
This is an old photo I’m just now playing with. I don’t even recall what camera I used.

This is an old photo I’m just now playing with. I don’t even recall what camera I used.


Not sure which of these I prefer.

This is such a tight crop, I applied a watercolor filter to it. It seems a bit ironic to apply a watercolor filter to a photograph of acrylic paint.

And this is a copy of “The Blue Fox” (1911), by Franz Marc. Here’s another fabulous work by Marc: “Stables.” It’s at the Guggenheim in New York. I can’t even imagine how one goes about painting something so complex and gorgeous.

This is a copy of “Night blue fly” (1982) by Chinese-American artist Walasse Ting. I’m not sure where I acquired a postcard of this work. Upon looking for online images (there are some, under copyright), I was chagrined to see that I’d been holding the card upside-down. It works in both orientations, I think.


Alas, thus far I seem to have a rather lurid style. I began this painting by trying to copy a lovely, delicate watercolor by a contemporary artist named Jane Voorhees. Other than a slight similarity in the landforms, however, this painting bears no resemblance to the watercolor. The title is thanks to Nick Drake, of course, whose fame exploded a number of years ago after VW used snippets of this song in a commercial where two young couples in a convertible forgo a party to go spinning down the road in the magical moonlight. But “Pink Moon” is not about magic; it is, almost certainly, about death. Nick Drake suffered from depression; he either killed himself or overdosed on antidepressants. But even his darkest songs are beautiful. Have a listen.

Crocuses in the blowing wind.
Frogs trilling in the muddy ditch.
Three turkey vultures
On the roadside hill.
A pile of torn, outdated hopes;
Rake up a load, take ’em for fill.

Work in progress.



I was hoping this little experiment might look better onscreen. Alas, it doesn’t. There are about four other “paintings” under the top layer. I was trying things with brushstrokes and color, then I’d paint white over most of what I’d done and start again. The only original layer is the bottom right-hand corner, where I got a nice effect with the paintbrush that I couldn’t reproduce later.
As for the palette, I had a devil of a time trying to color-correct that photo and never did get it quite right. Then I got what I call an “accidental crop,” when I’m going from one history state in Photoshop to the prior one, and the piece of the photo that shows on my screen is a much more interesting crop than anything I tried. I really like these accidental crops, despite the resulting pixellation.
This may be the last palette photo I post, unless I get something more interesting, and definitely the last painting, unless I start to do better. Where are the people who were were so insistent I post these to my Facebook page?

I love glass bricks because I find color and form intoxicating and exuberant. This is one of my earliest and most successful glass-brick photographs; it was juried into the LaGrange Biennial (Georgia), a national art exhibit, in 1998—probably the most competitive show I was ever in. I can only hope to do as well again someday. This photograph was taken at a fast-food chain restaurant in Carbondale; many people may be able to read or recognize the sign. Pentax K-1000.