Mendocino Cove Plein-Air Study 2018
11” x 14” Oil on panel
As I mentioned on the first page of this website, my art is very simple. I love to paint energy, and more specifically consciousness—flowing around, through, and animating form—whether a landscape, human figure, a horse, or birds flying. There is no imaginative cleverness about what I do. I just paint what I experience and try to express it in the most direct way possible. It is this depiction of energy/consciousness that gives meaning to my art and my life, and is what lifts and inspires people, sometimes in profound ways.
THE THREE EVENTS THAT FORMED MY ART
All three events occurred in the early to mid-1980s.
A friend and I in the evening arrived at Kings Canyon in California and set up camp. In the morning after breakfast, heading out for a hike, the trail suddenly cut around a bend. Opening up before us was a scene bathed in the clear, pristine light of morning, of trees and lush vegetation, floating white clouds, a sparkling stream, and mountains beyond.
My friend pointed to the highest peak and said in a strong confident tone, “We are going there.”
In that instant, as my eyes were irresistibly drawn to a flat rock near the stream I heard a clear calm voice inside me say, “No. Sit here.” That voice was more distinct than thought and felt separate from me, though within me.
I apologized to my friend and said he would have to go alone, that there was something here waiting for me, though I had no idea what it was. It turned out that I would be spending most of the day sitting on that rock transfixed by revelations and insights that would change my world forever.
At first, I was just enjoying the peace, harmony, and beauty of nature experienced through our normal lens of perception. This lasted for quite a while. I was content. As I relaxed more and more my awareness grew sharper and I started to become aware of very subtle emanations of energy coming from things. Everywhere I looked a unique “tone” was emanating whether from a rock, the leaf of a plant, the stream, the delightful creatures that would fly by or scurry about, or the clouds gliding by overhead. Everything and every part of a thing was “singing!” (As I write about in “To•be and the River Is.”)
Then my awareness moved to a more subtle level past the surface of things. I began to sense that everything—rocks, plants, and stream, etc., had an individual essence—very unique, alive, and interactive. The whole scene became a living matrix of energetic relationships of these essences, or one could almost say “personalities” yet without any seeming self-referential quality but part of the fabric of the whole existing in total harmony.
As time passed with ease my awareness started to slide to an even subtler level of sensing and I became aware that beneath the particular essence of a thing, more profound, of a different realm altogether, under different laws completely, everything had an individuated “Soul.” That word I heard clearly in my mind as if to explain and frame the experience so I could more clearly understand. Here the power and life of whatever I looked upon seemed beyond limit as I saw it free of space and time, yet its particular expression in form was like a chord connecting its Soul into the experience of time, space, and matter. Here form seemed energetic lacking any real solid substance at all.
Over time as I continued to observe the light of these individuated Souls of things, their “uniqueness” lifted from them and my awareness entered a deeper level of spiritual sight as a growing sameness started to reveal itself in all things. All became more and more united into a matrix of shared Oneness—a Oneness everywhere embracing everything. The scene was so alive, energetic, and holy. This whole physical dimension was suddenly seen as being projected into being by two forces: one Love; the other Will. At that very moment a voice, soothing yet so loud in the chest that it made the bones vibrate, said,
“This Is the Mind of God.”
This is our world—holographic—arising from the wondrous creativity of the One Mind. This is our world without any of the ego’s heavy projections upon it. It is remarkably similar to our dreams at night. They too being a creation of mind and forms being made of consciousness, lacking any “real” substance at all, yet seeming very real as we sleep. Others who have experienced the truth of Mind have called this world Myah or illusion. I like to call it instead a “super ‘Reality,’” I capitalize Reality because it is truly astounding to see the world of form created and projected by Mind, yet I put it in quotes because it is but the appearance of form; it is Consciousness. Coming to see our world in this way is also an important key in understanding the incredible truth of what we are. And I experience this truth every day as I let go of old, limiting patterns and ideas of who I thought I was, and awareness moves in the direction of the reality of Mind.
These different levels of perception, from the simple enjoyment of the outer form of things, to their emanations, to their individual essence, to their Soul, and finally to the unified realm of Spirit, until culminating in the Love and Will of the Oneness in the "Mind of God," all these are, to varying degrees, in all my paintings. And these have become different lenses of perception through which I experience my world.
THE DIMENSION EXPERIENCE
The following is also in the “Objects in a Dimension Section.”
My first experiences of this world in a dimension arose out of a technique I had “stumbled across” one day when I was out landscape painting and a very clear and distinct thought came, as if from another source than my own mind. It said, "Imagine nothingness.” So, I put my brush down, closed my eyes, and relaxed. I started to sense a dark, stillness—a “nothingness.” It came more and more into focus in my mind. After a few moments I opened my eyes, and I was startled at how more alive everything now appeared. I saw the landscape in a direct, fresh way, as if for the first time, and felt, in a more profound way, the wonder of existence. As I continued to paint this sense of nothingness became like a backdrop for the landscape, and I was able to hold awareness of both realities simultaneously.
The effect of nothingness as a backdrop to form started to occur more and more often, always enhancing the experience, whether I was looking at a tree, a horse in a meadow, birds flying, a person, a coffee cup, or towering rock formations. And after a while, I started noticing something very peculiar happening. The sensation of a void or nothingness, as it grew in clarity, was becoming alive and huge beyond any perceived boundaries. There started to develop a clear experience of two distinct dimensions—the more limited time/space physical dimension of forms held and permeated by the changeless dimension of this living void. Another curious effect of this “nothingness” was that the quality of form started going through a transformation. Form was becoming energetic—less dense, or holographic—almost with a lucid dream quality.
And then the exciting question came, “How do I paint that; and can it even be done?” To capture these sensations in paint, I started my paintings with a dark background representing the void. Then I would portray the landscape “floating” within that field like a hologram, expressing how I was experiencing it. And I would depict it somewhat transparent here and there, the way it actually felt.
This “dimension experience” triggered a memory of when, as a child, I would set toy figures and objects in a cardboard box—a shadow box or diorama. My toy world had distinct boundaries and its unique sense of space and time—a dimension of thought and imagination, where whatever I wished could be acted out. Beyond the box existed my bedroom—a world under very different laws. Standing there painting a landscape, in a curious way, seemed to mirror this childhood experience, except now, instead of toys, the “box” was filled with mountains, clouds, and streams. And my physical existence, too, was in the “box”—a box with real boundaries or limitations, though imperceptible—a dimension too with its own sense of time and space and with a reality beyond—a reality, I would come to find out later, my being was a part of too.
A strong impulse arose, and I found myself boldly brushing on these lines at the top of my painting, representing the partially visible opening of the top of the time/space box, where, as a child, I would look down into the toy dimension below. Since then, whenever I am painting and have that realization of this world existing in a dimension, I usually represent that experience by depicting this partially visible opening at the top of my paintings.
Though this may seem to be conceptual or intellectual it is actually extremely experiential and has very little to do with the mind. These are but symbols for a very dynamic living reality partaken in full awareness.
Death Valley - Dimension
33” x 45” Mixed media on canvas 1984
In this first studio painting the lines representing both the top and the bottom of the time/space dimension“box” are only partially visible and are painted in a warm color. In subsequent paintings, they are done in white.
Diagram of Dimension Lines for Death Valley
How the lines of the time/space dimension "box" would appear if they were extended beyond the painting.
This may seem conceptual and like some kind of an intellectual process but to the contrary, it is direct and very experiential and the method rises naturally out of the necessity of trying to express the truth of the experience in the most direct way possible.
I began “Death Valley” by first representing the feeling of a void by painting the canvas all black. Then I added the lines at the top and bottom representing the top and the bottom of the box of this time/space dimension of form that we are in. Next I began portraying the landscape, leaving the void visible on the edges of the painting.
In subsequent paintings, as in the example below, I eliminated the bottom of the time/space box, painting only the top opening. Also, as the nothingness/void became more alive and energetic to me, I started adding lines, light, and washes of color to the void.
San Ildefonso Pueblo VI - Dimension
In this painting you can see the void clearly visible at the edges as the backdrop for the landscape.
The lines of the top of the dimension box extended beyond the painting.
Even today when I imagine nothingness for a moment and then open my eyes and look upon the world about me, I am astonished how much sharper my senses are and how I feel more deeply the mystery and the incredible wonder of this dimension and the delight of the simplest forms.
DOORS and WINDOWS
The third event I would like to highlight was when I had been working on this landscape painting on location for a couple of hours depicting it realistically in detail. When the painting was done I was surprised and a bit dismayed when I held it up and it felt like my awareness ran into a “solid wall”—a solid wall of paint on canvas. Yet, the feeling was so different when I looked at the living landscape beyond. The forms there were more “porous” to my awareness—as if I could actually enter into them and feel their life. And the life in them extended out, penetrating me. I felt vital relationships with all the living forms in dynamic communication. And all this was only but hinted at in my painting in only the faintest way—as a voice muffled under many blankets.
I studied the scene and then the delightful, challenging question came, “How do I capture nature alive like this in paint?” Yet, to transcend the paint, the canvas; to depict life itself—this became my call. And thus my deeper exploration into landscape painting began. My first approach was to create an abstract energy background, tape areas off, and realistically paint the scene in certain areas creating a dance with the energetic background making the landscape feel less solid and more penetrable. In later pieces I would also paint dark and white rectangles across the landscape—creating “doors and windows” where the awareness of the viewer is invited to sink in, breaking up the sensation of impenetrable solid forms. Later, I would also add energy lines and other effects of light to break up the sense of solid surfaces further.
Chico Buttes I
30” x 40” Oil on canvas 1984
This painting was my first experiment to create a
more energetic landscape.
Mountain Vineyard - Harvest
37” x 56” Oil on canvas 1992
An example of white and black rectangles creating "doors and windows" to let the landscape breathe.
INFRARED, KIRLIAN, AND PHOTO NEGATIVES
As my perceptions were revealing a more energetic world the question became, "How do I capture what I am feeling and seeing in paint ?" I started to see great potential in infrared and Kirlian photography, as well as in some color negative effects the more bold photographers were using. I started collecting every example I came across, finally ending up with a large collection in a bulging folder. From them I would do many painting studies, trying to get an intimate visceral feeling of how to boldly and directly express this new world with brush and paint. You will see examples of these effects in many of my paintings sprinkled here and there.
THE PROCESS of MY PLEIN AIR PAINTINGS
Before I go into explaining my technique, I would first like to mention that I am finding that the less I refer to photographs, whether of horses grazing, seagulls flying, or waves crashing, and rely on my direct observation and sketches, my art becomes much more expressive and alive. And though it takes a lot more time to go out on location over and over again, it is well worth the time and effort. I was also thrilled to discover that this effort heightens my awareness, enlivening my sense of being alive as my senses are often strained to their limits to try to fathom what I am looking at as things shift and move about, sometimes very quickly.
That is also the beauty of distorting plains as Cezanne did to capture the unique energy of things, whether a rock formation, the plains on a face, or a spoon. To work with intentionally distorting plains to create distinct energies one has to become very present. The more art makes demands on us like that to go to deeper levels of awareness and to be more intimately present to things the more art becomes our powerful ally and support.
Though the development of my landscapes can vary, they do tend to follow a general pattern which allows for a more accurate portrayal of the life of the landscape I feel. For those of you who have read the previous sections of this website, my process will be familiar. When I go out painting on location, whether a landscape or an interior scene, I first scan the scene for the forms that have the strongest, most dynamic energy (often sacrificing a more ideal traditional composition of the scene). Once I decide on a powerful subject, I next look past forms altogether and focus on how the overall place feels—the mood of the place. Then, once that is felt, I invite my awareness to sink to an even subtler level as I begin to sense a changeless life holding and permeating everything—what I call the Unified Field. This Unified Field can also be seen as including a Will, Intelligence, or Mind. And the world is seen as a projection of this Mind—all forms holograms—energetic with only the illusion of solidity. And love flows through it all. I explain this in more detail in the sections “Objects in a Dimension” and “Objects in a Unified Field” as well as in my illustrated book, “Tobe and the River Is.”
Once I feel this energy of the scene, I do an abstract painting of it. After this step is done, I decide if I am going to continue to paint over the abstract on location or keep the abstract intact to bring into my studio to be developed as its own layer in the larger painting.
The next step then, either on a new panel or over the abstract, is to paint the surface detail of forms of the landscape. But first I begin by feeling how the forms exist in a monumental way. To capture the sensations of this monumentality of the forms I distort the actual size and direction of the planes of forms, whether a mountain, a rock, or a building. (See my section on “The Force of Objects”). This stage is usually done as an outline with some hint of value. The following stage in the painting process is to portray the distinct emanations of the forms through line and color. And finally, over these layers, after taping off areas I want to have the abstract clearly show through, I begin to paint, here and there, the final surface detail of the forms—the way the forms appear to the eye, in some places covering over the earlier layers altogether. I also fade off the surface detail in other areas, allowing the previous energetic layers to shine through to predominance. Thus, the painting expresses these various levels of perception into one integrated whole, and my full experience of the scene is passed on to the viewer of the painting—sometimes, surprisingly, in very literal ways.
If I am doing the whole painting on location, once the “realistic” surface version is completed, I may break up the solid nature of the landscape further with bold strokes and lines.
THE PROCESS of MY LARGE-SCALE PAINTINGS
I am most happy and fulfilled as an artist when I have the tactile experience of thick paint on a brush or trowel, boldly striking across the canvas, where I am taking real chances on the fly. This is where the art process comes alive for me, where the adrenalin flows through the veins! And though I can draw or paint most things with pretty good skill and had done so for decades, when I finally realized the creative potential of the computer, about fifteen years ago, I dove in and began to explore it. I have come to know it as a wonderful tool, as you will see as you read on—yet a tool, for me, to be used as sparingly as possible, for nothing can compare with the energy of a stroke from a brush held by a hand animated by the heart and will of the artist.
For my large-scale paintings, I first do a painting on canvas or panel using brushes with oil paint, gauche, or acrylic. This original painting can be as large as 10 feet or as small as 12 inches long depending on if I am out in nature, or if I want the invigorating feeling of working on a large canvas, or I want more of a feeling of intimacy, working on a smaller surface with more delicate brushes and precise drawing implements.
Unlike doing a plein air painting all at once, where all the elements are combined, for my large-scale landscapes, I do a few individual paintings on location. I always begin with an abstract painting of the energy of the scene without any consideration of form. Next comes the study of the “force” of the forms in the landscape, distorting form, as I mentioned above. This becomes the foundation for my realistic version done in the traditional landscape technique. Then on another panel, I paint the emanations of the forms. (This I refer to later when I add these emanations by hand to the larger printed-out canvas.)
Now, this brings us to my use of the computer. First, let me say that I have found that the less I use the computer the happier I am as an artist and the more pleased I am with the finished painting.
So the next step is to first bring the abstract painting into the computer and make it the bottom layer. Over that I lay the realistic painting on its own layer. Then I make the realistic painting more transparent in a series of rectangular areas across the image, revealing the abstract underneath to varying degrees. These transparent effects I achieved in the past before the computer by first laying down rectangular masks across the initial abstract painting and then painting the realistic landscape all across the abstract painting. Then I would remove the masks revealing the abstract/energetic painting and in those areas, if they needed it, I would paint transparent elements of the realistic landscape. If I went too far in painting over the abstract energy level I would use tape and with sandpaper sand away the paint of the realistic landscape, often sanding too far and needing to re-paint parts. It was a very time-consuming, painstaking, and imperfect process, but doing the masking on the computer instead simplifies this process and makes it possible for me to more precisely actualize my vision and create the energies I am after.
I make other minor adjustments to the painting on the computer, but I also intentionally leave out most of the elements, such as lines, circles, rectangles, groups of geometric patterns, or even birds and horses so I can do them by hand later once the final image is printed out on canvas. I have found nothing takes the place of hands-on painting to create the living energy of a painting.
Most importantly, the computer allows me to print out the painting on canvas to the precise size I feel it needs to be, creating the desired effects on the viewer. Size is a powerful expressive element—actually, I have found, one of the most powerful. And I cannot know the final size a painting needs to be to capture and harmonize with all the energies of a painting until towards the end of the painting process. To be able to orchestrate size with such control is one of the things I appreciate so much about this age we live in. So many times in the early decades of my painting career I would be left with regret, as I looked at a finished painting and realized it would have been a much stronger piece if it were only a different size. But now it is very rare that I have that feeling.
Printing out the image causes it to lose most of its energy created during the original hands-on process of the painting. The exciting challenge then is to bring the image back to life. One thing that helps is to paint in all those elements that I intentionally left out for exactly this purpose. And eventually, I paint over the entire surface again. This stage too is creative—adjusting hues, values, expressions, gestures, etc., as I go, giving me even more control.
This is a time-consuming, expensive process, but, being a bit of a perfectionist, it is well worth it, especially when I look at the finished painting and see it accurately captures and expresses the subtlety and power of my vision so clearly!
MY PERSPECTIVE ON BEING AN ARTIST
Principally, my relationship to art has been as a vehicle for exploration and a catalyst for self-discovery. There is a unity of purpose to my art: to take art to its furthest limits; to see what art can and cannot do; to see if paint and brush can express the most transcendental states of matter, perception, and being. Many times I have been amazed at the level of communication art was able to achieve. I am also so grateful to have seen my art become a catalyst in opening up others to their own deep experiences. It is this ability of art to touch people in deep and mysterious ways that I marvel at and value so much.
Regarding my artistic journey, it has been a serendipitous adventure, not for the faint of heart. It has been filled with unexpected turns, some frustrating setbacks, as well as incredible advances. Now, from where I stand looking back, I see an overall intelligent pattern and design to it all. Even what I thought were detours and dead ends were necessary to bring about needed change and insight. And the rewards of my art career have far outweighed any of the many challenges and difficulties I have had to face over the decades.
IN PARTING – Some Last Words
I would just like to mention, that though art has enriched my life in so many ways, I have also found being an artist and doing art at moments can be much overrated, whereas just being can never be. Some of the most fulfilling times in my life indeed were when I was forced away from doing my art. Life is rich and it’s not so much what we do that makes it so, but what we are.
And to you young artists I would like to say, be open to what life sends you, especially if you are a struggling artist. Do what is required. I have found if my expression is cut off because of the demands of living in this world, it naturally flows out in other expressions. And the artist's eye continues to grow, no matter what we are doing, if we are open and present as we move deeper into the heart. Also, don't be in a hurry to limit your art by dressing it up for the marketplace, but learn to demand much more of it, and it will become your ally and source of strength throughout your life.
I hope that my art will, in some way, inspire you to explore the expression of the most profound levels of your being, letting your expression, whatever form it takes, clarify and strengthen your understanding.
May you appreciate the wonder of your incredible journey and thank you for letting me be a part of it.
Two Islands – Mendocino 2018
63” x 77” Mixed media on canvas