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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 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 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 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 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 6/26/2024 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 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.
Posted on 11/7/2022 5:24:14 PM
By Donald Fox
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Day before yesterday, my wife and I visited the MFAH for a lecture on the new exhibit, “Golden Worlds: The Portable Universe of Indigenous Colombia.” The exhibit includes over four hundred examples of gold decorative items (actually tumbaga, an alloy of copper and gold), pottery, and textiles, most pre-Columbian, but a few more recent items to show the continuation of indigenous people’s traditions were also included. The work is stunning, and the lecturer was also visibly taken by the beautiful craftsmanship of these ancient creators, especially since they often used simple stone tools to intricately work the precious metal. In addition to the skillful craftsmanship, the pieces also expressed a complex cosmology and spiritually sophisticated view of humans, nature, and the universe as they perceived it.
Artists often appreciate the artistic expressions of other cultures including those considered by many to be primitive or not fully civilized. Most likely, though, any culture can be criticized for its philosophical or moral shortcomings regardless of the sophistication of its technological achievements. Some of these ancient cultures were quite brutal and were seen by early western explorers, including Columbus and others who followed, as savages who needed to be conquered, converted, enslaved, or destroyed. Of course, the irony of explorers in search of gold, treasures, new lands, and converts to their faith lies in their ruthlessness, thievery, debauchery, and inadvertent devastation by disease inflicted on those who sometimes, but not always, greeted them peacefully and with curiosity, if not awe.
Some of the greatest ancient civilizations were quite brutal in dispatching enemies as they built their empires. Socially, these empires also were usually hierarchical and included an elite that existed on the backs of those who served them. Some of the elites were proclaimed to be gods. Much of the wealth supported the elite and whatever spiritual group served to keep them in power. Artisans crafted works to adorn, to amplify, and to enhance the power of those who stood above. In some cases, the art was outright propaganda used either to cower enemies or the larger populace. Sadly, many of these ideas play out in modern times socially, politically, and religiously. In spite of this, art can bring so much joy when not used as a tool or a weapon.
Posted on 9/5/2022 6:54:38 PM
By Donald Fox
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Today is a designated holiday in America, one where traditionally folks rest from their labors and spend time with family or friends. Many creative people don’t get days off. The mind is always in motion, churning ideas, making connections between observations, and some of these perceptions are made into art of one kind or another. This creative expression whether conscious, intuitive, intentional, or spontaneous, by many is not considered work but a form of play. It doesn’t matter how others see it, especially those who are not creatively engaged. The artistic soul is the one that experiences it, and that experience may be described differently by any given creative. Work or play, it is daily work that can be internal or external, and when creativity strikes, the artist is completely absorbed in that activity, what some may call being in the zone. Then too, what may look like fun is usually the product of many long hours spent developing the skills to make it look easy, which is to say a natural outflow from the creative mind.
Posted on 8/26/2022 1:59:29 PM
By Donald Fox
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Vertical Landscape
Many have remarked that colors in nature seem more intense just after it rains. This is caused by the effect of refracted light on a wet surface. A similar effect can be seen on rocks in a stream where the wet surface appears darker and more intensely colored than a dry portion of the rock not touched by water. The same is true of wet sand on a beach. Realist painters pay attention to this kind of detail, but all painters are aware that a dried painting will look slightly less intense than one where the paint is still wet. Varnish or certain mediums added to paint can enhance the wet look after the paint is dry. A varnish creates smoothness just like water on a rough surface and refracts light in a similar way. The human eye can easily distinguish these subtle differences, but it is the perception of the viewer that determines if such nuances are brought to awareness. Painters teach viewers how to see much like writers teach readers how to think from alternate perspectives. Art may be considered non-essential or purely entertaining, but it is also a powerful teaching tool for those open to its lessons.
Posted on 8/4/2022 6:38:07 PM
By Donald Fox
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NHC International
A recent article titled “Art as an Excuse” by Kevin Kelly published in FASO Member Newsletter (originally published on the author’s website) stimulated a number of reactive thoughts that differ from those espoused by the author. Primarily, using the word excuse to denote an act of making art may apply to him, but I doubt that it applies to any serious artist. An excuse is often either an apology for something or a rationalization why something was done or not done. Artists, more often than not, work from choice even though some may say that they are compelled to do what they do. Being compelled to me suggests one has little control. I am compelled to use the bathroom several times a day because my body demands that I do so. I readily comply as a way to maintain good health. I feel a sense of physical relief when the call of nature is satisfied and a sense of psychological relief knowing that my physical body is functioning properly. In certain settings I may even excuse myself to follow this calling.
The calling to make art is very different, however. Whatever initial curiosity led me to first pick up a pencil or brush many years ago in order to make some kind of image grew within me over years and urged me towards learning, practicing, and honing skills that would enable me to use art making as a way of being productive within the world. Kelly does say that humans are naturally productive and inevitably build things, create things that previously did not exist. Some of these things are utilitarian and provide us shelter and sustenance. Some of these things are not utilitarian (but not without purpose) and provide us distraction, pleasure, or ineffable boosts to wellbeing. Some of these latter things we call Art. Personally, I do not see art making as an excuse for not doing something else although I will frequently excuse myself from other tasks in order to engage in art making. Art is always a choice and a disciplined one at that.
To be fair to Mr. Kelly, I do not think he means to say that art making is in any way inconsequential or frivolous or is what people resort to when they have nothing better to do. There is the larger societal perception, though, that art making is a non-essential activity and one of little practicality when set beside medicine, construction, agriculture, and other fields of human endeavor including religion. Art and religion have often been linked, the former used as a means to visualize aspects of the latter or to express spiritual concepts, but it is interesting to note that no one has gone to war over art. Sometimes, however, art has been among the spoils of war, even those waged in the name of religion. Whether the practice of religion is any more practical than the practice of art, is another question, but certainly practitioners of each will vigorously defend that practice. Both can certainly be big business. To say that either is an excuse, however, is highly prejudicial at best.
Posted on 7/29/2022 11:57:57 AM
By Donald Fox
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Unless one is visually impaired, color is one of the great gifts that exists within the world. Who hasn’t been moved by a spectacular sunset, a field full of spring wildflowers, the vibrant hues of nature in plants, animals, or the stunning new images that are giving us compelling appreciation for the universe we inhabit? Microcosm to macrocosm, the world (the cosmos) is filled with color in seemingly infinite variety. And yet, this magnificence can so easily be overlooked or misunderstood given the many distractions we allow ourselves to experience on a daily basis. I am grateful, though, for my personal education in color and often contemplate color’s many aspects as ways to understand more about perception from my limited human context.
I carefully chose the ending to that previous sentence, for perception is fundamental to our experience of the world as human beings. Philosophers have said that humans are the eyes and ears of the world. We are a means by which nature perceives itself. Yet what we perceive falls within a narrow range of light or sound or feeling. Clever as we sometimes are, we have expanded that perceptive range by inventing tools that allow us to “see” or “hear” or “feel” well beyond our normal physical abilities. The recently activated James Webb space telescope is a prime example. It was decades in the making and a magnificent collaborative effort of scientists from different cultures and countries. No one person could have built such a tool. However, unlike with binoculars or direct telescopes, we don’t actually see what we are looking at without translating the images that the space telescope registers into information that our eyes can understand, i.e. colored light.
Before I say more, let me first restate what psychologists have explained about perception. As human beings, we experience the world around us through our senses. Light waves, sound waves, vibrations, gases, heat and cold and other properties are present all the time. We experience these phenomena through appropriate senses, and it is our perception of them, our interpretation of them, if you will, by way of our brains processing this sensory input, that we understand something about what we have sensed. So, we might readily identify a flower as red or the sky as blue without having to consciously think about it – or so it seems. Yet, a complex series of events must occur outside ourselves and within ourselves for us to be able to see red or blue or any other color. Perception, then, is fundamentally how we explain our experience of the world to ourselves.
Beginning painting students are often dismayed in their search for a particular color as they mix their paints but produce some variation of what they commonly refer to as mud. Lack of understanding basic properties of colored pigment inhibits their success. The curious student might question the result by asking probing questions. How does the mud color appear? Is it warm or cool? Does it lean toward red or blue or some other color? How does it compare to the color for which I am looking? What would happen if I took a small amount of the mud color and added it to each of the other colors on my palette in turn? Which of the palette colors is closest to the color for which I am looking? Eventually, students learn to think about color properties like warm and cool (temperature), light and dark (value), or bright and dull (intensity) to better understand how colored pigments change as they are combined with each other. The color names are simple labels to help us identify colors generally. Color properties, however, tell us about how colors function in combination.
Why then, did I title this short essay “Color as Metaphor?” Many people understand that color is often experienced symbolically. Without belaboring this, many would agree that red can represent passion, romance, strong feeling, anger, arousal, and so on. Blue can represent peace, relaxation, confidence, stability, or more. These are general meanings, but these can change based on culture or personal experience. Because of classical conditioning, for example, someone could associate blue with anger if that was strongly experienced in that person’s past. We should not get stuck on symbolic meaning here since these could be quite variable. However, since colors are always experienced in relation to other colors from the painter’s perspective – any given color is seen next to or surrounded by other colors. Colors are not usually experienced isolated from other colors. As students understand this idea, their ability to work with color improves very rapidly. Therefore, colors being seen in relation with other colors, colors influencing other colors by altering their appearance and properties, colors harmonizing by taking on some properties of their neighbors – aren’t these wonderful metaphors for the interactions of human beings?
Posted on 7/16/2022 7:24:54 PM
By Donald Fox
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A good writer will take the reader on an imaginary journey. The journey can become quite real as a world, characters, and experiences inhabit the reader’s mind as powerfully as any real-world experience he or she may encounter. Sensory experience influenced by details and nuances of language help the reader to attain that altered space of artistic experience wherein logic is determined by the artistry of the writer – even fantasies can seem fully believable provided that enough is given the reader so that any missing parts are easily filled in.
Painting presents itself visually, and any perceived narrative is solely based on depiction through the means of the painter, i.e., line, shape, color, contrast, and similarity to what is known. There is no true narrative, linear movement through time, that the writer builds chronologically. A viewer might scan the surface of a painting, let focus linger on an area of color or shape, but there is no specific starting or ending place. A skilled painter can lead the viewer’s eye by ordering shapes within a composition, but this is a poor equivalent to the writer’s moving his plot via narrative.
I like to think of the appreciation of a painting as a meditative experience. Certain types of paintings might imply narrative, such as Rembrandt’s The Blinding of Sampson, but this and similar action compositions are really snapshots of a scene, a frozen instant from some longer story with implied lead-in and potential conclusion. A viewer must know the story to fully appreciate the moment that is illustrated. A landscape, on the other hand, is less dependent on narrative context and lends itself more readily to contemplation of setting, light, atmosphere, and whatever emotions or comparative memories those illustrated elements may instill in the viewer. The same could be said about a still life painting. A painted portrait may raise questions regarding the illustrated personage with the viewer supplying some self-created narrative about the individual based on clues rendered by the painter.
Once we move to non-objective or abstract painting, there is no external subject that the painting is referencing. I say this generally, for there are some abstract paintings that are derived from an observed or known subject but abstracted to render an essence or experience of the subject rather than a simulated appearance of it (as in realistic painting described above). What some might call pure abstraction references only itself, and it is this kind of painting that I refer to now. The painted image might be geometrical, biomorphic, color field, expressionistic, or whatever other manifestation an artist might conceive.
With no recognizable subject matter, some viewers might feel lost or confused. The viewer is forced to consider what is on the canvas on its own terms, so to speak. Design elements are to be appreciated for their interactive qualities rather than whatever illusion of something represented as “real.” It could be argued that this kind of painting is more real than the most hyper-realism, for it represents only itself. It is a visual statement of itself. Meaning resides in the experience of the perceiver. That experience can be emotional, intellectual, spiritual, or any combination thereof. Ultimately, any painting is read by the viewer, and that viewer determines its meaning or lack thereof according to his or her own understanding and perceptual abilities.
Posted on 7/10/2022 6:49:05 PM
By Donald Fox
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For several months I have been working on a new series of paintings with the primary subject of landscape. The past ten years, my work has been abstract images as I developed my Windows and Doors series of painting and drawings. This series is not finished but is merely on hold while I explore the new work. There are many reasons behind this new series not the least of which is a strong feeling of connection to the planet as I and others experience undeniable changes in weather patterns and climatic shifts.
Landscape as subject matter has a long history in western painting and even longer in oriental art. Western artists initially utilized landscape as a backdrop for human activity with landscape itself as primary focus emerging during the Renaissance. Landscape paintings were enormously popular in Europe during the nineteenth century becoming a hallmark of realism as artists incorporated Renaissance development of linear and atmospheric perspective into their work. French Impressionism had vast influence worldwide, and many current painters continue exploring impressionist ideas with personal twists.
As I develop this new series, I pay tribute to predecessors, but I am not interested in continuing or developing a particular style. I do make occasional reference to my own palette knife landscapes of the late nineties/early 2000’s that eventually led me into non-objective abstraction. In some of those abstract paintings, I still used atmospheric color changes and colored light/illumination to suggest imaginative space and light that, for me, held spiritual significance.
Now, personally, landscape is an ever-present thought as a kind of mother source for imaginative play. Nature shapes our lives in both overt and subtle ways. We often move against natural cycles and rhythms in attempts to extend days and shorten nights. Of course, we protect ourselves from extremes of heat and cold, and some of us even move to temperate climes to avoid those extreme shifts in our old age. Even so, the power of nature can be unexpected and devastating as people all over the world experience on a regular basis. Nature can also be nurturing, enlivening, and stimulating. This contrast between nurture and devastation has profound psychological impact even when we are not consciously aware of that. However, I think most of us look to nature in idyllic ways for stimulation, enjoyment, rejuvenation, and solace. There is much power in these connections.
My current explorations are imaginative responses to landscape. While in the past I painted specific scenes and places, sometimes on site and sometimes in the studio, for now these paintings are studio paintings that originate in imagination or memory or a combination of both. Some will seem to be realistic depictions of observed places, but they are not. Some are design-oriented and become stylized representations that may also incorporate linear abstract elements, unusual color combinations, or flattened planes as well as varieties of textural use of paint. In short, the series thus far is widely varied with landscape being the uniting factor. How far these landscapes will take me remains to be seen.
Posted on 7/5/2022 6:23:31 PM
By Donald Fox
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Landscape 11
Mid-twentieth century American artists of the New York School created several ‘breakthroughs’ in painting that supposedly changed how viewers were to experience paintings by re-defining what a painting is. Since the Renaissance, paintings were seen as windows on the world that depicted through linear and atmospheric perspective, limited or expansive views of the outer world. The subjects included portraits, still lifes, landscapes, seascapes, mythical story illustrations, biblical story illustrations, or architectural illustrations, and sometimes historical depictions. All of these utilized illusionistic techniques that over time gave artists the ability to create increasingly realistic interpretations of the external world and the world of their imaginations. For several hundred years, artists referred to the ancient classical world through Greek and Roman mythology and classical architecture. There were few examples of ancient painting except on pottery or the known murals from ancient cities. Most paintings had long since disappeared and were known only through written descriptions or stories such as the rivalry between Zeuxis and Parrhasius.
Mid-century American painting carried experiments by early modernists like Cezanne, Picasso, and Matisse, all of whom remained tied to realist tradition even as they created the beginnings of abstraction, into a different philosophical realm. Realism took on a different meaning. Realism had developed to where paintings often seemed more real than the real world, yet some modernist painters rejected this as mere illusionism, nothing more than a semblance of reality. They proclaimed that a painting is an object with specific dimensions and a flat surface. To violate that surface with the suggestion of illusionistic space or volume or weight was to present a visual lie. The only legitimate subject matter for painting would have to eliminate illusion and elevate the surface as its flat self. Thus, plane geometry, non-objective brushstrokes, or fields of color were required – anything that did not disrupt the flatness of the painting’s surface. Abstract Expressionism injected romantic flair into the painting process through lots of energetic brushwork and compositions that were spontaneous. For some, the process of painting was more important than the final result. For the viewer this meant that viewing a painting was an experience, less intellectual than emotional or spiritual.
With traditional realism, viewers might study and admire an artist’s technique, might appreciate the delicate nuances of Vermeer’s carefully blended strokes or the versatile brushwork and textured application of Rembrandt as examples. Both painters also had unique ways of depicting light and illumination within their paintings. Each could inspire awe through their depictions of hands or faces. Jackson Pollock, by contrast, gave viewers dense webs of linear paint strands or blotches. A viewer could get lost in a maze of muted colors or free-associate while viewing, but there was no reference to anything except what the viewer himself provided. A listener might prefer the carefully crafted development of a piece classical music, or he might prefer the improvisational development of an in-the-moment jazz composition. These are quite different musical experiences. One could argue preference, but it would be challenging to argue value or quality of one over the other. The same is true with realism and abstraction. As modern viewers and listeners, we are fortunate to have many choices from which to grow.
Posted on 7/2/2022 11:42:43 PM
By Donald Fox
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Second day of the fifth month named for Julius Caesar. It seems fitting this year in a way that this month’s independence celebration is in a month named for a self-declared dictator. Even though ancient Rome was a republic and many of our institutions are modeled after it, the Caesars were most often dictators who imposed their will on the senate and the people. Strong-men leaders, though, sooner or later come to an inglorious end. Thus, January a year ago is looming large in the consciousness of many Americans and challenging our concepts of freedom, free speech, and democratic rule.
In the history of American art, there are many pictorial acknowledgements of the country’s history. The early portraits of leaders like Washington and Jefferson or nearly mythologized heroes like Paul Revere are found in history books as well as art books. Political cartoons date back nearly to the beginning of the country, popular art supported efforts during both world wars, and later the art of illustrators like N.C. Wyeth and Norman Rockwell. The latter, known for his idyllic depictions of ordinary American life often with a decided nostalgic, sentimental air also strongly supported the war effort during the Second World War. During the sixties, though, he tackled darker subjects surrounding violence amid the civil rights struggle. Those images did not make the Saturday Evening Post.
This is our history, though. Violence and sentiment are rolled up with a heavy dose of idealism. And yet, for many people – slaves, the poor, indigenous peoples, many immigrants – the idealism was met with stark reality and less than ideal circumstances. Sometimes art has met these challenges, most often through the written word and folk musical traditions. Thanks to those artists who would keep us honest even when the honesty is unflattering.
Posted on 7/1/2022 1:58:04 PM
By Donald Fox
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Red River
The first of July. The solstice has come and gone. Summer has officially begun, and a very hot one it is so far. Today there were several bouts of rain, which has only made it muggy and warm. Steam rises from the roadways, but the parched earth drinks in the water as efficiently as a sponge. Some of the ground cracks will disappear for a while, and the grass will grow quickly and dramatically. By next weekend the yard will need mowing again. At least Monday is a holiday, one created to celebrate the country’s birth as it proclaimed independence as a sovereign nation.
Sadly, the citizens are greatly divided politically, culturally, legally, and religiously. This is not like previous years when power fluctuated from one party to another. Now the system strains under false claims and dysfunction, voter fraud, immigration reform (or lack thereof), legal precedent overthrow by a decidedly conservative Supreme Court, an ongoing pandemic, and a war in Eastern Europe that has reverberated effects throughout the world. Still, I choose to make art.
The making or crafting of artistic expressions usually rises above petty politics unless its intention is political at the outset. Beauty, in the form of art, requires no political affiliation and usually makes no political statement. One could adopt a stringent attitude and insist that everything is political, at least everything man-made, for the cynical will twist logic and symbolism to his/her perspective. Recently, I have been looking for departure from my long-running series of windows and doors.
My seeking has led me back to nature, but nature now is pulled from the imagination and is nature released from constraint and expectation. Thus, my compositions are largely based on memory and spontaneous construction. Color is used according to feeling and design rather than naturalistic atmosphere and light. There may be some unconscious memory of Fauve stylistics, but that is not a specific choice. I did notice that many of the window-themed paintings sometimes leaned slightly cubistic, but that just seemed to flow from the subjects as compositions grew. At present I’m not questioning the why of this process.
Posted on 6/12/2022 5:58:58 PM
By Donald Fox
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Sometimes in the process of making a painting a point is reached when it becomes obvious that the painting is just not working. Numerous alterations have been applied, and these are only compounding previous errors. The basic concept may be viable, but the execution was faulty or became, for want of a better word, too precious. A decision is made, a radical decision, to scrape down the surface and start over.
After scraping away layers of paint, and before wiping down with a rag, I might determine that the ghost image that remains has interesting qualities that can be built upon. Or what is left may call for complete wiping away. The process is instructive, for it allows alteration that often is not afforded in day-to-day life.
Most of us, I suspect, can think of many situations, actions, or decisions for which we would like do-overs. Sadly, we most often don’t get that opportunity. All we can do is learn and resolve to do better in the future. Sometimes we may be able to make amends, but the hope is for growth and change. We are adaptable creatures, but it takes self-awareness and determination to make necessary changes as we choose what is best in any situation.
Posted on 5/31/2022 3:37:32 PM
By Donald Fox
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Memorial Day has come and gone. I refrained this year from writing an opinion piece about its controversial elements. The nuances of many issues in the cultural war of opinions are lost on those who only approach ideas through the lens of their tribal affiliations. The evidence is all over social media where few are interested in engaging more than their selected friends. The world in which we all live, however, is made up of so many variants, people who do not believe as I do or as you do and who live their lives with concerns that have nothing to do with what Facebook or any other platform has to offer. Sometimes it feels like the high school cliques were never left behind but were transformed into a cartoonish expansion in what is still called by many the ‘real world,’ which, ironically, is most often a virtual one.
Art never claims to be the real world although artists sometimes through their art choose to be commentators upon it. This they do symbolically, wittily, sarcastically, ironically, sardonically, satirically, and/or figuratively. The best art, of course, will rise above whatever social impact it was intended to make. This leads to an even greater impact as its elements of beauty, truth, and universal appeal often transcend whatever topical intention an artist may have had in mind.
