Over decades of dreaming, sometimes dark, sometimes clearly, dreams of fish have persisted. I often wonder about their power. It was luck that I grew up on a lake and to have my morning routine start off with a visit to the water to see what was visiting the shore. This meant a quiet tip-toe and intense watching long before I reached the dock. (One step on the dock, even for a 6 year old, was a trigger for the fish to dash away.)
The water conditions were very clear with indirect sunlight passing through the trees on the south shore. There, one could be sure of seeing something every day: a half-dozen young bass, invisible but for their black-striped tails waggling slowly into deeper water; a school of swirling bullhead minnows, black-barbed little beauties just a foot or two from the shore; an elongated pike, hunting for bluegills, and off to the north with one thrust. A piece of bog may have blown up during the night to provide shelter for the pan-fish. A snapping turtle might be off the end of the dock. Sometimes the dreams are of fishing: the haul might include a talking fish, or one as big as the lake, or a school of fish of various colors. I'll be writing more about each of the images in Oasis in the coming days.
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Saddle Rock is only 15 minutes away. Rent is free although I share it with some skeet enthusiasts, a herd of cattle, and countless flies that don't bite but are maddening. Then there's the wasps. From upper left clockwise: uplift (painting subject for even numbered days), outcrop (for odd days), sphinx, trigger trash, view back down an arm of the canyon, the 'saddle' of saddle rock canyon.
It was a pleasant surprise to see some old friends from roadside Kansas in the boardroom of the Doubletree Hotel in Tucson. While my quick snaps from the iPhone don't do the installation justice you can get a better idea of three of the four pieces from the original documentation shown here. The paintings are from 2000-2002. Thanks to Joan Cauthorn, long-time friend and collector who placed these.
Reproductions of two landscapes will appear on the covers of Russ Shafer-Landau's The Ethical Life: Fundamental Readings in Ethics and Moral Problems, and The Fundamentals of Ethics--both in their 3rd editions. It's an honor to be associated with Shafer-Landau's work and with Oxford U.P. Wetlands on Bad River Reservation 10"x8.5" oil on panel 2003 collection of Victoria and Harvey Zuckerman Late Summer Sky--Kansas 13"x12" oil on panel 2002 I drove to suburban Phoenix to take in a couple of Spring Training games. Milwaukee vs. Arizona, and then Milwaukee vs. Cincinnati yesterday. What does this have to do with painting? Besides being able to take in the landscape along the back route through the Gila and coming off the Mogollon Rim, a trip to the Phoenix Art Museum (more on that in another post), and the color of urban Latino culture it is experiencing slow time. Over 100 years ago baseball was associated with the bustle of the city: a fast game. During it's heyday in mid 20-th century it became synonymous with slower time. The game has no clock, people go to escape the routines of time. Even the players and coaches do a lot of standing around. This all reminded me of the spectrum of time in art: some decisions come slowly, not rushed, they can't happen until a number of other things, or one thing, happens.
In November I started a series of interiors, still-lives really, based on a water-garden I built in my dining room (the eating area is now in the living room). The idea was that I'd wrap this up neatly in time for going outside in Spring. I'd planned on posting a number of the smaller works on the "Store" area of this site. Well, I've slowed down, that's not bad news but it makes for very boring blogging. Sorry, but life is like that sometimes: tedious, uneventful, silent. It's not that I'm disappointed in the work--quite the opposite. It's just asking me to move at a snail's pace--the opposite of what usually happens outside. Who knows? It all may come together rapidly one day. No pictures of anything until it's done. Maybe it takes me 15 years. Since I'm waxing philosophical, it leads me to recommending a website called The Philosopher's Mail: a thinking-person's take on trash news (see below).
In the meantime the weather is warm, dry, windy: perfect for wildfires I'm told. The class I'm teaching at Leyba & Ingalls is coming along; we're half-way through the 10 week session. I have the students going through a five-step process similar to what's outlined in "Drawing from the Right Side of the Brain": contour, gesture, negative space, linear perspective (groupings), shading. Also bringing Nicolaide's writing into it. We've worked from the model and then gone outside to see how the techniques translate to a different subject. So I'm thinking it's time to start loading up the car with materials again, we'll see ... Zuma Beach. Home to the inspiration for much of Neil Young's "Zuma" album. "Where the sun hits the water, and the mountains meet the sand ... " The Huntington Library was astounding: unfortunately the special exhibit; From Flanders to Florence didn't allow photography. Finally, the La Brea tar pits visit fulfilled a life-long dream.
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Paul Hotvedt
actions, activities, adventures. Archives
July 2015
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