Final preview of May - and, yes, I know it's already May - plus Hollywood and Argentina

Venus Cosmeticus - acrylic on panel - 24x24 - 2015. From my show - "95 / 15" - that opens May 5th at Froelick Gallery in Portland.

Today's post is really just to show off and to give context to a new painting, Venus Cosmeticus, one of the more flashy items in my soon-to-open show at Froelick Gallery. With my well-documented love of "big hair", maybe it will come as no surprise that I've been a little bit obsessed lately - artistically, anyway - with the elaborate, often lavishly accessorized, often steeply ascending coiffures of the mid-1940s. Modeled by many of the world's great glamour queens of the period, from peak-of-her-career Betty Grable to early Eva Perón, they're often as ridiculous as that infamous pouf of the 1770s - so frequently seen in my work - and, to my perverse way of thinking, just as charming.

Detail of above.

It was little more than "40s hair" that inspired the three paintings which comprised "The Judgement of Paris", from last year's show at Winston Wächter in Seattle:

Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena - each acrylic on panel - 24x24 - 2014.

Strange that I'd be able to pinpoint the spark of this recent mania, but I feel pretty certain it was set in motion by repeated exposure to this wonderfully metallic construction, worn by Claire Trevor in "Murder My Sweet":

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Speaking of the aforementioned mesdames Grable and Perón, here are some examples of their lovely "hair art":

Betty Grable.

In this follicular contest, I'd say Miss Grable wins points for variety and novelty, while Evita earns hers for volume, consistency, and overall drama:

Eva Perón.

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During the same brief period there was also a major vogue for wearing flowers - sometimes oversized, themselves - in the midst of all that hair.

Ann Miller.

Singer and actress Ruby Hill.

Dorothy Lamour.

Esther Williams.

Hedy Lamarr.

Newlyweds Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz.

Ida Lupino.

Lana Turner.

Veronica Lake.

Betty Hutton. (Just like it says.)

Francine Everett.

And again, from another scene in "Murder My Sweet", Claire Trevor.

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And, finally, from the same period, though decidedly less glamorous:

Leda and the Swan - acrylic on panel - 12x12 - 2015. The hair in a variable style known as "victory curls". Also part of the Froelick show.

Winston Wächter booth at Art Platform - Los Angeles

Here are a few pictures from last weekend's big art fair in LA.  I was very pleased that WW took three of my paintings with them, and gave my work some "southern exposure".  They hung La Légèreté délicieuse de la grandeur and Un regard oblique, and had L'Équilibre "in the closet".  Golly, it's been simply years since "the closet" was in play...!

Thank you Stacey, Megan, and everyone at Winston Wächter for all your support of my work.

Des jeux sérieux de beauté

Tuesday evening we were in Seattle for the opening of my new show at Winston Wächter, Des jeux sérieux de beauté.  Some serious games of beauty.  Which I hope the work is, which I believe it is.

It was a lovely night.  Great turnout, friendly people.  And I actually wasn't all that nervous; I didn't have time to be.  Right at the beginning of the event, I had a few friends stop in to wish me well, and it just kept rolling on from there.  As soon as I finished talking to one person, someone else stepped in to talk with me.  I often feel conversationally awkward in these kinds of situations, but everyone was so nice, so generous, that it was all just a pleasure. 

It is a bit odd to talk exclusively about yourself and your art for more than two hours straight.  As someone who's rather full of himself, you'd think that it wouldn't bother me.  But it got to the point where the gross accumulation of me, me, me was a bit embarrassing; by the end of the evening I had a sore throat from talking about myself so much.

When G and I arrived at the gallery, several hours before the opening, Michael Upchurch, the arts writer for the Seattle Times, was already there, looking at the show and making notes.  He had reviewed the group show that was my introduction to Winston Wächter and had said nice - and really smart - things about my work.  So I was thrilled that he wanted to interview me for this show.  When we spoke on Tuesday afternoon, he couldn't have been nicer, and the resulting review/interview that appeared in the paper this morning couldn't have been more flattering.  It's been quite a week, and I'm very grateful for everyone's kindness.

Nerves

I have my first opening at Winston Wächter tomorrow night. And I'm nervous. It's two shows, really. One is for sculptor Mielle Riggie. The other is a (small) group exhibition; I'm showing with Seattle artists Tatiana Garmendia and Piper O'Neill. So it isn't like the fear I'd have with a first solo show. And it isn't an "introductions" sort of thing for me. I'm not "on spec"; I've got the "gig", so to speak. And they've already seen that my work will sell - thank you for that! The gallery is beautiful. The people who own and run it have been just lovely. Warm, approachable, down-to-earth. I couldn't be happier with the people or the situation.

Most importantly, I'm very happy with the new paintings I've delivered to be part of this exhibition. I really feel that I'm doing the best work I've done thus far. Smart and beautifully painted. Right now anyway, my artistic ambition and my ability are well matched. Well balanced. And I think the work will only get better. I may be wildly egotistical - delusional? - but I don't think so. Dammit, the work is good! So I guess I'm not insecure about that..........hmmm, no....

Judith et Holopherne

La Coiffure interrompue

So why am I nervous? I guess it's just that it's all so new. I don't really know these people, yet. Nice as they are. Or this beautiful place. I'm shy; unless I'm really comfortable, social situations can be daunting for me. So I'm nervous about making an ass of myself, saying something stupid, being a bore. Nervous that I'm not young enough or attractive enough or cool enough. Because, right or wrong, I'm putting a lot of weight on being successful at this new gallery. If I'm going to be able to really claim the job description of professional artist, if I'm going to be able to transition out of needing a "day job", I need to take big steps. Now and in the immediate future. Winston Wächter feels like a big step.

Now, I know that the only thing I really need to concern myself with is the work. Is the work good? It's the work that's important, not how good-lookin' or charming I might be. Deep down I know that that's the only thing that really matters - but who the hell remembers that kind of thing at a time like this?!

I'll try.

Support

Things are going pretty damned well for me right now in the art department, this career thing I've got going. I've got a new gallery - a really good one - in Seattle, and I've been asked to talk about my work at a symposium at the Tacoma Art Museum in April. Both of these things just dropped into my lap, and I couldn't be more flattered and grateful. For a while now, I've been working at my craft, doing good work but not really focused on anything else. Not thinking beyond the work to career. Treading water, really. But now, I feel like a door has been flung open and - to completely frappé my metaphors - I'm being asked to step up.

Step up.

The gallery in Seattle, Winston Wächter, has asked for new work for a show in January. One of the two I'm preparing is 36x24. Not really large by "industry standards", but larger than anything I've yet done as a professional artist. So large, that the little table-top easel I've always used just isn't able to accommodate it. I've had to acquire a real-deal floor-model easel. Large. With clamps and knobs and casters. Something that tilts and swings and gets locked into place. Solid wood and damned sturdy. In my whole life - from a small child - of making art, somehow I've never had a real, serious easel.

When I told Gigi that I was going to have to get one - in bed, getting ready to go to sleep - she quietly asked if I would let her buy it for me. Very touched, but knowing that it could cost several hundred dollars, I asked if maybe it would OK if she paid part of it. Contributed. But she said, just as quietly that, no, she wanted to buy it for me.

And just a few days later, she did. After we stuffed the huge box in the car - G actually had to assume the shape of a "G" in her half-folded-down seat to make it fit - after heaving it upstairs, and after yet another shuffling of the contents of the room we call the "studio", everything actually seems to fit. And I've started my big painting.

While not wanting to get too much into "our business", let me still say that G and I think and talk a lot about how we can support each other. As two very different people, with different expectations and needs - who love each other - we're always looking for ways to do that better. Just as people trying to grow and be more of who we want to be, are meant to be. And in all our many artistic endeavors. People need support in different ways. They need it delivered in different styles, even. For myself, I need a good share of "tough love". And when it comes to making art, I'm so easily distracted, so emotionally fluctuating - so squirrelly - that I often need a "stop, go sit down and get to work." And then, of course, I might argue the point. Because I'm rather a spoiled brat. (In case you didn't know that about me....) But, even if I do, I need it anyway. I need the support of someone telling me, "I don't care about your excuses, the art you want to make - need to make - is bigger than all that. Go get to work." I need some stern, to-the-point truth-telling.

So, this easel that Gigi bought me? This necessary gift? Could any metaphor for her support be clearer?! Solid, sturdy, serious. Large. Taller than I am and with a great capacity for expansion. To me it clearly symbolizes her belief in my talent and my goals, and her devotion to my dreaming and to my success. The way she supports me.

Et parce que ce soutien, je dis merci à toi, ma femme. Je t'adore.