I heard the owl call my name

      "The Hunter,," 6 x 6 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas

Owls have called my name.

 There's an old Northwest Native American  legend that if you hear an owl call your name, get ready to die. There's a wonderful book by that title about a missionary to the Northwest  who that happens to.

For me, though, the sound of an owl is life-giving.  Maybe they weren't calling my name?

Most recently, I heard what I thought was an owl on an afternoon walk in Hafer park. I hope it was not a person's fake technology.

More importantly to me now that ever is try daughter Falls Bell's Burrowing Owl Bookstores in Canyon and Amarillo, where you can find dozens, literally, of different owl images and c creations, and of course, books.

Before that though, I loved the sound of owls when camping out, or in even Oklahoma City, hearing them outside the window with my love.

I've read about them many times, about their sounds, their biologics, their behaviors, their interactions with us...always remind us that they are creatures of prey, of wonderment, of questions.

Thus today's acrylic, at Edmond Vibes next Thursday and thereafter at In Your Eye Studio and Gallery. 

Have you heard them call your name?

From horror to hope

"Easter Dawn," 5 x 5 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas, palette knives

If there's an eternal message about the Easter story, whether you're a Christian or not, centers on humanity's hope, after the horrors of inhumanity. 

After all  the horrors of Roman crucifixion, of humans' constant cruelty,  in war  and crime, to other humans, to other living things, to all of creation--hope somehow survives, hope in life here and after death. Eternity is always present. 

Thus today's painting, rough textured for the horror, light for the hope, just  for Easter. Available soon at Edmond Vibes, April 6 at The Vault, and thereafter at In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo Arts District.

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.

American Spirit?

 

"Bison skull," 5 x 5 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas

Looking for a title. Sometimes paintings choose their own titles. Other times I know when I begin, or after I'm well on my way. But some paintings  stare back at me, literally in this case.

So is this one. Sources of inspiration for this bison skull come from many sources, but not a name. Best I can come up with is AmericanSpirit or American Ghost...but they don't seem to fit.

Suggestions? Email me. Soon to be at Edmond Vibes, at The Vault April 6, and thereafter at  In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo.

Where you can see eternity

"Forever," 12 x 12 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas

"The prairie skies can always make you see more than what you believe."                                                           --Jackson Burnett, The Past Never Ends

"Out here there's the sky." That is my axiom as an artist, an adaption of Willa Cather's famous lines in Death Comes for the Archbishop. You can't grow up and live on the edges of the Great Plains,  or in them, and not know how they dominate and create the character of the vast land and its temporary residents.

It seems this is where you can see eternity...stretching and beckoning  beyond horizons on earth and atmosphere.  Always asking questions. What is beyond? Are humans really significant? Sky determines.

This week's painting tries to capture that magnitude of the  expanses in our existence. Thanks to friends who advised me on the skies of the painting. It took a week of mulling over possibilities to finish it.

Soon to be at Edmond Vibes, at The Vault April 6, and thereafter at  In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo.

"Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world,                                                                                                            but here the earth was the floor of the sky." --Willa Cather

"Tomorrow"

"Tomorrow," 12 x 12 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas, palette knives only

"...Tomorrow is today's dream." --Khalil Gibran

"Do not be anxious about tomorrow...." Jesus

Dreams. Tomorrow. Today. Yesterday. In eternity, there is no tomorrow, no past, no time. Like dreams.

This week's acrylic, when time went away with paint and canvas and palette knives.

Soon, 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

Six cold, dark days 'til Christmas

"Toward the light," 5 x 7 acrylic Christmas card

Warmth. Light. Amid the gathering gloom of the longest night of the year, as temperatures plunge, we crave warmth and light. Essentials of time-bound life draw us like moths to flickering flames.

Physical survival has always been so for humans, but with six days 'til Christmas, a different warmth and light, draws us to  essentials to spiritual life. Deep down, there is something that beckons, regardless of religions or cultures, to something beyond time.

We find tastes of that  every Christmas, when we gather in warmth and light and celebrate physical  living, and the incarnation of eternity. 

"Inside the gate"--seven days 'til Christmas

"Just Inside the Gate," 5 x 7 acrylic Christmas card

"...knock and it shall be opened..."

"...so just step inside the gate...."

"Trust in dreams for in them is the gate to eternity."

"Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate."

"I took the road less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.."

(Jesus, old Gospel song, Kahill Gibran, J.R.R. Tolkein, Robert Frost.)

 While every day, and perhaps every step, opens or shuts metaphorical gates in our lives, as we choose one option or another, perhaps no one season symbolizes that more than the Christmas season and the looming end of the year.

Gates always grab  attention, especially in the rural landscapes where they mark boundaries and journeys, hinting of  mysteries or stories to tell as time passes. 

They beckon, they invite. They welcome, if not in person, in imagination, in spirit.

Definitely seven days 'til Christmas.

Road to Autumn

"Autumn Road," 10 x 10 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas

 Back porch thoughts as autumn nears next week--shorter days, cooler temperatures...leaves will soon be changing. The texture of the season looms in color, eagerly awaited after this summer of heat.

Dreams of a favorite season, and today's painting on back porch , in plein air, "Autumn Road," playing with a palette knife to grab the textures, and a few brush strokes. Soon available at In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo Arts District.

Journeys to Creation

"Journeys," 12 x 12 acrylic, gallery-wrapped canvas. Soon at In Your Eye Studio and Gallery

My current definition of "God" is "infinity." Eternal present spirit tense. "I am that I am,"--Genesis.

All art has stories, has histories, encounters with spirit, and so it is with this week's painting.

It began this when when a friend and fellow artist  Jim Resnicek in In Your Eye Gallery bought my 5 x 5 acrylic of a spiritual ladder, "Journeys." Here's the original blog post on it, from a year ago--"From Dust to Dust."

While we were talking, about art and ideas, I found this painting in my mind.

It comes from inspiration by my second daily readings, of

Chickasaw elder, Okie  and Episcopal priest Steve Charleston, whose daily meditations a read every day. You should follow him on Facebook for this calming words and insights into the infinity of "Spirit." His book, Ladder to the Light, drawing on New Mexico pueblo religions and cultures, of ladders from inside kivas, speaks to our struggle in this un-spiritual world. 

Two more readings begin my days. They also influenced a part of this painting. First there is the daily calendar of comments  and insights by the Catholic Trappist monk and mystic, Thomas Merton. Though he wrote and died in the 1960s, his imagery and insights seem to fit todays turmoils, evidence again of eternal spirit and present tense. See A Year With Thomas Merton.

The third daily reading is always Fr. Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest who is in charge of the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque. His daily email  seems to always fit within the scope of these other two.

So this painting calls to me of our journeys to infinity, step by step, rung by rung up a ladder, across the spectrum of light and life.

Gathering Storms

"Gathering Storms," 16" x "20 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas

Violence seems to rule our lives these days, at home and in the world, as storms gather on all horizons.

The only places where people are smiling, completely out of touch with reality, are in the stupid TV commercials, trying to sell happiness, no matter the product.

Gathering storms--the war in Ukraine, with a real threat of another world war on the horizon. The infuriating proof of the Jan. 6 treasonous riot at the capitol, with another coup threatened. The string of mass shootings, as the NRA ownership of Congress, looms as more disaster at anyplace, anytime. The variant spreading pandemic, and climate change threatening human extinction. 

I find relief and peace from the maelstrom of threats and bad news only in reading the insights of religious mystics, in happy moments with families, in traveling the back roads, and in painting.

Even it takes effort to shake off the gathering storms. But again, I somehow returned to the valiant colors of The Ukraine, in a similar effort to my earlier smaller watercolor, "Storm Over Freedom."

Here it is, after a week of work, dedicated again to the Ukrainians fighting for freedom and survival against the war criminal Russians and their neo-Hitler.

Sunset and sandstone

"Sunset and Sandstone," 8 x 10 acrylic on canvas panel

In the Southwest, where the geology is an open book  on the past, on time, sandstone dominates much of the landscapes.

 Laid down layer by layer as sand in ancient seas, the strata takes multitudes of landforms and colors, up close or on far horizons. The rocks themselves, plus the ever-changing skies and weather captivate me attention, telling uncounted stories.

Today's painting, started last week outside during downtown Edmond's First Thursdays VIBES art event, needed finishing touches to fit the mood of wide-open spaces and dramatic  colors. 

Painted out of memories of New Mexico, it will soon to be framed and available at In Your Eye Studio & Gallery in Paseo Arts District.

Adobe and Blues, for OVAC

"Adobe and Blues," acrylic on 12 x 12 gallery wrapped canvas

Every year the Oklahoma Visual Arts Coalition hosts its 12 x 12 fundraiser  and this is the third year in a row I'm proud to be one of 175 participating artists for the Sept. 16 auction.

Artists offer art measuring no more than 12" x 12"  for bidding, starting at $200 and OVAC gets a percentage to help fund its many activities.

I returned to a favorite subject, the colors of the Southwest, always multi-hued, so here it is, soon to be delivered to OVAC. 

Desert grit

"Desert Dawn," 5 x 7 acrylic on canvas pan

When you live in or near the deserts, you know about grit...sand, rock, wind, and people...and landscapes and views. Raw.

Today's little painting, a study for something larger, reflects that grit in the strong palette knife textures. Probably not smooth enough to attract a buyer, but still, part of my desert series.

Navajo Country, with a hogan? Monument Valley? New Mexico, or out of my imagination?  The brilliant colors of the skies, the country, the dramatic landforms, where humans are small and ephemeral, and the world is  textured, like our lives, real. 

When you can see time

 

"Time Zones," 5 x 7 acrylic on canvas panel

Time--One of the many reasons I love the Southwest.

Out here,  the geology of this aging earth is always visible in dramatic landforms, constantly changing skies, light, colors and weather. 

So many stories laid one on top of the  other like the strata of sedimentary rocks, evidence of deep time. So many unanswered questions, like the mysteries of geologic unconformaties and fossils, gaps in knowledge of millions of years, all in front of our eyes. 

So many lessons of how recent we are, how small we are, how brief our lives. Out here  you can see forever,  into the universe and its daily reminders of time deeper than the rocks, the moon, the sun, the stars.

Thus today's little painting, part of what may be my desert series, with a multi-layered title, especially as another man-made month ends, and man-made time "zones" mean nothing--where you can see time.

 

When a moon rises

"Desert Moonrise," 5 x 7 acrylic on canvas board

 We're halfway between full moons according to our calendar, though ancients measured time by the phases of the moon.

The full moon influences more than just ocean tides, but those of moods, memories and more.

So here's today's little painting, thinking of time passing.

"We will survive," Calm before Storm, and Ukraine's colors

"We Will Survive, dedicated to the Ukraine, 24 x 30 acrylic on canvas

 Finished. My largest painting, "Calm Before the Storm."

While it was in progress I noticed it featured the colors of Ukraine, battling the monstrous Russian invasion. 

So my title has changed, "We will Survive."

As most have on the Great Plains of America, through hardship, drought and violent weather. 

This will be available in two weeks at  my @InYourEyeStudio&Gallery and in time for the @Paseo Arts District  Arts Festival May 28-30.

Dedicated to the real patriots, not with words, but fighting with their lives in Ukraine. Death to tyrants, here and everywhere.

The Challenge of Skies and Paint--story

Almost. I've been staring at the blank canvas for a few months now, trying to get the nerve to challenge myself to try something that large. 

"Before the Storm," 24 x 30 acrylic on canvas, palette knives and brushes, 

Finally, the weather improved enough to set the 24 by 30 canvas up on the easel on the back porch. I'd recently sold an 11 x 14 of clouds moving across the Great Plains, from a photo I'd taken a few years ago.

I didn't want to try to copy that painting, because that just adds to the stress, and I'm uptight enough. But the idea and the colors seemed appropriate for a large canvas.

The painting is almost done, but like any journalist with time, I've learned its best to sleep on a project before putting the finishing touches on it, making final touch ups (editing). It's taken several days to get to this point. 

Today I tackled the foreground, which always intimidates me the most, and where I have ruined other paintings.  I picked up the brushes, mixed some colors and just started working.

So here it is,  first titled "Angry Skies,"  but now I think "Before the Storm," tells a better story. And here are the stages, the reference photo, and the previous painting.

White unto Harvest the colors of Ukraine

Behold, the fields are white unto harvest, 12 x 12 acrylic 

“Behold, the fields are white unto harvest,” and then suddenly colors of freedom loving #Ukraine, blues and yellows only just happened. Life to freedom. Death to tyrants and their USA toadies.

Palette knives, on gallery wrapped canvas. Soon available at In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo Arts District