Beach Dunes on Lake Michigan

The sun beat down on me as I made my way across the beach dunes and prairie grass. I could feel the hot sand beneath my feet and the gentle breeze carrying the scent of sweet prairie grass. In the distance, Lake Michigan shimmered like a diamond, beckoning me closer.

The yellow prairie grass waved in the breeze like a sea of gold, its soft rustling creating a soothing melody. The dunes rose and fell in graceful curves, their ridges casting long shadows across the sand. The blue water of the lake glimmered like a mirage, promising cool relief from the oppressive summer heat.

As I crested a dune, I paused to take in the view. The lake stretched out before me, an endless expanse of blue that seemed to go on forever. The beach below was dotted with families playing in the water; their laughter carried on the wind. The dunes and prairie grass rolled out to either side, a sea of gold and green that stretched to the horizon.

At that moment, I felt truly alive. The beauty of the world around me inspired me to see the good in everything, to appreciate the simple things in life, and to be grateful for the opportunity to experience it all.

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Summer Dunes 2022092301 is a digital and physical mixed media painting using pigment ink, acrylic, mica, and gel ink on stretched canvas, framed in oak. Size: 12 x 17 x 1 inches.

Green Aurora

“Northern lights are the spirits of our ancestors dancing in the sky.”

— Indigenous Elder, unknown source.

Anyone who has experienced the raw splendor of the Aurora’s lights struggles to convey the magnitude of what they have witnessed. Of course, it’s just a light display, a collision of charged particles from the sun with the Earth’s magnetic field. But the dancing and shimmering in the midnight sky bewitch me. I find myself standing for hours in the bitter cold in snow-covered expanses, staring at the lights—inspired to capture their majesty.

In my painting, green hues dominate and dance with flashes of midnight blue sky reflecting up from deeply cold fields of snow. It’s a tribute to nature’s raw power and sublime beauty, reminding us of the wonders surrounding and inspiring us to explore and create.

As of April 2023, astronomers say we are heading into another cycle of high auroral activity. Watch the skies!

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Green Aurora 21021201 is a digital and physical mixed media painting using pigment ink, acrylic, mica, and gel ink on stretched canvas, framed in oak. Size: 12 x 17 x 1 inches.

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A quick sketch of the northern lights from over Lake Superior in the Fall of 2000.

Jacob's Dream

Jacob’s Dream 23032201

Jacob's ladder is a continuing theme in my work because it’s a powerful symbol of transcendence. A story from the book of Genesis, it tells of Jacob's dream of a ladder stretching up to heaven with angels ascending and descending upon it. At its core, Jacob's ladder is a bridge between heaven and earth, but it also represents our ongoing journey of self-discovery and transformation.

I chose to use bold, bright colors to represent the energy and movement of the angels on the ladder. By tapping into the the connection and movement between heaven and earth, I have tried to create a painting that speaks to the deepest parts of our human experience to inspire feelings of wonder.

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Jacob’s Dream 23032201 is a digital and physical mixed media painting using pigment ink, acrylic, mica, gel ink and love on stretched canvas, framed in oak. Size: 12 x 17 x 1 inches.

Meanwhile in a snowy parallel universe

“listen: there’s a hell of a good universe next door; let’s go”

– ee cummings

Just read about quantum physics, spooky action at a distance and parallel universes and tell me that you don’t believe in other worlds beyond our perception. Creating imaginary landscapes are my way of exploring these strange panoramas that I cannot perceive with my eyes

The painting above is a castle guarding a hill at sunset overlooking a Great Lake. In my imagination it spins multidimensionally with an alternative coliseum-like structure both fighting for existence. The shadowy figure in the foreground is me, of course, taking it all in on a snowy evening. I imagine this is inspired from my recent visit to the deep-snowy upper peninsula of Michigan overlooking Lake Superior.

Nesting

This summer, I hiked the Michigan dunes and was inspired by these “nests” formed by waves. They are easily overlooked. Get closer. Examine the beauty of the random natural elements, and you begin to see the frenetic energy of the waves that formed them. This is my first composition. More to come.

Scribbles and rewrites

Scribbles and rewrites seem crazy as I’m making them. The small voice in my head tells me this painting is bullshit and asks me why I am making these random gestures. But I let that voice chatter on, and I move beyond it continuing to make marks. I put the work away, come back to it a few days later and finish the painting. I realize it doesn’t have to be logical. It just needs to express my inner spirit.

It's more like I'm having an experience than making a picture. So I've never had anyone around. I never have. People are different, but I have to really be with no interference. And it takes me hours. Painting a picture is a very short thing if it goes well, but the sitting and thinking.. .I usually go off on stories that have nothing to do with the painting, and sometimes I sit in the opposite room to where I work. If I can get a good hot story I can paint better, but sometimes I'm not thinking about the painting, I'm thinking about the subject. Lots of times I'll sit in another room and then I might just go in. It takes a lot of freedom. —Cy Twombly

Midnight train to Geneva

2013, Mixed media on canvas, 36x48”

Laying in bed listening to the rhythm of the smooth clackety-clack as the train rolls through the countryside in the dark night.

Dark Rain

Dark Rain, 2013

Dark Rain is a one-of-a-kind 4x6 inch painting using watercolor and oil pastel on Strathmore watercolor paper. Available for sale.

Spring Storm
by William Carlos Williams

The sky has given over
its bitterness.
Out of the dark change
all day long
rain falls and falls
as if it would never end.
Still the snow keeps
its hold on the ground.
But water, water
from a thousand runnels!
It collects swiftly,
dappled with black
cuts a way for itself
through green ice in the gutters.
Drop after drop it falls
from the withered grass-stems
of the overhanging embankment.

But what does it mean?

I am a private person, so I am a bit hesitant to get too specific about my work. I've learned over the years that people attach meaning to my paintings in very personal ways. But to me, the same painting might have nothing to do with their interpretation. But it's really personal to them, so I don't want to get in the way of that.

My work is about a lot of things, and I often don't know what a painting is really about until after it's done. I sit back and look at it and say, huh, where did that come from? I'm older now and have experienced a lot. Things feel upside down, which comes out in my work. I try to find the inspiration inside because you can't dwell in the darkness for too long. You have to find the light in life and the love of everyday things.

Things my father told me

Things my father told me

Last week my phone was shuffling through songs when I heard the dulcet tones of Louis Armstrong. I immediately remembered my father on road trips popping in a cassette tape of Louis. It made the miles fly by. My father, now long gone, still comes to mind with regularity, and when I think of him, I think of these nuggets of wisdom he passed onto me and how I, more often than not, had to learn things the hard way.

Walk in like you own the room. Don’t slump, slink or shuffle just because you feel shy. Walk with confidence until you find your way. 

Music makes everything better. He never said that in words, but he indeed expressed it by his actions. He played music, sang, danced, and always had an album playing somewhere throughout the day. 

Get outside. Most parents use that to push you out the door. My dad considered it the best way to get us to explore. He encouraged camping, biking, hiking, hunting arrowheads. 

Love unconditionally. Dad never stopped telling us how much he loved us in his actions and words. He had decided to have kids late in life and considered his sons a gift from God. 

the blue dream of sky

Got a rare visit to our cabin in the woods by the Mississippi River. Too many bugs from all the rain, but it was a luscious tropical green when the sun parted the clouds in the afternoon.

“I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.”

— ee cummings

Mom’s Waterflowers

This weekend I drove by my former childhood home and noticed that the garden my mother had so carefully tended in the past had become a wild jungle of overgrown green. Her flowers were still there, gently reminding me of her talents.

“My mother grew morning glories that spilled onto the walkway toward her porch Because she was a woman with land who showed as much by giving it color. She told me I could have whatever I worked for..” Jericho Brown

Waterflowers, 2019