival of Arts. We’ll also be announcing the release of a new book of her work, Art Under Pressure, to be available through this website, and available now through Amazon. Stay tuned.

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It was the latest in what has been a series of large, creative, public, Christian, performance painting projects this season. A couple of them were long planned, some just came up. I marvel myself about their origin, their result, and the uniqueness of this particular contribution to things. And I’m grateful.

House brush, paint splotched jeans, my Brisbane hat, and first strokes on Jesus.  Click on every picture for a larger view.

The occasion this time was a one-day event at the Convention Center in downtown Phoenix. It was for the sake of fostering unity between Catholics and Protestants. I’d been invited to come up with something that might symbolize such unity. That was just two months ago, still in the midst of other projects. It sounded intriguing and I went to work on it.

A charcoal drawing, more detailed than usual, leaning on our porch.

My idea was to paint on actual doors, which I could buy, already primed, at Home Depot. It was actually a marvelous solution, as they took the paint very well, both acrylic and oil, a combination that works well with my style.

Shown are two partially finished and another at first stage.

Part of the idea was to hinge the paintings together, something I worked on here in the garage. The hinges provided connection, further symbolizing unity, and were a solution for the paintings to be free standing. And, of course, doors are made for hinges.

It starts with a photo search; the person must be standing, and just the right action.

I decided to paint three prominent Catholics and three prominent Protestants, either contemporary or from history. As Pope Francis has shown himself in favor of such reconciliation, and would even have a video message for the event, he was a natural selection and the first painting I made.

These are under-painted with acrylic, detailed with oil. I’d intend to render further, but then liked the unfinished look.

I did a search for the leaders I would paint. I could have chosen many, but was content with my six. Here is Theresa of Avila, mystic, writer and tower of comfort during the difficult days of the Spanish Inquisition. Of course, for these there was no photo reference. For Theresa I found a statue, and an early painting of her face. Oh, and for hands, I used Anne’s.

You can see a slightly different approach to each of these paintings. Such just happens.

For an influential Protestant I chose William Wilberforce who, out of his Christian convictions, contested the British slavery trade. A movie was made about him a few years ago, Amazing Grace.  The part was played by Welsh actor Ioan Gruffudd, whose photo I used as a model.

Nice to have a smile among these auspicious personages.

William Tutu is a current force for good, arising to prominence first in South Africa, contesting apartheid. I put a lot of linseed oil in that red paint to get it to flow fast. It produced a nice transparent glow, but almost never dried.

I used lots of license with these colors, I’m sure, and left the under-drawing in tact.

William Tyndale was another prominent Protestant, an early translator of the English Bible and the first to use the new technology of printing to get it into the hands of the common people. Once again, with no photo, I found a statue for his stature.

I had a photo, yes, but just black and white.

Diedrich Bonhoeffer was a theologian and Lutheran pastor in Germany during the days of Hitler. He saw through it, stood up to it, and in the end was hanged. I’m currently reading his most known book, second time in a row, this time very slowly.

I must say, I enjoyed these paintings, liked how they came out, but I never made them to keep.

Here’s what the line up of paintings on doors looked like, standing in our patio, before loading them up in our mini-van and driving them across to Phoenix. The final one I would paint in public two days later during the conference. Not shown is a see-through plaque I made for each, to identify the person, their date, and a brief quote.

My spot would be up where that orange ladder was then standing.

Here’s what the room looked like when I first began unloading paintings, my easel and two kits of paint materials––one for acrylic, one for oils. Four thousand chairs were set up, and later the stage area decorated and full.

I waited until the event was in full sway before starting. Too bad I can’t share the spirited music, the great band, the heart-felt singing. Flags and banners were part of it all. As I began painting, I turned and took this quick shot with the i-phone.

A roll of paper towels here used as a brush.

I’d brought this final door sketched in, but not painted. At this point, taken about midday, it was plenty recognizable what I was doing. Attendees enjoyed glances at the progression as they listened to speakers and participated.

The climax.

The painting as it looked when I put my brushes down. It would be the center of the seven-painting “movable mural.”

The climax of the climax.

It was the very last part of the day when we brought all the paintings to the stage, hinged them together, and made the presentation––in English and Spanish. Here I’m explaining who these images represent and why I chose them.

A close up of the oil painted face.

As I mentioned in closing, painting Jesus can feel somewhat intimidating. On the other hand, he is very forgiving. I do like the “manly” look, though maybe a bit rugged here . . . more like he was just in from the desert. (But that works too.)

The line up.

It looks diminutive here, though it’s 6.5 feet tall by almost 19 feet wide. Again (as with all of these), click on the picture for a larger view.

One more.

Someone sent me this snap from their camera phone. I just like this image, my working on Jesus at close range. (Normally he’s doing that on me.)

The climax of the climax of the climax.

I hadn’t seen this coming, but there was such acclaim to this presentation at the end of the day, much clapping, many photos, and then this: the priest and others erupting into a prayer for my ongoing service in however God would lead. Amen!

Temporary lodging for the finished painting.

In the future, the painting(s) will be used in ongoing events for the unity movement. Between such events, it has a beautiful resting place in the home of prime organizers, Joseph and Mary Tosini. Here it is within the glass walls of their entry patio and fish pond. Seems a fitting place, Jesus having had so much to say about fish, and men.

______

Next, Anne prepares for a summer-long show at the Laguna Beach Festival of Arts. But first, we’re off to Renaissance Italy for three weeks to explore our cultural heritage and consider how we fit in.

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It was my fourth or fifth trip to Anchorage. This time it was to deliver a painting, actually nine paintings, that would become one big mural. It was for a new youth center, part of an active effort by Muldoon Community Assembly Church to confront the quicksand of negative influences all around.

Click for larger view.

Here’s the spot where many high-end homes were lost in the still well-remembered earthquake of 1964. In the distance is the end of the Rocky Mountains. Looking at the majestic landscape you wouldn’t think there are any negative influences to address. But a closer look shows another side.

I opted to paint in acrylic on unprimed canvas. As my studio wall is just 9 ft. and the canvases 12 ft., I rolled the canvas up on a stick as I went.

It was just six or eight weeks earlier that I got the call. A new building was about to be finished and they thought a big piece of art would be fitting . . . if I had any ideas. I didn’t until then, but all one needs is a challenge to get the mind working. My challenge, however, was nothing compared to what Pastor Kent Redfearn and his staff are trying to address in racially diverse and beautiful but crime-prone east Anchorage where they are.

A challenge in painting this way was the canvas wrinkling, to be solved later.

The idea was to paint children from many cultures. I researched and and gathered about four times as many images as I’d use. Many overlap with nationalities found at the church. There are Nigerians in the church, for example, even if they don’t dress like those in Africa (above).

All nine of the pieces started out this way, drawn in charcoal, then rolled up and brought back to the studio.

Though I could paint in my studio, a section at a time, I needed another place to make the drawings. I got use of a school gym in the evenings (or once, 2:00 a.m. until dawn). Sorry, I have no photo of me here to show the scale, but I was working alone (something wife Anne worried about as I was up on those 10 ft. ladders with makeshift scaffold).

It was a big job just making the stretcher bars (the “inner frame) for this project.

A primary reason to paint on unstretched canvas was to be able to ship inexpensively (relatively speaking). Here are the nine canvases as they came out of the box at the other end, along with one of the stretcher bar units, prepared by staff there.

Note those wrinkles, which had to go.

Here is a painting being unrolled for positioning. Afterward it was turned over and worked on from the reverse side.

Canvas stretching pliers, staple guns, and lots of arm and finger strength is all it takes. And a good sense of humor.

It was an all day job, with some six people participating at one time or another, to get the pieces stretched. As we’d finish each one we’d congratulate ourselves on how good it looked . . . not the art, but how flat and taut the canvas was. (For any parts not so, we’d redo.)

Eskimo Child, 12’x5.5′.

As the name implies, The East Anchorage Development Center is not just church related. It’s for the community, with high school age kids in mind particularly.

Tibetan Duo, 12’x7′.

It’s a multi-cultured area. Within two miles of the church in each direction are two of the most ethnically diverse high schools in the nation.

El Salvadorian Boys and Bike, 12’x7′.

One of the goals of the youth center is to reduce the attractiveness of gang participation and membership. Having more options for kids is part of it, and community.

Nigerian Threesome, 12’x7′.

Statistics show the east Anchorage area as having the highest sex crime rate per capita in the United States. It’s another reason to focus on young people, to bring positive influence and care.

Laos Duo, 12’x7′.

Another problem is dropping out of high school. One of the goals of the center is to use many means to positively affect the trend.

Nepal Boys, 12’x7′.

The after school programs to be held at the center are yet to begin, the building just now reaching completion. The big mural was literally the final touch.

Thai Soccer Boys, 12’x7′.

Soccer, a world-wide sport, is just one of the connections between people of every age. With the center there will be more.

Siberia Girls, 12’x7′.

I couldn’t help but be drawn to a couple races from the cold climates, being a painting in Alaska. But there are warmer regions represented too.

Ecuadorian Siblings, 12’x5.5′.

Here’s the far right panel, the only one I signed, not all nine. That indicates (at least to me) that this is all one painting.

Where’s Waldo?

Here’s the piece, almost finished, leaning against the opposite wall from where it will hang, before I painted in a “horizon line” to draw it all together. The two end pieces were ultimately switched to better accommodate a heating duct.

I was grateful for the precision care of the crew mounting the separate pieces to the wall.

Every space should have a soul. Perhaps the painting of all the children from around the world will remind those using the room they are not alone, that racial diversity is God-authored, and though people can be poor, they can be happy.

Fixing a spot.

I brought my paints just in case, for the sake of final touches here and there.

The final mural, 12 feet tall by 57 feet wide. (Click to enlarge.)

It’s safe to say this is my largest painting yet. You’ve seen paintings done on three canvases. That’s called a triptych. When it’s on more, it’s a polyptych, or, as this one is on nine canvas, that should make this a triple triptych (which I think is a whole new concept).

In the end, Pastor Kent named it, Jesus Loves the Little Children. Good title. I know a lot of love went into its making, and I trust a lot will show through as it shines down on everybody that uses that room for many years to come.

Here’s a time lapse of the installation. (Click on the little arrows to enlarge.)

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The Susan B. Anthony Recovery Center in Pembroke, Florida, treats women in addiction with a very high success rate. This is part because of their multiple, tested approaches, their long (six month to two year) residence program, and their commitment to keep the children with the mothers during treatment. This month Anne and I were invited to a celebration of recent graduates.

These are some of the graduates who are already out in the community, working jobs, making their contributions, raising their children. If you recognize some of my paintings on the wall, they were the beginning of the connection between us.

The architectural rendering gives an idea of the size of the place. Not shown are other off-site residences.

Our relationship with Susan B. Anthony Recovery started when Dean Dalbery, the new CEO, wanted to “re-face” the organization did a Google search for abstract images of women and children. A number of my paintings popped up and he contacted me. Basically he was seeking permission to use electronic files of a few pieces for their printed materials.

What he couldn’t know was how just that morning I’d been in the Biblical book of Proverbs (11:25)–“A generous man will prosper.” It seemed like a basis for a business plan; I committed to look for ways. When this call came, and I got a sense of the solidness of the work they are doing, I decided to give them not just permission, or even a painting, but an gallery of paintings. To experience the results of that, the paintings all handsomely arranged on their walls, was a big part of our being invited to Florida.

For a sense of their excitement about it all, here’s a brief video after they opened the crate back in January.

Two dancers, paintings I’d had, even in a gallery, but now have a new home. As with all these picture, click for larger view.

We never did get a photo of the whole gallery, covering all four walls of one big room, down halls and in offices. Here are two as they hang in the lobby. Of course Anne and I received abundant thanks, but we also saw, with them, how the art, and the sheer quantity of it, had truly elevated it from a basic institution to a place of beauty with even a touch of elegance. Both the staff and the women being served tell how they feel fed by it all at a soul level . . . some seeing themselves in the paintings. Beauty is indeed something we need.

I’ve posted their paintings on my website. Though they’re not for sale, being owned by the Susan B. Anthony Recovery Center, they can be seen here.

Baby Bundle, in progression from sitting model to mother.

Among the paintings I sent, a number I already had, a few more I painted for the occasion, one big one I finished, and others I altered. This one, and the couple that follow, were originally paintings I done from a live model, on unstretched canvas (thus the wide borders). With a little imagination I figured they could be turned into mothers with a child.

Here’s the result, Baby Bundle, oil on canvas, 28″x 18.”

Another progression–a single woman to mother.

It was the same with this one, a model I originally painted from a number of angles, but liked this three-quarter rear view best. That was months before. For this purpose it was merely a matter of tilting her head and suggesting a baby at her breast. (Looks like I forgot to give her that flower back in her hair.)

The result: Break for Baby, oil on canvas, 28″x 18.” To me, it’s a better painting with the changes, now showing a relationship.

Again, click the pictures for enlargement.

In one case, during all this, I attempted something quite unusual . . . to put an imaginary baby in the lap while painting the model. (I expect the other painters present wondered what I was up to, but nobody asked.)

I did the finishing touches in my studio later, getting rid of that unnecessary chair, etc. The result: Babe ‘n Jeans, oil on canvas, 28″x 28.”

Showing on the wall is about a fifth of the paintings they now have in their gallery.

As “art therapy” is on of the activities they offer, they asked if I’d do a demonstration. I don’t know anything about art therapy, though I suppose I’m doing it all the time. The agreeable model was Tule, one of the staff, with unusually interesting hair (from an artist’s perspective). She was positioned so she could also watch the progress.

Here’s the result after an hour and a half’s painting, lecturing and answering questions–and sharing a lot of laughter with the group.

A flyer for their upcoming anniversary.

Here’s an example of the use of my art they originally had in mind, from a piece I’d painted earlier. Incidentally, that’s our daughter-in-law Nicole, with one of her four children.

The new book, about to be released.

One more thing: It seemed to me that besides a gallery of paintings they should also have a book. So I put the graphic together, included all the 31 paintings, and they contributed the words . . . inspirational and informative. The cover painting happens to be of our daughter Acacia, with one of her four.

Click on the picture and you may be able to read the quote by one of the women being served.

The book is 68 pages, 8 1/4″ square, the same format as my recent others. It’ll be available shortly from Susan B. Anthony, from my website, and Amazon. Once again, that’s Nicole, doing with the painting is named for, “Daily Routine.”

In the end, we’ve been well rewarded for all this. I return to the passage in Proverbs: “A generous man will prosper.” How that will work out, I don’t know. I do know I’m getting a lot of work of late. Some for pay, some not. But it’s all quite rewarding. I’m grateful.

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