The texture of "faith"

"Faith," 5 x 5 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas, palette knives only

I grew up believing faith was what I was told it was, what I was taught. It was a definition, supported by  scriptures in various ways and and those you agreed with.

That was perhaps fine in youth and early adulthood, but it seemed to easy, especially when you studied the people of the Scriptures, learned stories of what the "faithful" of all beliefs endured through the centuries. 

I'm a slow learner, it's taken decades of questions and doubts and reading and failures and lessons and  fewer answers and living through ups and downs to even write this.

I don't pretend to define the word--I'm not sure that is possible. There are metaphors and comparisons and examples of those who are and were people of faith. 

But after I finished my morning reading today, I could say that faith has texture, texture acquired in a journey, experienced by living in the face of eternity. That's vague, I know.  It's only my description, not an answer or definition, and not peculiar to any belief. That's difficult for us Americans, used to being in control and children of exact answers in a computer age of science.

Another--universal and not just religious--description, not a definition, is in  Hebrews 1:1 "...faith is the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen."

Thus today's painting, using only a palette knife to add physical texture to my attempt. Available Edmond Vibes, at The Vault April 6, and thereafter at  In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo Arts District.

End of the line

 

"End of the Line," 6 x 6 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas

"I wanna  'Boose!" I'd exclaim as a kid when a caboose would pass by as we sat waiting at a railroad crossing.

I always notice cabooses—especially red ones. I miss them. They're icons of my youth,  Why? They were part of the mystery of growing up, I guess. 

I still paint them, and write about the, I've fantasized about having one in my back yard to escape, write, read and paint. Ah well. 

Here's the latest painting, a little late for our red-themed February show at In Your Eye Studio & Gallery in Paseo Arts District, but it'll be available there soon.

Oh, on my blog: HTTPS://CLARKCOFFEE.BLOGSPOT.COM/2012/06/CABOOSE-CONJUNCTION.HTML

Journeys--from "dust" to "dust"

"Journeys," 5 x 5 acrylic on canvas

"From dust to dust," seems mortal to us earthly beings, especially as we age, and when we lose loved ones and friends.

But just maybe, considering science, since our bodies are made from the atoms of the universe, stardust, then was we grow older, thinking about eternity, the phrase takes on a completely different connotation, from stardust to stardust.

And maybe, considering the spiritual, for those who are spiritual and think there is more than earthly dust, as we complete more journeys, the phrase speaks of eternity, from whence we came to which we go.

Thus today's painting, a turquoise ladder,  journeys from "dust"  to "dust."

I've been familiar with the actual and spiritual ladders of New Mexico Native Americans for a long time, in the pueblos and kivas.They are practical, and icons of the Southwest, and much more.  But a special gratitude for some of the inspiration of this painting goes to Steven Charleston.

 A Choctaw elder from Oklahoma and  retired Episcopal bishop, he is the author of "Journey to the Light," adopting the symbols of the kiva and ladders for our spiritual lives in these tumultuous times. I recommend you read it for your journeys, regardless of beliefs. He also posts a brief meditation every day on his Facebook page. It begins my daily journey with wisdom and hope.

The painting will soon be available at In Your Eye Studio & Gallery in The Paseo Arts District.

The Colors of Autumn and Adobe

"The Colors of Autumn and Adobe," my September exhibit In Your Eye Studio & Gallery in Paseo Arts Districtt opens today at noon, and I'll be there. Watercolors and acrylics. 

The Texture of Blues from Palette Knives in a Stormy Year

"Blue Tempest," 5 x 5 acrylic on canvas

I've always admired painters who deftly use palette knives for texture and impact, but never attempted them until recently. along with acrylics, it's a whole new learning experience

There were always palette knives in our house when we grew up. Dad used them mostly for mixing colors, and I've done plenty of that in oils and acrylics. 

Regina's palette knives, Dad's book

 I didn't know how much they meant   to me until I saw and bought the late   Regina Murphy's knives of Paseo   Arts District and other materials   after  her death. They sit here in my   painting room, icons of creativity.   Then I found an old book of my   Dad's How to Paint with a Knife, and   began studying.

 So this week, I picked up about three   of them, began mixing colors and   applying them to the canvas. Since   my favorite colors are blues, and   we're in the midst of  storms--fires, hurricanes, floods, war, ignorance, worsening pandemic and politics  once again, here's the result.  

This is the last day of August and the year is two-thirds gone.  This semi-abstract sci-fi painting with violent  texture matching the moods of our country and world, roughly applied to the canvas, seems to fit.

New Learning on exhibit

5 x 5 acrylic paintings

 I've added something new to my art exhibit at In Your Eye Studio & Gallery in Paseo Arts District today, just in time for the Paseo Arts Festival this Labor Day weekend.

You've seen posts of some of the 5 x 5 acrylics I've attempted in the last two weeks, and four of them are finished and ready to purchase.

So there they are, amid my watercolors. Come by and see my learning. There will be more, and larger ones. But one lesson emerged I didn't count on. I will probably keep at acrylics, but they taught me something surprising--I really love watercolors. 

Part of my exhibit at In Your Eye in Paseo

Reds, white and blues

"Attention-getter," 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb Canson cold press paper

Red.

The color with the longest wave length of light. The color that catches your attention before any other, whether a red car, a red flag, a red shirt, red lips. The color, the symbol,  of passion and patriotism, of romance and revolution, of love and lust.

It's not my favorite color, especially in painting...the blues are obvious. But, our gallery of 10 artists in Paseo Arts District, plans "Red" to be February's group show  theme.

One of the beauties of red is that it comes in so many different variations--opening up all kinds of possibilities, through mixing, especially in watercolor.

So I have to go to work. I have a list of subjects: Round barn, red chili ristras, red-headed cowgirl, caboose, apples, an earlier bloody impression of the U.S.S. Arizona, maybe one of the Alamo, perhaps a red sunset at sea, perhaps one of the Sangre de Cristo (blood of Christ) mountains in New Mexico.

Red barn,  ristra and cowgirl accomplished this week--earlier on the blog. And today's, red lips--mixing three distinct hues--Alizarine Crimson, Scarlet Lake, Pyrrole Red, and plus touches of blue peacock and in violet. So--reds, the white of the paper, blues.

Yes, it'll be framed and for sale in the gallery just in time for Valentine's Day, in February.

Compost and small frames.--II

Rain on the Sangre de Cristos--I painted this on the port of my late uncle's porch in Santae Fe, a few years ago

Pueblo Universe, 4" by 10"

Much of my compost pile of unframed work involves New Mexico obviously. These are also smaller, freer, more impressionistic. The largest is 7" by 10"  but all are non-standard sizes. I still need to have these framed.
The one at top I painted from my uncle Mike's front porch in Santa Fe five years ago, watching rain obscure the mountains. "Pueblo Universe" is a favorite and I have no idea how I did that, and "Taos Spirits" is another favorite impressionist, a small one of a large version I sold a few years ago at Paseo in Oklahoma City. At the bottom and a traditional landscape, "Cabezon" is a volcanic neck in northwest New Mexico, and this is the view I saw heading home from camping at Chaco Canyon. All of thee are personal.

Taos spirits--6" by 9"

Going to church--5" by 5"

Cabezon--on the road back from Chaco Canyon--7" by 10"

Artist's compost--Seeking small frames -- I

Gate to High Lonesome, the largest of these random watercolors at 8 1/2" by 9"

My "compost" file

Many of my paintings are smaller, and of random sizes on left over paper from bigger paintings. Usually, they're experiments, and never framed. Many are rejects, with flaws. But I rarely throw them away, as they suggest something I'd like to do again someday in a larger format.

That produces quite a portfolio of work--large and small--that I keep in a rack in the closet and from time to time I go though it, cleaning it out, discarding the worse work and reorganizing. It also serves as almost a compost pile as an inspiration to pick up the brushes again. They also mark how much more looser I work, and thus better, when I'm piddling, rather than "painting." Such were the two small paintings of Redbuds in the previous post.
Most recently I noticed several small works that I think should be framed. I'm looking for some small read-made frames  for some of these--relatively cheap ones. It's harder since most of these paintings don't fit standard sizes. In other words, these would be nice small works whenever I get back into a gallery.

Cottonwood--about 4 1/2" square

Tree in Paseo, about 7" by 8"

Phebruary Phreezin' Photos

The pond at UCO

February has been freezing. The sun came out today for the first time in a long while, and the temperature inched above freezing, but there is still a lot of snow and ice, snow piled in drifts, or piles, or in interesting nooks and crannies.

Outside JRB at the Elms Gallery at Paseo

Downtown Edmond

The art "month"--unfinished business

Intermission music at Reduxion during Tom Jones
(Turn up the volume, for this and the closing video)

My "art month" spanned more than just June, starting in late April. What astounds me is how much interesting things there are going on in this city and state. I took photos and videos of much of this, and

I meant to write about it all. I only managed to post about Frank's watercolor lessons--closest to the heart, I guess. I think I could have written full time on this month, but writing also wears me out.

The other lesson we keep talking about is how much we drive downtown. It's getting close to time to move.

Herb Ritts--Madonna

• Oklahoma City Museum of Art--Photorealism exhibit, late April
• Herb Ritts photography, Beauity and Celebrity, late May.
• Reduxion Theatre's Tom Jones, late May
• Frank Francese workshop, early June
• First Friday at Paseo, art  and music, early June
• Prix de West at Cowboy Hall of Fame, art and demonstrations and lectures,  mid-June
• Visited Woolaroc, Gilcrease, Cowboy Hall and Fred Jones Jr, Working on Western art story, all of June
• Faith Hope Love art and musical benefit fund raiser at Westminster Presbyterian Church, with opera, Amazing GGrace, bagpipes, Leona Mitchell, Thomas Studebaker, Jeffrey Wells and more, late June
• Painted, and wrote. 
• Missed poetry readings at Beans and Leaves, and Mark Zimmerman's night photography class exhibit opening downtown. 
• Following is a clip of Jeffrey Wells. I'm not a fan of opera, but I am now.

A watercolor artist's vibrant lessons

One of Frank Francese's vibrant watercolors.

Earlier this month, I enjoyed  a four-day watercolor workshop with Frank Francese  http://www.ffrancese.com/ (Click on his website. You'll be astounded.) at the IAO gallery on Sheridan here, courtesy the Oklahoma Art Guild. http://iaogallery.org/wordpress/ 

Frank at work 

Frank, who lives in Grand Junction, Colorado,  is internationally known for his vibrant painting style. I wanted to attend one of his workshops a year ago, but it was out of state and the travel would have been expensive. This one cost a little over $300 and there were only 11 of us enrolled, so it was informal and fun. I'm fascinated by how people create, and am always interested in how writers write, and how painters paint. There's so much to be learned.
He has a unique style. He draws sketches of all kinds of land-, sea- and city-scapes. Then he uses black and gray pens to turn them into value studies.  When he paints, he makes no  pencil marks on the paper, but paints from the value sketches, choosing the colors he wants to use.

The mirror image of Frank painting Paseo

Every way he did two demos, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. He painted beneath a mirror, so we could see what he was doing. I sat on the end of the aisle near the front, so I could stand up and take photos from all angles. Then we painted from copies of the same value sketches, and except on two complicated ones, we didn't draw on the appear. He was using full sheets and we used quartersheets. What a challenge. Then we had critiques.

What I appreciate most about his painting is the ample use of the white paper (remember, no white paint in transparent watercolor--if you don't plan for the white, you won't have it). his vivid colors, and uses of shadow and contrast. What I appreciate about his teaching, is that no matter how poor my painting was, he found something good to say about it first, and then made suggestions. 

Alas, the only finished painting shot I got was the mirror image. But Wow!

I get more than just watercolor lessons from such a workshop. I'm always paying attention to how someone teaches. I'm having fun. And I've found over and over again, that lessons from watercolor can also be life lessons.

If you're interested in watching Frank paint, here's a 30 second video of him working on that painting. 

Solstice dawn and days missed

Dawn at Chaco Canyon

The longest "day" of the year, when time, the sun "stands" still--the literal translation of "solstice,"  

as the sun begins its journey toward shorter days. This marks also the end of an unintended  three week "blogcation," the longest interruption in writing in the five year history of Coffee with Clark.

It is appropriate to show a photo of one  of the places of power in the world,

one of my places--Fajada Butte in Chaco Canyon in New Mexico. Atop that 300-foot sandstone land mark is a "sunmark"--where the Anasazi more than 1,000 years ago erected  stones  to form a "sun dagger" to accurately record the solstices, equinoxes and even moon cycles. It probably had to do with planting seasons, and more, with religious rites. 
We increasingly urban folks mark the first day of summer or other seasons on a calendar, but are so out of touch with nature and the universe that  seasons don't have as much meaning as they used to. For us, "time flies." Time may not have stood still with multiple ideas that were "meant-to-have-been" blog posts, but weren't. Even this one is difficult, but like an eventual shaft of sunlight between rocks, there are more stories to tell. 

Alas, vibrations from the increased traffic far below Fajada, and the years, have shifted the rocks, even with restoration by Park personnel. So today's solstice didn't quite hit the mark.  I can not imagine the knowledge and patience it took to build a site like this, or the ones at Mayan and Inca sites, or at Stonehenge. Years were required.
The only way to see Fajada at dawn is to camp there overnight, 26 miles of gravel road off the highway in northwest New Mexico. It's cold, but so worth it. At night, you can see the stars move overhead, actually sense the earth moving. And as the shadows climb up and down the sandstone cliffs at down or sunset, you can see time.
so in the time that's flown by these last three weeks, there were going to be posts on Reduxion Theatre, on Frank Francese's watercolor workshop at IAO, on the 40th Prix de West art show, on music at Paseo, on freelance writers, on the 107th country blog reader, and more. You can't "catch up" in time, but you can get glimpses of the past, at Chaco, and in words, soon.

Hats off, or on, and that's that, at Paseo

When did women, and men, stop wearing hats? Probably the 1950s, I'd think, because they were so common up till then. Certain cultures in America carried on the custom, off and on,, and you're seeing more of them these days.

I learned recently that the real Dr. Seuss, Dr. Theodor Seuss Geisel, who wrote all those great books, was a hat collector, thanks to an article in the New York Times http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/04/books/dr-seuss-himself-was-a-cat-in-the-hat.html?_r=0. No wonder he could write "The Cat in the Hat," and the Grinch wore a hat.

In my last post I referred to the hat show at JRB and the Elms, but the web site wasn't current at the time. It is now, and fascinating. It's not a hat show, but an actual millinery shop, installed by owner Joy Reed Belt. Lott at that web site.  The photos, and hats, are just so feminine.
What a great and original idea. Here are a couple of photos from the JRB website:

Here's the link for more information:
http://campaign.r20.constantcontact.com/render?llr=unqpaidab&v=001dTY-NYldfV08T3CJ-vGFCHGzH2cCKnYvBw03609ZSzuTnT-E9OWFYAWzmYi2rqD3KxmCHtdW96owbEWbmo_I_CCqXnWo3jAc08xls2ngk2adexYLNbknFR4RPWuzZQxo4Yl0N9u2eR4%3D

Paseo, packed and prolific

Susan took this photo of what I'd call "art art" a Paseo Friday.

We went to Paseo's First Friday last week to visit two galleries really, not wanting to spend a lot of time, but always drawn to the excitement and inspiration of that unique neighborhood. It was packed with people,  and cars. www.thepaseo.com/galleries.html

Sheridan Conrad

First was the relocation open house of our friend Sheridan Conrad's A Jeweler's Art, http://www.ajewelersart.com/ the only jewelery and metalsmith gallery in Oklahoma. She's expanded her gallery where she also teaches classes and it now includes individually dyed silk clothes, plus jewelery from several state artists.   She's been in business in Paseo for a little more than four years and is one of its true success stories.
Then we had to go to JRB at the Elms to see the latest exhibits, especially  of Rosemary Burke's fascinating and beautiful. nib fashion drawings.And owner Joy Reed Belt always serves free champagne too, which I suspect helps add to the spirit of the evening, and the sales. One exhibit I didn't get the name of featured women's hats, and it was almost a feeding frenzy of sales. I saw so many people carrying hat boxes.
Paseo makes you want to do art. It's alive with ideas and and creativity.  Go soon.

Devon tower, sunset

Devon tower, at sunset from Edmond, watercolor, 9 by 12, d'Arches 140 pound paper

I saw this scene tonight, heading downtown OKC and Paseo, I-35 in the foreground. Painted
 before Susan attacks it with my Dad's pastels. The Devon Tower towers over everything, and can be seen from more than 40 miles away. We drove downtown after Valentine dinner at Paseo Grill. Literally awesome.

A year of journeys

I'm trying to plan a trip to Alaska for us in May, and it's not easy, unless you go to a travel agent and get stuck on one of those gargantuan cattle trucks called cruise ships, and I don't want that.

So planning the trip will be an adventure too, and as I pour over brochures, scan books, contact friends and scour the Internet, I'm aware of the journeys, planned and unplanned, to places know and unknown, that have made this year memorable.

First was a trip to Chennai, India, in February to SRM University for a conference. It was a trip of utterly new sensations, experiences and people.

Then in March, I spent a week aboard the nuclear carrier USS Abraham Lincoln, in the Pacific, thanks to a former student, the Public Affairs officer aboard one of the largest ships in the world, Lt. Cdr. Steve Curry. Much more first time living.

In April I drove to the third Culp cousin reunion at my cousin Sarah Beth Foote's house in East Texas. Ten of us were there--only one barely known was missing--the children of my Mom and her three sisters and two brothers. A journey of mixed emotions of laughter and stories and good times, mixed with the awareness of passing time, and wondering if we'd ever do it again.

May was packed. On Mother's Day, I met my brother Jerry of Lubbock, to spend a boring evening in Wichita Falls before visiting our Mom's grave in Waurika, for an emotional trip into memories. In mid-May, Susan and I went to Florida and Savannah and soaked up southern food and comfort and history.

On Memorial Day, I visited grandkids Erin, Abby and Max and daughter Dallas and son-in-law Todd  in Amarillo and then on to Walsenburg to  my last uncle, Mike, in the veterans home. A happy,  and sobering trip, where the adventures are mental and emotional.

On the Fourth of July, I flew to California to spend time with my son Vance, his wife Kerin, and granddaughters Katherine, Sarah, and to see the new baby, Neysa, for the first time. Emotional for sure, but also the adventures of touring Vandenburg AFB where they launch satellites.

There were summer  trips on Oklahoma's back roads, including US 66, taking photos, exploring, and visiting friends at newspapers, and to Guthrie to show artwork there. There was a whirlwind trip to Vales Grande in New Mexico on roads I hadn't driven  before in early August--not much, but it helped satisfy a New Mexico attack.

In October, we celebrated anniversary in Kansas City, and spent full days in Columbia, Mo., with son Derrick, daughter-in-law Naomi, and granddaughter Liberty Faye.

Then in late October, a different journey began, when I received a phone call at night about the death of my uncle Mike. That journey isn't over yet for me, even though a resulting journey was burying him in the National Cemetery at Santa Fe, across from where he lived for-30 plus years. It was only my second trip to beloved New Mexico since a year ago when I had to move him out of that apartment that had become a second home to me in the last 10 years. I've traveled many places and miles in my mind as a result.

Those are the out-of-town trips, not counting getting artwork in Adelante Gallery in Paseo and multiple trips to the frame shop and studio. Nor around town to visit in-laws, go out to eat, visit many museums, attend the press convention, go "boothing" with friends and colleagues,  attend parties, travel over chess boards,  move brushes over blank paper and words on blank computer screens, and at Thanksgiving, tour the city with myAmarillo grandkids.

Then two days ago, my oldest cousin, Charles Rogers Lutrick, died in Beaumont, beginning a new journey for him and for those who love him. His funeral is tomorrow, and while Jerry and I are too far away to make it, his passing sets us off on another mental and somber journey contemplating passing life, a passing year and passing time.

It's been a good year--I've seen all my children and grandchildren, spent time with cousins and friends and colleagues, and faced mortality.

Although I'm trying to plan the Alaska trip, and also renewed my passport last month, I'm very aware that I really have no idea what the journeys will be this coming year, nor what kind of journeys they might be. I do know that Charles and Mike make me focus on my own journey, every day.

Charles Rogers Lutrick

Aug. 29, 1930

Dec. 10, 2011

Terry M. Clark

Jan. 5, 1944

Inspiration, and a coffee shop?

Wide open skies...fellow blogger and lover of New Mexico Alan Bates of Tulsa, Yogi's Den, http://www.yogis-den.com/ changed the layout of his blog recently, including a photo of what looks like Osage County and the Great Plains. I love it, and he includes a story of one of his hobbies, geocaching. You gotta read it.

I've been tinkering with my blog, and need to do more, soon as computer whiz kid and son Travis helps me, naturally.

Creativity runs in cycles, or hard work primarily, but travel and friends and ideas all help.

Driving into Paseo yesterday I needed a cub of coffee. Two convenience stores didn't have any. So I went to the friendly folks at Picasso's cafe, a few doors up from Adelante! Gallery.

But it got me to thinking. What does Paseo not have? A coffee shop.

Oh, it used to have a dingy one where a martini bar now is, but maybe I need to consider a coffee shop there. Not that I have the money for something fancy like Coffee Slingers, or perhaps as hippie with it as Red Cup, or as evangelical as Full Cup, but maybe...

Think I could make a go of it? Wi-Fi? Sure, what else?

October, and now what?

Visiting with metal artist and Paseo gallery owner, "A Jeweler's Art," and friend Sheridan Conrad yesterday about October and change and art, and we both came up with a question, "Now What?"

I was down in Paseo at Adelante Gallery trying to paint en plein air between taking down some watercolors of my month long show and rearranging the rest of the display. There's  something glorious about sitting on the front porch on a cool October day, chatting with a few people coming by, trying to paint.

Frankly I was stuck...it's been a while since I painted, and longer since I wrote other than journalism. I don't like the term writers' block. I think it's just a rut, or a lack of motivation, or distractions. But I decided I had to go back to the place I was this summer where there was a painting a day, even if a poor one.

So I got started on a sketch of a tree on the other side of the street, twisted and interesting like old people.  I slipped into the old habit of spending too much time trying to realistically draw it, and not enough getting my feelings into it.

Plein aire in watercolor is more difficult than oil because dry temperatures, wind and sun can dry the water quickly and interfere with intentions. The other problem with watercolor is that it "dries down," and is not as brilliant was you though when applying the paint.

But I tried anyway, and began to experiment  with wet paper and a multicolored background over the drawing of the tree.  Then I had to let it dry and that's when I walked up to talk to Sheridan and those questions came up.

I think October makes you ask questions like that. Sheridan took me down the block to the three galleries, including gallery owner Linda Hiller,  forming "Paseo Creek Galleries" (on the east side of the street) --one a photo gallery, another a collection of several artists, and one a contemporary gallery.

By the time I got back to my painting about 30 or so more minutes later, it dawned on me how great it was not to be on a schedule. I picked up my brushes and finished the tree.

Today as I was looking at it, I consider it too bland and restricted, though I stopped by Sheridan's on the way home and showed it to her, and she said, "You've got the feeling of it." I thanked her for inspiration.

But today I'm looking at it and find myself not particularly satisfied. Otherwise, "Now what?" First, a little explanation. It is only about 8" by 10," on some handmade India paper that doesn't have a true white. It is earthy, but the varied colors I used, did indeed dry down. But still, it's a painting.

So today, I painted another one, being much looser and faster. It's smaller, only about 8" by 8" I suppose. I used more vibrant colors, and it helped, but what really helped was just painting "from the hip," rather than trying so hard. Frankly, neither one of them look much like the tree at Paseo, but they're paintings, not photos.

What I like about Paseo is the non-traditional--the open aire, the free expression in many forms, and the inspiration that comes from associating with creative people.

So, "What now?" I don't know next life stage, next area of endeavor, next day or even next article, or paiting. But I have painting, and today written. Maybe that's the treasure of "Now What?"

Here they are, Tree 1, and Tree 2.

Portrait of the artist as an old man, in the words of a student

This article, by Mervyn Yong Sheng Chua , who is from Maylasia and one of my students, appeared in the student newspaper The Vista, earlier this month along with Garett Fisbeck's photo. He's a good student, and only got one fact wrong, referring to me as a "wise man." He asked some good questions, that got me to thinking...

 "A lot has to do with passion, not a degree," Dr. Terry Clark, the director of the Oklahoma Journalism Hall of Fame, says.

To many at UCO he is just known as Professor Clark, professor of journalism. However, at Adelante, the arts sale district, Clark is September’s featured artist of the month. The gallery is in the Paseo Arts District in Oklahoma City, between 30^th Street and Walker. He exhibits there on a regular basis and has had 34 paintings featured.

Every first Friday of the month, there is a big art show and Clark’s paintings were chosen to be exhibited this past week, on Sept. 3.

Clark writes a monthly column, “Clark’s Critique,” for Oklahoma Publisher, the official monthly publication of the Oklahoma Press Association. This past summer, two of his articles were published in Persimmon Hill, the national magazine of the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum. , OKC Biz ran his article on the future of newspapers.

This year, he won the Lifetime Achievement Award from  the Oklahoma pro chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists. His award-winning blog, Coffee with Clark, features watercolors, photography and writing. 

Clark grew up in the home of an artist. His father was good at oil and portraits, and Clark grew up loving to draw.  However, he only started watercolor painting 10 to 11 years ago.

“Watercolor painting was more of a hobby,” he said. “It was to divert from journalism, [it was] a place of refuge and rest. When you work on art, you forget everything else. You just focus on creating something or solving a problem”.

Professor’s inspirations comes from New Mexico. Although born in Dallas, Tex., he grew up in Albuquerque, N.M., and lived most of his life on the Great Plains: “the land of far horizons and dramatic skies”, Clark reminisces. Winslow Homer and John Singer Sargent also inspired Professor Clark; they are his favorite painters for their great grasp of drama and light, as well as their breaking of the rules.

So why watercolor painting? Why not anything else?

“Watercolor painting humbles me,” Clark said.  “It is a difficult medium, especially if you want to control everything. You have to be creative, break more rules and always be ready to learn.”

Clark feels that watercolor painting applies to his teaching and journalism and gives him perspective on it.

“Things do not always turn out like you want them to,” he said. “You have to adapt and look at things from different angles.  There is not one right way of doing things”.

When it comes to advice on success, the wise man utters, “Just keep trying.”

“The main thing is to try and do what you want to do,” Clark said. “No matter what the art or job is, you have to be willing to take risks and fail. Without risks and failure, you will not grow and achieve different things.  Also, learn to laugh at yourself and not be so serious.

But above all, it is all about passion.”