This painting was finished on Veterans Day in the Mermaid's Bite Gallery in Naples, Florida.  Inspired by our soldiers returning from war, I wanted to show this wounded warrior in mortal agony, to remind us of the true cost of war, as the cherry blossoms bloom and the robin returns, hopefully signaling brighter days ahead.  For purchase info, contact the gallery at 813.335.0043.

 

Thinking back through life, some of the most memorable moments are not the happiest ones.  Grief, sorrow, and loss are a part of life, and we can only hope that brighter days will come soon.  This painting reflects upon our ability to cope with that state of human experience.

 

I recently attended a Seattle Center for the Book Arts workshop with my wife Andree who is a board member, and while there, I met Meredith Clark, a gifted Seattle poet who was offering her poetry writing services on the spot.  When I briefly described the main points of this painting, this is the poem she came up with, and it sums up my feelings beautifully:

 

Dark lake, late light.  Please

shut the gate tight behind you.  There are always

things that want to work their way in

to these kinds of places where days

close and nights begin.  If we float out

far from either shore, there will be stars

to count.  The sentinels, we cannot

see them anymore.  All around, the dark

paints out the colors that were once

so thick.  Remember them, the waters lull

later and later against the hull.

            -Meredith Clark

Ever since viewing Giotto's "St. Francis' Sermon To The Birds" (reproduced on the altar in this painting) years ago,  I have wanted to create a painting roughly based on that idea, but instead painted from the birds' viewpoint.  I have often wondered, if birds were to give us a sermon, what would they say?  And how would they say it?  Given the recent oil spill tragedy in the Gulf of Mexico, it isn't hard to imagine what they would say to us.  If birds could swear, I'm sure we would get an earful.

The plaque underneath the altar reads "San Francesco, San Di Patrono Degli Animali" (St. Francis, Patron Saint of the Animals).

This painting is the first in a series I'm starting based on the convergence of memory, time and place.   One of my most vivid memories is watching Mt. St. Helens erupt out my living room window on the morning of May 18, 1980 when I was a teenager, and then visiting the charred landscape soon afterwards, which resembled a foreboding moonscape.  Juxtaposing this cataclysmic event with lilies and a peacock, both symbols of purity and beauty respectively, allowed me to create a narrative that speaks to the uncertainty and awe I felt at the time.

Having visited Mt. St. Helens many times since, it has exploded with life as a testament to the healing power of nature.  Do you have a story to tell about Mt. St. Helens?  I would love to hear about it.

Fog Woman is a Tlingit Native American tale of a beautiful woman who appears mysteriously out of the fog, delivering salmon and sustenance to Raven. I was intrigued with the idea of putting this Native American myth in a modern context.