Finding Away, New Painting

Another painting for The Sublime series! My mind is still preoccupied with future worlds, future travel, future physics, future technology. I am pleased with this new painting. It’s on Stonehenge paper (30”x22”).

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Finding Away, 2020

acrylic, spray, gouahce & colored pencil on Stonehenge paper

30”x22”

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Home of original art, photography, playlists, blog posts, poetry and 80s New Wave coming-of-age novel, Your Silent Face, created by artist and novelist, Tim Lane.

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Your Silent Face is a poignant and humorous coming-of-age novel set in Flint, Michigan, in the mid 80s.

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By Lane, Tim

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Galleries

Home of original art, photography, playlists, blog posts, poetry and 80s New Wave coming-of-age novel, Your Silent Face, created by artist and novelist, Tim Lane.

The Shop

Your Silent Face Available Now

Your Silent Face is a poignant and humorous coming-of-age novel set in Flint, Michigan, in the mid 80s.

I Wish That I Still Had Some of These Works of Art, Part 3

This is the final installment of this series of blog posts. More weirdness from the early days. All of this work was created before or around 2003.

This was made on the back of a tablet of paper. Roughly 7”x5” or "9”x6” as I recall. And it sold, at a show at Mr. Henry’s, a restaurant in the Eastern Market locale of Washington, D.C. Still love that place!

This early piece was acrylic and oil paintstick on a framed bulletin board (functional art!). This one also sold at a show in D.C. (at the old Eastern Market exhibition space), but I never did find out who purchased it. I hope it is still out there somewhere in the world!

This two-panel piece measured 80”x30”. It was part of a two-person show, with Jayme Theis, at Otherwise Art Gallery, curated by Alison Alfredson, in Old Town Lansing in 2003. It was my first show of paintings.

This painting was on masonite, 36”x48”. It was also part of that early Otherwise show. I think the painting was called Popular Disposition. Copy & Paste was just too obvious, haha. I was very fond of this painting.

In my mind, this is perhaps one of the strangest paintings I have ever made. It was in a show at Spiderhouse Gallery in Old Town Lansing in 2003, I think. There is no doubt in my mind that I painted over this one, haha.

I Wish That I Still Had Some of These Works of Art, Part 2

I really do wish I had kept one of these. I showed a series of similar works at the Grand Blast Art Show in 2001. This show was a big group show in a white-washed warehouse space in Downtown Lansing, which Cassie Brogan and her husband organized. It had everything, including a big city feel.

These works feel very fresh to me, even though they no longer exist. What was I thinking? And why?

There were about five of them, including a blond-haired Washington.

I Wish That I Still Had Some of These Works of Art, Part 1

I recently discovered some photos of some of my earliest works of art. (Consider yourself warned, haha.) There was a lot of experimentation back then (2000-2005) as I explored materials and methodologies. My resources were extremely limited. My education consisted of art books, galleries, museums, the internet and a circle of young local artists who were collaborating, sharing, bonding and experimenting together. It was a perfect storm. We pushed and inspired each other. It was a fun, vibrant period (one of the most memorable periods of my life). I was a young parent at the beginning of this time, with kids who were two and six. I had been out of grad school (where I had studied creative writing) for four years. I was the primary caregiver for our family, also working part-time jobs (like a three year gig at Curious Books). Basically, I was raising my kids, working, writing, collaging and painting, with friends who were brilliant and talented and inspiring.

In those early days, it would appear that I was preoccupied with liberty and what I perceived to be the insanity of America. At least, that is what I remember.

My very first collage. This was on a piece of yellow poster board. I had been working on a novel while Jackie was young, but when Zach was born in 98, I couldn’t focus on it. I was too tired. I made a conscious decision to shelve the novel for five years. But I needed a creative outlet, so I started making collages. It was perfect. I could walk away from them and resume working on them at any time without much trouble. Eventually, my friend—D.C. painter and woodworker, Mike Clark—suggested painting. I had grown up with some creative encouragement—my mother’s side of the family used to give me sketchbooks and pastels and pencils and watercolors, and I had used them—but I had favored sports. I moved from collaging to painting. While I worked on the collage above, Jackie was right beside me, working on her own. The kids often painted beside me when they were young, as well.

Guess What’s Inside, collage, 20”x12”

Do You Yahoo, circa 2001, 40”x30”

This painting found a home in an apartment on Cape Cod. Gimme Your Masses, circa 2003

Into the Badlands Meets American Painter, George Bellows

Toward the end of episode one of the dystopian series, Into the Badlands, there is a scene that contains artwork by American painter, George Bellows. The title of the painting is Club Night. The only title I could pull out of my head while I was watching was Stag at Starkey’s, but I knew that wasn’t right. That’s a different, but similar, painting. I love it when films and series use great artwork.

American painter, George Bellows, 1882-1925, was a prominent member of the Ashcan School of painting. He captured the urban life of New York City at the turn of the 20th Century. Between 1907 and 1909, he executed a series of paintings depicting boxing matches. They are quite famous and have always drawn me in. Beyond capturing a boxing match at a private club when boxing was prohibited in NYC, they contain a strong narrative, social commentary and allegory.

Club Night, 1907, is part of the National Gallery’s collection, so I am sure that I have viewed it in person, probably more than once. I lived in Metro D.C. for almost four years. When I return, I almost always make a point to visit. However, somehow, I lost track of Into the Badlands after it hit Netflix. I actually started watching episode one at some point, but didn’t get past the opening credits. Tonight, I finished it. I’m glad there are three seasons. We shall see if the series lives up to Club Night, and if there are any other cameos of famous paintings. I hope the trend continues. Directors should know that this is always a good way to hook an art history buff.

George Bellows, Club Night, 1907,

https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.61247.html

CTRL+ALT+DEL

Stumbled across images of two very old paintings today while looking through old emails. I think I showed these at Spiderhouse Gallery, in Old Town, in 2002, but I can’t quite remember.

CTRL+ALT+DEL, circa 2002, acrylic on canvas, 40”x30”

Double-Click, circa 2002, acrylic on canvas, 40”x30”

Miscellaneous Paintings

art

The Post in which the Painter Writers about Not Being Able to Live with the Painting

Sometimes, while making a painting, I arrive at a point where a tension is created. This tension is born out of a desire to feel confident, and finished, with the painting, but intuitively understanding that something just isn’t working. An argument begins: It’s done! It’s not done! It’s fine! No, something isn’t quite right!

When this happens, I get quiet and “the looking” kicks into overdrive (a lot of painting goes on in my head=the looking). One thing I have learned about this situation is that it behooves me to stop “trying” to be done. Thus, I stop working on the painting. I spend some time living with it. Sometimes I just keep it in the studio and leave a light on so that I can see it every time I pass through. Other times I hang it in the living room (as in this case), or lean it in the dining room, so I can spend time physically living with it outside of my head.

It also helps to get some feedback.

Ultimately, I usually conclude that I can’t live with the painting, such as it is, and eventually I arrive at why. (The painting just doesn’t get to the wall if something isn’t off.) In the case of L' enchevêtrement, while I felt that there were a few issues I couldn’t really address without completely starting over, I came to understand that those issues were not what were bothering me.

The element of the painting that bothered me the most was the bottom right portion of the painting. In really good light, the subtle transparency of that passage was nice. But in bad light, which is where most paintings exist, this area looked unfinished. As a result, the painting didn’t cohere, and it felt/looked unbalanced. The lame passage became an irritating focal point.

So I looked for a while. And then I consulted a couple of sources. And then I went back in.

I am happy with the results. And now, I can move on.

Before

After

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