This painting is a culmination of years of searching, envisioning, being patient - brushstroke by brushstroke, theme by theme. It represents both the sacred and the mystical, the numinous and totemic. That, for me, is the landscape...as if you had been invited to an altar to behold a vision. It's an important piece for me; and an arresting one, to be sure.
Who would’ve thought an agave plant could become a holy thing...but to me, all Nature is sacred—and not only a holy experience, but a respite, a teaching, a cleansing of the soul during difficult times as these. This piece elicits a similar theme I’ve brought out with the cactus paintings: Reconciling the dark and light values (shadow and sunlit), all in concert with one another. As I’ve said before, it’s only when we embrace, contain, and deal with these rich and deep nuances of darkness and light that we can truly emerge and go forward.
This painting is about the dawning of hope in these dark times, an awakening and rebirth for what already is, and for what is coming: the entrance into a new age. We are moving from control and dominance into a more peaceful, vibrant, and abundant good for all humanity. The subject matter is of a gourd, which represents the harvest of life, fertility, and rebirth. This aquarian water-bearer is grounded to the earth—juxtaposed with the vastness of the sea and sky, or infinity. This piece also contains the four elements of Nature: air, water, earth, and fire (the dawning sunlight).
I’m using cactus in this instance as a vehicle for exploring and recognizing the nuances of shadows (our historic dark or hidden places), as well as the luminous, surface places—and all the varying values in between. I consider myself a deep, spiritual thinker; and I also respect and honor the many aspects of what makes us human. It’s only when we embrace and contain these rich and deep nuances that we can truly emerge and go forward.
: smoothed or erased tablet : the mind in its hypothetical primary blank or empty state before receiving external impressions : when something returns to its original pristine state, all pre-conceived notions are wiped clean; the gift of a fresh start
Going deeper into the holy. Getting closer to the within. Dealing with the power of the unknown, à la Joseph Campbell. Less of landscape or sky-scape, and more pure symbolism. It’s about a raw, riveting face to face with the Manitou, the divine visitant announcing what is to be. I’m always up for receiving good omens.
The dance of the organic natural world, juxtaposed with the geometric sophistication of the modern, developed world.
The reflection of the sun, our brilliant star, on the ocean surface is as a field of stars in itself. There is a choreography of sunlight, clouds, and wave. The four elements of Nature—water, air, fire, and earth—are contained in this piece. The most significant aspect of life isn’t in the conflict between the known and the unknown, but in our relationship to it: our relationship to the natural world.
Untouched beauty. This landscape is literally from land’s end, looking out onto Drakes Bay along one of the southern reaches of Pt. Reyes National Seashore. The coastline has been basically unmarred from the past 5000 years, in the time of the Coastal Miwok people. The other bit of interest is that I painted this in the style of the Hudson River School II, in the Luminist tradition - with a great emphasis on the quality of diffuse light and minimal buildup of brushstroke.
This painting evokes the resilience and invincibility of the human spirit in the face of extreme personal and global challenges. The space for sublimity to articulate these disturbing times.
This piece evokes a deep, calming, luminous and powerful presence. Although the subject matter is Drakes Estero at the Point Reyes National Seashore, this pristine and timeless landscape reminds us that Nature presents stability for our times.
When you grow up with a love for two things—the vast Pacific Ocean and its light quality in front of you, and for the indigenous people that once walked those hills or navigated those waters in their tomols or te’aats (canoes)—sooner or later in your life as an artist they come knocking, they come full circle. This then is my simple homage to what once was, and is indelibly linked still.
“Offering,” in Italian, as in the sacred part of a religious service. Nature is religion for me, and the ocean is constantly offering new things that wash up, new vistas, reflection and light.
Viewers of this painting sometimes ask me, “What caused me to place a centered, hanging tree branch coming down from the top?” This is the beauty of a fresh, new view of things. I have all the elements of landscape in this composition; but it causes us to rethink, to see these typical ingredients in a new, spiritual light. This is what landscape painting should do. I will continue, though, to take down the visual notation which Nature gives me.
This painting is all about the juxtaposition of life and death. Death and loss have been in a constant duet with life this past year. The foreground represents a sort of stage. The dead tree stump, situated almost squarely in the center of the foreground, represents the death someone has experienced of someone else close to them. The serpentine, thriving tree represents all of that which remains. The light of a rising sun from the side not only gives warmth, but brings compositional symmetry and rhythm—a reminder of care and continuation. New growth in the foreground area is being bathed by this light. It is in the background of the sea and sky that we have a juxtaposition of this earthly, rooted stage with immense, infinite light and life. It is a remembrance to live which this piece elicits.
In the style of American "Luminism" of the Hudson River School II. I'm working on a few smaller works done with that Turner-esque atmosphere, reminding myself and my viewers that light--and reflection--surrounds us in this fairly dark and weighty patch we're in. This piece, in particular, espouses to a mix of the doctrines of Luminism and Turner: characterized by effects of light in landscape and a diffuse horizon line; emphasizing tranquility; close control of structure, tone, and light; and often depict calm, reflective water surrounded by a soft, hazy sky.
Once in a blue moon, a painting comes along that allows you to just sit and stare at it after it’s completed. I sat on my couch for a while, taking it all in. I gave it a Greek water god name. I rather liked it. One must confront the breaking wave, embraced by the salt, the power, the depth, the gift from the immensity.
Sometimes it’s not about detail anymore. After mastering seascapes for years, it was time to allow the sea and sky to master me. It took me to the edge — nothing but the elements of water and air, horizon and infinity.
A simple scene - yet complex. This is an interplay piece, and there is some choreography going on. The “negative space” of the sky mirrors the shape of the lower left land mass and ocean, like puzzle pieces; the blues and greens of the lifeguard tower are repeated in the ocean; and the purple sand colors relate to the cliffs. Also, there is a central, stationary stillness, contrasted with the movement of the wave. Finally, the lifeguard tower mirrors the solidity of the cliffs.
A new approach of an original painting. The original didn’t work out for me. It looked contrived. I decided to attack it with intense colors, and painted out the clouds. I let that dry, and then proceeded to work from the horizon upwards into the sky section. The next morning, I took a palette knife to what I’d done the day before. I loved the color revealing itself from beneath. I followed the instructions from the painting, and developed the sky from that premise. The gestural clouds filled in, and I had a painting. Quite unlike anything I’d done before, and that’s a good thing.
I’m not going to focus on chaos, as there’s enough of that going around these days. Within one wave is the very definition of Order within the Universe. Power, rhythm, depth and symmetry are frozen in this moment of time.
I demand of myself to rethink landscape/seascape painting. To address this, currently my direction is a combination of unveiling the pristine, fresh and contemporary seascape; but to also bring out the timeless attribute of the eternality of Nature—without reference to a certain place or time. What is left is an evocative presence, a visual symbol and metaphor of our inseparable connection to life.
Our original language was one of inseparability with Nature, a spiritual, incorporeal duet with all things wilderness. It’s the reason we’re still transfixed when viewing a sunset, an overlook, a field of daisies. It’s our native state, this ancient connection, our mother tongue.
Thalassa - Greek Mythology; Primordial Goddess of the Sea
Continuing our Greek God theme, I have titled this piece with a double meaning: as both a primeval and visceral experience of the awe of Nature; and a threshold, an opening or beginning. It is when we have become at one, submerged, baptized and connected with the invigorating depths, that we may actually find ourselves...even healing for these uneasy times.
This painting was begun at the beginning of the pandemic, and it had a thoughtful impact on me. With landscape as a vehicle, I brought in the power and depth of the skies over a bucolic landscape. But it goes further and deeper than that: the confluence of the heavenly overseeing this earthly plane, the "Spirit moving over the face of the waters." The darkness pronounces and accentuates the light and vibrancy of life.
Another large-scale painting of an ethereal scene..timeless, compelling, evocative, spiritual. This particular piece was painted during the recent torrent of fires that threatened so much of Sonoma County. I needed to paint and be in my studio (turning off the news and fire threats for a while), and this piece was a spiritual, therapeutic practice for me during that period.
“The strength of the idea, its execution and its originality are the signposts that the gallery looks for in the art that it represents.”
Addington Gallery, Chicago, IL
New dimensions, new directions. There are a number of levels to this piece. Painted with an attention to detail and luminosity by placing the California iconic redwood tree stand squarely in the center of the composition - there is a contemporary edge to this piece. The title bespeaks of our disappearing wilderness for the replacement of “progress.” That which remains is a sacred cathedral: Nature.
One of my favorites from the series of coastal Maine paintings, this vertical piece exhibits and very strong composition of movement, texture, cool and warm — allowing for the background islands, ocean, and sky to flatten out and in a harmonic interplay with the foreground movement.
I don’t know why, but it was unavoidable to title this piece after the Greek god of the oceans. Perhaps it was the light and power, the primal force, Nature confronting the viewer on its own terms.
Why are there so many artists painting waves?...I think a lot has to do with a sense of awe. Something about them scoops us in with such power and elegance, light and transparency, and a constant sense of renewal we receive from the ocean. Besides being an over-painted and cliché subject, there’s something in the mystique of that force and to harness that on canvas. I chose the name “Poseidon” as the primary Olympian God of the sea, an homage to the ancient myth.
Majestic, dramatic, and pristine — the far Northern California coastline presents both a wildness and an unmatched spiritual venue for reflection and replenishment. Nature has constant lessons and teachings to remind us of our untouched connection to things deep and holy. In this particular painting, I have broadened and expanded the ridge of mountains vertically to re-present this powerful coastal range.
Quite unlike anything I’ve ever done, this is a largely spiritual painting, one might even call Symbolism. Of course, Turner, at times like this, is an influence. Taking out all detail, this subject matter becomes far more about emotion - what it’s like to stand at the precipice and being bathed in Light.
A follow up to the two previous vertical paintings, “Praying for Land” and “Lumina, no. 1,” this horizontal painting is completely ethereal, smooth-toned, and with a contemporary approach.
The second in a series of four, “Veritas,” in Latin, means “Truth.” In a day where truth is often hard to come by, as we are questioned daily through the news, the question from Pilate was, “What is truth.” For me, the truth always comes back to Nature. It doesn't know anything but truth, being, what IS. I have chosen the sun piercing through the clouds as my motif for truth.
Clouds for me are a constant muse to paint. Sometimes it’s key to leave best laid plans alone; so not painting a cloud this time, while painting the background, presented a more spiritual edge to the painting.
This painting, the second of two explorations, was painted with a light hand - with the sensitivity and rhythm of what clouds feel like to me, full of grace and nuance. This piece is also built up with triangles. I had an art teacher years ago, Saul Bernstein, at California State University, Northridge, who taught us how El Greco’s painting, “View of Toledo,” was broken up into all triangles. I’ve done that here...pretty much the entire composition is large, medium, and small triangles.
This particular composition presents a somewhat yin/yang layout, the space and dance between earth and sky. Further going in, further deepening the work, I paint to bring about the simplicity of fresh, contemporary paintings from Nature’s edge. “Sell your cleverness, and purchase bewilderment.” Rumi
There is something about the confluence of power and beauty, a force of Nature witnessed. But this oil on canvas painting is not just about a large thunderhead, as it is entitled, “Covenant,” or an agreement between the intensions of Spirit, of the Divine, and the human. It’s a place where I just want to take off my shoes - an act of trust and submission to the superior force - and stand back and observe what’s before me...and consequently, feel the Divine.
“Gravitas” is defined as gravity; a seriousness; the solemnity of life: at times dark and heavy, burdened and anxious. The Monterey cypress branch illustrates that ponderous weight—whether in the political climate, or in climate change. Yet, as in life, there is a juxtaposition. Surrounding this weightiness is a backdrop of an illuminated landscape exhibiting an immense, boundless clarity, and awe. Gravitas is also defined as resoluteness and enthrallment. A landscape painting, in this instance, may be a vantage point or focus for meditation and resolve.