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Posted on 10/27/2026 7:47:47 PM
By Donald Fox
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SunSpots
I have been working with abstraction for many decades. Depending on how one thinks about abstract art or abstraction in art, I could say that every artist works abstractly and that every artist works concretely. For ease of discussion, let’s say that we focus on painting. A painting is a concrete, physical object that represents something: an idea, a perception, a picture, an image, a symbol, a metaphor, or various combinations of these concepts. Over many years, my thinking about abstraction has narrowed and expanded simultaneously. As an artist, I spend more time thinking about art – its purpose, its meaning, its importance, its necessity, its history, its source – more than I spend actually making it. This is what I do as an artist, for without that thinking and contemplation, I would have little reason to make art, or whatever I did make might not be called art. It certainly would not have the same creative well from which to draw.
When most artists learn their craft, at some point they learn basic principles about design, expression, and pictorial possibilities. Those principles are abstract ideas that can be interpreted in varieties of ways. Even the briefest look at artistic samples from generations past will illustrate the incredible variety of interpretations of those basic ideas. The visual alphabet may be the same, but the visual words and sentences made from them are unique to individual artists (except when an artist may copy another, but then that copyist is likely not considered an artist). The point, though, is that artists are working with a similar set of principles (abstract ideas) that underlie any resultant art. A representational painter who makes paintings based on observed reality is using the same principles as an abstract painter who is not working from anything seen in the external world. Both artists are concerned about color, shape, form, texture, and other visual tools, but what they do with those tools diverges greatly from the other.
My concerns with abstraction are discovering and exploring congruent elements in work dating back to my earliest dabbling in art. I have discovered a range of design elements in many early works that have continued to evolve through years of expression. One of these is diagonal movement within the picture space. In landscape paintings this may have appeared as the line of a road moving into the distance, a fenceline moving from foreground to background, a line of trees, receding telephone poles or houses, or other linear perspective examples. Brushwork freed from the confines of recognizable shapes has taken on meaning as visual handwriting and expressive gestures that for me embody energy and whimsy. The rectilinear shapes and parallel planes of my Window and Doors series have taken on curvilinear sides and diagonal movement across and into the picture space that create multilayered tension much like that seen in some early cubism.
Compositions are found within linear gestures that intertwine and overlap, and from these a design emerges as shapes begin to reveal themselves in blocked areas of color. Sometimes I will see bird-like or fish-like shapes that I may enhance or disguise as part of a symbolic image or set of images that also suggest a title in line with natural or spiritual thoughts and feelings. Memories and dreams are also conjured by some of these spontaneous expressions. Overall, the process feels intuitive, abstract in that there is no observed subject, and improvisational as there is no intentional concept to be illustrated. What is of particular interest to me, however, is the growing body of interrelated images that emerge from painting to painting.
Posted on 10/5/2026 2:27:04 PM
By Donald Fox
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Clouded Moon
Since about 2013 (earlier if I include sketches in various notebooks), I have worked on a series I titled “Windows and Doors,” a metaphorical title for abstract designs that played with the idea of entrances and exits within a spatial field. I’ve written about this series in the past and won’t further elaborate here except to say that often in those paintings I included curvilinear shapes and lines, sometimes partially obscured, that were spontaneous, energetic gestures contrasting with the geometry door- and window-like rectangular shapes. Those playful elements have now come to the fore as spontaneous gestural brushwork or paint-stick marks from which a composition develops. Both the geometric and freeform abstraction echo brush drawings and paintings from the late 70’s and 80’s that in turn were derived from more traditional landscapes of earlier (and later) periods of my art. A new series, “Archaeology of Thought,” has also been addressed previously, and the following relates to that series as well.
I have a long-standing tendency to contemplate what I do to understand and clarify the general context of my work. I have strong memories of childhood and teenage experiences of playing in the forests close to home. Close observation of seasonal changes was important to me. There are many experiences of flying (my dad was an airline pilot so family often flew on passes), and I loved studying the patchwork of ground patterns seen from the air and the irregular billowing motion of clouds, especially while flying through cumulus cloud formations that created incredible air canyons and spatial architecture like nothing else. I loved spending time at the beach not far from home where I experienced the rhythm of waves on calm, sunny days as well as stormy ones. I also loved exploring tidal pools and the variety of small-scale life found therein. Reflections were a major part of these pools including distortions created by moving water.
A feature in current work is a kind of distorted rectangle that has either convex or concave sides, sometimes both, that for me function on several levels simultaneously. These shapes appear to move within the picture space playfully and rhythmically. I can see them also as whimsical windows like something from a fairy tale or imaginary other-worldly space. To me, they also feel lyrical and poetic and, at times, musical. A thought I frequently have while working is that I am making a visual poem.
A poem is a kind of narrative and in some cases specifically so. A poem is also condensed language, most modern poetry utilizing images, twists of language, juxtapositions, leaps in time and space, and expressive freedom for emotional and intellectual impact. A poem also moves across and down a page similar to the way a written narrative moves in a story or novel. Rime and other devices echo previous statements or images as the poem refers to itself while also connecting with something larger than itself – the writer, the reader, the world outside, the past or the present or the future, the universe – whatever or wherever the poet intends for it to go.
A painting is not linear, and its elements move within the picture space however the painter has designed that movement. The possibilities are many, but important considerations are the center and the edge limits. Each has definite impact on the viewer, but even a small painting can represent nearly infinite space if that is the artist’s intention – a combination of intimacy and expansiveness. Perhaps this is the appeal of abstraction; there is virtually no limitation to imaginative expression.
Posted on 9/28/2026 1:58:17 PM
By Donald Fox
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Containment
A line is direction; it is distance; it is movement across a surface and through space. We tend to think of line as flat, without depth or substance, with only length and whatever direction it seems to move. A line has purpose within a picture space. It may divide one area from another; it may appear to move or have moved; it may activate otherwise undifferentiated space. In geometry, a line is defined as the shortest distance between two points – but that is strictly a straight line. Lines can certainly meander in any direction. A line may have weight being light or dark, thin or broad. It may begin wide and narrow down to a point as the line of a road disappearing into the distance, or similar to receding telephone poles, or receding fenceposts – those many iterations found in numerous landscape paintings and drawings.
However, I am intrigued by abstract line, line just as itself whether curving or straight, angular or geometric. Line interacting with other lines and building shapes or tone, line creating illusory space, a kind of narrative as it moves, parallel to or intersecting other lines, crossing over, cutting through, bisecting or segmenting, defining edges and enclosing space while making shapes. Line can be fluid and soft; line can be direct and harsh. Line is contemplative, and line is emotional and psychological. Study Rembrandt’s use of line in his drawings and brush paintings. He animates figures and creates emotional depth simply with line. His landscape drawings define space and create powerful images with simple, tightly controlled but seemingly improvisational gestural lines that often feel like a fusion between oriental brushwork and western descriptive drawings. They are magical and mysterious.
Numerous past masters, both traditional and modern, have utilized line effectively and uniquely in their work. From the subtlety of Ingres’ line drawings to the simplicity of Mondrian’s geometric drawings, or from the gestural space-defining drawings of Giacometti to the intricate and expressive web-like designs of Pollock, line has a powerful presence in art that communicates with immediacy the thought process of the individual artist. Line may be simple and direct as an artistic tool, but it is endlessly adaptable to every artist’s intention. It is the artist who instills line with numinous power through sleight of hand magic.
Posted on 9/18/2026 7:19:43 PM
By Donald Fox
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Three Graces
A blank page, an unmarked canvas, an empty stage, fire-scorched earth, or a cloudless sky horizon to horizon – all potential spaces to be activated and transformed by life, by experience, by idea, by inspiration, by natural process. As a child, I went frequently to the seashore and marveled at the expanse of sky and the expanse of deep blue ocean that stretched away from me until it met the sky – each beyond my knowing, just blue merging into blue. Yet, like waves rolling endlessly to shore, the spaces of possibility have filled with one mark and another, activated from nothing to something by sensation, perception – stimulus and response.
The action of life is to move forward, to fill emptiness, to build on promise, to transform possibility into reality or some semblance thereof. The artist moves, is moved, perceives, remembers, and envisions. He or she leaves a trail embedded in a space of possibility with word or image or sound or movement. A new space is born, no longer empty, an invitation for contemplation, for learning, for pleasure, for enhanced experience of being.
Posted on 8/31/2026 8:33:24 PM
By Donald Fox
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Layer Cake
Memory is important to any kind of painting but especially to realistic painting. The painter makes many observations that require working memory to accurately record an image or complex of images. As part of that process, the painter makes many adjustments or corrections to shape, line, color, and value. In outdoor settings under natural light, the painter also must establish the light source and shadows because the sun continues to move, and shadows change position. Memory is necessary to keep the original feeling of the scene since it is literally changing in front of the artist by the second. However, artists learn to incorporate adjustments into their paintings in order to produce a final result that is unified, believable, and effective.
Abstract painters similarly make adjustments as their paintings develop, but the visual feedback comes directly from the surface of the painting unless they are working from a sketch or possibly making a spontaneous work in a dance-like performance. They may also sometimes pull images or ideas from long-term memory to relate a new piece to previous work. I often do this in my work. A few months ago, I wrote a poem about memory that partly relates to the idea of painting although it more generally applies to a variety of remembered experiences.
The past dwells in memory
constructed as it were
by successive moments
like links in a chain
that worn with time and neglect
erode lesser links
that fade to sameness,
lost contrast reads like gaps,
and only isolated moments
shine through,
clearly at first,
but even they
sway and buckle,
photos faded on ragged paper,
a little touch-up necessary,
a bit of fill-in
to restore clarity,
and now an image emerges
that seems real enough
but likely never happened
at least not as remembered.
We inevitably edit our memories while trying to complete a remembered scene or circumstance. We all do this, and this may bring into question whether the past – or more specifically – whether memory is reliable long term insofar as personal experience is concerned. Even so, I use the feeling of memories, the emotion behind memories, as part of the painterly experience. Perhaps that comes from my early training in landscape and figure painting. However flawed it may be, I (and other artists) utilize memory in the making of, in the consideration of, and in the study of paintings. Memory also helps create continuity of artistic approach and philosophy. Mnemonic devices, aids to memory, are useful in personal learning, but we also have many modern ways to record experiences in practical ways that were unavailable in the past. At some point, though, we interpret what we experience or what we think we know, and that is where memory can become creative.
Posted on 7/29/2026 7:37:18 PM
By Donald Fox
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Containment
Recently, my friend Scott, a Jungian therapist and longtime guitar player, posted an interesting quote from acclaimed mystery writer Raymond Chandler:
There are two kinds of truth: the truth that lights the way and the truth that warms the heart. The first of these is science, and the second is art. Neither is independent of the other or more important than the other. Without art, science would be as useless as a pair of high forceps in the hands of a plumber. Without science, art would become a crude mess of folklore and emotional quackery. The truth of art keeps science from becoming inhuman, and the truth of science keeps art from becoming ridiculous. (from The Notebooks of Raymond Chandler)
During the Renaissance, art and science were closely aligned even though art was probably at a higher level of achievement than science at that time. We have the paintings of Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Rembrandt as well as sculpture and architecture of Michelangelo, Brunelleschi, and others to prove that assertion. Science was still limited by interference from religion, especially the Catholic church where charges of heresy were severely intimidating and sometimes life-threatening. In medicine leeches were commonly used to treat a variety of ailments, surgery was crude and done without anesthesia, and sepsis was a common cause of death.
This reminds me of the political climate today in America, where science denial, from vaccines to climate change, is rampant not only on the political right but also in a large portion of the general populace who are swayed by self-serving politicians who understand neither science nor art. Religion is still the basis for much cultural division and continues to be used to justify war and oppression. Nationalistic fervor is part of the mix and even rivals religious fanaticism sometimes, but when the two are aligned, the results are truly frightening. Neither science nor art has much chance against the combined potency of the fervent fanatic. Still, artists continue to create and send their beautiful thoughts and objects surrounded by love and blessings into the chaotic arena. Scientists do their best in the classroom, the laboratory, or the field to test their hypotheses and advance knowledge in spite of funding cuts and political hysteria. I am grateful to be part of the artistic community and do my best to support science however I can.
Posted on 6/30/2026 8:22:16 PM
By Donald Fox
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Moonlight Sonata
This is a reposting of a blog from March 2014 that touches on the depiction of or use of space within a painting, something that I think about frequently in my own work. Space, illusory space, or perceived space are concepts that can be manipulated by the painter for a variety of purposes. Landscape painting most often represented space as it occurs in nature and could represent a grand vista in which humans are tiny, possibly insignificant inclusions. A painter might choose to zoom in on a group of objects or a single object making the space more human scale. Sculpture and architecture treat space differently since the space is real rather than depicted.
Architectural space is like a walk-in sculpture. Air is blocked off in strict rectangularity or more accurately, in large cubes or other shapes to accommodate some form of human activity. The space can feel confined, which could be either comforting in that one can feel secure, or it could feel restrictive and claustrophobic. A vast space like the inside of a gothic cathedral or a modern airplane hangar can feel uplifting and put one in a spiritual mode or it could express the enormity of a particular business operation. We relate to space not only as an architect might intend but also according to personal experience from the past that might be positive or negative. This would be beyond the architect’s control.
Similarly, space in a painting may suggest a number of possible responses according to the artist’s intention. Space here, however, is an illusory space although some heavily textured paint surfaces might possibly build layers that can be measured in inches. Mostly, space in a painting comes from the interplay of color with the advancement or recession of warm and cool color contrasts. Depending on the specific subject, a painter may also utilize design elements like overlapping planes, position, size variations, linear or aerial perspective, and value contrast to suggest shallow or deep space. In reality, the painting is composed of multiple layers of paint that, again depending on thickness, can create some amount of literal space.
In much twentieth century painting, space was a big issue especially with certain styles of abstract painting. I emphasize certain styles because abstract painting itself is a massive category that encompasses hundreds of variations from very personally expressive to quite cool and cerebral. Think of Abstract Expressionism as demonstrated by Jackson Pollock or Willem de Kooning compared to the serene squares of Josef Albers or the geometric constructions of Kazimir Malevich. There are vast differences among these four artists, but they give only a tiny glimpse into the world of abstract imagery.
For a period of time in the sixties and seventies in the United States, the art market seemed to focus on the large-scale abstract work of a relatively few painters whose goal appeared to be to flatten paintings as much as possible; i.e. they were concentrated on their version of truth in art, which meant that the flat surface of the painting could not be violated by any sort of implied illusory spatial depth. The Renaissance concept of a painting being a window on reality was anathema to them and a false doctrine. Some differentiated between what they called tonal painters (those aligned with traditional painting) and the color field painters who dripped, spread, or bled colors onto and into the surface of the canvas. Color exerted itself by expanding across a surface. A few exceptions, however, Mark Rothko notable among them, saw the painted canvas as unlimited space – the painted curtain was simply a veil in front of a limitless expanse that had nothing to do with real-world perceived space. He and they were defining spiritual space.
If we consider that art is a construct, an expressive one to be sure, but nonetheless a constructed form intended to communicate ideas and provide personal experiences for viewers, then to my way of thinking it doesn’t matter what the resultant object may emphasize, at least not in competition with some other construct. The artist’s intention defines the work as he or she sees fit. A design is conceived that encapsulates a particular aesthetic philosophy and some form of human expression. One art form is just different from another. We see many kinds of trees in nature – tall, slender, triangular, round, irregular, bright green, dull green – the variations are many – but all of them are trees and all do essentially what trees do, absorb carbon and release oxygen. One tree doesn’t deny the existence of another (though sometimes they may be in competition for sunlight, water, or nutrients). Art is more multifaceted now than at any other time in history. The emergence of one form of art, though it may gain dominance in a particular time frame, doesn’t demolish another however different it may appear. There is room for many trees within the forests of the world.
Posted on 6/6/2026 8:32:33 PM
By Donald Fox
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Arise
Today is June 6 and marks the 82nd anniversary of D-Day, the highly coordinated landing of Allied forces in Normandy that was the beginning of the end of the war in Europe. My dad was in the Army Air Corps and not part of that battle, but my late mother-in-law was an Army nurse on one of numerous hospital ships in the English Channel that attended to the great number of wounded. General Eisenhower, the Supreme Allied Commander, exhibited great leadership that day as he did throughout the war and later served as the one Republican president that I still admire. Before that invasion, he wrote a letter that was never sent in which he took sole responsibility for any possible failures that might occur and gave credit to all other military commanders and soldiers rather than himself. We have not seen leaders like him since that time, and he certainly deserves credit and praise as we move toward the 250th anniversary of this nation.
I am not particularly political but definitely opinionated about social issues especially when greed and corruption among leaders, conservative and liberal, overshadow the basic good from which this country grew. I am not ignorant nor blind to the very mixed history of our nation, for there is much shame in almost any historical era as we were attempting to fulfill the promise of liberty and justice for all. With every generation we have seen progress as well as setbacks. In my own lifetime, I have seen assassinations of promising leaders, unnecessary and wasteful wars, amazing medical discoveries, the expansion (and more recent contraction) of civil rights, the rise of computer science, the possibilities and threats of AI, space exploration, the eradication of disease and the recent return of some long vanquished, and an explosion of artistic and cultural expression (we have always been a melting pot). At times it seems as though more people are concerned with the right to bear arms than the right to tranquility and justice, or more are concerned with the accumulation of wealth and influence than equality and brotherhood. What is often missing from the claims for personal freedoms is the necessity of personal responsibility that ensures those freedoms.
As an artist and free-thinking American, I abhor censorship. I believe in education and lifelong learning. I believe in the promise of this country for everyone and not just for some self-selected group or philosophical or religious perspective. I believe in the study of history so as not to repeat the mistakes of the past. With that in mind, I also believe in acknowledging the past, not rewriting history into something that never was. There is a biblical story about a golden calf that was nearly the downfall of a growing nation. It took a strong leader to avert disaster. Most of our leaders today see only the gilded castles and give lip service to democratic principles while gaming the system for all they can. It takes a strong heart and perseverance to live according to the principles guaranteed by our constitution. There is no guaranteed right to lie, to abuse, to take advantage of, or to cheat for the sake of power or wealth. The struggle for freedom is ongoing, and for me the creation of art is a continuous act of proclaiming freedom.
Posted on 5/27/2026 7:39:47 PM
By Donald Fox
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Portal
I have jotted down thoughts in notebooks for many decades. Some of those thoughts are silly or limited, but on occasion there is an interesting insight. I ran across this excerpt today (from 2012) that bears posting.
In Eastern philosophy, particularly Buddhist philosophy, emphasis is on the present. The past is gone and the future not yet come. There is only now. A lot of self-styled success gurus have picked up on this concept and use it like a mantra for success.
The basis for focusing on the present is to create awareness in the moment. Obviously, one cannot change the past although attempts are made to re-write it or alter one’s perception or interpretation of it. Revisionism is found in many areas particularly when there is some political, economic, or moral advantage in it. The Buddhist admonition is simply to be present in the moment, to be mindful, and ultimately not to be attached to one’s feelings or thoughts, or memories of things that no longer are. There only is now.
If one were living a simple existence where immediate need was the only consideration, this philosophy might be a good one to follow. We live, however, in a complex world – perhaps too complex at times – and there are many demands some of which proceed from past actions and others from future expectations. (Some thinkers would argue that we chose to be here and that we co-created this illusion of complexity, but that is another issue and another discussion.)
Life is a continuum, and the culture we create is reflective of that continuum. We all share the same present moment, but we meet in that moment at different points in our own personal life continuum. A parent shares the moment with his or her partner, provides for and nurtures the child created from the partnership, and serves as a guardian within the family unit. Within this one framework, the parent functions on several simultaneous levels as does the child. They build experiences through mutual interaction, but their perspectives are very different. Expand this to multiple families, individuals within families entering and exiting the continuum at different points, experiencing it, perceiving it, learning of what came before and working to create new experiences – all this quickly makes the notion that there is only the present seem either naively trite or inexplicably profound.
One could become a hermit and simply meditate continuously on the present moment. As humans, though, most of us find joy in sharing the moment with others. We could say, as many do, using the ancient buzzwords, that we are tribal, and we connect with our tribe. That’s just a new spin on an old idea – the creation of and expression of culture. Artists express their joy (and sometimes pain) in the moment through their work. We have a very long history of this expression that brings past joy into the present moment, and for that we are joyfully grateful.
Posted on 5/1/2026 1:53:03 PM
By Donald Fox
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Crossing Over
Recent paintings over the last four or so months contain a lot of hard-edged elements. The Windows and Doors series begun in 2013 used rectangular underlying forms, but the execution was more expressive: dragged paint applied with various tools and brushes; edges lost and found; both visual and actual texture; layered surfaces only partially covering what lay underneath. The name Archaeology of Thought specifically references the building of one shape, idea, construction over another, so my focus has shifted to a different metaphor. The hard-edge elements, though, are in part tributes to Claude Howell, my early teacher, a painter from my home town whom I often think of as a mentor. Claude had an abstract period in the sixties, I think, but most of his work is stylized figurative – especially coastal scenes of the beach, fishermen, drying fishing nets, and later, beach houses in high-key color that often captured the bright light of a coastal summer. The houses were painted as hard-edged reductive geometrical shapes. Yet Claude always connected to something observed; observed and then imaginatively transformed.
Currently, though, I’m re-exploring expressive gestural brushwork with a few hard-edged trapezoids or triangles as compositional elements. These are playful, colorful designs that sometimes relate to early twentieth century abstractionists – some cubism and some free-form Kandinsky-like improvisation. The joy expressed in many of those early abstractions is palpable. By contrast, a lot of twentieth century abstraction became very cerebral and intellectual, leading some artists to eliminate objects and focus on experience, art events, happenings, environments where the viewer would be essentially inside the artwork rather than standing vis-à-vis a painting or sculpture. I still believe that there are many decades (if not centuries) of painting exploration to continue a thousand-year tradition. Like many boastful political slogans, the phrase “painting is dead” died of overuse and misrepresentation. Painting is a living form of artistic expression that has and will continue to outlive its critics.
Posted on 4/15/2026 3:34:18 PM
By Donald Fox
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Art Is the Mirror
Humans have walked on the moon, and we recently returned there for a fly-around after decades of distant observation. Probes continue into deep space. Voyager I carries a gold-plated copper disc on which “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” is recorded along with greetings in diverse tongues and various sounds of human activity as though some far distant beings would understand them much less care about human foibles. What is it exactly that makes us human? Is it the mythical concept that we were created in the image of some invisible deity, that we evolved from primordial ooze through millions of generations of tweaked genes by accident or design, or that we sprung full blown from the temple of a hedonistic god? Is it the love we sometimes feel for another like ourselves? But – don’t all creatures feel love for their young? Or do we, like they, simply express whatever chemical reactions our genes have programmed, and this thing we call love is just a swirling mass of endorphins – the ultimate high? We also tinker, we create, and we destroy. We build elegant monuments and grand palaces and ignore the pain of those we do not know, or those who seem less like us in color or thought or religious ecstasy. We sometimes grant support to those less fortunate and in need, but we also callously take that support away out of selfish greed even knowing that thousands, if not millions, of innocent people will perish because of our neglect. We rationalize – endlessly rationalize – to absolve ourselves of guilt and responsibility. We lie, we steal, we cheat in the name of some ideal, some cause, or some higher power. Occasionally, we confuse ourselves with the deity in whose image we have become a poor reflection. And we make art. We exercise imagination and creative thought to express the spectral range of our oft-conflicting emotions and embody that energy into something beautiful, something problematic, or something spiritually uplifting.
Posted on 4/14/2026 11:05:44 PM
By Donald Fox
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Steve Suite no. 15, Flight
Pencil lines can be erased. Brush strokes can be painted over or washed out. As a drawing or a painting progresses, erasure and painting over or wiping out are part of the developmental process. Taking away is another form of adding to. The process is incremental. Increase and decrease are equivalent as steps though each can vary by degree. Variance is what we measure and to which we ascribe significance. Negative, positive, neutral – all are measurable. Each is relative to what has come before or what comes after. Is then, everything linear? Is simultaneity an illusion? Can the moment be eternal? Observations are dependent on time, on a succession of moments. When the event is no longer observable, it lingers on in memory like an echo of itself, strong at first but fading over time and distance. Yet we also preserve moments in pictures, paintings, film, and thousands of printed read-outs? Are these not proof of consistency and continuity. Is the long history (by our measure) of humanity as recorded in art objects large and small, written, painted, or sculpted a testament to existence in the moment (of creation)? Is that history the effort to directly state – “I exist,” and thereby, “We exist?” I create art; therefore, I am.
Well, that’s one reason. Don’t we also create because we have the ability to do so? We are naturally expressing our beingness to share that awareness among ourselves. We are the senses of the universe and acknowledge its being as well as ours through our perceptual expressions. Art’s many pathways provide endless areas of exploration, manifestation, and commentary on the mysteries of existence. Art is a powerful way that we can interact with the universe, its external and internal aspects. We are the universe sensing itself, and art is the language for expressing that.
Posted on 3/11/2026 7:25:05 PM
By Donald Fox
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Steve Suite no. 1, Angel Wing
Writing a blog for me is generally writing a short essay on the topic at hand. Some topics may start as a riff on the subject and gradually expand to something more carefully crafted. Other topics require deliberation and may develop over days or weeks. Such is the case with this topic: a friend’s unexpected death, in this instance my best friend in Houston besides my wife. His name is Steve Parker.
My friend also was an artist, a painter. We met over forty years ago and bonded very quickly. At the time, I was teaching an oil painting class to a group of senior adults (a group that I have now become a member of). One of my students was a nice lady named Bea. She struggled a bit with getting color variety in her landscape paintings. I showed her how to take a single color and make variations by adding small amounts of other palette colors one at a time and suggested that she practice just mixing colors during the week.
The next class she proudly showed me her painting for my critique. There was obvious difference from the week before, especially in the foreground. The paint was laid on with strong brushstrokes unlike anything she had previously done, and there were unusual and interesting color layers as well. I asked her how she had accomplished this. What was her inspiration? She then admitted that her son Steve was a painter, and he had ‘helped her out a bit.’ Intrigued by his unique gestural brushwork, I said that I would like to meet him and not long after I did.
Steve and I hit it off right away. We had similar interests in artists we admired even though I was beginning to explore abstraction, and he was a dedicated landscape painter who did a lot of plein air work and often developed larger paintings in his studio based on his field studies. I would describe his paintings as impressionist in their suggestive quality, expressionist in his occasional choice of unexpected or sometimes exaggerated color, and very personal because the motifs were those he had grown up with in the flat coastal countryside that he often explored throughout his life. Grassy fields, stands of trees, shallow ponds, the space and light surrounding and revealing these in carefully observed and uniquely realized images that created a personal vision easily accessible while also transformed into visual language with universal appeal.
Over the years, we spent many hours discussing art and art making, the importance of aesthetic sensibility for making sense of an often-senseless world created by human indifference or, worse, one created intentionally through cruelty and neglect and greed and subjugation. We visited the sacred space of museums where we could connect with the universal expression of creative energy that is the artistic legacy of every major civilization regardless of political persuasion or whatever spiritual spin might have been gleaned from the universe. We recognized the power of art to ground one in the present while simultaneously elevating one’s spirit to a higher plane of discovery, recognition, and connection. I’ll miss those conversations just as I’ll miss our Tex-Mex lunches at Andy’s in the Heights or Ninfa’s on the Gulf Freeway. I’ll miss his excited sharing of his most recent creation and the fervent questioning of some new piece not quite yet resolved. Most of all, I’ll miss and do miss the presence of my friend. Rest in peace, brother.
Posted on 2/28/2026 2:00:27 PM
By Donald Fox
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April Seven
My wife and I love the Olympics. Usually we record events during the two-week run both winter and summer and then watch selected parts when we have time. Neither of us follow sports on a regular basis and sometimes are quite critical of many of those popular pastimes because they have become so heavily commercial with some athletes grossly overpaid. There are those, of course, who would say something similar about the Olympics, the cost to put on those spectacles, the huge cost borne by families of young athletes, the endorsements that some amateur athletes receive that makes them seem like paid professionals, the token prize payments for those few athletes who win medals, the inclusion of professionals athletes in some sports, and, more recently, the insertion of politics into this ancient sports tradition. I recognize those issues, but to watch the masterful performances of teenagers and seasoned, mature adults, to learn their stories of sacrifice and dedication to what they love doing – these are inspiring. Beyond that, to also see competitors openly support and embrace those they compete against, to celebrate with them and acknowledge them, and sometimes defend them against outside criticism, these are also inspiring. For us, it is a sign that there is hope for this world and its future.
As an artist, I have many interests that in some way or other are channeled back into my art. I love color, beauty, nature, music, dance, theater, film, painting, sculpture, and many other expressions found in this world. I was reminded of this when Japanese figure skater Ami Nakai used a version of Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” for her program. Most of the time Olympic athletes dramatize the wonderfulness of achievement and excellence in what they do in their sports. Admittedly, there are some soap operas played out, but the international cooperation most often displayed is encouraging. To hear an obviously highly talented athlete like Ilia Malinin speak honestly about his failure to fulfill his and everyone else’s expectations for him – not make excuses or blame his skates, the ice, the venue, his coaches, or anyone else but to take responsibility – that was also inspiring and a powerful lesson for other athletes (also for politicians, world leaders, anyone in a position of authority).
Excellence has perhaps been overused in many areas from sports to business to leadership, but even so, excellence is about aspiration and commitment. It generally has a positive connotation, and I would put it in a category with diversity, inclusion, empathy, and a few other positive human traits. Having created art (painting, drawing, sculpture, music, dance) for many decades, I generally learn something from every expression and incorporate that in some way into whatever comes next. I particularly like the phrase “continuous, never-ending improvement” that initially came from the Japanese philosophy Kaizen, something I learned when my wife worked in quality assurance at Texaco. Small changes continuously applied will result in excellence in any endeavor. Certainly the highest level athletes know this and incorporate that into their training. I believe the highest level artists do this as well.
Posted on 2/20/2026 5:35:47 PM
By Donald Fox
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Diamond Mine
February is well underway – Valentine’s is past, the Winter Olympics are ongoing, Presidents Day is Monday, and Sunday is my dad’s 108th birthday (he passed one month shy of ninety-nine). Timing is everything, so many have said, but that still involves matching preparedness with action, and, for the artist, matching resources with expression. A spontaneous action does not come from nothing to suddenly manifest. Even spontaneous combustion requires specific conditions for its occurrence: combustible material, heat, dry atmosphere. And time. Nothing of significance occurs within an instant. There is always a time frame.
Painting requires certain conditions as well. Motivation and purpose, materials, and coordinated action or series of actions that lead from blank canvas to completed work. I, and most artists that I know, spend a lot of time thinking about painting either beforehand as part of preparation or certainly in the process of creating a work. So many choices are made from moment to moment that it is difficult sometimes to isolate steps other than in the most general way. Over time, many of the steps may become or seem to become automatic, but I believe that conscious awareness at each stage enhances the creative experience. As I lay out my palette of colors, for example, I am thinking about and seeing before me the relationship that exists among the various colors. As each layer of paint goes down, the complexity of choice for what comes next increases. Sometimes new variants seem to be required; other times simplifying or reducing colors is required. The process is mysterious and almost mystical.
I sometimes think that the new layer building on the previous layers is like a city built upon the ruins of another. I suppose this is where the phrase archaeology of thought came from, a phrase that has now generated a new series of paintings under that thematic heading. As each painting progresses, new applications of color hide what came before while creating new relationships in terms of shape, color, and from with the parts untouched. Even so, I remember what was there and often record each stage of development for later perusal. I can dig backwards in time while also moving forward in time. I believe this to be parallel to how we remember experiences and create new sets of knowledge and experience through our everyday lives. A painting, then, is a chronicle of its own development while also being testament to the artist’s creatively expressed experience. Perhaps this is from where the numinous merges.
Posted on 1/30/2026 2:23:04 PM
By Donald Fox
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Within a few weeks the Winter Olympics will begin. I am not really a sports fan, but I am a great admirer of athletes, for I appreciate what they do as a form of aesthetic expression that involves creative thinking wedded to physical skills, the body being the vehicle through which creativity is expressed. Even those sports that rely on brute force – American football, boxing, or mixed martial arts as examples – have a creative side though it’s usually caste as competitive. The Olympics, however, have a very long history, include countries from around the world, and the competitors are most often competing to better themselves even though prizes are involved and sometimes long-held rivalries are also at play.
The public performance for the athlete is ultimately a very small part of the athlete’s total experience. There are many hours, days, and years out of the public eye where skills are honed and the body is prepared for the seconds, minutes, or hours of performance. Being an athlete is a lifestyle, and so is being an artist or most any other performer. I don’t know that I can remember ever not being in art mindset. Every experience has some kind of aesthetic aspect to it. Even those activities that most people would not associate with art of any kind – mowing the yard, washing dishes, feeding the cats – actually can be seen with the artist’s eye. When I do some ordinary task, a ‘mindless’ task, I work on artistic problems. I notice something about how the body is functioning or how colors in a room or backyard or pile of papers interact, how sounds overlap and intermingle, how the senses are activated by what a job requires. This, obviously, is a multi-layered experience.
Art is about perception – what the artist perceives that goes into the art and what the viewer/audience perceives in the art. I think of this as layers of experience that all of us perceive all the time whether we do so consciously or not. The layers accumulate, and I as an artist read them, interpret them, and recycle them into a new set of experiences, which are chronicled in the artwork. So, lately, I’ve been thinking about all of those experiences as relics that an archaeologist might study in order to understand whoever made them. This has led me to my current series I call Archaeology of Thought. My paintings and drawings are the relics composed of other relics which are the marks, colors, shapes and textures that are in constant motion relative to each other. Some may object to the idea of parts of a painting being in motion but let me explain my perception.
Paintings, generally, are considered static. The shapes and colors don’t move on the surface, and neither is there physical depth even when deep space may be rendered as in a landscape with distant mountains. However, a viewer can easily perceive movement from one side to another, along a painted road, or in the rustle of leaves on a depicted windy day. Sometimes certain shapes echo other shapes within the composition, much like words echo or rime in lines of poetry. Colors can also physically influence neighboring colors, making them appear lighter or darker, brighter or duller, a phenomenon Joseph Albers called simultaneous contrast. Adjacent complementary colors will appear to vibrate so strong is the effect each has on the other. Lines suggest direction and movement across the surface. All of these create a perceived dynamic quality to well-executed paintings. A painting becomes activated in the mind of the viewer.
As a painter, I consciously think about what is happening as a painting is developed. I see it changing before me with every stroke and every added layer. Sometimes portions of under layers are allowed to show through a top layer, or a cool color painted over a warm color (blue over red, for example) will appear different than that same color by itself. The effects achieved by manipulating paint and color can be dramatic or subtle, but every stroke contributes to the final product. This incremental process is filled with observations, decisions, and actions, alterations and refinements. Each painting is a chronicle of its own development, and I am the archaeological witness to that process.
Posted on 12/23/2025 12:43:15 PM
By Donald Fox
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Big Screen - digital painting
Just a few days before Christmas and less than two weeks before the end of the year. Perception of time and space is often fluid since our minds can conjure the past or take us on an alternate journey beyond the current moment much like quick transitions often occur within dreams. Is this a luxury or a distraction? An engineer focuses on numbers and equations to construct in real time the formula for what will later manifest as a bridge or automobile or washing machine. The artist manipulates various mediums to create art that expresses some emotional response to the outside world, to a memory, or to a feeling or thought – or a combination of these. Isn’t the engineer’s focus on numbers essentially the same as the artist’s focus on chosen medium? Aren’t both creatives tapping into a realm of the mind that is not visible to the outside observer and only becomes perceivable when the end product is produced? Isn’t that internal creative process just another form of dreaming?
People often speak of an artist’s vision, meaning the particular point of view that the artist expresses in his/her art. That vision is similar to that of any other creative: scientist, engineer, politician, religious leader, or… whoever. All results are judged and assigned value by those impacted who may or may not be the intended audience. The vision, or lack of it, of those who judge generally comes from the question, how is this useful to me? An engineer or scientist might think about the usefulness of his/her actions for others. As an artist, however, I rarely think about what my work may mean to others or how they might perceive it. Thus, when someone asks me what a painting might mean or what my intention was in creating it, I usually balk at the question. My response often is another question – “What does it mean to you?” “What do you see in the painting?” “What is your experience as you look at it?”
In my so-called career as a painter, I have moved through many different styles of expression spanning both representational and abstract images, sometimes a combination of both. In my realistic paintings I can see elements of abstraction in colors, shapes, and space. In my abstract paintings I can see elements of realism in colors, shapes, and space. In my current abstract work, I find new representations of ideas I explored thirty or forty years ago, but the current work is different. Ideally, the critical response would suggest that the work is more mature. Personally, I think it is just dreamed differently.
Posted on 11/27/2025 2:22:50 PM
By Donald Fox
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Life Raft oil on canvas 30" x 40"
The following, slightly edited, came from notes written in a small sketchbook sometime in August of 2017, just over eight years ago. I was rummaging today through old sketchbooks and journals (sometimes these also contain impromptu drawings) to find a series of colored pencil drawings from just a few years back. I’m meeting next week with a friend who lives on her family’s homestead in the countryside northwest of Houston. We will be doing drawing together so she can improve her understanding and skills, and I want to show her some samples of what I sometimes call controlled doodling. All she really needs, I think, is a bit of encouragement since she already has done a lot of her own doodling. I know she will appreciate this brief story below.
Zhang Guolau, also known as the bat spirit, was a mythological figure and one of the Eight Immortals in the Taoist pantheon. He was also said to be a real historical figure who lived sometime from the seventh to the eighth century. Among his legends he rode on a magical white mule for thousands of miles within a day. When the mule was not needed, Zhang commanded it to step onto a piece of paper where it transformed into a drawing of a mule. Zhang folded up the paper and carried it in his pocket until he again needed the mule on which he could ride.
A painter expresses his thoughts, his/her feelings, and his/her impressions about a person, place, or experience in his/her paintings. The painting is no more than colored marks that have been skillfully arranged on a surface to illustrate those thoughts or feelings. A viewer brings his/her experience to a painting even upon first viewing. To the perceptive viewer, the painting may speak about something other than person, place, or experience. It is potentially a window to another realm. The painting may hang on a wall within a room and appear to be a decoration, part of the décor, a framed spot of color and shape that echoes other colors and shapes within the room.
The painting may also be a portal that leads far beyond the walls of the room. It is the imagination of the painter connecting with the imagination of the viewer that makes the painting come to life. Whatever is portrayed now exists in a virtual realm, a magical realm, that transcends time, space, the confines of a frame, and the common materials from which it was made. It is a mute testament to human experience, and it is a white mule that can travel thousands of miles within a day.
Posted on 10/24/2025 1:51:27 PM
By Donald Fox
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April Seven - digital painting
The roots of modern art, if there is such a thing, are often located within the nineteenth century and the French explorations of color and form and general thinking about painting especially that moved away from classical influences. Various isms developed in the latter half of that century, Impressionism being the most celebrated of them. Many early twentieth century critics named Paul Cézanne as the father of twentieth century modernism. Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque were two early innovative modernists who acknowledged Cézanne’s work as influential. Since those groundbreaking cubist experiments, however, modern art has moved in so many directions that it is scarcely definable in any sensible way.
As a painter, I trained in an atelier like setting with emphasis on figure drawing and painting, emphasis on traditional form, and using color to evoke spatial relationships. This also included still life and landscape painting, what many would call realistic painting. When considering art history, teachers used a kind of spin that the traditional held the roots of the avant-garde. Artists were not so much breaking with tradition as they were reassessing the influence of nature on visual expression. Artists became less interested in learning academic painting techniques that followed specific formulas and shifted their focus to personal experience and direct contact with nature as the ultimate teacher. The Impressionists emphasized color interactions to produce the effects of light and illumination (and the subsequent dissolution of form). Cézanne simplified form by focusing on planar relationships and a semi-abstract interpretation of natural forms reduced to cylindrical, spherical, and conical basic shapes. This, of course, led directly to Cubism.
There are more nuances and complexity to painterly development from the nineteenth to the twentieth centuries, but these ideas laid the basic groundwork for what occurred. Individual artists within a particular movement developed their own recognizable styles while promoting the general principles of that movement. Camille Pissarro and Paul Cézanne were frequent painting partners, yet their works of the same settings and subjects were quite different. Both lived into the twentieth century – Pissarro died in 1903 at age 73 and Cézanne died in 1906 at age 67. It is interesting to note that early cubist work shows up around 1905.
My painterly journey has wound this way and that. I did some exploratory abstract work before and during graduate school in the early seventies, but I realized I was missing certain fundamental skills. This led me to focus on developing those skills through traditional painting, figurative and landscape. Shortly after I moved to Houston in the late seventies, I encountered a huge Cézanne exhibition at MFAH that set me to thinking about abstraction in a new light, not the hard-edged, large-scale work so prevalent in the sixties and seventies. I worked in this vein for about a year until deciding that color was interfering with form. I then switched to only black and white acrylic and brush and ink works so that I could focus on gesture and expressive movement. Studying Oriental brush painting led me to papermaking and low-relief sculptural abstraction for a time but eventually that led back to landscape painting.
What I did not realize was that lurking underneath all of that were thoughts about cubism and perception that I had not fully understood in my years as a student of painting. Later large exhibitions that I saw by both Picasso and Braque helped make connections that I had missed years earlier. Gesture (physical brush movement), texture, shape, color, space (real and illusionistic), multiple viewpoints (including in the moment and those based on memory), all began to merge for me into new explorations of the picture plane as a stage for spontaneous expression. This has resulted in the Windows and Doors series that has continued since about 2014. Adding newer technology like digital painting has not only resulted in interesting, quickly produced work, but also has opened new possibilities for the ongoing series of easel paintings. Bottom line for me at this point in time is the solid belief that artistic expression Is not only personal but also ever evolving. Every day is an exciting opportunity for discovery.
Posted on 9/30/2025 5:48:33 PM
By Donald Fox
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Pencil lines can be erased. Brush strokes can be painted over or washed out. As a drawing or a painting progresses, erasure and painting over or wiping out are part of the developmental process. Taking away is another form of adding to. The process is incremental. Increase and decrease are equivalent as steps though each can vary by degree. Variance is what we measure and to which we ascribe significance. Negative, positive, neutral – all are measurable. Each is relative to what has come before or what comes after. Is, then, everything linear? Is simultaneity an illusion? All observations are dependent on time, on a succession of moments. When the event is no longer observable, it lingers on in memory like an echo of itself, strong at first but fading over time and distance. But, don’t we preserve moments in pictures, in paintings, on film, and in thousands of printed readouts? Are these not proof of consistency and continuity? Is the long history (by our measure) of humanity as recorded in art objects large and small, written, painted, or sculpted, testament to existence in the moment (of creation)? Is that history the effort to directly state – “I exist,” and thereby, “We exist.”? I create art; therefore, I am!
Posted on 7/24/2025
By Donald Fox
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Black Window
Just over four years ago I took my old guitar from its case and attempted to play something I thought I remembered well. I had not played in many years; there were so many other things that had taken priority. I had gotten out of the habit and did not have any close friends as I did in high school and college who also played. I felt awkward and clumsy on the fretboard and had difficulty fingerpicking or strumming. My sense of rhythm was terrible, strings kept sounding out of tune, and I could not remember what used to be so familiar. Recently, I had lost my very good childhood friend, the person who originally had taught me basic chords and the rudiments of music. We had bonded readily through music as we had through writing and general interest in art and philosophy. Our shared outlook on life led to many adventures, collaborative creative expressions, and endless discussions with youthful exuberance. We were like brothers.
I thought back on times when I had visited him in our hometown where he still lived. I remembered seeing his guitar leaning against the couch ready to be picked up at the slightest whim. Mine had also sat like that for years until it was put away not long after my first marriage had ended. For a while, even art and writing were not areas of comfort or interest. But I always kept in touch with my friend. He was a strong support during that time.
I knew that my grieving his passing would be best expressed through rediscovering music, and so I persisted with relearning what I had forgotten. Now, years later and with new added guitars, I am reaching a point where guitar playing is an essential element of daily life, a connecting thread to my friend’s spirit, and something that is becoming both an expressive and creative tool for me. I am able to move around the fretboard with increasing ease and accuracy, far beyond what I was able to do in the past. I have learned more music mechanics although I still play mostly intuitively. I find myself creating rhythms and melodies rather than learning, or relearning, a bunch of songs as I did in the past (mostly folk and singer-songwriter tunes). Since the end of last year, I have written lyrics for half a dozen songs though all have yet to be set to music, and I have composed another half dozen or so melodic pieces without words. I know my friend would be pleased, but it also saddens me to know I will never get to play with him again. Still, I can honor his memory through what I do. This is one of many ways in which creative expression is a testament to life and to a celebration of life.
Posted on 6/30/2025 4:03:36 PM
By Donald Fox
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Today is the last day of June, which means that celebration of our national birth comes at the end of the week on July fourth. Normally, this would be a time of community and recognition of all things American, and, hopefully, for most Americans this will still be true. However, for some years now – decades even – there has been much discord and outright animosity between elements of the political left and right and a few factions in between. (In my view, the internet has played a large part inflaming these divisions by allowing a certain sense of safety through distance and anonymity, but that is another discussion.)
There have been times in my past when I have been quite politically engaged, especially just after high school during the civil rights and Vietnam eras. Art, on the other hand, has never been about politics for me although I am very aware that throughout much art history, politics did play a large part at times. What we know of many ancient civilizations from their monumental expressions is that their art was propagandistic and/or intended to intimidate foes through the expression of dominance and power. At other times, of course, art primarily displayed spiritual concepts and served as a means of connecting societies to the larger spiritual world.
As in any field of endeavor, artists have personal as well as aesthetic views and choose to express them or not directly, metaphorically, or in combination according to their engagement with their passion and commitment to their trade. As I was coming of age in the sixties, I encountered a wide range of art that was highly socially engaged with issues related to war, race, masculinity and femininity, and other social concerns of the times. Even a movement like Abstract Expressionism could be read as a large political statement vis-a-vis the centuries of figurative art that had preceded it. Since the late 1800s, some have argued that strife in the world was a major contributor to various iconoclastic movements that accelerated in the twentieth century stoked by the impact of two world wars.
Perhaps I am naïve in my idealism, but I tend to see most art for its creative expression and how an artist has manifested something that past Romantics would describe as expressions of truth and beauty. For me, at least, art is too personal to mire it in politics and potentially diminish its effect by using it for some purpose other than to uplift and inspire.
Posted on 4/18/2025 11:40:53 AM
By Donald Fox
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I remember being outside a Vietnamese restaurant three weeks before Christmas years ago. A covered white pick-up was parked outside. On one side window someone had air-brushed a death’s head hovering above a surf board. A tall, lanky man in a baseball cap asked me if the food at the restaurant was any good. Had I actually eaten there before? He was painting imaginary oriental Christmas scenes on the restaurant windows. He had already painted a Chinese foot bridge over a green flowing river. Red linear mountains and small huts lingered in the distance. He told me he planned to put Mt. Fuji on one window like he remembered from school. I looked without commenting at his drawn face from which a cigarette bobbed as he spoke. Let’s see – Christmas, Vietnamese restaurant, Chinese footbridge, Mount Fuji – oriental polyglot, mixed cultural metaphors including a Middle-eastern birthday become a Western European tradition.
There are many possible directions in life, and so often we remain narrowly focused on what’s at hand. When I was a kid, my neighborhood was filled with promise and pleasure. Already though, the outside world encroached in ways I could not fathom at the time. At noon a siren signaled the hour, but this was also part of an alarm system for emergency situations – this translated into threats of nuclear war though I didn’t fully understand that then.
Television broadcasted only in black and white. Color was several years into the future, but the local station broadcasted emergency warnings. That was the beginning of the Emergency Broadcast System. A test pattern would come on the small screen while an announcer gave advice on what to do in an emergency. We had air raid drills at school where we crouched under our desks or against the walls in hallways. It was the early fifties: advertisements for bomb shelters, fears of communist takeovers, scenes of atomic bomb tests, television dramas about Soviet spies like I Led Three Lives, Radio Free Europe, the Iron Curtain, McCarthyism, blacklists, and the end of the Korean conflict.
I discovered Afghanistan in the first volume of a family encyclopedia that my mother bought one volume at a time from the grocery store. There was no mention yet of Vietnam in the news although the French were there – the area was part of French Indo-China. Some years later I would lose high school friends in South Vietnam, and I would become politically radicalized largely because I was from the South and had seen discrimination firsthand, some even committed by family members. It felt important to do something positive.
The world of the imagination that I fed from my school library began to absorb realities that I had known only as fictions. All those alien invasion sci-fi movies of the fifties were simply metaphors for communists and any kind of ‘other’ cultural group infiltrating and taking control.
Art has a way of mirroring our concerns and fears, our doubts and our prejudices. It also gives us ways to distance ourselves from those burdens to be able to consider them through other eyes and other voices. This enables us to see more clearly into ourselves and possibly learn from our own experience as it is mirrored back through that filter of art. History allows us hindsight, and art gives us insight, but for both we have to be willing to engage and to be open to whatever we may find.
Posted on 3/14/2025 10:39:10 AM
By Donald Fox
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It is often said that art does not exist in a vacuum. Paintings and other individual artists’ works begin their history within the artist’s imagination, grow in the field or in the studio, some develop over years or decades, and then they leave the nest to be with their new owner(s). The older paintings’ stories do not end there, of course. Obviously, the works outlive their creators and many travel far greater distances to places their creators never dreamed of. Sometimes stories are imagined in literature or film, but many real life stories I imagine are much richer and more complex than those created by writers. Think of the histories of certain paintings prior to the Second World War and then the terrible circumstances that led to some being lost, some being confiscated (stolen), and some that eventually have made their way back to the families from which they came if not to the original owners. Many paintings have also been seen by millions of viewers through the years, again something that the artists would not have imagined. It is a remarkable thing indeed that works of art can communicate so effectively through the years and across boundaries of culture and conflict. How is it that in these modern times we continue to struggle in our communications with each other given that we have such rich history of artistic expression and communication?
Posted on 2/28/2025 9:25:49 PM
By Donald Fox
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In life there is what we think we know moment to moment and day by day. We live, perhaps as others have said, as if in a dream only to awaken at some future time to discover that what seemed real was not. Tomorrow has not yet come, but as we may look back from whatever present moment, we might realize that now is that future we dreamed long ago, and the past is composed of many steps that have led to this present moment. That past may also be seen as a different story with a different meaning from what was experienced in those long-ago present moments. Is the aged wine sweeter, is it stronger, or has it become bitter as if plagued by regret? Wisdom, they say, grows with age, for youth is either mindlessly lost in pleasure or foolishly looking away to the future.
In this moment, however, is where inspiration comes, and from that dreams are realized as is art.
Posted on 2/3/2025 2:50:39 PM
By Donald Fox
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I first published this in March of 2015. Someone recently responded to it, and upon review, I thought it quite appropriate for today. So, here it is again.
There is a great deal of enmity in the world, which can easily be verified by watching daily news, briefly surfing online, or listening to people in a shopping mall. Much of the discord results from deceit and deception. To paraphrase Big Daddy from Tennessee Williams, there’s a whole lot of mendacity going on. Some would explain this as the result of evil in the world courtesy of the devil or some other mythological imp. Personally, I think it is the result of ignorance and maladjustment caused by circumstance or physical/mental deficiency. A lot can go wrong with the mind or with the body that can affect the mind. Certainly, if one is lied to consistently and long enough, that one is apt to believe anything that is presented within the same framework. As soon as someone says that there is one true something, better watch out. Within the realm of art, this has been as true as anywhere else.
The academy system began as a way to legitimize art, codify its principles, and act as a kind of gatekeeper for aspirants. The intention was to elevate art to the highest level of sophistication and craft, and in that sense it succeeded for many years. Eventually, though, academic thinking became as staid as any system becomes when new ideas are not incorporated. This also served to create distinctions between conservative and progressive expression as is seen in almost every institution whether political, spiritual, economic, or social. Those who could be allies turn into adversaries and inevitable change occurs in more strenuous and discordant surges. The complexities of human endeavor preclude a simple good versus evil scenario though factions often attempt to craft a conflict in that guise.
If we look to nature, we see the hunter and the hunted, predator and prey, but we also see cooperation and symbiosis. We see the struggle for survival, and the lens is crafted to now extoll the one most fit. We play this out in cultural games: in sport, in art, in politics, virtually every arena, while also believing in some inner spark that separates us from the unaware, the dumb brute, the unenlightened except that we can’t quite agree on what is in our own best interest. We know that we must consume in order to survive, but we also know that we must conserve in order to maintain consumables. Nature does this in ingenious ways including giving back to herself and re-using that which is no longer viable. Part of our human nature understands this, but that inexplicable greed kicks in and our moral compass spins like a wobbling top. As we are sentient nature, we might therefore appeal to our better angels rather than our imaginary devils.
Posted on 12/31/2024 2:22:33 PM
By Donald Fox
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Here we are once again on the last day of the year, one that often is mourned as it coincides with the end of a holiday season for many but also celebrated as new possibilities are foreseen for the year to come. Like many of the routines and traditions that we adhere to, the end of year and beginning of the next are arbitrary and simply accepted as true or right by general agreement or by habit. This is the same for the beginning of any week or any month. We have been taught the way things are and have accepted that according to cultural standards. Seasonal changes make sense, for these can be observed and felt according to temperature shifts, alterations in the length of day and night, and other physical phenomena resulting from our journey around the sun. Those changes are gradual just as the ending or beginning of any day is also gradual. Even there, however, we impose our restriction according to the clock, and at a particular hour decide that we have moved from day to night or one day to the next.
I remember from years ago, when I worked in a state hospital, a doctor remarking on a country farmer patient that the man was less intelligent for not being able to specify when exactly certain symptoms had begun. The doctor became very impatient when questioning the man since he, the doctor, was so well programmed by timing governed by the clock, by schedules and dates, and by periods of measurement other than circadian rhythms. The farmer lived by the seasons and was not bound by specific timelines beyond what was needed for the farm. In a sense, the farmer lived according to natural rhythms instead of those imposed by the clock or someone else’s determination.
I imagine, though, that many of us chafe against the time restrictions according to which we live. How often do we speak of the Monday blues, of the mid-week slump, or hump day, of a Friday malaise, or spend time dreaming of the weekend? How many elevate holidays, vacation days, or any days off work as an escape from those tasks that have kept us from what might be more creative pursuits? And how many also will schedule the down time with activities that make that time more exhausting than the regular working hours of an average working day? Some may go so far as to denigrate leisure time as wasteful, so programmed have they become to the idea of productivity, accomplishment, getting ahead, or whatever mythology they have created around the idea of doing rather than being.
In our day-to-day existence, there also is a timelessness, at least in my experience, tied to what is remembered, or fabricated, from the past. Events, people, circumstances, choices, possibilities all reside in that virtual space, and I believe that it is from that space, sometimes nudged by the present, that creativity springs, ideas emerge, which suggests to me that my creative expression may be more about preserving or perhaps recreating some of what is no longer tangible to become tangible in a new form. Some psychologists believe that memories are often fabrications or edited versions of what may have happened in the past, a kind of wishful thinking about earlier experience, a folie a deux of current ego with its former manifestation. Isn’t that creative expression? It could certainly explain why siblings or close friends might have different recollections of a shared experience.
So, this year-end revery of time and space coincides with many cultural versions that draw upon metaphors of death and rebirth, the winter solstice, personification of seasons and the elements, and fanciful tales that both entertain and celebrate human connection with each other, with the earth, and with the cosmos, all within the concept of the past morphing into the future as experienced in the present.
Posted on 11/6/2024 3:29:43 PM
By Donald Fox
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The world of art is simply the world envisioned from a perspective unique to the creative insight of the individual artist. It is the same world that each and every one of us inhabits on a daily basis. Whenever a reader or viewer or listener connects with a particular work of art, I believe it is because that person already has something of the shared vision within him or her. It is that shared vision that makes what the artist has created all the more powerful when experienced by the viewer. I also believe that the person who does not respond to a particular work of art, or to any art, he or she has not found that spark within. I would even venture to say that person is in a kind of denial. There is a missing inner connection to awareness, sensitivity, openness, similar to what oriental health practitioners might call blocked chi, a blocked flow of intrinsic energy. And, some art works can be so powerful that they will blow open such clogged channels to enlighten, enthrall, and uplift the viewer to levels of experience previously unknown.
It is tempting and easy to anthropomorphize art and to speak of it as being something alive with its own life energy. Maybe even most artists do this in some way or other. I heard the novelist Barbara Kingsolver a while back on The Diane Rehm Show speaking about her novel Flight Behavior. She made an interesting comment that I feel certain resonates with many artists. She said, “this thing I do alone in my room has another whole life of its own out in the world.” Like all writers and most visual artists, she creates her work in solitude, but at some point the work leaves the nest and is given to the world. Aside from the dutiful book tours immediately post-publication or reviews that may follow soon after, she may have little feedback about the work, but the work itself is out there making whatever connections with the reading audience. On that radio program, it was interesting to hear appreciative readers acknowledging the author for the contributions she had unknowingly made to individual lives through previously published works.
Similarly, visual artists may connect with viewers at art openings or possibly if clients visit the studio. There may also be lots of instances where the work is seen and appreciated by viewers when the artist is not present. The art will continue to work its magic, but the artist may not know the specific gifts it bestows. If you know an artist, give him or her feedback, praise, acknowledgement, or whatever seems fitting. This is always uplifting and will likely inspire more creations for both to appreciate.
Posted on 10/2/2024 12:20:13 PM
By Donald Fox
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Full Moon through Cracked Glass
Art is born at a moment in time, develops over time, chronicles its history as it grows, and far outlives its maker. Regrettably, art is also forgotten, destroyed by ignorance or neglect or willful acts promoted by fear and fanaticism. Art often springs from the best of human intention though it may succumb to the worst. Ironically, much of what we know of the ancient past, the glory or the depravity, is gifted by the art that remains.
Posted on 9/30/2024 3:54:13 PM
By Donald Fox
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I’ve had the great pleasure in my life to have known many remarkable people, and quite a few of those are and were artists. The ones I have known I would call working artists, some of whom worked solely on their art and others worked to be able to make their art. Some have been teachers, and most have considered themselves lifelong learners, explorers of their creative impulses, motivated by a desire to express and to find fulfillment in honing their craft be it painting or sculpture or music or dance or a blend of many into one. Some of these artists were, or are, scientists, for it isn’t the discipline that makes the artist as it is the approach to the discipline.
As lifelong learners, they have been blessed with curiosity about being, about being in the world, about being part of the world, and about being part of the cosmos. The more they learn about each of these the more they learn about themselves, and the more they learn about themselves the more they learn about others who ultimately are seen as part of themselves. Although not all would express it this way, they tend to perceive beingness as metaphor – something is or as is something else. The being is the whole, and the whole is the being – the two as inseparable.
Others may cringe at this idea and immediately respond with all the ways that beings are different. Spiritual teachers would suggest that is the ego interfering with understanding, for the ego is invested in its survival. If, however, I recognize in the expression of another that which also resonates within me, or they experience in my expression something that also resides within them isn’t this something transcendent of the ego?
Posted on 8/11/2024 5:21:04 PM
By Fox
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Many courtroom dramas on television play out some variation on the idea of the defense counsel presenting a credible witness or the prosecution attacking the credibility of that witness or of the accuser. Was what was seen actually seen or simply remembered as being a particular way? Are the remembered details enough to establish that something was correctly observed? Is there corroboration by more than one person? Does what was observed mesh with other physical evidence? What was the actual truth of the particular situation?
In a way, a visual artist who paints from nature or observed reality is a witness to the visual experience that becomes the painting. Can that observation actually be objective? Is the painted truth an objective truth that anyone observing the same scene would agree that, yes, that’s the way it was? Artists and spectators alike speak of capturing a scene, but to what extent is the result dependent upon verisimilitude? Is there also wiggle room for the artist to subjectively evaluate and render that scene with truth and validity? What is it that the artist is actually portraying that makes the painted scene truthful or not?
There has been much debate about illusionistic art, be it realism, impressionism, photorealism, or any other ism where observed reality is the basis for the painted experience. Many say that this kind of painting is a visual lie; it’s only deception and trickery. Maybe this charge could be hurled at trompe l’oeil painters since their intention is to fool the eye. I suspect, though, that even these painters would say that their painting is about more than the obvious mimicry.
What is it that a painter sees when observing a scene to be painted? I’m not even sure we can say for certain because different painters would give different answers to the question. Yes, most would allow that the basic design elements come into play – one looks for contrasts in shape, size, position, value, color, spatial movement, light and atmosphere. Unless one is painting under artificially controlled light, the natural light that reveals the elements will actually be constantly changing. This in turn can change the relationship of the elements. Since it is a given that a painting develops over a period of time, hundreds, if not thousands, of observations are made by the painter during this process. In effect, that painted result is a synthesis of observation, repeated applications of paint, adjustments of color and texture, and numerous other variations that are based on moment by moment decisions. After a time, what happens in the painting becomes more important than what is happening in the observed scene. The painter increasingly makes decisions based on the painting rather than the observed reality.
Where, then, is the truth in the observation of the painter? Isn’t what is happening on the painted surface the observation that becomes most important? The painted reality is a new reality in its own right. It no longer depends on that original experience of the observed reality, for that is only a distant memory. The painting is now where the artistic truth resides. If the artist has captured anything, it is his or her experience of the original scene filtered through accumulated knowledge and skill, emotion and sensibility, and whatever artistic intentions are of most concern to that individual. The truth is elusive and subjective rather than objective. It is most relevant to the artistic interpretation of the painter, which is then filtered through the lens of the intelligent viewer.
Posted on 7/31/2024 4:02:44 PM
By Donald Fox
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“Ceci n’est pas une pipe” (“This is not a pipe”) is the inscription written beneath a painting of a pipe, one of Rene Magritte’s most famous images, La Trahison des Images or The Treachery of Images. Executed in 1928, Magritte was making a simple observation that the representation of something is not the thing itself. This should be obvious, but many people do not make that distinction with words, images, or other symbols. At one level Magritte was also being satirical, for there are many who judge a painting solely by its verisimilitude to the thing observed that is translated into paint.
In English classes, if I ask for the definition of a noun, generally I will hear several people say, “a person, place, or thing.” They are always surprised when I say that is incorrect, and they protest that that is exactly what they were taught. Perhaps, but maybe they didn’t listen well enough. A noun is a word that names a person, place, or thing. The noun is the name of something and not the thing itself. One might argue here that this is just a matter of semantics, and he would be absolutely correct. It is about semantics and how we can easily fool ourselves into thinking that we know something directly when all we really know is a perception of it.
Several issues are at play. One is that we use language to interpret our experience of the world. We explain things to ourselves by describing them with words, but words themselves are symbols of things. Already we are removed from direct experience by the filter of words. Secondly, our perceptions also are interpretations of sensations that are closest to direct experience. Sensations, however, have no meaning without the understanding provided us by our brains that interpret the sensations, give them context, and create meaning for us. A perception, then, is a representation of some aspect of the world experienced as a sensation. That sensation, whether visual, tactile, or auditory, is also a kind of filter because it is transmitted information via nerve impulses. Time and distance are involved between the stimulus, the bodily response, transmittal to the brain, processing by the brain, transmittal back to the site of stimulation, and appropriate reaction.
But that pipe is physical! It can be touched and felt; it is solid and is used for a specific purpose. Well, as Magritte pointed out, you can’t smoke his pipe. It’s only a picture. A painting is also physical and also only a picture. It can be seen but usually should no tbe touched. Touching is definitely frowned upon in museums and galleries. So what does this mean for artists? That problem each artist has to figure out for him or herself, and the answer is at the core of what every artist believes to be true about his or her artistic experience.
Posted on 6/28/2024 4:39:10 PM
By Donald Fox
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Pandora's Window Box
Today is International LGBT Pride Day, and I celebrate that diversity within the larger artistic community. Historically, some of the greatest artists of the past and present have been or are gay. They have contributed to and supported the development of the arts through the ages as much as, if not more than, artists of any other group or persuasion. For these contributions to beautifying and enriching the world, I am grateful, and for my gay friends and acquaintances I am also grateful.
It is fitting that the Pride Flag is a rainbow of colors, which for painters is also the color wheel composed of the primary and secondary colors. The secondaries of course are derived from the primaries, and these colors in nature are most familiar to non-artists as the rainbow that often appears after a storm. For the visual artist, those colors are everywhere, blended into the incredible array of objects and light that is ever-present from the drama of a sunrise or sunset to the subtlety of warm and cool grays seen in clouds, rocks, and shadows.
The gardens that grow upon this earth are variegated in many hues. We pick the flowers that we like. Some are fragrant, and some are not, but each is unique in form and combined with others may glow more radiant than in solitary splendor. With open eyes and open hearts may we recognize the deeper beauty beneath the surface color.
Posted on 6/26/2024 12:52:20 PM
By Donald Fox
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Infinity Window
Time is the one commodity that once spent is gone forever. There is no investment, no way to increase a return or to gain any return on time itself. Yet, time also seems malleable, for through memory we seem able to stretch the effects of time, to revisit places and people once known and make the live again.
Being time-bound beings, we see the effects of the passage of time both positive and negative. Applied skills improve over time, plants and animals grow over time, civilizations arise over time, and artistic expression matures with time and energy invested. Of course, all these things and more decline given enough time. Increase, growth, accumulation, strength, and mental acuity all degrade or dwindle as time passes. This we perceive and accept as the nature of things temporal.
Some have said that there is only one first time. At the most obvious level that is true, but we can also experience something anew for the second or third or fourth or however many times we choose. What matters is that there is choice. Any first-time experience also depends upon prior knowledge and experience brought to the occasion. Something has to be perceived to be known.
The experience of art, for example, is enriched by whatever previous experience one has of art generally even if not of a specific piece or artist. Prior knowledge creates expectation and context, but lack of knowledge need not reduce an aesthetic experience. The sensitive and inquisitive audience will be receptive to the experience and will create context as the encounter unfolds.
A dancer responding to a new piece of music will create a dance different from all previous dances even when moves or rhythms are ones used before. A second performance to the same music will evoke a variation rather than a repeat of the same dance. The music is the same, but the dancer is now different. Time is an echo of all past dance. Art is the echo of the creative self within the chamber of auto-renewal.
Posted on 2/29/2024 6:28:05 PM
By Donald Fox
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Moon Window Intersection
Today is the 29th of February, or Leap Day as some call it. In a way it is like a space between the end of one month and the beginning of another, a space that occurs only every four years. On another level it doesn’t really matter at all since the whole calendar system is artificially imposed on days, weeks, months, and years in a very human way of attempting to control the passage of time. We cannot control the Earth’s rotation or its travel around the sun and through the universe. Ah, but if we can only measure it, then we have something. It has quantity and duration, and we can create the illusion of something and give it meaning. Perhaps it is only “another day older and deeper in debt,” as the song goes.
I haven’t posted much on my blog lately and have grown a long way from the time when I posted daily. Neither have I painted much recently, although I am working on a new painting that is a combination of abstract and naturalistic imagery, which is, perhaps, a commentary of the abstractions that we continuously impose on this state of perception we call reality. Doesn’t reality, though, require agreement among those experiencing it? We certainly agree on calendars – well, mostly.
In any case, I wanted to write on this particular day because of its intermittent nature. I try to avoid clichés like every day is a new day, or we’ll never again see this moment in time, or you can’t get it back once it’s gone. I think of the days more and more like musical notes in an extended melody. How wonderful it is to perceive everything as color and music, light and sound, rhythm created by expressions and intervals. Our creative endeavors draw upon these abstractions to give us what we might call concrete experiences. We could even say time solidified though it really is not since it takes time to experience the creation itself. The creation embodies the energy, rhythm, and duration of the artist’s experience, which becomes a historical record of that creative process. Art is the expression, the result, and the experience all rolled into one – at least at this moment in time.
Posted on 12/31/2023 8:38:42 PM
By Donald Fox
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Alternate Windows
Here it is once again the last day of another year. It is not yet dark and already fireworks are sounding intermittently. For the last six years or so at the stroke of midnight on New Years Eve, the city of Houston has sounded like a war zone. It is almost deafening to step outside. The cats are huddled around the inside and have been for hours. Unfortunately, the fireworks will last well beyond midnight. Sadly, this year also manifested fireworks on Christmas eve and Christmas day. To my mind, this is a silly way to celebrate what is so commonly held to be a significant event. Of course, that the date is arbitrary insofar as designating a change in yearly number also seems odd to me. Seasonal events like solstices make more sense to acknowledge. Sadly, too, is the celebration of what should be more than a token idea of change through resolutions rarely kept or new beginnings that sputter after the inebriation and novelty have worn off.
Artists continue to create, and new elements of beauty enter the world on a daily basis, yet I wonder how many people truly pay attention. Social media has offered a new pathway for artists to connect with their audiences, yet this pathway is filled with animosity, anger, bigotry, discord, misinformation, and outright hatred. Parts of the world are violently affected by natural upheavals and parts of the world are afflicted by human violence and stupidity. No country seems immune from the unpredictability of nature or the all too predictable expressions of humanity.
I am not naïve. Violence is nothing new, nor is bigotry or other base human impulses. History is filled with cataclysms and conflicts. The way of the jungle seems to linger in the limbic brain. America once fought a Civil War that resulted in more deaths from relatively primitive weapons by today’s standards than other wars combined in which America has been involved. And yet, more than a hundred years later many of the issues from those earlier years have yet to be resolved. Although many continue to deny this, American history is filled as well with atrocities that run counter to what is supposed to be a country standing as a beacon of freedom and democracy. In fact, those very terms have been used to justify the most atrocious of acts. Still, many see no fault, let alone irony, in their espoused profession of patriotism (and for many of these, their espoused profession of Christian virtue).
Currently, I am reading S.I. Hayakawa’s Language in Action first published in 1939. Much of the text pertaining to misuse of language, misrepresentation of facts, and other communication abuses are as relevant today as they were in that author’s time of world tumult just prior to the Second World War. Though I disagree with Hayakawa’s later conservative ideals as a U.S. senator, I find the discussion of language pertinent to challenges in the current arena of social discourse that so often goes awry. Just as individuals interpret art according to personal likes and dislikes (based on experience and learning – or lack thereof), so do they interpret events from what may be tainted or limited perspectives, or not. Beliefs can change, and if one assumes that this is true, can there be definitive truths that are universal? Personally, I move into the new year with questions rather than resolves.
Posted on 12/15/2023 6:50:37 PM
By Donald Fox
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I’ve had the great pleasure in my life to have known many remarkable people, and quite a few of those are and were artists. The ones I have known and know I would call working artists, some of whom worked solely on their art and others worked to be able to make their art. Some have been teachers, and most have considered themselves lifelong learners, explorers of their creative impulses, motivated by a desire to express and to find fulfillment in honing their craft be it painting or sculpture or music or dance or a blend of many into one. Some of these artists were, or are, scientists, for it isn’t the discipline that makes the artist as it is the approach to the discipline.
Posted on 12/1/2023 4:50:59 PM
By Donald Fox
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The Sea at Night
Several months have passed since I posted anything on my website blog. Partly, this was due to a disengagement from Facebook since my posts were often reposted there along with an image of a recent painting. The disengagement came because of feeling increasingly annoyed with posts from conservative friends that were inflammatory and, to me, totally insensitive to issues of great importance to many in the world. Quite a few of these posts belittled anyone who had an alternative opinion, much like a former bellicose politico who can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. Sometimes I think the radical right’s belligerence is the result of overexposure in the media of trash-talking athletes who attempt to mind-fuck their opponents. Contentiousness, though, is not limited to the realm of politics nor to those on the right, nor, unfortunately, is it new in this country. It can, in fact, be traced all the way back to the beginning. I just hated to see people I have thought of as friends being so uncivil to others that they would call friends.
On the positive side, I am overwhelmed every day at the amazing beauty that continues to exist in the world despite much of humanity’s efforts to ignore, debunk, or destroy it. For thousands of years, art has celebrated that beauty while, admittedly, often skirting controversy, particularly at times when art was the ward of the state or the church or some other systemic power. Art itself holds power to affect, to sway, to enhance, and to celebrate. Tyrants have feared art and artists because it and they have a history of outliving the oppressors and of bringing hope to those who might otherwise have little or none.
I see art as sacred, not because I deem it an idol to be praised, but because it attests to the miracle of belief and imagination made manifest. It exists as an expression of creative daringness, of raising questions and posing answers that raise questions not previously asked or thought to be asked. It is a vehicle to explore the world as perceived by one that allows another to see further than he or she might on their own. It has no inherent value but is imbued with value by those who find immense worth within themselves as they reflect upon its magical mirror.
Posted on 6/23/2023 1:28:02 PM
By Donald Fox
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History of Painting (Part 1)
“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.” This particular quote is attributed by some websites to Leonardo da Vinci, but I was unable to find a specific reference and so remain skeptical. Whether by Leonardo or not, the ideas are interesting and worth considering. Personally, I would change the wording because although I agree with the second part, I don’t fully agree with the first.
A painting may certainly be poetic, a condensed image, if you will, just as poetry is condensed language. Like word images poetry, visual images in paintings can also be symbolic, metaphorical, or suggest multiple meanings. Part of the power of poetry comes from its ambiguous nature. It varies from discursive prose that tells something as it is, deals with factual information or proves assertions with reason and logic. Poetry may contain factual information, but the poet’s intention is not to be factual but to provide insight into some aspect of the world, human experience, emotion, or a higher level of truth that in fact may contain several truths at once – thus, the ambiguity. Likewise, painting that is artfully done makes use of facts sometimes as in truthfulness to observed reality, but also as with poetry the artist takes liberties to impart emotional power to images or to select images for their emotional impact. It is for this reason that I would not say “painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt.” This first half of the quote suggests that painting may lack emotional impact, but that is far from the truth. Painting shows us the poetry of shapes and colors and sometimes of ordinary things that we think we know, and painting is full of emotive potential by these revelations which may be heightened by the artist’s emotional feeling invested in the work.
The second half of the quote – “poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen” – at face value seems true enough. If we think more deeply, however, there is more to consider. Poetic language is often emotional language. Poetry, after all, is lyrical at its core since originally poems were sung by traveling bards, even the great epic works like the Iliad or the Odyssey. It is from this tradition that meter, rhythm, and rime originated. Music always has a powerful emotional component perhaps because the rhythm of sound in particular resonates with the natural rhythms built into our bodies and lives. We are so emotionally tied to rhythm that we naturally express it visually as well in painting, sculpture, architecture, and other forms of design. The felt or emotional connection with poetry is apparent.
What about “felt rather than seen”? I think I’d take exception here also. Poetic language is visual language. It is figurative language part of whose purpose is to create images in the mind of the reader or listener. Imagery in poetry makes poetic language quite different from that discursive prose mentioned earlier. Though the images may not be seen externally, poetic images are definitely seen internally. This is part of the symbolic power of language of any kind – verbal, written, pictorial, kinesthetic, or auditory – the images are felt and seen, or better yet, sensed by our entire being. Here, then, is one way of expressing a different idea connecting painting and poetry. Painting is visual poetry, and poetry is verbal painting; both stimulate feeling and engage thought.
First published 4/16/14
Posted on 5/13/2023 2:38:08 PM
By Donald Fox
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We live in a culture that is like a big magnifying lens. The pressure exerted on individuals is to make everything bigger, faster, stronger, or better. Some people talk about getting the big idea, the one that will make their reputation or make them rich. Salespeople strive to score the big account. Businesspeople seek to close the big deal. Politicians, unfortunately, often deal in the big lie. Less is said about quality unless it comes as part of advertising hype that will promote a service or product. Little is said about producing quality because it is the right thing to do. Anyone that feels strongly about artistic expression knows that quality is at the core of the process.
For a resolute artist there isn’t just one big painting, one big commission, or one big project. Each work is a big deal in the moment of its creation. The act of being an artist is about creating quality in the moment. It does not matter if it is a single artist working alone in a studio or a performing artist working as part of a performance group. The preparation and the process are as much about the performance as the performance itself. Ultimately there is no separation between the various stages of work, for what may result in a painting, or any other work of art, is another step in a larger process that continues beyond the singular work.
Historians speak about looking at an artist’s entire oeuvre, the complete body of work, but this is not complete until the artist is no longer creating art. It is the creation process that is of most importance to the artist. Individual works may be signposts or snapshots of where an artist is at any moment in time, and no doubt there may be some works that stand out or to which the artist may feel more attached. We recognize when something special happens, but rather than lessen any other work by comparison, it actually heightens the other work by association. Not everyone may agree with this assessment, but that doesn’t really matter. How an artist relates to his or her work is what is important, and I do think that artists fundamentally are interested in quality and pursue it with passion.
