Entering December

This weekend (Sunday) we drove towards central Oregon. Our mission was to chop down a tree. We were accompanied by three other families who also had the appropriate permits and gumption.

As a driver of one of the vehicles, and not a "car-guy" at all, my apprehensions were quickly assuaged by the All-Wheel-Drive of our ride. We passed a pick-up dangling off a cliff and continued up until the snow was three feet deep and even the snow plow would go no further.
Our caravan unloaded and we all stomped deeper into it.

Small trees are hard to find. Some of the best clearings were on the private property side of the road.

Eventually, Stacy and Zaida found the perfect tree. I cut it down after the others blessed it and Zaida christened it "Sir Branchalot"

Eventually, everyone else found a tree.

There were no other cars on the drive home.

Decorations were applied.

Lucky?
Cut the tree on location, and with stand and crowning ornament, we still have one inch to spare!
Twelve foot ceilings do help.

Somehow I thought this would segue into blogging,
and eventually painting.

huh.

Not so pretty

Steven LaRose, The Uncomfortableness Of It All, 2010
Oil on acrylic on wood, 7.375 x 5.75 inches

I'm supposed to be helping Teresa Sloven with her still life paintings (she will be showing her work for the first time at a Winter Gift fair in Ashland this weekend) but I just wasn't up to it. I keep thinking about these little paintings. I promised myself that I would finish 30 of them before I moved up in scale but I'm finding it harder and harder not to repeat myself. The one thing I forced myself to do with this painting is use Galkyd instead of Liquin. Whoa. A simple materials shift changed the pace and possibilities.

Flickering Lights and Stories

Steven LaRose, Narrow Conclusions, 2010
Oil on acrylic on wood, 5.75 x 7.375 inches

The painting above is my truest self. It is not as easy as it sounds.

I did a little day job this weekend. At one time I had given some walls a "treatment," and recently the clients added a fireplace nook and flat screen thingy.

My job was to blend them together. The picture above shows the raw plaster that some dude left me with, my base coat, and the final glaze. The picture also shows this radical painting that I couldn't wrap my mind around. The past ten years, I've witnessed the creepy infestation of the flat screen over the fireplace. Clients tried to hide it once:

Here is a washed out copy of the Hockney original:

In the same house, I wonder if you can tell which is real wood and which is the faux-ney baloney that I did?

I hope some "cultural studies" graduate student is writing an essay as we blog, about the fireplace's replacement by the plasma screen.

sincerity

Steven LaRose, He That Betrayeth Thee, 2010
Oil on acrylic on wood, 7.375 x 5.75 inches

This little painting percolated up from the white of the ground. It creates an array of doors for me. By doors I mean opportunities, not last chance choices. A good painting makes me want to create three more paintings. This little bugger has me thinking of four new ways to start.

Speaking of little buggers, there is a new kid on the blog.Sir M. Thackston Addie, is churning out the no-holds-barred gems that only come from a place that shouldn't be defined. Thacky's paintings are erupting from a sincere core and yet with a complete disregard for the doors. Dude is like,

Teresa Sloven

The Night Borne My Breath Away

Steven LaRose, Shared Hidden Knowledge, 2010

Oil on acrylic on wood, 5.75 x 7.375 inches

My arch-rival will be selling their first painting today, (Nov 12, 2010 08:42:01 PST)

Quick look at some paintings that got me thinking

S.P. Goodman, Autumn skies 10/10
Oil on canvas, 8"x8"

Joshua Meyer, Wopbopaloobopbalopbamboom
oil on canvas, 36 x 40 inches

More dog walking

I am going to have some paintings for sale on eBay again. I've decided to post them on another blog in order to keep some sense of craft vs. fine art. But whenever I think about it, it gets more muddled. Making small still life paintings of things that are around me feels different than what I set out to do with Fish or Cut Bait. I enjoy it, however there is a divergent quality of thought that goes into the work. I filter and spin a representation as opposed to generate and coax an abstraction. Of course, there is obvious overlap, and yet it is impossible to pin down. This split in my painting personality is akin to the wave-particle duality of quantum mechanics. A phenomenon can be viewed in one way or in another, but not both simultaneously. So I would like to introduce Teresa Sloven, my nom de plume for some small paintings I am feeling compelled to make. They are not paintings I would put in a gallery. They do not constitute a body of work that I have come to through thinking with paint. I value them in a different way. Maybe it is like when a musician goes busking. That is a different experience than recording an album. I make no promises as to how long Teresa will last. I do, however, have five paintings to post this week.

I Think I Saw My Favorite Color

I took the dogs for a walk this morning. They careened off trail while I tried to focus. I needed to set my moral and aesthetic compass. Miso and Dr. Boo needed to gather colonies of blood sucking ticks and clusters of prickly burrs all over their bodies.

I recently sent some paintings to The Marji Gallery in Santa Fe. I still have a body of work from 2007 at The Kristi Engle Gallery in Los Angeles. Is it hardcore cool or downright stupid that I have my 2 dimensional progeny floating in the world without a written contract?

It is not what you know but who you know and that nepotism is the only reason I have paintings in two galleries. Still, the phone call from the folks in Santa Fe and their genuine excitement over the work is wonderfully flustering.

At this point in my life (I've scored 47 year points so far), and this far down from my high horse, I can't help but pay attention to checks received for paintings as much as I pay attention to the accolades received from the Secret Society of Painters.

And yet, Miso and Dr. Boo may cast a guilty eye my way, or even hesitate thoughtfully over a pile, but they still eat deer poop, no matter how much I yell at them. Its the same thing with me and painting.

My hand has become the obedient instrument of a remote will.

Steven LaRose, Time To Put God Away, 2010

Oil on acrylic on wood, 5.75 x 7.375 inches